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The Truth About Plain Jane
Roxann Delaney


He was no Prince Charming[Marriage had never been a priority for Trey Brannigan. The Triple B Dude Ranch always came first–until he found himself distracted by a certain guest of the female variety. But why was the obvious beauty hiding her good looks beneath those frumpy clothes and glasses?She was no ugly ducklingSent undercover to review the ranch, Meg Chastain knew this was her last chance To prove herself a top-notch reporter. 'So, although Trey and his smoldering gaze were tempting, she had to resist. If she let him persist with his potent seduction, the only story she'd get would be the one about a cowboy who lassoed a young woman's heart…







“Howdy, ma’am.”

She jumped at his greeting and smacked her head on the door frame, causing him to wince. Running a hand through her short, mousy brown curls, she backed out of the car with care and turned. One corner of his mouth went up in a half smile as her bespectacled gaze moved from his boots up to his face.

But his smile froze before it reached the other side of his mouth when his gaze collided with hers. Behind huge owlish glasses were eyes as green as summer grass, surrounded by long dark lashes. Trey’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how long he stood staring into the emerald depths of her wide eyes. A thud at his dust-covered boot brought him back to his senses, and he looked down to see an overstuffed nylon bag at his feet.

“Let me—” he said, bending down to retrieve the tote.

“I can—” she said at the same time, whacking her head into his.

The blow brought him back to normal. He breathed in a sigh of relief that he’d broken contact with her hypnotic gaze.


Dear Reader,

When you’re stuffing the stockings this year remember that Silhouette Romance’s December lineup is the perfect complement to candy canes and chocolate! Remind your loved ones—and yourself—of the power of love.

Open your heart to magic with the third installment of IN A FAIRY TALE WORLD …, the miniseries where matchmaking gets a little help from an enchanted princess. In Her Frog Prince (SR #1746) Shirley Jump provides a rollicking good read with the antics of two opposites who couldn’t be more attracted!

Then meet a couple of heartbreaking cowboys from authors Linda Goodnight and Roxann Delaney. In The Least Likely Groom (SR #1747) Linda Goodnight brings us a risk-taking rodeo man who finds himself the recipient of lots of tender loving care—from one very special nurse! And Roxann Delaney pairs a beauty disguised as an ugly duckling with the man most likely to make her smolder, in The Truth About Plain Jane (SR #1748).

Last but not least, discover the explosive potential of close proximity as a big-city physician works side by side with a small-town beauty. Is it her wacky ideas that drive him crazy—or his sudden desire to make her his? Find out in Love Chronicles (SR #1749) by Lissa Manley.

Watch for more heartwarming titles in the coming year.

You don’t want to miss a single one!

Happy reading!

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor




The Truth About Plain Jane

Roxann Delaney







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


To Kathie, who always has faith in me and uses her size

5 to prove it. Thank you, Rosebud. And to the rest of the

Ditzy Chix—Belinda, Bron, Carol, Denise, Kristi,

Lindsey, Lisa, Marge, Mary and Roxanne—bless you all.

You’re the best.




Books by Roxann Delaney


Silhouette Romance

Rachel’s Rescuer #1509

A Saddle Made for Two #1533

A Whole New Man #1658

The Truth About Plain Jane #1748


ROXANN DELANEY

doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t reading or writing, and she always loved that touch of romance in both. A native Kansan, she’s lived on a farm, in a small town and has returned to live in the city where she was born. Her four daughters and grandchildren keep her busy when she isn’t writing, designing Web sites or planning her high school class reunions. The 1999 Maggie Award winner is thrilled to have followed the yellow brick road to the land of Silhouette Romance and loves to hear from readers. Contact her at roxann@roxanndelaney.com (mailto:roxann@roxanndelaney.com), or at P.O. Box 16606, Wichita, KS 67216-1104. Also be sure to visit her Web site at www.roxanndelaney.com (http://www.roxanndelaney.com).










Contents


Chapter One (#ude662106-9d67-5775-b1fc-073eb59ed835)

Chapter Two (#u0911aa6a-a2c3-50b9-a422-35c6976bb848)

Chapter Three (#uabc22dab-3330-582c-ad00-bc982eec1de8)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Sinking onto the leather chair behind the massive oak desk that proclaimed him head honcho, Trey Brannigan ran a hand down his face. The day wasn’t over yet. Plenty of time for more to go wrong.

Now that he had all but one of the Triple B’s guests deposited and settled in their respective cabins, all he wanted was some peace and quiet. But the view from the office window of the rust-eaten Mustang coming up the drive was a sure sign that it wouldn’t happen until he’d settled the last of his guests.

Shoving himself from the chair, he headed outside to greet the latecomer. As he descended the wide steps of the ranch house porch and made his way to the parking area, he was subjected to the sight of a flower-covered backside at the open rear door of the ancient car.

Trey smiled to himself. It only stood to reason that the latecomer was a woman. Women were good for a lot of things, but one thing was certain—they were inevitably late.

He chuckled to himself as he neared the tardy female. Her taste in clothes left a lot to be desired. Neon green, orange and yellow flowers danced invitingly before him as she wrestled with something in the back seat of her car. The sight would have been enticing if it hadn’t been for the blinding colors.

“Howdy, ma’am.”

She jumped at his greeting and smacked her head on the door frame, causing him to wince. Rubbing a head of short, mousy brown curls, she backed out of the car with care and turned. One corner of his mouth went up in a half-smile as her bespectacled gaze moved from his boots up to his face.

But his smile froze before it reached the other side of his mouth when his gaze collided with hers. Behind huge owlish glasses were eyes as green as summer grass, surrounded by long dark lashes. Trey’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how long he stood staring into the emerald depths of her wide eyes. A thud at his dust-covered boot brought him back to his senses, and he looked down to see an overstuffed nylon bag at his feet.

“Let me—” he said, bending down to retrieve the tote.

“I can—” she said at the same time, whacking her head into his.

The blow brought him back to normal. He breathed in a sigh of relief that he’d broken contact with her hypnotic gaze. The scent of a summer garden drifted toward him. Intoxicating. Still bent over, he took a step back and was brought to a halt by the open car door. Grabbing the bag, he straightened, shaking his head to clear it from an unaccustomed buzzing sound, and glanced up at her.

She shoved the bridge of her glasses up with delicate fingers that trembled. “I—I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said, making sure he didn’t look directly into her eyes. Sidestepping around her, he reached inside the car for two suitcases that were propped on the seat. “You must be M. Chastain,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled the luggage out of the car and set it at his feet.

“My, uh, trunk lock is broken.” Her tone was apologetic, and she quickly moved out of his way when he swung around to face her.

He simply nodded, avoiding a direct hit from her eyes, and then gestured with another nod in the direction of the cabins. Stuffing the tote they’d knocked heads over under his arm, he picked up her other suitcases and led the way. “You’re in number four.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He slid a look at her as she caught up with him, baffled by his reaction to her. It was hard to tell what was under her colorful outfit. Her flowered skirt hung loosely almost to her ankles, and even those were hidden by neon orange socks. The green top she wore was baggy, without even a suggestion of womanly curves beneath. Which was fine with him.

Stepping up onto the tiny cabin porch, Trey set down one suitcase to reach for the door. “What’s the M for?” he asked.

“Um… Margaret.”

He opened the door and stepped aside to let her pass into the room. “Friends call you Margie?”

Her throaty chuckle sent shockwaves through him as she stepped past him. He attempted to swallow and found he couldn’t.

“No, just Margaret,” she answered. “Or Meg. Sometimes.”

He managed to clear the thickness from his throat. Still unable to think of a reply, he placed the suitcases inside the door and watched her. Something about the way she moved held his attention.

“It’s a very nice cabin,” she said from across the room.

Determined to be the kind of cowboy people expected to find on a Texas ranch, Trey touched the brim of his hat and grinned. “Glad you like it, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl. “You might want to jingle your spurs a little. They’ll be servin’ supper at the chuckwagon any time.”

One perfectly arched eyebrow raised in a dark point over one eye. “I guess I wouldn’t want to miss that, would I?”

Avoiding her eyes, but with his attention still on her face, Trey noticed her flawless complexion. It didn’t go with her mousy hair color at all. Or those fascinating eyes. And her mouth—full lips curved in a slight smile. The thought passed through his mind that it would be mighty nice to have a taste of those lips.

He shook his head at the crazy notion, even as his pulse quickened. Get a grip, Brannigan. Taking a backward step out the cabin door, he pulled off his hat, twisting it in his hands. “Well, I’ll be leavin’ you to…uh…if you need anything…”

“Yes?” she asked in a breathy voice that sped up his heart rate a little more.

“You just ask one of the hands,” he finished in a rush, jamming his hat back on his head. Turning, he made for the steps on feet that didn’t want to cooperate, and headed across the yard in the direction of the barn.

What the hell was wrong with him? Trey Brannigan tongue-tied? The idea was dumber than a day-old calf. Even his brothers, Dev and Chace, had never been able to render him speechless. Hell, what he needed was a stiff drink. And he’d have one, just as soon as he checked on the status of the stock. He needed to clear his mind and straighten it out again. Women didn’t get to him—hadn’t in all his thirty-one years. Except once, and that mistake wouldn’t happen again. He’d be damned if he knew what had gotten into him now.

Stunned by the cowboy’s sudden departure, Meg Chastain moved to the doorway and watched him cross the expanse of well-tended grass between the guest cabins and the ranch’s outbuildings. Forcing herself to close the door on the view, she leaned back against it and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought. Merciful heaven! The man moved like his joints were greased with saddle oil, his hips rotating with each step. She’d never get the image out of her mind.

Forcing herself to move, she pushed away from the door and crossed the room, making mental notes of the amenities and ambiance of the cool blue-and-green room. But even in the air-conditioned cabin, an unaccustomed warmth mixed with the heat from her long drive. Fanning herself with one hand, she wondered if she would she ever be cool again. Sweat had glued a curl of hair to her forehead and trickled between her breasts. She blew at the curl but it remained stuck. A quick swipe with the back of her hand moved it away, only to have it dip back down and stick again. Exasperated, she reached for her mop of curls and grabbed a handful, pulling off the wig. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders, damp from the sweat caused by the heat she’d endured during her two and a half day drive.

Men sweat, women perspire, she imagined her Aunt Dee telling her. Meg smiled at the thought. She’d been listening to her aunt’s sage advice and quaint sayings for most of her twenty-seven years, and they still never failed to make her smile.

“Sorry, Aunt Dee,” she muttered under her breath. “You try driving in this Texas heat in a car with no air-conditioning.” If the change in arrangements hadn’t been made at the last minute, she would’ve flown. She was almost two hours late, but at least she’d made it to the Triple B Dude Ranch.

After tossing the glasses she wore only for effect onto the bed, she located the shower and availed herself of its soothing spray. The water did wonders for her aching muscles. But the image of the cowboy popped into her mind again. Those scuffed cowboy boots and worn blue jeans, hugging a pair of muscled thighs, had taken her breath away. The memory of faded chambray draping a pair of broad, solid shoulders still made her catch her breath, while his strong, rugged features and bright blue eyes had almost rendered her speechless.

Her groan filled the small confines of the shower. She knew better than to dwell for even a moment on the fine specimen of pure cowboy maleness that had greeted her on her arrival.

When she finally felt human again, she finished up and dressed. Slipping the wig and glasses on, she checked her reflection in the mirror, smiling at the image staring back at her. No one would pay the least bit of attention to a mousy woman with little knowledge of ranches. Any questions she would ask would seem perfectly normal.

“Now to find Mr. Buford Brannigan.” Stepping out into the lengthening shadows of the evening, Meg squared her shoulders and started walking in the direction of the sprawling two-story ranch home.

“You’d better hustle on over for some grub,” a slow Texas drawl interrupted her thoughts.

Meg’s stomach fluttered at the sound of the deep, smooth baritone, and she turned to see her cowboy walking toward her. Her cowboy? She shook her head and silently scolded herself. Considering her reaction, it might be wiser to ask someone else about Buford Brannigan. She’d be smart to keep her distance from this particular cowboy. She wasn’t here to get involved with a ranch hand. She was here to do a job.

She noticed a group of people gathered around what appeared to be a covered wagon, and the delicious aroma of barbecue caused her stomach to rumble.

Before she could take a step in that direction, the cowboy approached her, stopping a few feet in front of her. “Hungry, Miss Chastain?”

Was he for real? This was supposed to be a working dude ranch. But could this good-looking hunk, his dark hair curling beneath his gray cowboy hat, be nothing more than a transplant from back east? It wouldn’t be the first time dude ranch guests had been fooled.

“The food smells wonderful,” she answered.

He looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Looks like there’s still a few places to sit.”

“Are you joining us?” she asked, praying he wasn’t. He was a distraction she didn’t need right now.

“Maybe later. I—” He looked down at a little girl of about eight who had appeared at his elbow and was tugging at his shirtsleeve. “Howdy,” he said, giving her his attention.

She looked up at him with deep brown eyes that widened. “Are you a real cowboy?”

“Yep.”

“Do you ride a horse all day?”

He grinned at her. “Not all day. There’s lots of work to do on a ranch besides ridin’ horses.”

“Like what?”

“Makin’ sure the stock’s taken care of.”

“Stock?”

“You know. Cows, horses. The animals. And we’re expectin’ some new kittens any day.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide. Ducking her head, she scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

Meg noticed the girl’s hesitation and stuck out her hand. “My name’s—” She hesitated for a moment, quickly reminding herself why she was there and who she was supposed to be. “My name’s Margaret Chastain, but you can call me Meg. What’s yours?”

“Carrie Winston,” the little girl answered.

“Do you know how to ride a horse, Carrie?” the cowboy asked.

Carrie shook her head.

“What about you, Miss Chastain?” he asked, turning his attention to her. “Do you like to ride?”

Meg looked up at him. “I—no, not very much.”

“Maybe you just need a good teacher.”

Meg’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he’d said, it was how he’d said it. There was a hint of a promise in his voice and a suggestion of something in his eyes, just before he pulled his hat down, hiding the top half of his face.

“Maybe Carrie can take riding lessons,” Meg suggested, forcing herself to breathe again. “They’re offered here, aren’t they, Mr…?”

“It’s Trey, ma’am.” He touched the lowered brim of his hat, and she could feel him studying her in the dimming light.

Carrie tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Can I? Can I take riding lessons?”

“Sure you can. I’ll let Ellie know.” Trey nudged his hat back, grinning at the child, and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ellie’s our riding instructor. Pete, over there, is our head wrangler,” he said, nodding in the direction of two men—one of them a cowboy, true to form, the other a tall, lean man in gray slacks and a sports shirt. “Ellie must be busy with the horses. Why don’t I mosey on over there and talk to Pete about those lessons? You ready to start in the morning?”

Carrie looked up at Meg, excitement shining in her eyes. “Oh, yes! I have to tell my grandmother!”

As Carrie skipped away, Trey turned to Meg. “How about you, Miss Chastain? Are you interested in lessons?”

Meg hesitated. Ride a horse? The idea made her want to run for the rugged hills that framed the ranch, but she held steady. Riding would be expected of the guests, and she had signed up for the trail ride at the end of the week. Geraldine had insisted on it, even though this entire trip was an effort made in desperation. But Meg didn’t care. She needed this. Without it, things wouldn’t get better. And they had to.

“I’m game if Carrie is,” she finally answered.

“I’ll get you both set up, then,” he said, with another touch of his hat. He turned to leave, and Meg couldn’t stop herself from watching him.

When the cowboy had ambled across the dining area and disappeared, Meg let out her breath in a slow whoosh. As if in reply, her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. There were only a few empty seats left, so she hurried to the chuckwagon to fill a plate. Her late arrival had put her at a disadvantage. She had missed the small welcome party that had been advertised in the ranch’s brochure. Besides Carrie, Meg hadn’t had a chance to meet any of the other guests. She needed to make up for lost time. Later, during the campfire, she hoped to learn as much as she could about the Triple B Dude Ranch.

But as she took her seat on the bench at the long trestle table set up for the evening meal, she realized she had a direct view of the main ranch house. She could see the cowboy, who was now walking up the steps of the porch, and it was impossible to drag her gaze away. She would have to be careful around him. The way he looked at her, as if he could see beyond her disguise, it wouldn’t take long before he guessed the truth. She couldn’t risk that. With luck, she would soon be in a better position to help Aunt Dee. Once she had the means to move them to a climate where her aunt’s asthma would be better, they could both begin to relax and enjoy life. But that would happen only if she kept her mind on her reason for being here, not on a sexy ranch hand.

After making sure everything was back to normal following the disasters of the morning, Trey stepped off the porch and crossed the yard, his heart swelling with pride at the view. Situated on a rolling field that edged the rugged Banderas terrain, the main buildings glowed golden. The sun’s descent toward the horizon offered a breathtaking panorama. A man couldn’t ask for much more, except maybe to be a success.

Aromas from the best food south of the Mason-Dixon made his mouth water. Smiling and nodding at guests, he approached the chuckwagon. Satisfied that everything was now running smoothly, he grabbed a plate and filled it, then turned to search for a seat at the long trestle table. But the only spot available was on the end, and directly across from Meg Chastain.

Trey considered carrying his plate to the barn, but it would only put off the inevitable. He couldn’t entirely avoid the woman for a full week. He needed to get accustomed to her green eyes, or discover what it was about her that sent a fog through his mind—and a blaze through his body that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

She was talking to a young couple seated on her right when he placed his food on the table and swung first one leg over the bench, then the other. An older woman on his right was deep in conversation with another couple.

“Howdy,” he said to no one in particular, picking up his fork. He eyed the tender ribs on his plate, determined that the woman across from him wouldn’t get to him this time.

“Hello,” she said. “I see you decided to join us after all.”

He took a bite of a rib, dripping with barbecue sauce, and looked up—right into Meg Chastain’s emerald eyes. He was caught again, and barely noticed the older woman beside him leave the table. All he could do was concentrate on getting past the effect those eyes had on him.

Knowing that conversation was required, he quickly swallowed. “Business. I had some ranch business to take care of.”

The woman beside Meg smiled at him. “It’s just beautiful here. Ted and I are so impressed. And this food!”

The man next to her nodded. “My hat is off to whoever cooked this wonderful meal.”

Trey nearly sighed out loud with relief when Meg’s gaze moved to the couple, giving him the chance to clear his head and answer. “That would be Theresa. She’s the best.” He mentally went through the names of the guests. “Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, right?”

They smiled at each other. “Why, yes, that’s right,” Mrs. Henderson answered.

But Trey’s relief was short-lived when Meg smiled at them. The warmth of it nearly knocked him over. He recovered quickly and was ready when she turned back to him.

“How long has Theresa cooked for the ranch?” she asked.

“Always. We wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Mr. Henderson stood and helped his wife to her feet as she navigated the table and bench. “I can’t blame you for that,” he told Trey. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if someone tried to steal her away,” he added with a chuckle. “With meals like this one, I’ll need all the exercise I can get this week. Is it all right if Janet and I take a walk around the place?”

“Please do,” Trey said, standing to extend his hand. “And if you need anything, just let any of the staff know. Hope to see you both at the campfire later.”

Henderson took the hand Trey offered and shook it. “Thanks. We’ll be there.”

The couple spoke briefly to Meg, and then walked away, looking satisfied. And leaving Trey alone with the one woman he didn’t want to be left alone with. “Nice folks,” he said, filling the silence.

“Everyone I’ve met is very nice. And to echo Janet Henderson, it’s beautiful here.”

“I’d be a fool to disagree with that,” he replied with a grin.

Falling silent while they both finished their meal, Trey did his best to focus on the plate of food before him. But he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at his supper companion from time to time, trying to figure out what kind of woman she was. He divided women into two types. The first included the ones with dynamite curves, who were out for a good time. They were the women he felt most comfortable with, because the second kind was the settlin’down type. He enjoyed his freedom too much to get caught up with one of them. Not that he didn’t like them, but he had learned it always led to someone getting hurt. The first type understood him. The second type wanted to tie him down. Meg had him baffled as to where she fit. But it didn’t really matter. He didn’t have time for a woman right now. Either kind. And even if he did, he’d let his brother, Chace, be the one to enjoy married life. Trey liked his own footloose and fancy-free.

Rolling his napkin into a ball when his plate was empty, he prepared to leave, wondering what he should say to the woman across the table from him. The things he wanted to say—the things he normally said to a woman he was attracted to—were on the tip of his tongue. Lucky for him, that was pretty much still tied in a knot.

While he continued to watch her, Meg carefully placed her utensils on her plate and touched her napkin to her mouth. “When did the ranch open for business?”

He tore his gaze away from the simple movement and concentrated on her left earlobe, where he felt fairly safe. “Eight months ago, in December last year.”

“Is it cold here in the winter?”

“Pretty mild. It gets cool, but not downright cold. How about yours?” he asked, wondering where she hailed from.

“Cold,” she said with a wry smile. “Very cold.”

“You’re from back east?”

She shook her head. “More like up north, with lots of ice and snow. I wouldn’t know it was winter without it.”

When she looked at him again, their gazes locked, and she blushed. Staring into her eyes, even for a moment, left him breathless.

“Well,” she said, standing and gathering her supper things, “I guess I need to get unpacked. Thank you for keeping me company.”

He felt both relieved and bereft when she looked away. “Let me take care of that.” He stood and took the plate from her, adding his own. “Don’t forget the campfire, in about an hour,” he said, touching the brim of his hat and turning to leave.

As he walked away, he could feel her watching him. It wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with. Women usually liked him as much as he noticed them. But this time, it felt different somehow. Exactly how, he couldn’t say. Just…different.

He shook off the sensation and strode with purpose to dispose of the remnants of their supper, determined to end the day better than it had started. He’d had nothing but bad news since early that morning, when his two best ranch hands had gotten themselves run down by the new Brahma bull. The animal was now loose in the south pasture, along with the dozen and a half calves who’d managed to escape their pen. Because of that, he’d been doing double duty, welcoming guests to the Triple B Dude Ranch and covering for his injured men. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, the ranch’s secretary hadn’t shown up for work…again. It was understandable that he was exhausted. Maybe that explained his foggy-headed feeling.

There were more important things to be thinking about than a woman with a pair of devastating green eyes that seemed to see inside him, clear down to his soul. There was the Triple B. That’s where his heart was. It was the most important thing in his life. And it always would be.




Chapter Two


Meg chose one of the many bales of hay surrounding the campfire, making certain she had a clear view of everyone and everything, and settled onto it. Wincing, she shifted position, trying to find a spot where the sharp straw didn’t poke through the thin cotton of her skirt. She had packed a few pairs of jeans, just in case, but had hoped she wouldn’t have to wear them. They didn’t hide her figure—a figure she found a nuisance. But when it came to the riding lessons she had agreed to take, there wasn’t any way she could get away with wearing one of the hideous skirts she’d brought with her.

Eventually finding a comfortable spot, she greeted the woman sitting next to her. As they chatted about the ranch and how much they were enjoying it, a shadow blocked the light from the campfire.

Meg looked up to see Trey standing in front of her, the glow from the firelight behind him setting off his silhouette. With his thumbs hooked into his belt, and his cowboy hat tipped back on his head, Meg couldn’t help but be impressed by the figure he cut. Strong broad shoulders and a wide chest narrowed to hips and muscled thighs beneath denim. It was a sight that would take any woman’s breath away. It definitely took Meg’s.

“Havin’ a good time?” he asked.

Before Meg could find enough breath to answer, Carrie appeared and tugged at his shirt. “We’re going to have our riding lesson in the morning, aren’t we?”

His deep laughter sent warm shivers up and down Meg’s spine. He placed a hand on top of Carrie’s head. “First thing in the mornin’ after breakfast. I already have a horse picked out especially for you.”

“Really?”

He looked at Meg, the firelight dancing behind him. After what seemed like several minutes had gone by, he dragged his gaze away and reached down to tap the little girl’s nose with one finger. “Really.”

Carrie squealed with delight, but Meg couldn’t stop looking at the cowboy whose attention was now elsewhere.

He backed up a step and nodded, tugging his hat down and touching two fingers to the wide brim. “See you at breakfast,” he said without looking at Meg.

Carrie spun around to face her. “Do you think it’ll be a fast horse?”

Reluctantly pulling her attention from the fascinating sight of the retreating backside of the cowboy, Meg squelched a sigh before answering. Her heartbeat had picked up since he’d walked up to them and now raced in double-time.

“Not too fast,” she answered. But whether her answer was directed at Carrie or a command to her own galloping heart, she wasn’t sure.

Nodding, Carrie covered a yawn with her hand, and Meg stood. Taking the child by the hand, she gave her a friendly squeeze. “Let’s find your grandmother so she can get you into bed. You’ll need some sleep if you’re going to learn to ride a horse tomorrow.”

Carrie looked up at her. “But nobody else is going to bed.”

“I am,” Meg answered.

It didn’t take long for them to find Carrie’s grandmother. After a brief discussion of the plans for the next day, Meg bade them good-night and started for her cabin.

The air around her was pure and clean, so different from the city air where she lived. Breathing deeply, she tipped her head up and gazed at the canopy of stars above her. She couldn’t remember ever having seen anything quite so beautiful. Someday, she and her aunt would be able to enjoy the same kind of beauty. That’s why it was so important that she keep her mind on the reason she was here, not on a sexy ranch hand who she’d never see again after the week was over.

Movement in the darkness to her left brought her to a halt. Her heart beat harder and fear prickled her skin. “Is someone there?” she asked, her voice sounding weaker than she had hoped.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She instantly recognized Trey’s drawl and breathed easier. “Oh! It’s you.” Much to her disgust, the beating of her heart didn’t slow down at all.

He caught up with her, shortening his long stride to match hers when she continued walking. “You’re turnin’ in early.”

She glanced up to see him watching her. “It was a long drive, and since I’ll need to be clear-headed for the riding lesson in the morning, I thought I should get some sleep.”

“Where did you say you’re from?”

“I didn’t,” she admitted, with a smile. “But Indiana is home.”

He let out a long whistle. “That is a long drive.”

“I enjoyed it,” she admitted. “Except for the heat. But it’s the first time I’ve ever had the opportunity to see much of the country.”

“I saw enough of it when I was rodeoing, and this is still the best.”

The pride in his voice was obvious. She couldn’t blame him. The ranch and the countryside surrounding it were breathtaking. “What did you do in the rodeo?”

He was so close, she felt his shrug. “A little this, a little that. Mostly saddle bronc riding.”

“I’ve never been to a rodeo, but I’ve watched them on TV. To be honest, they’re frightening. Isn’t it terribly dangerous on those horses?”

“Lots of injuries, but if it’s in your blood, those don’t matter. My brother was a double National Champion the last year he competed, so I guess you could say it’s in his blood. Not really in mine, though,” he added with a soft chuckle. “Give me ranching, any day.”

Neither of them spoke again until they neared her cabin. Meg wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t ask. The silence between them was comfortable and she didn’t feel the need for conversation.

As they reached the porch, Trey slowed his steps. “I’d better get back to work.”

In spite of knowing she shouldn’t, Meg was sorry to see him go. “And I need to get that sleep.”

They stood staring at one another in the darkness. Finally, Trey cleared his throat. “See you at breakfast. Sleep tight.”

Meg thanked him for keeping her company once again, then slipped into her cabin. Before she closed the door, she searched for a glimpse of him, but couldn’t see much of anything.

“Just as well,” she whispered to herself. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough, and she would have to get to work. She had learned more about Trey than she had about the ranch, and even though she enjoyed his company, she had to get some sleep. And she still needed to find Buford Brannigan.

“What do you mean, you’re not teaching the class?” Trey boomed down at his pint-size sister-in-law early the next morning.

Ellie Brannigan leaned back against the corral fence, crossing her arms on her chest. “Calm down, Trey. We’re short-handed, remember? And Sherry called this morning to say she wouldn’t be in again today. Somebody’s got to hang around the office to answer the phone and get the paperwork caught up. I’m the likely candidate.”

“But who’s going to teach the riding class?”

“Why, you are,” she said, pushing off and starting for the big double barn door.

Trey grabbed her arm before she could take two steps. “Wait a minute. Why me?”

Pulling away from him, she planted her hands on her hips and tipped up her head to look at him. “Because you can’t spare any of the other hands, that’s why. And you know as much about horses and riding as I do.”

She was right, but the last thing he needed was to spend more time around Meg Chastain. When he’d left her at her cabin last night he’d made the decision to put as much distance between himself and the green-eyed woman as possible. Teaching the riding lesson would throw them together again. Exactly what he didn’t need.

“I can’t do it,” he said, dragging his hat from his head and raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh, puh-leeze.”

“No, really,” he argued, jamming his hat back on his head. How was he supposed to tell her that his plans for the day didn’t include being around Meg? For some reason, Meg was worming her way into his mind. There was something about her that he couldn’t explain—especially not to his brother’s wife.

“Look, I’ll go get the paperwork done while you teach the riding lesson,” he said with hope.

“You don’t have a clue where anything is,” Ellie reminded him.

Trey hated to admit she was right. He might do the majority of the business end of the ranch work, but he was about as organized as a drowning man. If it weren’t for their young secretary, the Triple B would be in bad shape. He could handle the simple stuff—keeping stock records, ordering feed and the “dude” part of the ranch. But when it came to the other paperwork, he needed help.

“Okay,” he relented. “But just for today, you got that? When Sherry gets back tomorrow, I’m off the hook and you’re back with the lessons.”

Patting his shoulder, Ellie smiled. “She said she had some personal business to take care of today. Things should be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Nothing will be normal,” he grumbled as she walked away. He didn’t bother to return the grin she gave him over her shoulder.

A sigh of frustration ended his self-pity. He had a choice. Go with the flow and deal with the catastrophes that seemed to be plaguing him this week, or give up. And he wasn’t about to give up. There was too much at stake. The Triple B wasn’t only his livelihood. It was Ellie’s and Chace’s, too. Trey knew his brother was eager to start a family to carry on the Brannigan name, but neither Chace nor Ellie wanted to put a strain on things until they were certain the dude ranch was going to be profitable. Until they could regularly draw in larger groups, like the one this week, that wouldn’t happen.

With a kick at a dirt clod, Trey headed for the large, modern horse barn. He had a vague idea who would be riding and what horse each guest would use, but he needed to make sure all was in order before the group descended on him.

Once inside, he stopped at the first stall to check on the gentle pinto mare he’d chosen for Carrie. Satisfied with his choice, he moved on to check the other horses. Everything had to be perfect. The welfare of his guests was top priority. He couldn’t risk having one of them land on his or her butt and go screaming “lawsuit” all the way back to whatever city they’d come from. The Triple B couldn’t afford anything like that.

A whinny from a stall farther down caught his attention. Turning, Trey saw the bay gelding shaking its head as if in answer to a disturbing question. Concerned there might be a varmint in the enclosed area with the horse, Trey moved down the walkway and silently peeked into the stall. He expected to see anything from a small mouse to a polecat, but what he saw made him freeze.

Meg Chastain knelt in the corner, her back to him, whispering comfort to something. Trey hoped to hell it wasn’t something that could hurt her. An armadillo wasn’t a pretty sight, nor was a possum, but there was no accounting for some people’s soft spots.

When he saw the silver-gray of the mother cat rubbing against Meg’s leg, he relaxed. Crossing his arms on the gate in front of him, he watched her. The gelding moved closer to Trey, who absentmindedly scratched between the horse’s ears. He knew that if either he or the horse made any sudden moves, they’d scare the daylights out of the woman. He sure didn’t want that to happen. Besides, he didn’t want to lose this opportunity to take a close look at her while her attention was somewhere else. Maybe he could figure out what it was about her that had his curiosity and his pulse at a high.

He couldn’t see much of her. Like she had the day before, she was wearing a big, tent-like top that hid whatever she had under it. The way she was kneeling made the bottom of it hang around her, shrouding her and covering whatever she had on from the waist down. He couldn’t tell what that was, but a hint of denim winked at the tops of her hot pink tennis shoes.

Taking his time, his gaze wandered up her back and stopped at the slender column of her neck. With her head tipped forward, the creamy ivory of her revealed skin beckoned to him, silently begging for his lips to press against it. He warmed to the idea, almost ready to move in her direction to do the deed. Reaching out for the gate latch, he froze and shook his head. What the hell was he doing?

Meg twisted to look over her shoulder, ruining the view he’d had of her bared neck. Trey swallowed as his gaze slid to hers. Behind her round lenses, her eyes were wide with surprise, pulling him deeper into their cool, green depths.

She turned, breaking the spell, and he let out a whoosh of air. Pulling himself together, he silently cursed himself for letting her get to him. By the time she turned around again, he was ready for those killer eyes.

“Kittens,” she said, holding up a tiny ball of slightly damp fur against one flushed cheek. “Carrie will love these.”

He nodded. “Too bad they won’t be big enough for her to take one home.”

Meg answered with a knowing smile and turned back to return the kitten. She slowly got to her feet and faced him, brushing off clinging bits of straw. “I hope the barn isn’t off-limits.”

Jeans, he thought, running his gaze quickly over the bottom half of her legs. But that’s all he could see. The long top covered everything from just above her knees on up. Below that, he could only guess at what was suggested.

“Is it?” she asked.

“What?” He looked into her emerald eyes and felt like a mule had kicked him in the chest. It took him a moment to regain his equilibrium, and he forced himself to look away before he lost what little control he had left. Stepping back from the stall, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping to look unaffected.

“Is the barn off-limits?” she asked. “I’d like to show Carrie the kittens after our riding lesson.”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I mean, it’s okay. Just make sure she’s careful around Pedro, there.” He inclined his head towards the horse that had moved away to the far corner. “I’m surprised you’re in the stall with him.”

Sudden realization and fear sparkled in her eyes. “Is he dangerous?”

“He’s fairly gentle. I reckon he didn’t sense any fear in you.”

“I-I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even notice him. I heard the kittens mewing and I—” Her cheeks were pale as she pressed against the side of the stall and eased along it, keeping her attention on the horse. “Maybe I’d better— I guess it’s about time for the lesson to start. I’d better get Carrie so we won’t be late.”

He opened the gate and held it for her. Unfortunately, he got a whiff of her as she passed. Soft, sweet, gentle as a summer evening, her scent drew him in. Managing to keep his feet planted, he could only nod in answer.

“I’ll see you around, I guess,” she said, squaring her shoulders and turning to leave.

Trey suddenly remembered that he would be teaching the class, not Ellie. He cleared his throat and found his voice. “I’ll be teaching the riding today.”

She came to a stop halfway to the wide double doors and looked back at him, her features troubled. “I thought you said somebody named Ellie would be teaching it.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. Hoping she’d change her mind about going ahead with the class, he waited.

Indecision danced around her well-covered body. “Well, I can’t let Carrie down,” she said, more to herself than to him. With a shrug of her own, she hurried from the barn.

Damn. Looked like he didn’t have a choice. He’d be teaching her how to ride. She didn’t seem to have any sense about how to act around horses, but he crossed his fingers and hoped she’d get the hang of riding quickly. He wasn’t sure how much time he dared spend around her. And if he was smart, he’d stop encouraging her. The only way he could do that was not to talk to her unless absolutely necessary. Damn his bad luck.

Trey stood near the doors of the stable, his hat pulled low, blocking the morning sun that bathed his tanned face. “Come on in the barn and I’ll show y’all how to dress out a horse.”

Joining the other four guests as they followed Trey into the barn for their riding lesson, Meg bit her lip to keep her nervous giggle at bay. Would the animals be wearing career clothes? After all, this was their job. Or would they be dressed in casual wear?

Inside the barn, Meg stood, fascinated, as she watched Trey instruct them on the fine art of saddling a horse. His expert and graceful movements held her attention as he slowly went through each and every step of readying a horse for riding. His strong hands were long-fingered, tanned and callused, but gentle in their movements. When Meg realized she was wondering what those hands would feel like caressing her body, she put the brakes on her wayward thoughts. Oh, no, she wasn’t going to let herself be taken in. This cowboy was a ranch hand, and although he might be useful to her, there would be nothing more. Besides, he was probably like all the other men she had met. He might look gentle, but more than likely it was pure deception.

“Okay,” Trey said, bringing Meg out of her reverie. “I’ll assign y’all each a horse, and then I want to see you do it. I’ll give you a hand if you need help.”

Meg shuddered, her nerves giving way to pure terror. If Trey hadn’t found her in the stall earlier with the kittens, she wondered how she would’ve gotten out. Growing up in Gary, Indiana, hadn’t lent itself to riding horses. She barely knew the front end from the back end. Now she was going to have to climb on one.

Meg felt a small hand slip into hers, and she looked down to see Carrie.

“I don’t think I can lift the saddle,” the little girl said, her voice wobbling.

Before Meg could think of something to say to reassure her, Trey joined them and bent down to Carrie’s eye level. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Nobody expects you to. Soon as I help Miss Chastain, I’ll get you all ready to ride.” He straightened and looked directly at Meg.

She hated to admit that the thought of saddling a horse had her scared witless. “Just show me the horse,” she announced, hoping her voice wasn’t as shaky as her knees were.

Sliding her a strange look, Trey shrugged. “Sure you can lift that saddle?”

She flashed him what she hoped was a confident smile. “I’m much stronger than I look. Go ahead and help Carrie. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

With a nod, he pointed to a nearby stall. “See that palomino? He’s yours.”

Her breath caught at the sight of the beautiful horse, and she hoped that she wouldn’t be afraid of such a gorgeous animal. “Does he have a name?”

“Moonlight. And he’s gentle, so don’t let him spook you if he starts moving around.”

With her knees feeling like rubber, she took the few steps and reached the stall. Easing into it, where the palomino stood waiting, she kept her voice low and much calmer than she felt. “Hey, Moonlight, I’m Meg. And aren’t you a beauty?” Her hand trembled as she tentatively reached up to comb her fingers through his mane. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back. “I’m going to saddle you now,” she warned.

She lifted the saddle from the top of the half-wall between stalls, and the weight of it nearly buckled her knees, forcing her to lean against the stall to stay upright. But she was determined to do this herself.

The horse, as beautiful as he was, wouldn’t cooperate. Each time Meg hefted the saddle higher, he sidestepped. She cursed him under her breath, determined that one way or another she was going to get it done. Gripping the leather and taking a fortifying breath, she tried once more. The horse backed away, his ears pressed flat to his head, and he snorted. Meg jumped back at the unusual sound, lost her balance, and the weight of the saddle brought her to the ground with an oomph of air. Tears of frustration burned her eyes.

“Problems?”

She jerked her head around at the sound of Trey’s voice and looked up to find him watching her. She sniffed at the tears and shrugged. “Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought I was.”

He opened the gate and walked in, his attention on the saddle holding her to the straw-covered floor. “You okay?” he asked as he lifted the saddle off her.

She scrambled to her feet, dusting off her backside and picking off bits of clinging straw. “I’m fine,” she answered, stepping back to give him plenty of room in the stall. Except for my dignity.

His gaze raked her from head to foot, then he shook his head. “You forgot the saddle blanket.” Picking up the brightly colored woven cloth, he proceeded to saddle the horse. “Pay close attention. Next time you’ll get it right.”

“It seems to me it makes more sense to use a blanket when he goes to bed.”

His hands stilled on the buckle he was tightening and he made a choking sound. “Horses don’t sleep under blankets, as a rule.” When he finished, he spun around and left her standing alone in the stall. “Let’s all get out to the corral,” he called to the others.

Leading her own saddled horse, Carrie patted Meg’s arm. “Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t do it either.”

“Right,” Meg answered, forcing a grin. She did a quick once-over of Carrie and her horse, finally realizing that she needed to loop the long strip of leather connected to the things in the horse’s mouth over the horse’s neck before she could lead him. She definitely had a lot to learn.

Outside, in the corral, Trey held a stunning black horse and demonstrated the proper method of mounting. “From the left side,” he was explaining, “grip the saddle horn with your left hand and the back of the cantle with your right. Put your left foot in the stirrup, and then swing your right leg over, like this.” With a grace that belied his size, Trey swung into the saddle. “Keep your heels down, knees hugging the horse, hand firmly gripping the reins. But don’t pull. These are like the steering wheel and brakes on your car, only more so. You think power steering and brakes are touchy? It’s nothin’ compared to these animals.”

Meg helped Carrie, doing her best to hold the horse steady beneath the child. But her attention was on Trey and the fine figure he cut atop the horse. The way they moved as one around the fenced area was pure artistry, and she suddenly understood the saying about someone looking like he’d been born in the saddle.

And now it was her turn to climb on Moonlight. The thought scared her to death.

Once Carrie was settled in the saddle, Meg started behind the little black and white horse and felt herself being jerked away, the grip on her forearm causing her to wince.

“Are you crazy, woman? Not behind the horse,” Trey growled. “You want to get your teeth kicked out?”

“Why would he do that?”

Trey stared at her, then shook his head. “She can’t see you back there.” He kept his grip on Meg and led her to the palomino. “Let me see you mount.”

As they approached the horse, Meg swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. With more than a little trepidation, she lifted a foot into the stirrup.

Grabbing her calf, Trey eased her leg down to the ground. “Left side, left foot.”

She looked at him and then at the horse. “Right,” she said, nodding, and forced a smile. A giggle bubbled in her throat. “I mean left, and you’re right. Um, correct.”

Starting around the back of the horse, she halted. “See? I remember,” she said, flashing him a grin before retracing her steps to go the other way. On the left side, she lifted her left foot to the stirrup, glancing over the horse’s back at the man watching her. Flashing him a shaky smile, she jumped but landed with her right foot still on the ground. Then jumped again. Then again, getting absolutely nowhere.

“Put your weight on the foot in the stirrup and swing your other leg over the horse,” Trey said, walking around the horse. Bending down, he grasped her calf. “Now try it.”

She nearly fell into her instructor when he pressed his hand to her bottom. As he boosted her up, she came close to sailing over the top of the horse, and had to grab the saddle horn to keep from toppling over onto the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, gritting her teeth and attempting a smile.

“You okay?” he asked, settling his hand on her thigh.

Meg gulped at the heat his touch sent spiraling through her. Looking down, she stared at his hand. “Um, yeah,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.

As if he had just noticed he was touching her, he jerked back and spun around so fast, it nearly made her dizzy. Mounting his own horse, he called to the others. “Listen up, folks. Give the reins a little flick,” he said, demonstrating with a quick movement of his wrist, “then touch—and I do mean touch—your heels to the horse’s side. Once you get moving, just circle around.”

Forcing her racing heart to calm, Meg concentrated on the idea of actually riding the horse and did as he’d instructed, but the horse didn’t budge. She tried pulling the reins, but still no luck. When Moonlight didn’t respond, she tried the last thing she could think of. “Move horse,” she said, throwing her upper body forward in the saddle. To her surprise, the horse began to walk.

“Knees in, Miss Chastain,” Trey ordered from across the corral. “And get those heels down. Without boots, you could get your ankle busted real easy if you don’t.”

Meg quickly complied. The last thing she needed was to be laid up with a broken bone. An accident would take her out of the ranch activities, and she needed to be in the thick of things.

Trey approached her and brought his horse to a stop. “Maybe you oughta go into San Antonio and get yourself a pair of boots. If you’re plannin’ on doin’ anymore ridin’, that is.”

“I’ll do that.” she answered as he turned to ride away. She wasn’t at all convinced she would ever do this again.

With a sigh of relief when Trey called the group’s riding to a halt, Meg started to dismount, only to find a pair of strong hands grasping her hips. The sigh instantly became a gasp as she was lowered to the ground. Once her feet were firmly planted in the dirt, she turned to see Trey, his blue eyes wide, as if he were surprised.

He released her and shook his head, backing up a step. “Didn’t want you to fall, considerin’ the trouble you had gettin’ on.”

Meg bit down on her lip, refusing to acknowledge the sparks skipping through her body. Between the way his touch affected her and her insecurity on a horse, she wondered how she would last the week. She had been crazy to agree to come here, but there wasn’t much she could do about it except give it her best shot. And she would. She only hoped it would be good enough.




Chapter Three


Trey watched Meg lead Moonlight into the barn, hypnotized by the seductive movement of her body. Although she was well-covered from chin to toes, there was something so downright sensual in the sway of her hips that he had to hold himself back from following her.

She was hiding under those clothes. She had to be. When he had lifted her down from the horse, his fingers had pressed into a pair of rounded hips. No extra padding there, just sheer woman. He could only wonder at other parts of her—which led him to wonder even more about the kind of woman she really was. That scared him.

“How’d the lessons go?”

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw his sister-in-law walking toward him. He liked Ellie. Chace couldn’t have found a better woman. But Trey wasn’t the settlin’ down type. There were too many little darlin’s to meet and get to know. Meg Chastain was new to him. That must be why he was so intrigued by her. It would wear off, in time. He was sure of it.

With a final quick look in the direction of the barn where Meg had disappeared, Trey forced the memory of the delightful feel of her to a corner of his mind before meeting his brother’s wife at the corral fence.

“Lessons weren’t too bad,” he answered Ellie. “There were only five of ’em. Maybe the rest heard I’d be teaching instead of you,” he added with a grin.

Ellie laughed and propped a foot on the bottom fence rail. “Maybe that’s it. Anything special I should know? Any problems?”

He thought of Carrie. And Meg. “No problems, but if the little girl plans to go on the trail ride, she might need a little extra attention. A private lesson or two should do it.”

“Private lessons are extra,” she reminded him.

“Check with her grandmother. I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

“Anything else?”

But his attention wasn’t on her or what she was saying. He watched as Meg strolled out of the barn and crossed the far end of the corral, headed for the guest cabins. He couldn’t keep his gaze from zeroing in on the woman, and he let out a breath of air when she disappeared around the corner of the barn.

“How’d she do with the lesson?” Ellie asked, gesturing in Meg’s direction.

Trey couldn’t deny that Meg was definitely shaky on a horse, but he suspected she would get over it as soon as she understood the basics. “She’s doing okay,” he hedged, feeling Ellie watching him closely.

“Maybe you’d better find some time for some private lessons with her.”

“Me?” he asked, matching her stare for stare. “Where am I supposed to find the time?”

“Oh, like I have the time,” she countered, her words dripping with sarcasm. “But you know that if she’s having some problems now, they’ll be even worse on the trail ride. Better give it some thought.”

He shook his head. He’d be damned if he was going to spend any more time with Meg unless he didn’t have a choice. “Nope. Not on your life. A couple more group lessons and she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but will you?” Moving away from the fence, she started for the house. “I’ve got work waiting.”

“Ellie,” he called to her, determined to put Meg out of his mind. “Chace oughta be back this evening. Has he called?”

“No, not today, but I expect him to later, once he’s on the road,” she told him over her shoulder.

He nodded as she hurried on to the house. His brother had left early the morning before to drive to Lubbock for their new riding horses. Chace had called when he’d reached the motel last night, and Ellie had relayed the message that all was well and he didn’t expect any problems getting the horses or transporting them back to the ranch. One less worry for Trey. And more time to wonder about Meg Chastain’s hidden curves and what else she might be hiding. She presented a challenge to him, and he’d be damned if he’d turn it down.

Meg stepped out onto the small cabin porch and took a deep breath. The scent of ranch permeated the air. She hadn’t expected to like it, but she did. The smell of hay and fresh, smog-free air tickled her senses, so different from life in the city. This was what she wanted for Aunt Dee. Clean air. She’d researched several areas of the country, and Arizona always came up. There, allergies would hopefully be a thing of the past, and her aunt would be able to enjoy life, instead of gasping for every breath.

Aunt Dee had never had much. Her health problems had taken any extra money they might have had. Meg wanted to repay her for all the love her aunt had unselfishly given her.

As she made her way to the green meadow behind the cottages and main house, the dry grass whispered against the denim of her jeans while colorful wildflowers caught her eye. Silence surrounded her. Silence of the nicest kind. If she strained her ears, she could hear indistinct voices coming from the ranch proper, but they were nothing compared to the din of the city. She would remember to thank Geraldine, not only for the chance to make a name for herself, but for the opportunity to experience this beautiful part of the country.

Feeling better than she had in a long time, and with her determination to succeed at an all-time high, Meg turned back for the ranch. The sight of a cowboy strolling toward her brought her to a halt. There was no mistaking that easy lope. Her heartbeat immediately picked up, and she took several deep breaths to try to slow it before he reached her. She had to get control of herself.

“Havin’ trouble findin’somethin’to do?” Trey asked, stopping less than a foot in front of her.

She shook her head. “Just enjoying the great outdoors.”

His eyes narrowed against the glow of the setting sun lighting his face. “You aren’t gettin’ bored at the Triple B, are you?”

“No,” she said after a slight hesitation. Was this a good time to ask more questions? Would this cowboy know anything? It was worth a try to find out. “How long have you lived here?”

His slow grin sent her heart rate up another ten beats. With Trey around, she didn’t need aerobics. Just his sexy smile.

Tipping his hat farther down and shading his eyes, he chuckled. “Just about forever. And that’s about how long it’ll be before I leave. What do you think of the place?”

“It’s beautiful,” she answered truthfully.

“Ever been to Texas before?”

She shook her head. Even with his eyes hidden, she could feel him looking at her. She didn’t dare glance at him for more than a minute. His strong but finely chiseled features were enough to make most women she knew swoon. But she wasn’t most women. She’d had enough disappointing encounters with men and had decided she could live without them. A career was more lucrative and satisfying. Most men left her feeling cold. To her surprise, Trey didn’t. It was startling to be near a man who made the air around her warmer but far from uncomfortable.

But she shouldn’t be thinking about him or any man, she reminded herself. “Didn’t I hear the ranch is family-owned?”

Trey barely heard her. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Nodding, he lifted his hand to skim a finger down her cheek. Her peaches-and-cream skin was even softer than he’d imagined. And he’d imagined plenty on the drive back from visiting his injured ranch hands in San Antonio that afternoon. “You don’t get out in the sun much, do you?” he asked in a voice so husky, it surprised even him.

She cleared her throat before answering, but she didn’t move. “N-no,” she said, her voice a soft whisper.

He couldn’t stop his smile. He was definitely getting to her. But it was his heart that skipped a beat. He noticed her quickened breathing and stepped closer, her wide, green eyes drawing him in. A voice in the back of his mind told him this was no way to act with a guest, but he couldn’t make himself back off. In spite of the long, loose top she wore, hiding who knew what, the lady had a magnetism. Her delicate features blew his mind. He was accustomed to beautiful woman, but she took his breath away. Her eyes shimmered with apprehension, but he could see a flame of something flickering there, too.

His gaze dropped to her lips. Full and ripe like fresh strawberries, they begged to be tasted. His body responded to the sight of them. Unable to stop himself, he moved his hand to the slender column of her neck, his fingers curving around it while his thumb rested at the base of her throat, where her pulse throbbed beneath his touch.




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