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Cowboy Dreaming
Shawna Delacorte


STRANDED When Melanie Winslow returned to the Colorado ranch where she was raised, she never expected to find herself stranded in a mountain cabin with Cody Chandler. The rugged ranch manager was the answer to every daydream Melanie had ever had about strong, sexy cowboys. WITH A SEXY COWBOYBut this one was real, with a kiss that made Melanie's heart beat faster, and a smile that hinted at the most intimate things. The trouble was, the last thing Melanie intended to do was fall in love with an untamed cowboy - no matter how perfect he seemed. If only her heart felt the same way… .









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u6507c8ec-7386-5e26-bb40-fdd30140e225)

Excerpt (#uca7fa5ea-0294-5fb0-a34b-fb84f88bdc8a)

Dear Reader (#u53bf2025-69a3-5ff2-bca6-b530a0dd7838)

Title Page (#ud971fa30-4373-5efc-b85e-352a6ff0e4e9)

SHAWNA DELACORTE (#ub718fa00-bb56-5462-84e1-2a77e8fdaabf)

Dedication (#ub42314dd-180d-5391-983f-3ccb5aca30a1)

One (#ue3d59658-2a3d-59ec-ab0f-d766c35d39e2)

Two (#u91389d25-3180-556d-aacb-dba166d6233e)

Three (#u7642faad-b82f-571f-bc0a-c983a218f62b)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




Melanie Felt Cody’s Warm Breath

Across Her Cheek,


then his lips on the side of her neck. His words tickled her ears. “We should figure out the sleeping arrangements for tonight.”



He rose suddenly and added a couple more logs to the blaze. “There should be some sleeping bags in the cupboard,” he said. “And another cot…” It was almost a question.



All right, Ms. I-can-take-care-of-myself-and-don’t-need-anybody, what do you plan to do now?

This was not the time to panic, Melanie told herself. She was a self-sufficient woman who would handle this logically and intelligently.



As she watched, Cody jabbed the burning logs, causing embers to fly—like the hot sparks she felt every time he kissed her. The intensity in his face and the captivating pull of his masculinity drew her to him. Her insides melted into a simmering pool of desire.



Maybe common sense and levelheaded thinking weren’t all they were cracked up to be…


Dear Reader,



Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where you can discover the answers to all your romantic questions. Such as…

Q. What would you think if you discovered the man you love has a secret identity—as a movie star?

A. That’s what happens to the heroine of August’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Don’t Fence Me In by award-winning writer Kathleen Korbel.

Q. What would you do if you were pregnant, in labor and snowbound with a sexy—but panicked—stranger?

A. Discover the answer in Father on the Brink, the conclusion to Elizabeth Bevarly’s FROM HERE TO PATERNITY series.

Q. Suppose you had to have a marriage of convenience?

A. Maybe you’d behave like the heroine in Barbara McMahon’s Bride of a Thousand Days.

Q. How could you talk a man into fathering your child…no strings attached?

A. Learn how in Susan Crosby’s Baby Fever!

Q. Would you ever marry a stranger?

A. You might, if he was the hero of Sara Orwig’s The Bride’s Choice.

Q. What does it take to lasso a sexy cowboy?

A. Find out in Shawna Delacorte’s Cowboy Dreaming

Silhouette Desire…where all your questions are answered and your romantic dreams can come true.



Until next month, happy reading!








Senior Editor



Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Cowboy Dreaming

Shawna

Delacorte











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




SHAWNA DELACORTE


has sought out new places and experiences after spending most of her life in Southern California. She passed the winter house-sitting in Kansas while her mother and stepfather traveled. Then it was on to the Pacific Northwest and her new home. Even though she now writes full-time, she continues to pursue her interests in photography while traveling to new places and revisiting favorite locations.


Special thanks to my mother and stepfather for

providing me with a calm oasis in the

midst of a hectic year.




One (#ulink_f75a0530-556c-5514-a3a2-01d0ca2c0ef0)


Melanie Winslow placed her foot on the top step leading to the porch. It creaked as she put her weight on it. After all these years it still creaks. Maybe it was the eerie stillness of the night that made the noise seem so much louder than she remembered. Trepidation welled inside her, almost overwhelming the task she had set for herself. She fought the urge to turn and run.

It had been almost ten years since she last stepped foot on the porch of the house where she had lived for the first eighteen years of her life—almost ten years since the day of her mother’s funeral. She paused on the front porch and glanced back over her shoulder. The full moon shone brightly in the black sky, casting its silvery glow across the landscape. The crisp night air belied the fact that it was springtime. Melanie shivered inside her jacket, her Southern California clothes not suited to the colder clime.

The pristine whiteness of the fence lined both sides of the long driveway and the plaintive howl of a coyote broke the silence. From the main road the ranch looked more like one of the finest Kentucky Thoroughbred breeding farms than a working cattle ranch in the foothills of eastern Colorado.

She had driven nonstop from Los Angeles and was dead tired. Stifling a yawn, she stood on her toes and reached to the ledge above the front door. She was not sure exactly how she felt when her fingers closed around the key. She had half hoped that it would not be there, that she could turn around and leave, while convincing herself that she had made the effort. She suppressed another yawn. It had been more than thirty hours since she’d had any sleep, not counting a half-hour nap at a roadside rest somewhere in New Mexico when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

Mel inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The dead bolt clicked as it slid back. She placed her hand on the doorknob, then paused and gave another quick look back over her shoulder. Was it too late to turn around, get in her car and start driving back to Los Angeles? She took a calming breath, opened the front door and stepped into the living room.

A dark, shadowy figure lunged at Melanie, knocked the wind from her and shoved her to the floor. She shook her head, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow, then attempted to scramble to her feet. The large body on top of her pinned her to the carpeting. She instinctively struck out at her assailant, digging her fingernails into his bare chest. His strong arms prevented her from putting up much of a fight in her defense. The menacing voice rasped in her ear.

“Stay put unless you want your head bashed in.”

Melanie gasped for air, then gasped in terror as a rough hand grazed the side of her neck, brushed across her jacket, then settled over her breast. She knew her voice trembled with fear. It was all she could do to force out the words. “Please…don’t…”

“What the hell—” Shock did not even come close to describing Cody Chandler’s reaction to his accidental discovery. He jerked back his hand and jumped to his feet. Moving through the darkness, he flipped on the light switch by the front door.

The intruder lay sprawled on the floor. An oversize jacket covered a body that definitely belonged to a woman—there was no doubt about that fact. Her hazel eyes were wide with fear; her lips slightly parted; her short, dark hair in wild disarray; her legs encased in worn jeans. He felt some of the tension drain away as the adrenaline surge began to wear off.

Melanie gazed up at the large man who loomed over her like some fearful image dredged up from the bottom of her deepest fears. He was dressed in a pair of old jeans and nothing else. With the exception of the hard glint in his blue eyes, he looked as though he had just been roused from sleep. Her pounding heart and racing pulse slowed a bit as her fear subsided.

His tousled blond hair was matted on one side where he had been sleeping on it. She could see the pillow creases on the side of his face. His jeans had been pulled on but only half zipped, and the top snap was open. His hard chest was bare, as were his feet. A bit of calm settled over her as she took in more of his physical attributes.

The scratches she had inflicted on his chest stood out as ugly red marks on skin that showed the beginnings of a golden tan even though it was only April. Wisps of sandycolored chest hair converged into a narrow line that angled down his stomach and finally disappeared inside his jeans. His shoulders were broad and his arms well muscled. Other than the scar across his right shoulder and the barely discernible bump on his nose where it appeared to have been broken at one time, he was an incredibly handsome specimen of perfect manhood. She guessed his age to be late thirties.

He made no attempt to help her up from the floor.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”

He barked out his demands, making it clear exactly who was in charge.

The fear had passed and the anger set in. Mel scrambled to her feet, adjusting her disheveled clothing as she regained her balance. Now that she was upright, she realized just how tall he was, even compared with her five-feet-seveninch height. He topped six feet by at least one inch, maybe even two.

She glared at him defiantly while running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to untangle it. “How dare you attack me like that! You’re lucky I’m not calling the police right now.”

“You calling the police!” He unconsciously rubbed his fingers across the scratches she had inflicted, then folded his arms across his chest. “I’m perfectly within my rights to protect my home against intruders…and other undesirables.”

She inwardly bristled at his accusation. She was not sure which irritated her more, his referring to her as an undesirable intruder or his other claim. “Your home! No way is this your home. This house—in fact, this entire ranch and everything on it—belongs to Buck Winslow. I ought to know because I’m his daughter.”

Cody blinked a couple of times and shook his head in an attempt to clear the sleep. Had he heard correctly? This woman standing in front of him was Buck Winslow’s longabsent daughter? He never would have recognized her from the old high-school graduation picture Buck kept by his bed. Cody finally found his voice and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “You’re Melanie Winslow? Where the hell have you been? And why have you bothered to show up after nearly ten years?”

Now it was Mel’s turn to be surprised. Just who was this man who seemed to know more about her than a stranger should? “Well, that takes care of who I am. Now, just who are you?”

“I’m Cody Chandler, Buck’s ranch foreman.”

“Oh, yeah?” Oh, great—brilliant retort, Mel, she said to herself. “No way, cowboy. The ranch foreman is Tom Collier, has been for years.”

“Not anymore. Arthritis. The doc suggested he might be more comfortable in a warmer, drier climate, so he went to Tucson a little over eight years ago.” He fixed her with a cold look. “But, then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

There was something about the sarcasm in his voice and his aggressive manner that set Melanie’s teeth on edge. He seemed just a little too possessive, just a little too much in charge. And where was her father? He had never been a particularly sound sleeper. Surely all the commotion must have been loud enough to wake him. She glanced down the darkened hallway that led to the bedrooms, then turned her attention back to Cody. “Since when does the hired help sleep in the main house and refer to the property as theirs? And just where the hell is my father?”

Cody stretched himself to his fullest height. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in a hard line. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, kid.” He continued to stare at her, refusing to give her any quarter. She certainly did have quite a mouth on her—it was full, lush and very sensual. Just the type of mouth that needed to be kissed—long, hard…and often.

“I’m hardly a kid and I certainly don’t appreciate your arrogant attitude. Besides, that doesn’t answer my question.” She adopted a condescending air as she continued to question him. “But if a two-part question is too difficult for you, we can skip the first part and go right to the second.” Then, without warning, the hard edge again surrounded her words. “Where is my father? What have you done with him?”

“You weren’t concerned a year ago, so why should you be concerned now?” Again he gave her no leeway. He refused to back off or give her any room to maneuver.

The conversation had taken a totally unexpected turn in direction. Something was wrong…terribly wrong. The anger drained from Melanie, to be replaced by an unsettling jitter that started in the pit of her stomach and quickly spread throughout her body. Was she too late? Had her decision to resolve the estrangement with her father and attempt to bridge the huge chasm between them come too late? Her voice no longer held the antagonism that had been there just moments earlier. It now told of the new fears that had immediately invaded her consciousness. “A year ago? What happened a year ago?” She swallowed a couple of times in an attempt to put down her rising fear. “What do you mean?”

He instantly caught her change in attitude. Was it possible that she did not know? Had she returned for some reason other than to hover around a dying man in order to be on hand when it came time to cash in on her inheritance? “Buck’s been sick for some time now.” He weighed his next words carefully as he studied her reaction to what he said. He saw the shock cover her face and a hint of sadness come into her eyes. He was not sure whether to try to cushion the blow of what she apparently did not know, or give her what he believed she deserved by not sparing her feelings.

Mel stumbled backward and plopped into a chair. Her father had been suffering from a lengthy illness? “I…I didn’t know.” She tried to collect her thoughts. This was not at all what she had expected to find. She had mentally prepared herself for the inevitable string of ongoing arguments with her father, but not for this. She looked up at Cody. “How can this be? He’s always been as strong as an ox, never sick a day in his life.” She saw it in Cody’s eyes. He was not able to hide the deep concern that he felt. “How…what…” Her words trailed off. She was afraid to ask the ultimate question, so she said nothing.

Cody was torn between her genuine surprise and unexpected concern and his resentment of her for the anguish she had put her father—his close friend—through for the past ten years. He steeled himself against the warm spot deep inside that seemed to want to reach out toward her need. “I sent you a letter last June. Since nobody knew how to get in touch with you, I mailed it to the publication that had just printed one of your articles, with a notation for them to forward it to you.” Even though he was determined not to make things easy for her, he still inwardly flinched at the bitterness he heard in his words and tone of voice.

Her response was almost a whisper. There was a slight quaver to her voice. “I never received it.” She held his steady look for a long moment before she broke eye contact with him. She could see his disapproval, and for some reason it bothered her. That this arrogant, antagonistic, unpleasant stranger seemed to disapprove of her actually bothered her. As she glanced away her gaze fell across his taut, well-toned upper torso with the ugly red gouges.

She recaptured his eye contact and he continued to stare at her. His posture and body language still challenged her and her right to have entered the house. She looked away again, and this time her gaze traveled around the living room. It was mostly as she had remembered it with one notable exception. A new recliner occupied a place of honor in the corner, replacing what had been her father’s favorite chair.

The old chair had been worn out for as long as Mel could remember. Her mother had bought him a new chair for Christmas one year, but he refused to use it and she had eventually donated it to charity. Apparently the ratty old chair had finally given out and her father had replaced it. Why had he not done it while her mother was still alive? Why had he not shown even the slightest bit of appreciation for her mother’s efforts or concern for her mother’s feelings? The old hurt flooded into her consciousness. She had thought she was distanced enough from the old memories to be able to handle them. She blinked away the tears.

Cody saw the tears fill her eyes and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He relaxed his stance. “Is something wrong? I didn’t hurt you when I knocked you down, did I?”

“No…no, you didn’t hurt me. I’m exhausted, that’s all. I’ve driven all the way from Los Angeles without any sleep.” She stifled a yawn, as if to reinforce her claim.

She looked in his direction again and gestured toward his bare chest. “In fact, it seems I did the damage to you. I’m sorry.”

For the first time Cody noticed the scratches on his chest. It had all happened so quickly he had not been aware of them. The only thing clear in his mind was the moment he had discovered it was a woman he had tackled—the moment his hand closed over her breast. “That’s all right. I guess you’re entitled to defend yourself, even if you’re the one who’s the intruder.” He had expected some sort of rebuttal from her, but he did not get it.

Mel heard his words but was unable to respond to his accusation. There were too many memories, too many old feelings, all clamoring for her undivided attention. She looked up at Cody again. His stance had softened, as had his expression. “Where’s my father?”

“He’s moved from his bedroom into the parlor. Not only is it a much larger room, it’s also a bright corner room with lots of windows that give him the morning sun. He seems to be more comfortable there. He’s asleep now and I don’t want him disturbed.” Those last words carried the sound of absolute authority, again challenging her right to be there.

“But I’m his daughter—”

“Yes, the daughter who hasn’t sent as much as a postcard in nearly ten years.” The hard edge returned to Cody’s voice as he spoke through clenched teeth. “The daughter who broke his heart.”

Mel jumped to her feet. She would not tolerate any more insolence from this stranger who seemed to have appointed himself Lord of the Manor. The angry words spewed out before she could stop them. “How dare you presume to make judgments about me and my relationship with my father? You weren’t here. You don’t know what happened!” She fought back the tears. Her voice dropped to a mere whisper as she forced the words. “You don’t know anything about it.” She quickly regained her composure, her indignation once again taking command. “Besides, it’s none of your business!” She felt the heat color her cheeks and the angry tears sting her eyes.

The old grandfather clock struck five times, drawing Cody’s attention away from Mel. If he were not already standing in the living room, it would be time to get up. He became aware of the cold air against his chest and his bare feet. He did not answer her challenge. He wasn’t sure how to answer it. Perhaps he had been out of line in what he said, but he certainly had no intention of apologizing. He turned and went to his bedroom to finish dressing.

Mel watched as he walked down the hall and entered the first room on the right, closing the door behind him. Maybe he was through with the conversation, but she was far from finished with him. She charged down the hall and banged open his bedroom door, barging in uninvited. “Hey, you, cowboy—don’t you dare turn your back on me and walk away while I’m talking!”

His angry voice matched hers. “And don’t you dare—” He didn’t bother to finish his sentence, but grabbed her around the waist, effortlessly lifted her off the floor and carried her out into the hallway. Instead of putting her down, he held her up so that they were eye-to-eye, so close their noses were almost touching. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “And don’t you dare barge into my bedroom again unless you have something a lot more interesting on your mind than merely talking.” He held her close for a moment longer, then abruptly deposited her on the floor.

He returned to his bedroom and closed the door, leaving Mel in the darkened hallway with her sensibilities totally shaken. She leaned back against the wall for support. What had just happened? One moment she was so angry she could have punched him in the nose and the next moment his nearness literally took her breath away and left her weak in the knees.

Cody peeled off his jeans and tossed them in a corner on his way into his bathroom. He had moved into the main house almost a year ago, when Buck’s illness started to take a noticeable physical toll. The bedroom/sitting room/bathroom suite had originally been for guests, but Buck had insisted that Cody occupy it. The two men had conspired to keep Buck’s illness as much of a secret as possible. At the time they were in the process of renegotiating a large existing bank loan being used for expansion and upgrading equipment. Buck didn’t want anyone to know he was not running things with his usual iron hand and total authority.

Cody showered, shaved and dressed, but the activity didn’t divert him from the nagging memory of his body pressed on top of Melanie’s. Her fiery temper had only accentuated the golden sparks that seemed to ignite in her hazel eyes when she lashed out at him with her anger. The lush fullness of her lower lip had trembled slightly when she fought back the tears. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was cognizant of just how much of her physical description had managed to seep into his consciousness. It was a realization that did not please him.

Cody stepped out into the hallway and was greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It was only five-thirty and the sun was not even up, but already it had been a very eventful morning. He hurried toward the kitchen, telling himself it was the coffee that beckoned rather than the prospect of engaging in another confrontation with Melanie Winslow. He grudgingly admitted to himself that she had done an admirable job holding her ground against him, but he was not sure exactly how he felt about it.

He stopped at the kitchen door. The lights were on, a glass of orange juice sat on the counter and steam rose from the mug of hot coffee beside it, but Melanie was nowhere to be seen.

“Buck.” The word escaped his mouth in a hushed urgency as the realization struck him full force. He whirled around and hurried across the house toward the parlor. If she’s disturbed him, I’ll—His thought deserted him as soon as he spotted her standing just inside the parlor door. The expression on her face said it all. The defiant woman he had been sparring with only half an hour ago was gone and in her place stood a lost little girl who looked so in need of someone to take care of her.

Melanie had not been prepared for the sight that greeted her. Her father was six feet four inches tall with a large barrel chest and broad shoulders. He weighed two hundred forty pounds, all of it pure muscle. His hair was jet black and his eyes were a piercing dark brown. All in all, he was quite an imposing sight. At least, that was the way she had remembered him.

The man sleeping in the bed certainly did not fit that description. His hair had thinned considerably and what was left had turned gray. His face was lean, making his squared jaw seem out of proportion. Even in sleep he appeared drawn and haggard. He almost seemed frail—a word she would never in her life have associated with her father. He looked much older than his sixty-four years.

Cody wrapped his strong fingers around her arm and yanked her out of the room. He quietly closed the door before ushering her back to the kitchen. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and fixed him with an angry stare.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? I told you I didn’t want Buck disturbed. He needs his rest.” He saw the golden flecks ignite in her eyes. The little girl who had been quietly standing at the door of the parlor had vanished and the female wildcat had reappeared. “The last thing he needs is the type of aggravation you represent. Now, stay out of his room. At least until I’ve had an opportunity to prepare him for this little surprise.” Surprise, indeed. That was certainly the biggest understatement of the century.

“I’ve really had quite enough of this and quite enough of you! Now, get out of my way. I’m going to—”

He grabbed her around the waist and sat her up on the countertop. He leaned in very close to her, as he had done before. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Cody glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen door, then turned toward Mel again. “And try to show a little consideration. Keep your voice down. I don’t want your yelling to wake Buck.”

As much as Mel hated to agree with this obnoxious bully, he was probably right about waking her father. She might have disagreed with him a little while ago, but as soon as she saw her father she knew Cody had been honest about the condition of his health.

Melanie shoved Cody away and slid off the counter to the floor. She glared at him, hands on hips in as much of a physical challenge as a verbal one. She did make a concerted effort to keep her voice low. “Stop manhandling me as if I were some sort of a round peg you were trying to fit into a square hole.”

He laughed. For the first time she actually saw something on his face other than a stern expression or a scowl. It was a nice laugh and an absolutely devastating smile.

“You said it, kid—not me.”

Her anger exploded again. “I am not a kid! I’m twenty-eight years old and have traveled in fifteen different countries on five of the seven continents. My photos and articles have appeared in some of the most prestigious and popular magazines in the world. I haven’t spent my life stagnating out here—” she waved toward the window in a broad, sweeping gesture “—in the middle of nowhere.”

The smile faded from Cody’s face. He leveled a cool gaze at her, then spoke in a very controlled voice, showing no emotion. “I’m thirty-seven years old. I have a bachelor’s degree in finance and a master’s degree in philosophy. I’ve done my share of world traveling. I’m fluent in both German and French and can get by in Spanish. Now, if we’re through comparing résumés perhaps we can return to the problem at hand. Namely, your sudden reappearance—for whatever the reason—and how it can be handled so as not to upset Buck any more than need be.”

This man standing in front of her wearing scuffed cowboy boots, worn jeans and a denim work shirt had a master’s degree in philosophy and was fluent in both French and German? She hoped her face didn’t give her away. Didn’t tell him how shocked and at the same time impressed she was with what he had told her. “Well, if those are indeed your credentials, then what are you doing stuck out here in the boonies working on a ranch?”

“I like it here.” It was a flat statement that said to one and all that the topic was closed to further discussion. He had been that route before—the society parties, being seen with the right people, only going to the in places—and was not interested in traveling over that road again. He wanted his feet planted firmly on real ground, not moving blindly through a world of big-city skyscrapers populated with plastic people.

“Cody?” The voice came from the direction of the parlor. It was not the booming voice of authority it had once been. It grew louder as its owner progressed toward the kitchen. “Is there some problem out there?”

Melanie saw the anger in Cody’s eyes and heard the warning in his tone of voice.

“Don’t you even hint at the possibility that there might have been the slightest disagreement spoken here this morning. Seeing you is going to be shock enough for Buck without the stress of an unpleasant confrontation.”

“Cody—” Buck paused at the kitchen door and blinked several times. He removed his glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. His expression showed his confusion and uncertainty. His voice was hesitant. “Melanie?” His expression changed as he continued to speak. “Is that you, Mel, honey?”

Cody saw the surprise settle on Buck’s face and the shaky movement of his hand as he gripped the doorjamb in an effort to steady himself, and was immediately at his side. He offered Buck a gentle smile as he discreetly cupped his elbow and assisted the older man to the kitchen table without making it appear that the help was needed. “We have an early-morning visitor, Buck. She showed up at the door just a bit ago. Quite a surprise for me. I didn’t recognize her from the picture you have.”

Buck’s face lit up with a warmth Mel had never associated with her father during the entire eighteen years she had lived in the same house with him. His eyes glistened.

“Have you come home, Melanie? Have you finally come home?”




Two (#ulink_6022b5b8-b01e-5bf3-bfb3-3dc4c119bc03)


For perhaps the first time in her adult life Melanie Winslow was at a total loss for words. She stole a glance at Cody and caught the stern look he directed toward her. She looked again at her father’s deteriorated condition and understood the wisdom of Cody’s admonition. Her once hearty and robust father had been reduced to this frail man who appeared at least ten years older than he really was.

“Yes, Father. It’s me. I…” She swallowed in an attempt to lessen the lump that had begun to form in her throat. She covered her uneasiness by picking up her cup of coffee and carrying it to the table. She sat down across from her father, forcing a smile that she did not really feel. “I just wrapped up an assignment in this area. I…I’ve been working as a photojournalist for several years now and I was shooting a story in Rocky Mountain National Park.”

Buck’s voice was soft, as if the simple task of talking required an extra effort on his part. “I know all about your work, honey. I’ve seen your magazine articles.” He paused, taking time to catch his breath. “You’ve done very well for yourself. I’m real proud of you, Mel—we all are.” He glanced over at Cody. “Isn’t that right?”

“It sure is, Buck.” Cody gave his friend a comforting smile as he placed a cup of hot coffee in front of him. “We’re all real proud.”

To all outward appearances Melanie Winslow and Cody Chandler had been engaged in amiable conversation prior to Buck’s arrival. There was nothing in Cody’s voice or his expression that would indicate anything to the contrary. Melanie tried her best to be equally diligent in perpetuating the deception, at least until she had a chance to think things through and get a better handle on what was happening.

There would be ample opportunity later for her to let Cody know exactly what she thought about all of this and determine whether she wanted to continue with the charade. First she would need to know exactly what was wrong with her father and the prognosis for his recovery. But for now, she sipped her coffee and tried to pretend that what she had just said was the truth. This was certainly far removed from what she’d had in mind when she started driving from Los Angeles. Actually, she was not sure exactly what she’d had in mind. It was a series of disjointed ideas that had not yet formed into a solid plan.

Melanie was startled out of her thoughts by the feel of a cold hand covering hers—an icy-cold hand. She looked up into the warmth emanating from her father’s face. She did not know if it was her imagination, but his color seemed much better than when he first entered the kitchen. There seemed to be a bit of sparkle in his eyes. He did not look as drawn and withered as when she had observed him in his sleep.

She tried not to jerk her hand away but did manage to tactfully withdraw it from his reach. She took another sip of her coffee, her mind frantically trying to produce some sort of basis for polite conversation. “I didn’t have an opportunity to see the ranch when I arrived. Even with the full moon it was still too dark. But, from what I could see along the entrance drive, it looks like you’ve made several changes.”

“You can credit Cody with that.” Buck glanced over at his friend and ranch foreman. The genuine affection he felt for the man was obvious. “He’s really been an asset. I’m afraid the place was getting a little run-down. Then Cody came on the scene and things really turned around. Now it’s quite a showplace in addition to being a model of efficiency. We’ve almost doubled our productivity and increased our profit margin substantially. It’s really something to be proud of.”

“Well, that’s nice.” She heard the strain in her voice and wished she had better control of it.

“You’re going to be real surprised by what you see, honey.” He continued, then stopped as if a thought had struck him. “Are you all settled in okay? Did you put your things in your old bedroom? I’ve kept it for you, honey, just the way you left it.” Again he reached across the table and covered her hand with his in a loving gesture. “I knew you’d come back home someday.”

Cody noticed the grimace that crossed her face at the mention of the ranch being her home and the way her body stiffened when Buck covered her hand. He felt his insides tighten. He did not have time for this nonsense—catering to Buck’s wayward daughter. As far as he was concerned, she could get back into her car and head west until she reached the ocean. The only thing that kept him from telling her to do just that was his very real affection for Buck and his concern for the old man’s health. She seemed to be having a positive effect on him.

“No, I haven’t unpacked yet. My things are still in the car.”

Buck twisted around in his chair until he faced Cody. “Would you bring in Mel’s things for me and put them in her room?”

“Sure thing, Buck.” Move the little ingrate into the house, as though I have nothing better to do.

“And, Cody, as soon as we finish breakfast, why don’t you take Mel and show her around the ranch? Reacquaint her with her home,” Buck suggested.

Cody glanced at the wall clock. It would be sunrise very soon now. The ranch hands would have finished breakfast and started on the day’s work. Now that the snow had disappeared from all but the highest elevations of the ranch property, there were fences to mend and outbuildings to be checked. Spring also meant roundup, which created lots of extra work. He really did not have the time to spare, but if that was what it took to keep her from upsetting Buck, then that was what he would do. “Sure thing, boss.”

Melanie could see it in Cody’s face. He was no more happy with the prospect of giving her a guided tour than she was of having him do it. It would, however, allow them the opportunity to talk in private so she could gather some information and they could get a few things settled between them. Beyond that, she had no thoughts about what she would do or any clear-cut plans for the future.

“I’ll start something for breakfast.” It was not the type of thing Mel would normally have volunteered for, but anything was better than sitting at the table trying to think of something pleasant to say. She opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents. She may have been accomplished at many things, but cooking was not one of them. Since she was out on assignment more often than she was home she usually ate in restaurants. When she was home, opening a carton of yogurt and making coffee for breakfast or popping a frozen entrée into the microwave or having pizza delivered for dinner were about the most difficult cooking tasks she ever attempted.

“You don’t need to bother.” Cody reached past her, placed his hand on the refrigerator door and shoved it closed. “Edna will be here in a few minutes. She’ll take care of making breakfast.”

“Edna?” Cody’s arm had actually brushed against her shoulder when he leaned past her. He smelled of soap and mint mouthwash. The memory of his body covering hers on the living-room floor was still very fresh in her mind.

“Edna Powers is our cook and housekeeper.”

Buck’s voice interrupted her thoughts about Cody.

“She’s worked for me for almost ten years, ever since…” His voice, not strong at best, trailed off as the emotion clouded his face and choked his words. “Ever…ever since I lost your mother and you.”

It’s a real pity you wouldn’t hire some help before my mother worked herself to death. Maybe if you had she’d still be alive today. The words had popped into her head, uninvited and too strident even to Mel’s own ears.

Cody watched her face contort in anger. A glance at the other side of the table told him that Buck had not noticed. He wondered what was going through her mind. Exactly what had happened between Buck and his daughter? He had never really understood why Melanie Winslow left home and left her father at a time when he most needed the closeness of family, especially his only child. Buck had said very little about it and had never uttered a harsh word about his daughter.

“Where’s your stuff? In the trunk of your car?” Cody held out his hand toward Mel. “Give me your car keys.”

She quickly jumped to her feet. “I’ll help you. I have my camera equipment and notebook computer as well as my luggage.” She was not yet ready to be alone with her father. Everything she had anticipated and prepared for had refused to materialize. This man was very far removed from the cold, unfeeling monster of a person she had carried in her memory for all these years—that man she had been prepared to do battle with. But now that she saw him…

She followed Cody out of the house. When they reached the front porch, he came to an abrupt halt and whirled around. Melanie bumped into him before she could stop herself. His rock-hard body made it seem as if she’d run into a stone wall. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling at the same moment that she put her hands against his chest to steady her balance. Even though she wanted to believe it was so, she knew it was more than the accidental collision that had knocked the breath from her. Once again his body was pressed against hers. Once again she felt the stimulating warmth caused by his touch.

“Camera…notebook computer…luggage.” He released his hold on her and took a step back, wanting to put a little distance between them. He had not intended for them to come into physical contact again, at least not like this and certainly not here and now. “Does this mean you plan to stay for a while?”

She also took a step back, putting even more distance between them. “I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t really thought that far in advance.” She found his nearness to be irritating, uncomfortable, very disconcerting—and almost unbearably exciting.

“You must have had something in mind when you showed up here. You claim you didn’t know about Buck’s health, so that must not be the reason.” He furrowed his brow as he folded his arms across his chest. “Just what is it you want? Why are you here?”

The gray predawn sky was giving way to streaks of red and gold. The chilly early-morning air cut through her lightweight jacket, causing a shiver to crawl across her skin. Perhaps staying in the kitchen with her father would have been preferable after all. She pulled together more composure than she actually felt. “I don’t owe you any explanations. Now, are you going to help me with my things or do I need to do it myself?” Well, that said it all. Whether it had been her original intention or not, she had just committed to staying at least until the next day.

“Okay, you win this round. But we’re not through with this yet.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “I won’t allow you to upset Buck. Until I know what your game is, I’ll be watching your every move. All you have to do is look over your shoulder and you’ll find me.”

He unfolded his arms and turned toward her car. He was not through with Melanie Winslow, not by a long shot. To create a scene right now would only upset Buck, and that was the last thing Cody wanted to do. He had noticed the way Buck’s color had improved, the way his physical condition seemed to perk up around his daughter.

Neither of them spoke as they unloaded the car and carried her belongings into the house. She preceded him down the hallway toward her old bedroom. She reached out for the doorknob, then hesitated as the sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. What in the name of all that was rational and logical was she doing? When had she lost control of what was happening? How had things suddenly become so twisted around that her overbearing father once again had control of her decisions?

Cody noted the hesitation in her actions, then the frantic look on her face when she turned toward him. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner. “What’s the matter? Did you leave something in the car?”

“Uh, no, I have everything.” She gathered her courage, opened the bedroom door, flipped on the light switch and stepped three paces inside the room before stopping.

Her gaze traveled around the bedroom, quickly taking in the entire scene, then returning to do a more thorough appraisal. It was just as she had left it. Obviously it had been cleaned on a regular basis, but the same bedspread lay on the bed and the same curtains covered the windows. Her early efforts at photography were still framed and hanging on the walls. Her bookcase still held her schoolbooks. The picture of her mother still rested on the nightstand. A wrenching tightness knotted in the pit of her stomach. All the old memories, all the old feelings—

“Are you going to stand there forever?”

Cody’s interruption startled her. She spun around to face him. “I…it’s been a long time…”

He saw it on her face and in her eyes. It was certainly not what he had expected. It was not the hard, defiant edge of a tough woman that she had tried to project since her arrival. Once again he saw the same little girl who had stood just inside the door of the parlor, looking so confused and in need of comfort.

“Would you rather stay in another room?” He didn’t know exactly where the question had come from. It just sort of popped out of his mouth. He certainly hadn’t been aware of any conscious desire to make things easier for her—not this woman who had caused his good friend so much despair and hurt.

Mel only half heard his question. She walked across the room to the nightstand, set her notebook computer and camera bag on the bed, then picked up the photograph of her mother. She had left the house so quickly that she had packed only one suitcase with the basic necessities and nothing else. When she realized that she had not packed the photograph of her mother she had almost gone back to get it…almost. She’d had to make do with the picture she carried in her memory and in her heart.

Cody carried her three suitcases into the room and placed them next to the closet. He certainly recognized the picture she was holding. It was the same photograph Buck had next to his bed, along with Melanie’s high-school graduation picture. He had not seen it so much then, not from the comparison of two photographs, but now he realized just how much Melanie looked like her mother. He wanted to say something to her, but didn’t know what to say.

Cody left the bedroom, left Melanie alone with her thoughts and memories, and returned to the kitchen. Edna had arrived and was busy fixing breakfast while Buck sat at the table. Cody poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Buck.

Edna was a pleasant woman, about sixty years old. She always had a warm smile and a cheery word. Buck had hired her within two weeks of the double tragedy of losing both his wife and daughter. She had been a real blessing to the daily activities of the ranch. Nothing seemed to bother her. She took all emergencies in stride right along with her regular duties. It was through Edna, a little over a year later, that Cody had come to work for Buck.

Buck removed the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but before he could light one Cody took it away from him. “You know what the doctor said about these.”

“You don’t really think these things could do me any more harm than has already been done, do you?” Buck picked up the cigarette, stared at it for a moment, heaved a sigh of resignation, then put it back in the pack.

“Breakfast is ready.” Edna set a plate in front of Buck and another one in front of Cody. “Now, you eat while it’s good and hot.”

Buck stared at the amount of food on his plate. “What are you trying to do to me, Edna? Look at all of this—eggs, bacon, hash browns, biscuits and gravy—there’s enough here to feed an army. I’ll never be able to eat all of this.”

“You just try your best. I mean to put some meat back on those bones of yours. Lord knows you don’t eat enough to keep a fly going.”

Buck drank his orange juice, crunched on a strip of bacon and ate a bite of scrambled eggs before turning his attention back to Cody. “Well, you haven’t said anything. What do you think?”

Cody took a swallow of his coffee before answering. He knew what Buck was talking about and didn’t really want to get involved in the conversation. “Think about what?”

“You know…about Melanie.” Buck’s face clearly displayed the fatherly pride he felt. “Isn’t she about the prettiest little thing you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

“Sure, Buck. She’s very attractive.” Cody quickly took a bite of toast, then added a forkful of eggs in order to discourage any further conversation. He had tried his best to sound neutral, to express neither enthusiasm nor displeasure. He went over the words in his mind, the edge of sarcasm attaching itself in spite of his good intentions. Sure, Buck. She’s very attractive.

He washed the food down with another large swallow of black coffee, not at all happy with the conflicting thoughts and feelings that suddenly flooded his consciousness. Absolutely, Buck. Very attractive, Buck. Even with tangled hair, rumpled clothes, no sleep and a surly enough attitude to keep most people at bay she still would have no trouble at all in capturing any man’s attention…at least, she sure captured mine.

“I’ve moved my things into my…into the bedroom.”

Cody looked up at the sound of Melanie’s voice. She had removed her jacket, run a brush through her hair and added a touch of color to her lips. His gaze traced the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast beneath the soft sweater she wore, a swell he had almost come to know intimately. Ah, yes…she’s very attractive, Buck. That, she is. His brow inadvertently furrowed into a frown. Very attractive, indeed…dammit. He took another sip of his coffee, hoping it would somehow wash away his totally unacceptable thoughts.

“Come on, Mel, honey. Sit down and have some breakfast.” Buck turned his attention toward Edna, his face beaming with delight. “Edna, I’d like you to meet my daughter. This is Melanie.” He gazed lovingly at his daughter as he continued to talk. “She’s finally come back home.”

The discomfort was almost more than Melanie could bear. The expression on his face, the warmth in his voice…this man was a stranger to her, not the father she had known when she was growing up. She looked toward the woman standing at the stove. Melanie offered her a smile. “Hello, Edna. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too. Buck has mentioned you so many times.” Edna gathered another place setting and carried it to the table. “You come make yourself comfortable and I’ll have your breakfast ready for you in just a minute.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble. Just some juice and coffee will be fine.” Mel noted the amount of food on both Buck’s and Cody’s plates and spoke up quickly before Edna had a chance to start cooking more. “I’m really not much of a breakfast person.”

“Nonsense. There’s lots of hard work to ranching and everyone needs a big, hot breakfast.”

Like it or not, Melanie ended up with a plate full of food. She surprised herself by eating most of it. Once the first bite was in her mouth she realized she was as hungry as she was tired. It had been a long time since her hamburger at a fastfood place late yesterday afternoon.

When she finished breakfast Melanie pushed back from the table and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a walk—get some fresh air. I’m not accustomed to eating a big breakfast.” She offered a weak smile to both her father and Cody. “All that food, added to the fact that I haven’t had any sleep…I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep my eyes open.” It was the truth, as far as it went. What she had not said was how uncomfortable her father’s conversation made her feel.

All through breakfast he kept talking about how happy he was that she had finally come home. Come home…the words rang hollow in her ears. This was not her home. It may have been where she had lived for her first eighteen years, but it was not her home. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow as a thought passed through her mind. Exactly where was her home? It seemed that she spent as much time on the road as she did in her apartment. There was no real feeling of permanency to her life, no solid foundation to draw strength and comfort from in troubled times.

She stepped out onto the front porch and looked across the landscape. The hillsides were carpeted in an emerald velvet dotted with patches of brightly colored wildflowers, signaling the end of winter. The breeze rustled through the new leaves on the trees, creating a background whisper that softened the harsh sounds of the squawking blue jays. She shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun and watched as a hawk circled overhead. The crisp, cool air filled her lungs, the sweet smells of spring tickling her senses. How different it was from the choking fumes of car exhaust and the congestion of the Los Angeles freeways.

She left the porch and started down the path toward the barn. As a child the barn had been her place of refuge, the safe haven where she could hide from everything and everyone. She had created an entire imaginary world for herself up in the hayloft. She was the beautiful princess in her castle, waiting for a handsome prince to come along and sweep her up onto his horse and ride away with her.

She opened the barn door and stepped into the dimly lit interior. The barn was empty. She knew the ranch hands would have been hard at work from the first light of day. The barnyard chores would already have been done—the cows milked, chickens fed, eggs collected. She climbed the ladder to the loft, found a soft spot and snuggled into the hay. Her eyelids fluttered shut and within a few seconds she had fallen asleep, visions of a handsome prince dancing through her mind. A handsome prince who bore a remarkable resemblance to Cody Chandler.



“I can handle this, Cody.” It had only been during the past year, when his health dictated that he spend more and more time in the office rather than out on the ranch, that Buck had finally learned how to use the computer. Now he took care of all the office functions, including the daily bookkeeping chores, leaving the heavy-duty accounting to Cody and their CPA. Up until a year ago Cody had handled the entire business end of things, but now he had to take up the outdoor slack left by Buck’s diminished capacity.

“You’ve really come a long way with that computer.”

“Yeah, it just goes to show…you really can teach an old dog new tricks.” Buck swiveled around in his chair until he faced Cody. “I haven’t seen Melanie since she left the table after breakfast.” He checked his watch. “That was over three hours ago. I know there’s lots of work to be done, what with us coming up on spring roundup, but could you check on her? Make sure she’s okay? Maybe show her around the ranch and point out the improvements we’ve made in the past few years?”

“Sure thing, Buck. I was about to head outside anyway.” He felt the irritation again. But was it irritation at being expected to look after her or did it go deeper than that? Was he really irritated by the fact that she had not strayed very far from his thoughts since the moment he flipped on the living-room light and saw her sprawled on the floor?

Cody had no idea where she had disappeared to. He checked down the hallway, but she was not in her bedroom. He asked Edna, who said she had not seen Melanie since she had noticed her through the kitchen window going into the barn, but that had been quite a while ago. He left the house and headed toward the barn. It gave him a place to start looking.

It didn’t take long for Cody to discover Melanie’s whereabouts. He stood on the top rung of the ladder leading to the hayloft and watched her as she slept. The sunlight streamed in through the open loft doors, covering her face in a golden glow. Her features showed no signs of her earlier anger. Her long, dark lashes rested against her upper cheek. Pieces of straw were tucked into the folds of her hair. Her breasts slowly rose and fell with her breathing. Yes, indeed, she’s very attractive…

Cody climbed up the last step into the loft, though he wasn’t exactly sure why, and stood for a moment, staring down at her. Then he knelt next to her sleeping body. He carefully plucked a piece of straw from her hair and gently tickled the tip of it across her cheek. She stirred but did not wake as she batted her hand at the intrusion. He withdrew for a moment, then traced her lower lip with the straw. That tempting mouth—that very tempting mouth—still begged to be kissed. It was a temptation he could not resist. He bent over her, lowering his head until their mouths were within a fraction of an inch. He hesitated, then brushed his lips against hers.

It was the most delicious dream. In fact, it seemed almost real to Melanie. The handsome prince of her childhood fantasies had come for her. She felt his lips against hers, felt the heat and passion of his kiss, even though it only lasted a fraction of a second. She slowly opened her eyes and dreamily focused on Cody’s face. He seemed so real, as if she could actually reach out and touch him. She lifted her hand and extended it toward him. Then the dream ceased to be. Reality presented itself as her fingers came in contact with a flesh-and-blood man.

Melanie jerked upright, her eyes wide with shock. Her voice trembled; her words came out in a hushed gasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”




Three (#ulink_b0602ef6-0645-5281-af26-e7378d4c856d)


It was a valid question, but Cody did not have a good answer. He was not sure exactly what he thought he was doing, or more accurately why he was doing it. There was nothing about Melanie Winslow that said she was in any way the type of woman with whom he would want to pursue a serious relationship. She was also Buck’s daughter and Buck was not only his friend, Buck was his employer. But still, like it or not, something other than her good looks had worked its way under his skin.

He wanted to push it aside as being a ridiculous thought that had no place in his world. He tried, but was not totally successful. He decided to ignore her question. “If you wanted to take a nap shouldn’t you be doing it in your bedroom rather than up here?”

Melanie was not sure exactly what had been real and what had been a dream. Had he really kissed her? Perhaps the best thing would be to proceed as if nothing had happened. She sat up, carefully avoiding any physical contact with him. A hint of embarrassment found its way into her voice. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I used to come up here when I was a little girl. I guess I…” She could not finish her sentence. She did not have a ready explanation for her actions. “What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”

Cody stood up and reached out his hand to help her to her feet. “It’s been about four hours since you left the kitchen.”

“Four hours? Oh, no. I certainly didn’t intend to be out here that long.” She hesitated a moment, then accepted his assistance. “I guess I was just too tired to keep my eyes open.” She noticed the way he kept staring at her, a stare that caused a ripple of confusion and vexation in her. She was also very much aware that he still held her hand within his grasp. She quickly withdrew from his touch and busied herself straightening her clothes and brushing away the loose pieces of hay.

Cody pulled several pieces of straw from her hair. He tickled the last piece across her cheek before dropping it to the floor of the hayloft. It was a brief moment of peaceful coexistence, neither challenging the other’s position or authority.

It was Melanie who broke the moment. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she stared down at the hay-covered floor. She nervously cleared her throat, then looked up at him. “I, uh, I think I owe you an apology. I guess I was a little overly tired this morning. I’m afraid I wasn’t too polite.”

“Well…” An apology—that was certainly far removed from what he had anticipated. Perhaps Buck’s daughter was not quite the disagreeable ingrate Cody had surmised her to be. “I certainly can’t blame you for getting upset about being tackled and thrown to the floor.”

“And I hadn’t let anyone know I would be arriving in the middle of the night. I can understand why you would assume I was someone breaking into the house.” She stuck out her hand and offered him a tentative smile. “Truce?”

Cody hesitantly agreed, still a little skeptical about her real motives. He accepted her handshake, the sensation of her touch sending a hint of both alarm and anxiety through his awareness. “Sure…truce.”

This time it was Cody who quickly withdrew his hand. He ran it across the back of his neck. For a moment he had forgotten his purpose in being there, had forgotten about everything except the mystery and allure of Melanie Winslow. “Shall we go?” He turned toward the ladder. “Buck wants me to show you around, point out everything new over the past ten years.” He could not stop the irritation that crept into his voice. It was a silly waste of his time. She had lived at the ranch and should be able to spot the changes on her own without taking up his valuable time.

Her manner stiffened. She wrinkled her brow into a slight frown and pursed her lips. She caught the edge to his voice. Was this part of his method of keeping a vigilant eye on her, as he had threatened? “I don’t need a tour guide to find my way around.”

He paused with his foot on the top rung of the ladder. His voice and physical presence carried absolute authority. “Buck wants me to show you around, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Her temper flared. “This is ridiculous! I lived here for eighteen years. I’ll bet I know places on this ranch you’ve never seen.”

He matched her, word for angry word, as he stepped back onto the loft floor. “Look, kid. There’ve been lots of changes around here in the past ten years. Things are very busy right now. I don’t want you wandering around on your own and getting in the way. Besides, I still don’t know what you’re doing here and until I do—”

She stomped over to the ladder. “Get out of my way, cowboy.” She expertly sidestepped him and quickly descended the ladder. She glanced back up when she reached the dirt floor of the barn. He appeared as a large, dark silhouette against the brilliant blue sky visible through the opened loft doors behind him.

“Humph!” She snorted her indignation, turned on her heel and stormed out of the barn, comforting herself with the knowledge that she had tried to make amends. She had apologized to him, even though she knew she had not been at fault, and had called for a truce. She certainly would not accept any responsibility for the behavior of such an overbearing jerk. A little tremor darted through her body as she recalled her dream, the dream that had seemed so real.

Cody watched from the loft doors as she headed back toward the house. Her stride was purposeful and direct, each step hitting the ground with a thud that he imagined he could almost hear. Then the thought hit him. He glanced at his watch. He needed to hurry if he was going to prevent her from disturbing Buck.

A couple of months ago Buck started taking a short nap before lunch. The short nap had gradually become longer and longer, then became a midmorning nap, an afternoon nap and an evening nap. There was no reason for him to continue to get up as early as he did. Cody had tried to get him to sleep later in the morning, but to no avail. Cody had not belabored the point. Buck had spent his entire life rising before dawn.

Cody understood Buck’s need to feel that he was still capable of making a contribution to the daily work effort. For a man like Buck Winslow to be denied his feeling of usefulness was tantamount to denying him a reason to go on living. And Cody wanted to do everything he possibly could to see to it that Buck would be around for as long as possible. He flashed on the unexpected way Buck had seemed to perk up around his daughter. The thought left as quickly as it had arrived. Cody climbed down from the hayloft and hurried toward the house. He went straight to the office, irritation growing inside him to the point where it shoved aside whatever tender feelings he might have momentarily harbored toward Melanie.

Melanie again found herself watching her father as he slept, only this time he was stretched out in the recliner in the living room. The nap she had stolen in the hayloft had somewhat cleared the fuzziness from her sleep-deprived brain. She needed to dig out some straight answers. Exactly what was wrong with her father and what involvement and authority did this Cody Chandler person have in her father’s business affairs? He projected an air of authority far beyond that of hired hand, even that of ranch foreman.

She could not imagine her father as either weak or vulnerable. He had always been in charge of everything around him. Nothing happened on the ranch that he did not know about. She remembered him as an unemotional, pragmatic man. The ranch had always come first in his life. He had been fair with his employees, but his family was a different matter. She had been hurt on more than one occasion when he had turned his back on her and walked away when she had tried to talk to him. He had never allowed any tenderness or softness to show through. If that side of him existed at all, she had never been aware of it. But seeing him now…again she was struck by how frail he appeared. Was Cody Chandler nothing more than an opportunist taking advantage of a sick man?

Melanie Winslow was confused. Very confused. For some unknown reason she found herself experiencing the very foreign sensation of feeling protective toward her fatherprotective of this cold, overbearing man with whom she had a relationship that could be described at best as adversarial.

She shook her head to clear the strange thoughts. Sleep. She needed more sleep. Obviously she was not thinking clearly. She turned around and left the living room. She would find Cody Chandler and get some answers from him. Then she would put a call in to Henry Sanderson.

Henry had been Buck’s attorney for more years than Melanie was old. She furrowed her brow in thought. That is, assuming Henry was still her father’s attorney. It was possible that he, too, was no longer connected with the ranch or her father, just as Tom Collier was no longer on the scene.

Was this all some sort of plot engineered by Cody so that he could get his hands on her father’s ranch? Was he really some sort of slick con man? Good grief! Get a grip on yourself, Melanie. Next you’re going to be imagining subterfuge behind every rock and tree. She tried to put her thoughts into some sort of logical reality. Her father was obviously in bad health and not capable of performing the hard work connected with a large cattle ranch. It was necessary for him to delegate a lot of the authority and responsibility. Even without the tour that Cody seemed determined to give her she could see that there had been lots of changes since she was last there. Things looked very prosperous.

Melanie turned to leave the living room and immediately ran into Cody in the hallway leading from the office. She fixed him with a determined stare, refusing to give credence to the tremor of excitement caused by his presence. “I want a word with you.”

He folded his arms across his chest and carefully scrutinized her stance and her physical challenge. He took his time answering her, noting the way she kept clenching and unclenching her jaw. “I thought we were already having words.”

She refused to be put off by his aggressive manner. “So far those words have consisted of you barking orders. Now it’s time for you to start answering some questions.”

He stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the front door. “Outside.” It was only one word, but it was said with total authority—once again he was issuing orders.

She hesitated for a moment, glanced back at her father sleeping peacefully in his recliner, then walked out onto the front porch.

Cody leaned back against the porch railing and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. He studied her nervousness for a moment before speaking. “All right, what do you want answered?”

“First, I want to know about my father’s health.” Some of the antagonistic edge disappeared from her voice as her inner fears seeped through. “How bad is he?”

“He’s dying.” The words were said in a flat tone of voice as Cody made every effort to control the emotion welling inside him.

Mel blinked a couple of times, then swallowed quickly several times as she tried to force down the sick feeling. “What…” She gulped in some cool air. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said—he’s dying. What part of that don’t you understand?” He was fully aware of the harshness of his words but did not seem to be able to say it any other way. He had already been through it all with Buck—the anger, the denial and the eventual acceptance. It had been a year ago that the physical deterioration began to take its toll and Cody had written the letter to Buck’s daughter. And now here she was, a year later, making demands as if she actually had some sort of concern or involvement.

She stumbled backward, the shock of Cody’s words hitting her as sharply as if he had reached out and slapped her. She had seen with her own eyes how her father had been reduced to a shell of his former self. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she had suspected the truth, but she had not been prepared for the reality to hit her so abruptly. Was this how it would end? Would her relationship with her father remain unresolved? For a fraction of a second it was herself she felt sorry for—for the possibility that she might have waited too long and was now too late to change things.

“What…when…” She tried to force a calm to her words. “How much time does he have? What is he dying of?”

Her genuine shock and obvious sorrow managed to pierce the wall Cody had purposely constructed between himself and this woman, of whom he disapproved yet at the same time found very enticing. He steeled himself against the emotional pull that reached out from her and tried to take hold of him.

“As to when, the doctor says he’s already on borrowed time. In fact, he said Buck should have been bedridden a couple of weeks ago.” He saw the color drain from her face and the unsteady manner in which she reached out to grab hold of the porch railing. He heard her ragged intake of breath.

“Doc says he honestly doesn’t know what’s kept Buck going.” Cody recalled the warmth that covered Buck when he first saw Melanie in the kitchen, some sort of inner peace separate from his acceptance of his mortality. A hint of cognizance tried to push its way into his mind, a thought that said perhaps it was the farfetched hope of a reunion with his daughter that had kept Buck going against all odds.

Cody doubled his resolve to keep control of the situation. He did not know why Melanie Winslow had decided to show up at this particular time, but he was determined to keep her from doing anything to spoil things. He wanted Buck’s final days to be as carefree and comfortable as possible.

“And…what…is he in much pain?” Melanie did not know what she felt; she mostly just felt numb. “Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?”

“Doc Gerrard doesn’t feel there is anything that can be done for him in the hospital that can’t be done here at home. This is where Buck wants to be. This is where he’s the most comfortable. This is where he has spent his life and where he wants to die. The pain is pretty much controlled by medication. Some days are better than others, but in the past couple of months he’s gone downhill rapidly. He’s a fighter. He’s accepted that he’s dying, but he hasn’t given up yet. Something is keeping him going, but I don’t know…” His voice trailed off as the thought forced its way into his mind again. Was it possible that Buck had found the will to push himself forward in an all-out effort to hang on to life in the hope of seeing his daughter again?

Cody took a calming breath. He did not like talking about it but knew she had to be told the truth. “The what is a little more complex. What he’s dying from is cancer, but during the past few years he’s been plagued by several other ailments and problems, not the least of which is poor circulation. It’s only through sheer will that he’s still getting around at all, let alone unassisted. His legs can’t hold out much longer. You felt his touch, how cold his skin feels.”

“But can he get proper medical care out here, so far away from a major hospital?” Her mind tried desperately to take hold and fully comprehend all she had heard.

“The doc stops by once a week. There’s a hospice nurse who comes by three times a week, and there’s Edna, of course. Edna has experience along these lines. Her husband died in much the same manner. It was right after that that she came to work for Buck. She keeps a very close eye on him during the day. I’ve tried to hire a private nurse for twenty-four-hour coverage, but Buck won’t have it.”

“But in case of an emergency…”

“He can be helicoptered to the hospital in twenty minutes.”

Melanie fell back against the wall and stared blankly at the ground as she tried to assimilate everything Cody had told her. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her stomach.

“Are you all right?” Cody’s genuine concern showed in his voice as he reached out to give her some support. He cocked his head and studied her for a moment. She was still ashen and visibly shaken, but making a valiant effort to remain calm.

Melanie felt momentarily light-headed. Then she felt his fingers close around her arm and her body being drawn against his. His strong arms were around her a moment later. Cody had stated all the horrible particulars of her father’s illness in such a matter-of-fact way, almost as if he were reciting a grocery list. But she knew she could not fault him. He clearly had a genuine concern for Buck’s comfort and well-being. She had noticed it in his eyes and had heard it in his warnings to her about upsetting her father.

“I see.” She looked up at him, attempting to regain some sort of control over the conversation. There were too many conflicting emotions…the stark reality of her father’s health and the equally real sensation of the warmth of Cody’s embrace. She saw a moment of tenderness flicker across his face when their eyes locked for a heated instant. She recalled the vivid dream where he had brushed his lips against hers. Too many conflicts…too much confusion. Nothing was happening the way she had anticipated.

This was not right, Melanie told herself. She had to extract herself from the very personal moment they were sharing. She could not deny her attraction to Cody, but she did not know exactly what his game was, and until she had him figured out she needed to keep her distance. She did not trust him…at least not yet. She also questioned whether she could trust herself where Cody Chandler was concerned.

He exerted no physical pressure on her. As soon as she pushed back from him, he released his hold on her. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “Uh, does my father know everything?”

“I would never keep anything from him. He’s not the type of man who would want to hide from the truth or be shielded from reality. You’re his daughter—you should know that. He prefers to meet things head-on and deal with them straight out.” He liked the way she had felt in his arms. It had been warm and comfortable—there was no denying that. It was the type of feeling that said there should be more, but until he figured out exactly why she had shown up when she had, he needed to keep a wary eye on her. “Buck knows everything.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I know everything. I did miss the final ‘Jeopardy’ question on television yesterday.” Buck pushed open the screen door and moved unsteadily out onto the front porch, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Is it possible that I’ve been the topic of conversation? It would seem to me that two attractive young people could find something better to do on a beautiful spring day than discuss the accumulated knowledge of this old man.”

Melanie caught the warning look Cody shot her way. She turned toward her father. “Sixty-four isn’t very old…Father.” She could not call him “Daddy,” as she had when she was a little girl. The word was totally out of place. It had a feel of warmth, closeness and familiarity that she did not associate with her father.




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