Branded with his Baby
Branded with his Baby
Stella Bagwell
A Pregnant Proposal…
After her recent heartbreak, all Maura Donovan wanted was to pick up the pieces of her life. Taking a position as nurse to an elderly rancher seemed a perfect temporary tonic.
Then she met his grandson His rugged masculinity mesmerised her. His passion branded her. Quint Cantrell was an impossible man to resist. But he was six years younger and now she was having his baby…
“I don’t make offers—unless I want to.”
Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in Quint’s eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through Maura. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a woman who’d been married and divorced.
But, just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.
Dear Reader,
Most often the characters I write about are clear in my mind. I know every detail about them and what makes them tick. But Quint Cantrell was an enigma to me. He loves his family, yet keeps to himself. He has lots of money, though he doesn’t particularly like having it. He could live in a mansion. Instead he makes his home in a run-down ranch house. And though he’s considered one of the most eligible bachelors around, he prefers the company of his horse.
The man appeared happy, so why bother stirring him up? Because I, like his grandfather Abe, finally realized that Quint was missing the most important thing in life—love. ‘Course, a man like Quint is bound to rebel. After all, he knows what he wants—or does he?
I hope you’ll travel with me again to the rugged southwest to see the twists and turns that Quint takes before he finally learns to share his heart.
God bless the trails you ride,
Stella
About the Author
STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple have a son, who is a math teacher and athletic coach.
BRANDED WITH
HIS BABY
BY
STELLA BAGWELL
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my sissy, Thelma Foster.
To have a sister like you is to be truly blessed.
I love you.
Chapter One
The moment Quint Cantrell walked through the door of his grandfather’s ranch house, he got the eerie feeling that something was wrong.
At this time of the early evening Abe was usually watching the news on the small television situated in a corner of the cozy living room. Instead, the old man’s leather recliner was empty and the TV screen was black.
Uneasy, Quint started to call out, but stopped as he caught the sound of a radio coming from the direction of the kitchen. As he quickly strode toward the back of the house, he realized with another start that the singer was Billie Holiday.
What the heck was going on around this place? His grandfather liked music, but certainly not that kind! And the house held the peculiar scent of roses instead of pipe tobacco and old boots.
Rounding the open doorway to the kitchen, he practically skidded to a halt as he spotted a woman standing at the cabinet counter. Yesterday, while he’d been eating lunch at the Blue Mesa, a family acquaintance had stopped by his table and mentioned that a rumor was going around about a woman staying out at Apache Wells. Quint had laughingly dismissed the idea as nothing more than a wild rumor. Since his grandmother had passed away fifteen years ago, the only females who ever stepped foot in this house were Quint’s mother or sister. Hell freezing over would be more likely to happen than a woman living in Abe’s house. Or so Quint had believed.
Stunned by this turn of events, Quint stared.
Tall and slender with hair the color of a black cherry hanging nearly to her waist, she was dressed casually in blue jeans and a green Western shirt with darker green flowers dotting the yokes and cuffs. If her face looked anything like her backside, Quint decided, she was definitely a pretty woman.
“Uh—excuse me, ma’am.”
Obviously surprised by the sound of his voice, the woman whirled around to stare at him. Her dark eyes were wide, and her lips parted as she took a halting step in his direction.
“Oh! I didn’t realize anyone had come in,” she said in a breathy voice. “You gave me a fright.”
He stepped forward and even though his gaze was focused solely on her, he knew his grandfather wasn’t in the room. He also realized his initial guess had been correct. The woman was pretty—though quietly so. Like a violet hidden beneath a clump of sagebrush, it might take a second look to find the beauty, but it was there.
“I could say the same about you,” he replied, his eyes sliding over her face. She appeared vaguely familiar. “It’s not every day I walk into my grandfather’s house and find a woman. Who are you, anyway?”
Her lips, which were full and dusky pink, twisted ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. I urged Abe to warn you about me, but you know that he pretty much does things his own way. He wanted me to be a surprise,” she said with a mixture of amusement and regret. “As to who I am, I thought you might recognize me. But I suppose I’ve been away from Lincoln County too long for you to remember.”
So his earlier assumption had been right. He had met the woman before. But where? he wondered, as his gaze scanned her dark green eyes, high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. She was definitely easy to look at, he realized, and then his memory kicked in like a startled mule. Hellfire, she was one of the Donovan bunch! A rich, rough and rowdy family that owned a notable horse farm down in the Hondo Valley.
“I remember now,” he said. “You’re one of the Donovan brood. A nurse. You were at the hospital when my sister had her baby.”
She inclined her head forward. “That’s right. I’m Maura—second oldest of six siblings. You’ve probably seen us around from time to time.”
Shrugging, he wondered why her suggestion made him feel like a recluse. “I don’t do much socializing anymore. But I know your brothers and sisters. Bridget is my mother’s doctor.”
She nodded. “Bridget is very good at her job. And very busy.”
Folding his arms against his chest, Quint glanced beyond her shoulder to where a pot of something was simmering on the stove. It was filling the whole room with the scent of chicken and spices. Where was Jim, the old bunkhouse cook who usually prepared his grandfather’s meals? And why in the world would a Donovan be here at his grandfather’s ranch?
“Yesterday, when someone in town told me that a woman was staying on the ranch, I practically called him a liar.” Quint shook his head as he tried to assemble the questions running rampant in it. “I don’t mean to sound meddlesome, but why are you here? And where is Gramps?”
Her breasts rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, then blew it out. His questions appeared to make her uncomfortable, which only roused his curiosity even more.
“Abe is down at the ranch yard visiting with the hands,” she answered. “And I’m here because I live here now. With your grandfather, as his nurse.”
If she’d whacked Quint’s shins with an ax handle, the shock couldn’t have been any greater. He sputtered. “His nurse!”
“That’s right,” she said smoothly, then quickly added, “Excuse me, would you? I need to tend to the soup.”
Dazed by her revelation, Quint watched her turn to the cookstove, where she stirred a bubbling pot with a wooden spoon. Her movements seemed so casual, that he got the feeling she’d been here long enough to feel at home.
Two weeks had passed since he’d taken the time to drive to Apache Wells, but he’d talked on the phone to his grandfather several times and nothing had been mentioned about a nurse, or any need for one. She’d said that Abe had wanted to surprise him. Well, the old man had done that and more, Quint thought.
Walking farther into the room, Quint lifted the gray Stetson from his head and raked a hand through his curly hair. He’d had a day that would try a saint, and he wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush.
“Okay, is this one of my grandfather’s outlandish jokes? Abe doesn’t need a nurse. He’s as healthy as a horse.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked politely.
“Hell, yes!” he blurted out, then stabbed his fingers through his hair again and added in a calmer tone, “I mean of course, I do. Gramps went for a checkup about three weeks ago. The man pronounced Abe as fit as a fiddle. Or is there something I need to know?”
“I doubt that. Abe says you’re aware of his vertigo problem.”
Putting down the spoon, she turned to face him and Quint was knocked for a loop all over again. Of the three Donovan sisters, he was least familiar with this one. If his calculations were right, she’d finished high school a few years ahead of him. Which would make her midthirties—though she sure didn’t look five or six years older than his twenty-nine. He recalled hearing, a long time ago, that she’d moved away and married some man from Albuquerque. But from the look of her empty ring finger—Quint told himself he didn’t know why he had looked there first—her marital status had changed along with her residence.
“I’m aware that he has dizzy spells,” Quint replied. “But the way I understand it, the condition isn’t life-threatening and it only hits him occasionally.”
“If a spell of vertigo caused him to suffer a bad fall, it could be life-threatening.”
“Sorry, Ms. Donovan, but I could suffer a fall walking across the backyard. Any of us could.”
“The likelihood of that happening skyrockets when a person’s head is spinning.”
Quint couldn’t argue that point. He’d been with his grandfather when one of these spells hit him and the old man had been unable to walk without someone to assist him.
“So? I’d rather see him die than to chain him to a chair. And you can’t go around holding onto his arm all day. In fact, I doubt you could keep up with him,” Quint added.
She sighed. “Abe isn’t a young man anymore, you know.”
Quint bristled. He didn’t want anyone insinuating that Abe was getting old and decrepit. He wasn’t. And Quint refused to let anyone make him believe otherwise.
“Eighty-four may sound old to you,” Quint said to her, “but trust me, Gramps has the mind and the body of a man twenty years younger.”
“I agree with that.”
His expression turned incredulous. “If you know that, then what the hell are you doing here?”
She walked forward and leaned a hip against the edge of a chrome-and-Formica dining table. Quint couldn’t help but notice the sensual curve of her breasts and waist, the way her dark red hair waved against her pale cheek. He didn’t recall Maura Donovan as being so sexy. But back before she’d left the area, he’d only had eyes for Holly. Lovely, fickle Holly.
“Are you angry because I’m living here?” she asked.
Was he? The question jarred him almost as much as the sight of her. No. He wasn’t angry. He was confused, shaken and a bit hurt that Abe hadn’t seen fit to consult him about hiring Maura Donovan. But then, his grandfather had always been a maverick. The only person he’d ever answered to was his late wife, Jenna. There was no reason for Quint to think Abe needed or wanted his grandson’s opinion.
“I’m not angry. I’m confused. Abe isn’t sick. And there’s no way you can protect him from a dizzy spell. So why did he hire you?”
A faint smile tilted the corners of her lips and it suddenly dawned on Quint that it was the first semblance of warmth he’d seen on her face since he’d walked into the room. The subtle expression softened her features and he found himself looking at things about her that had nothing to do with anything. Like her skin that was all smooth and pink and pearly.
Hell, what had she done to Abe? he wondered. Batted her long lashes at him and smiled? He could see how a young man would succumb to this woman’s charms. Quint was feeling the effects of her presence himself. But Abe? Sure, his grandfather was still a man, but he’d always been so crazy in love with his late wife that he’d never looked twice at another woman. But maybe she did something to change that, Quint thought.
“Your grandfather suffers from benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. When it happens I can help him with the exercises and head maneuvers he needs to do in order to get over it. And see that he takes his medication, whenever it’s needed. Having a nurse close by makes him feel safe and cared for. Surely you wouldn’t want to deny the man that much?”
Shaking his head with resignation, Quint pulled out one of the dining chairs and flopped down on the seat. He’d been building fences all day. Sweat and dirt stained his shirt and jeans and he was tired enough to sleep for a week. He wasn’t in any shape to argue with Maura Donovan. And maybe he shouldn’t be arguing, he thought wearily. Maybe he should just thank his lucky stars that Abe was being looked after on a daily basis.
“I didn’t realize nurses also cooked for their patients,” he said, his gaze straying to the simmering pot on the stove, then back to her.
He watched faint color warm her cheeks and then his gaze dropped to her lips. She didn’t appear to wear lipstick. But then, she didn’t need to. Her lips were already dark and moist and the idea of biting into them, kissing them, flashed through his mind, shocking him with the totally erotic thought.
“I understand that before I came Jim did all the cooking around here, but I offered to take over because—” Pausing, she wrinkled her nose. “Well, neither man was eating a healthy diet. Red meat and potatoes was about all I could find around here.”
“That’s what Gramps likes,” Quint said automatically while he pushed his mind to more pertinent issues. How long was she planning on staying here and was she thinking to get more out of his grandfather than just nurse’s wages? The Donovans were wealthy people. If Maura never worked a day in her life, she could still live in luxury. So why would she want to hide herself away here on Apache Wells? Abe’s ranch was remote, with the nearest neighbor—an old woman everyone called Crazy Gertie—fifteen miles away. Gertie was someone who’d been known to take potshots at anyone who decided to come near the shack she lived in. As for his grandfather, Abe could be charming whenever he chose to be, but for the most part he was set in his ways and didn’t hesitate to speak his mind. A young, beautiful woman like Maura wouldn’t deliberately choose to spend her days like this unless there was something in it for her, would she?
The questions were really none of Quint’s business and probably totally out of line. But damn it, Abe was his grandfather! Someone had to look out for the old man’s security. Two years ago his sister had married a Texas Ranger and moved to his ranch near San Antonio. A month ago, Alexa had given birth to daughter Jessica. Add her to the couple’s toddler son, J.D., and his sister’s life was consumed with caring for her own family. That left only Quint and his mother, Frankie, to keep an eye on their aging relative.
“What we like and what’s good for us aren’t always the same, Mr. Cantrell.”
Amen to that, he thought drily. “My grandfather never was one to follow rules—good or bad.”
And Maura figured the man sitting at the small dining table wasn’t much of a rule follower, either. He’d said he wasn’t angry about her being here, yet she could see doubts and questions unfolding like a picture show across his rough-hewn face.
Well, she couldn’t blame the man. She’d had her own doubts about taking this job. But Abe had been persistent. He’d also come along with the proposition at just the right time. She’d loved her job at Sierra General Hospital. Helping ailing patients get back on their feet was something she’d always wanted and needed to do since she’d become a nurse nearly fourteen years ago. But recently Dr. Weston’s uninvited pursuit of her had turned the job she’d once cherished into a walking nightmare. On the whole he was a nice man and an excellent doctor, but he’d refused to believe she didn’t want to see him romantically. His attention hadn’t quite crossed over to harassment, but it was making her a bit uncomfortable. So she’d spent the past two months running around the hospital trying to dodge the man.
Turning back to the cabinet counter, she began to gather makings for a fresh pot of coffee while she attempted to convince herself that Quint Cantrell wasn’t making her heart beat fast, her mouth go dry. She’d not expected him to look so raw and sexy, so much a man. Even with her back to him, she could easily visualize the rusty-brown color of his hair, the sky-blue of his eyes and the strong, stubborn square of his jaw.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “When Abe approached me a few weeks ago, he was going through tests to find the cause of his vertigo. He told me then that he was afraid of falling and breaking a bone.”
Quint snorted. “What a bunch of bull. Gramps has never been afraid of falling. Why, only a few weeks ago, he rode a green broke horse on roundup. The thing reared up and fell over backward with him. Do you think that scared him? Hell, no. He climbed back on and rode the animal that day and the rest of the week.”
Pausing in the middle of her task, Maura glanced over her shoulder at him and as her eyes settled on his face, some subtle thing fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been properly introduced to Quint Cantrell, but their families had often traveled in the same circles and she recalled seeing him a few times oh so many years ago. He’d been a handsome young guy then, one that as a teenager, her younger sister Bridget had swooned over. But according to Bridget, he’d never given her the time of day. Instead he’d steadily dated Holly Johnson and everyone in Lincoln and Ortero Counties had believed the two would eventually get married. Maura had never heard what happened with the couple, but she’d heard nasty rumors. But then, Maura knew all too well that most breakups were ugly.
“I’m hardly saying your grandfather is scared,” she said quietly. “I think—well, I think you should ask him yourself why he believes he needs a nurse. As for me, I’m very happy to be here. Abe is—” She broke off with a fond smile. “He’s quite a character, and I’ll be honest, I’ve already fallen a little in love with him.”
His lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval, but Maura told herself she didn’t care what this man was thinking. Let him think what he wanted. Her relationship with Abe was between the old man and her.
“I didn’t think nurses were supposed to become emotionally involved with their patients,” he said.
Turning back to the cabinet counter, she poured water into the coffeemaker, then shoved the carafe in place. “That’s right. But I have a heart in my chest, not a rock. And it has a mind of its own.”
He didn’t make any sort of reply and after a few moments, the air in the kitchen felt so tense that she had to turn and face him. Yet the sardonic expression she expected to see wasn’t there. Instead, she was jolted by his sober blue gaze honing in on her like a microscope.
“Abe tells me that you’ve been developing more of your family land,” she said as casually as she could.
“Gramps purchased the property over near Capitan more than twenty years ago and since then has done little with it. For some reason, he thinks I can make something out of the place.”
He didn’t go on to tell her that the property was the only Cantrell land that belonged solely to Quint. Along with that, it possessed some of the finest grazing land in southern New Mexico. Unlike the other two family ranches, the Golden Spur, named after the old gold mine on the property, was being built with Quint’s own two hands and from his own ideas and dreams. And that made it all very special to him.
“I heard about your father dying—what was it—two years ago?”
His gaze turned uncomfortably away from her. “Over two years now.”
“I was very sorry to hear about Lewis’s passing. I met him a couple of times. He was a warm, perfect gentleman.”
She saw him swallow and realized that the hurt of losing his father was still a raw wound in him. The vulnerable side of the man touched Maura in a way she’d not expected. She would have liked to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but to do such a thing would only rouse his suspicions of her. And he did have suspicions, she thought wryly. She’d spotted them in his eyes the moment she’d told him she was living with Abe.
“Yeah. Everyone liked Dad.”
Clearing her throat, she replied, “So who’s managing the Chaparral now? Obviously, not you.”
“Laramie Jones. But I still keep a hand in things there. That’s where Mom still makes her home.” Eventually, the Chaparral would go to his sister Alexa, and Apache Wells would be split equally between the two siblings. As of now, it was Quint’s job to keep an eye on both properties. Not an easy task for Quint, especially since he had his own place to deal with, too. But ranching was his life and he considered the extra work a labor of love.
“I see.”
Behind her the coffeemaker gurgled its last drop. Maura walked to the end of the cabinet where the cups were located. “Would you like coffee?” she asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She gathered up two cups and proceeded to fill both of them. After she’d carried them over to the table and took a seat across from him, she reached for a small pitcher of cream.
As he stirred sugar into his own cup, he said, “This may sound insensitive, but I thought you were married.”
Maura tried not to cringe. Being divorced wasn’t like she’d committed some sort of shameful crime, but for some reason it bothered her to think this man might be viewing her as a failure. Especially at being a wife, a woman, a lover.
“I was married for five years,” she replied. “But it ended more than a year ago. That’s when I moved back to Lincoln County.”
“Oh.”
She pushed a hand through her hair and the thought suddenly struck her that her face was bare of makeup, her hair mussed. But her appearance hardly mattered. This man was at least six years younger. He’d never look at her in a romantic way. Which was more than okay with her. She wasn’t ready to tangle herself up in any sort of emotional commitment again. And if she did ever get ready, she would hardly take her chances on a young man who was still in his twenties and apparently not looking to settle down.
“No children?” he asked.
Gripping her cup, she tried to push away the empty ache that always seemed to be lingering near her heart. “No. My ex-husband’s job required him to travel all the time. I kept waiting for that to change. It didn’t.”
She could feel his blue eyes upon her, but she didn’t have the courage to lift her gaze to his. “What about you, Mr. Cantrell? You’ve not married yet?”
He took his time sipping his coffee and as tense moments begin to tick away, Maura decided he was going to ignore her question entirely. Which was embarrassing. Especially since she’d talked about her personal life.
“No,” he said finally. “I haven’t been looking for a wife. Can’t see that I need one.”
And why would he? she asked herself. The man had everything. Cattle, horses, thousands of acres of prime ranch land at his disposal, anything that money could buy. And that probably included women; the sort that he could take or leave at his convenience. A young hunk like him probably didn’t want to be saddled with a wife.
“And I wish you wouldn’t call me Mr. Cantrell,” he went on. “That was my father’s name. I’m just Quint to everyone.”
Calling him Mr. Cantrell helped keep him at an emotional distance. But it looked as though he meant to tear down even that flimsy barrier. Feeling even tenser, she drained her cup and rose to her feet. “Okay, Quint. Will you be staying for supper? There’ll be plenty.”
He got to his feet and Maura unconsciously stepped backward to put plenty of space between them. He was a big man. In size and presence. Strength and masculinity were stamped all over his rough features, broad shoulders and long, hard legs. Just being near him left her feeling cornered.
“I don’t know yet. Right now I’m going to go find my grandfather.” He placed his cup in the sink, then went out the back door, the screen banging behind him.
Maura stared after him and wondered why meeting Quint Cantrell had felt like going through an earthquake. Even her hands were still shaking.
Because Jenna Cantrell had wanted the dust and commotion of a ranch yard well away from her home, Abe had built the working part of Apache Wells two miles west of the house. Normally, he and Quint drove the distance, but there were times they chose to walk to the bunkhouse and work pens.
Down through the years, the outbuildings and barns had been built with no particular style or planning in mind, except durability and practical use. Some were made of wood, some corrugated iron, but one thing the buildings did have in common was their whitewashed walls and red tin roofs.
To one side of the network of buildings and connecting holding pens was a long arena where the hands gathered to train their horses to follow and cut cattle, and in quieter times, swap stories around a small campfire.
This late summer evening just happened to be cool enough to appreciate the warmth of a fire and, after Quint parked his truck, he found his grandfather with several of his hired hands squatting around the ring of rocks. The moment Abe spotted his approach, he left the circle of men and walked over to his grandson.
The older man was the same height as Quint and bony thin. He never went outdoors without his black hat and he always wore the legs of his jeans stuffed deep into his knee-high cowboy boots. This particular pair had lime-green tops with fancy yellow stitching and the leather was as scarred and worn as his grandfather’s face. Tonight he was wearing a brown quilted vest to ward away the chill and the puffy garment camouflaged his wiry torso.
Stroking his thick white mustache, he said to Quint, “So I see you finally managed to come check on your grandfather.”
Not allowing the old man any slack, Quint said, “I had to work at it. But I’m here.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Abe rocked back on his high heels. “Well, it’s about time.” He jerked his head toward the men behind him. “Jim’s makin’ some camp coffee. Come have a cup with us.”
“I just had coffee—with your nurse,” Quint added pointedly.
Abe grinned that goofy sort of grin that men got on their faces when they talked about women. “So you met the little filly, did ya? What’d you think about her?”
If Quint hadn’t been so shocked at his grandfather’s ribald questions, he would have rolled his eyes and cursed a blue streak.
“Forget about that,” he muttered. “What the hell are you doing, Gramps? You’re not sick! You’re using that vertigo problem of yours as an excuse to have her here. Aren’t you?”
“S-s-shh! Don’t be raising your voice so, damn it! She might hear you.”
“She’s in the house—two miles from here,” Quint reasoned.
His head tilting one way and then the other, Abe chuckled. “Well, she thinks I’m needy—and I am. At times. You know, Quint, I always had it in my mind that nurses were hard-hearted women. They sure seem like it when a man is sick. But Maura ain’t. She’s as sweet as a summer peach.”
“Since when did you need a summer peach?” Quint countered.
Abe shrugged. “Well—since I got dizzy.”
Quint snorted. “Looks to me like you’ve gotten more than dizzy.”
“That’s right,” Abe retorted. “I got the notion that I was tired of living alone.”
Shaking his head, Quint looked out at the ranch yard. The dipping sun was lengthening the shadows of the buildings. A pen of horses munched on alfalfa while around their feet several dominickers pecked at the morsels of oats and corn that had fallen from the feed troughs. Apache Wells had always felt more like home to Quint than any of the other Cantrell properties in Lincoln County.
As a young child he’d spent many days and nights here with his grandparents and those memories were more than special to him. His time here had influenced his life. The endless days he’d spent with his grandfather working in and out of the saddle had set Quint’s goals and visions for the future.
Yes, Apache Wells had always been special to him and he didn’t want a woman coming along and changing anything about it.
“Living alone! Gramps, you have men all around you. That’s hardly being alone.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Abe countered with a question.
Quint frowned, then heaved out a heavy breath. “Look, Gramps, I’m not the one complaining about being lonely. You are. My life is one big whirlwind right now. I don’t have time to be lonely. And frankly, neither do you. So spare me.”
Abe scowled at him. “Spare you? I’d like to kick your ass.”
Seeing he was getting nowhere, Quint took a different direction. “So how long do you plan on keeping this nurse?”
Abe gave him a palms-up gesture. “‘Til I don’t need her, I suppose. ‘Course if I get over this dizzy problem, I’m hardly likely to run her off.”
Quint suddenly decided he’d been all wrong about the old man. Abe was sick. With dementia or something like it. Had Maura already recognized Abe’s problem and saw it as a way to get her foot in the door? He hated to think the woman might be that calculating. She didn’t seem the sort, at all. But then, he’d spent four years believing that Holly Johnson was a true-blue innocent and look what that had gotten him. She’d run off with a rich real-estate mogul and Quint had become the laughingstock of Lincoln County.
“Gramps, I want you to have a complete checkup. You need blood work, scans, the whole nine yards. You’re not yourself and we both know it.”
Abe laughed gleefully. “I’m not acting like myself, am I? Just because I’m enjoying a little female company? I think any doc would say you’re the one who’s messed up.”
“What about Granny?” Quint challenged him. “Doesn’t she matter anymore?”
Abe’s expression suddenly softened and he patted Quint on the shoulder. “She ain’t here anymore, Quint. All I have is memories and photos. A man needs more and you ought to understand that.”
Lord, did his grandfather have romantic intentions toward the nurse? “Gramps, did you hire her to be your nurse or something more personal?” Quint asked point-blank.
Abe turned a completely innocent look on him. “Why, to be my nurse, of course. But if she so happens to stumble around and fall in love with me—well, I sure as heck ain’t gonna push her away. If you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Quint knew all too well what his grandfather meant. He also knew that if he didn’t do something about this situation and soon, Abe was going to be hurt. In more ways than one.
Gazing thoughtfully in the direction of the ranch house, Quint rubbed a hand against his jaw. “I think I’ll stay for supper,” he suddenly announced.
Clearly skeptical, Abe asked, “Why? You thinkin’ you’re gonna hang around and horn in on your grandfather’s business?”
Quint looked at him. “No. I’m thinking that soup she was making smelled mighty good.”
He was also thinking that the moment he’d first walked into the kitchen, Maura Donovan had set off some sort of spark in him, a flash of heat that had taken Quint totally by surprise. Now he wanted to get closer to the woman, he decided. So close that he could see right into her pretty head. He could take a second look into her green eyes and found out for himself if that spark he’d felt had been real or imagined.
Though he wasn’t too sure which direction he wanted the decision to land…
Chapter Two
Two days later, on the dirt drive that led to the Apache Wells ranch house, Maura was finishing the last of a two-mile jog. The early afternoon sun was hot. Sweat sheened her body and dampened her red tank top. The thought of languishing over a tall glass of iced tea pushed her forward, until the musical ring of her cell phone sounded in the pocket of her shorts.
Pausing in the middle of the narrow road, she fished out the small instrument and was immediately surprised to see the caller was her mother. Now that the Donovan children were all grown and capable of running the Diamond D horse ranch without them, her parents, Fiona and Doyle Donovan, had become regular globe-trotters. Only two days ago they’d been in Ireland visiting relatives on both sides of their extensive families.
“Hello, Mother!”
“You’re out of breath,” Fiona observed. “What did you do, run to the phone?”
“No. I’m out jogging,” Maura explained.
“Oh. I can call back later.”
Having five siblings meant that getting any exclusive, one-on-one attention from their mother was rare and precious. Just having her mother call so quickly after her return home made Maura feel special.
“Nonsense. I can walk and talk for a while,” she assured the other woman. “It’s so good to hear your voice. When did you get home?”
“Late last night. Your father and I are so jet-lagged we’re just getting around to having breakfast. Dallas was the only one still up when we arrived last night and this afternoon everyone seems to be out of pocket.”
“Just because you and Dad live the life of luxury doesn’t mean your children can loll around in bed until midafternoon,” Maura teased as she started to the house.
“Hmm. It’s good to hear that we’ve taught you children good work ethics. And speaking of work, Dallas tells me you’re still with Mr. Cantrell.”
Before her parents had left for Ireland more than a month ago, Abe had not yet approached Maura about the job here at Apache Wells. But once she’d decided to take the old man’s offer, she’d called her parents in Ireland and told them about her decision. Neither had understood her choice to abruptly change jobs, but they’d hardly tried to deter her. At thirty-six, it had been years since her parents had tried to tell her what to do. And even if they did try, Maura was too stubborn and strong-minded not to take the path she chose for herself. Even if it might be the wrong path, she thought drily.
“That’s right.”
“So what are your duties? Does he keep you busy fetching and complaining?”
Maura smiled to herself. “Not in the least. Right now Abe is out riding range with the rest of the ranch hands. I don’t expect him in until later this afternoon.”
“Riding—” Fiona gasped. “I thought—if I remember correctly, Abe Cantrell is older than your father! And I thought he was ill and needed a nurse!”
The smile on Maura’s full lips deepened even more. “Abe is eighty-four. And he’s as healthy as a horse. Except for when he gets vertigo. And thankfully that’s only happened once since I’ve been here.”
There was a long pause and then Fiona said in a slow, pointed voice, “Maura, I may be butting in, but I’d like to know why you gave up a wonderful, good-paying job at the hospital for a man who only needs you occasionally?”
“Abe needs me more than occasionally, Mother.”
“You just assured me he was healthy and—”
“He needs me in other, emotional ways. Having me here makes him feel secure. Besides that, he’s lonely and starved for affection.”
“Maura!” Fiona said in a scolding tone. “You hardly know this man. His emotional needs aren’t your responsibility.”
Maura had told herself exactly that same thing. More than once. Yet for some reason she couldn’t explain to anyone, a part of her had connected to the old man the minute she’d first met him striding down a hallway at Sierra General. He’d been trying to find his way through the maze of corridors to the closest exit and Maura had offered her help. The two of them had hit it off instantly and before Abe had left the building, he’d offered her the private nursing job.
“Mother, I’m a nurse and Abe needs mental and physical nourishing. That’s what my job is all about,” Maura responded. “The degree of his need has nothing to do with things.”
On the other end of the line, she could hear her mother sighing softly. “You’ve gotten attached to this man. I can hear it in your voice,” Fiona said flatly.
“I suppose I have.”
“And what about Frankie, his daughter-in-law? And his grandson—what is his name?”
“Quint.”
“Yes, Quint. What about them, aren’t they around to see to Abe’s needs?”
Maura talked to Frankie on a frequent basis and the woman had made it clear that even though she checked in on Abe from time to time, Quint was the one relative the old man wanted and needed in his life. Frankie had also assured her that she was going to keep mum about Maura and let Abe be the one to tell his grandson about having a nurse. Obviously Frankie had kept her word. Two days ago, when he’d appeared unannounced in the kitchen, he’d been shocked to find Maura there and she’d been totally tilted off-kilter by his presence. Since then it had been impossible to forget the strong physical reaction she’d felt toward the man. Just thinking about him made her feel utterly foolish.
“The Cantrells are busy people. Just like you and Dad. They have lives of their own to deal with.”
In fact, the night Quint had sat down to eat supper with her and Abe, he’d received some sort of important call and hadn’t even taken the time to gulp more than three bites before he’d quickly departed the ranch. Abe had clearly been disappointed when his grandson had rushed off. As for Maura, she’d felt deflated as she’d watched the man dash out the door. A part of her had wanted more of his company while the other part had been leery of the strange feelings he’d elicited in her.
“I’m sorry if I sounded fussy, darling,” Fiona said after a pause. “If you like the job, that’s all that matters. But I can’t see why you’d want to isolate yourself out there on Apache Wells, though. It’s miles and miles from anything.”
Because the isolation was soothing to her fractured nerves, Maura thought. Because after going through a humiliating, heartbreaking divorce, not to mention the unwanted chase by Dr. Weston, Maura needed the calm quiet of Abe’s home to restore herself.
“My truck is in good working order and I can drive into town whenever I want. I promise to see you and Dad soon.”
“I’m holding you to that promise and—”
Fiona broke off as Maura caught the sound of her father’s voice booming in the background for his wife to hang up the phone and come to breakfast.
“You’d better put the phone down, Mother. Dad never did like waiting on his meals.”
Laughing, Fiona said goodbye and quickly closed the connection between them. Maura put her own phone back in her pocket and trotted on to the house.
She was nearing the porch when the screen door pushed open and Abe stepped onto the small alcove.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been huntin’ all over for you.”
“I’ve been out getting a little exercise,” Maura said with a smile. “Did everything go okay on your ride? Any dizziness?”
He grinned at her and Maura thought that it must be true that the older a man got the more he resembled the boy he’d once been. Abe was one of the most mischievous, prank-playing men she’d ever been around and that included her three rowdy brothers.
“Not even one little spin. Everything went as fine as spring rain. Got the cattle moved and the old pump off the broken windmill. We’ll have it fixed in a few days.”
Maura gestured toward one of the two lawn chairs grouped together on the small porch. “Sit down and I’ll get you coffee or something,” she suggested.
“Don’t have time. We got some green colts penned and some of the boys are gonna try to halter ‘em. I’d better be there. These young’ns try to hurry things along. I have a hell of a time tryin’ to teach them that when you’re dealin’ with horses, the slow way is the fastest way.”
Maura smiled. How many times had she heard her own father say the same thing, she wondered fondly. Like Abe, Doyle Donovan was a horseman and would be until he died.
Turning toward the house, Abe motioned for her to follow. “Come along inside,” Abe said to her. “I’ve got a chore for ya. That is, if you don’t mind doin’ it.”
Curious, Maura followed the old man into the house, where he immediately walked over to a rolltop desk that was situated in one corner of the small living room. Inside the desk, he pulled a large white envelope from one of the storage slots, then waved it in Maura’s face.
“This came in the mail yesterday. Quint needs to look it over. Pronto. I called him last night, but he says he can’t get back over here for a few days. I’d like for you to take these papers over to the Golden Spur.”
Go to Quint Cantrell’s ranch? The thought of seeing the man again sent a thrill of excitement zinging through Maura. Yet at the same time, she was wary of meeting him on her own without Abe’s presence to act as a buffer. The other evening, during his short visit, Quint had been polite enough to her, yet she’d sensed he wasn’t all that pleased about Abe’s having a nurse. If he decided to really jump her out about the issue, she didn’t know how she would handle him.
Lord, Maura, you wouldn’t know how to handle Quint Cantrell under any circumstance. He’s way too much man for a woman like you. And don’t you forget it.
“I—well, if it’s important to you, I’d be glad to,” she finally said. After all, the man was paying her an extravagant wage for being his private nurse. And it was her job to see that he didn’t fret unduly over things. “Is the ranch hard to find?”
“No trouble at all,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll make you a little map while you go fix yourself up or whatever it is you women do before you leave the house.”
Maura wasn’t about to fix herself up for Quint Cantrell, but she couldn’t say that to Abe. Instead she went to her room and hurriedly showered, then changed into a cool white shirt over a pair of Levi’s. After swiping a brush through her hair and a bit of peach color across her lips, she returned to the living room and found Abe waiting with the map and papers in hand.
As he watched her approach, a wide grin spread across his face. “Here you go, honey. The map is easy to follow. Just take your time and don’t get in no hurry to get back here. I feel good. Not nary a vertigo spell. Maybe I’m plumb over ‘em.”
Abe’s way of putting things made Maura want to laugh out loud. Instead, she said with a straight face, “If you’re plumb over them, Abe, then you probably don’t need me to keep hanging around here.”
Frowning now, he reached out a bony hand to grip one of her shoulders. “Maura, now I was just tryin’ to be positive. We both know that those damned spells could hit me right out of the blue. And I ain’t lyin’ when I say that they’re scary things. Makes me feel like I’m dyin’. What would I do if you weren’t around to get my head straight and all those little marbles back in place?”
He had ten men working here on this end of the ranch, not to mention several more on the western half of Apache Wells property. Except for the nights, the man was never alone. True, none of the ranch hands had any medical training, but then Abe wasn’t looking for them or her to keep him physically safe, she realized. It was becoming obvious to her that he wanted her here for other, emotional reasons, and for now Maura was content to leave things at that.
“They’re not marbles that make you dizzy, they’re pieces of calcium that float around,” she pointed out to him. “But don’t worry, Abe. I’m not leaving. I just want to make sure that you’re still okay with me being here.”
The worried frown on his face eased into a genuine smile. “I’m better than okay. Havin’ you around is almost like havin’ Jenna back.”
Maura patted his arm. Since she’d moved onto the ranch, Abe had talked to her a lot about his late wife. He was clearly still in love with the woman and missed her greatly. She empathized with the old man’s loss. Especially now that she was on her own and her bed was as empty as her heart.
“I’m glad,” she said softly, then clearing her throat, she promised, “I’ll be back later this evening.”
An hour later, on Highway 380, Maura very nearly missed the small sign on the left side of the road. Golden Spur were the only words written on the piece of tin nailed to a cedar fence post, but that was enough to tell Maura it was Cantrell property. The simple sign also told her that there was nothing showy about Quint Cantrell.
Turning into the entrance, she drove her Ford over the wooden cattle guard, then pulled to one side of the dusty road to study the map Abe had sketched for her.
From this point she would travel north for ten miles, then take the left fork in the road and drive due west for five more miles. The ranch house, Abe had told her, sat at the foot of a bald mountain.
Before she could take note of the butterflies in her stomach, Maura lifted her chin and stepped down on the gas. There wasn’t any need for her nerves to jump around like a swarm of grasshoppers, she assured herself. It wasn’t like she was going to see the man for personal reasons. All she was doing was making a delivery.
Normally, Quint was rarely in the house during the daytime. He couldn’t waste the daylight. But today the wire stretchers had malfunctioned and barbed wire had popped loose, lashing backward to catch Quint’s forearm. The long barbs had ripped the denim fabric of his shirt like a piece of fragile paper and torn a deep gash into his flesh.
The bleeding had forced him to come to the house and make an effort to patch up the wound. Now as he stood at the bathroom sink, pouring alcohol into the angry lesion and gritting his teeth against the sting, he heard a faint knock at the front door.
Figuring it was the man he’d been working with, he yelled out, “Come on in, Jake. Get yourself a beer from the fridge, while I try to wrap up this thing.”
“Um—this isn’t Jake,” a female voice called back.
Stunned by the sound, Quint wrapped a small towel around the wounded arm and hurried out of the bathroom and down a short hallway to the living room. The moment he spotted Maura standing just inside the door, he halted in his tracks.
“What are you doing here?” he asked without preamble.
She answered his question by holding up a long white envelope. “The papers your grandfather wanted you to have. He sent me to deliver them.”
Papers? Quint couldn’t remember talking to his grandfather about papers, but then his days and nights were filled with so many tasks that after a while everything began to run together. Besides, he could hardly think. Just seeing Maura Donovan standing inside the walls of his house was enough to jar his senses. Dressed in a pair of clinging jeans and a close-fitting shirt, she was just as sexy and attractive as he remembered and for a few seconds he forgot about the pain slicing through his arm.
“Oh. Well, just lay them anywhere, would you? Right now I’m—” Grimacing he glanced ruefully down at his arm. “I’m in a bit of a mess. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”
Her eyes followed his gaze down to the bloody towel wrapped around his arm. Quickly stepping forward, she exclaimed, “You’ve hurt yourself! Let me help.”
Quint unconsciously took a step backward. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a minute and I’ll slap a bandage on it.”
Concern marking her brow, Maura placed the envelope on the nearest end table, then closed the distance between them. “Don’t be silly, Quint. I’m a nurse.” Not waiting for his permission, she wrapped her hand firmly around his upper arm. “It’s my job to deal with wounds.”
Since Quint could hardly argue that point, especially now that she had a grip on him, he said, “Okay. I have some things set out in the bathroom. Let’s go in there.”
Dropping her hold on his arm, she followed him down a short hallway and into the small room. A vanity surrounded a white lavatory and after he’d removed the towel and his shirt, she quickly positioned his injured limb over the clean basin.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“A piece of barbed wire came loose from the stretcher and whacked me.”
She was taller than he’d first thought, he realized. If her head hadn’t been bent over his arm, the top of it would have measured to a spot just beneath chin.
“It looks to me as though this could use a stitch or two,” she told him. “Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”
The close proximity of her body was rattling him, while the sweet, flowery scent of her skin and hair seemed foreign to a man that mostly kept his distance from women.
“No,” he answered gruffly. “Just clean the thing out and I’ll take my chances.”
Turning her head, she gave him an impatient glance. “That’s not very smart of you.”
“I’ve never been accused of being smart. Besides, you medical people go overboard with precautionary measures. Gramps would consider this a scratch.”
A soft sigh escaped her. “Have you always tried to fashion yourself after your grandfather?”
“Not always.” Quint certainly wouldn’t have a nurse living with him, he thought ruefully. Especially if he didn’t need one.
Thankfully, she turned her attention back to his arm and Quint gritted his teeth as she used a nail brush to scrub the lesion with water and antibacterial soap.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Trying to rip open my arm even more?”
“Sorry. I know it hurts, but it’s important to make sure no debris is left behind. Was the wire rusty?”
“No. It was new—galvanized.” To his surprise the scrubbing hadn’t made the bleeding worse. In fact, it was on the verge of stopping completely.
“That’s good,” she said. “At least we don’t have that problem to worry about.”
We? It was his arm. As far as he could see, she didn’t have anything to worry about. But he kept the thought to himself. If she was kind enough to offer her services, he could at least show his gratitude.
Once she had the cut clean and dried, she applied antiseptic, then ointment. Quint couldn’t help but notice how her hands had gentled during the process and now her fingers felt warm and soothing against his flesh as she slowly wrapped gauze around his forearm.
“Is this all the gauze you have?” she asked.
“Afraid so. I might have some horse bandage down at the barn,” he suggested.
She glanced up at him and Quint felt something inside him jerk as he met her earthy-green gaze. There was something very womanly about Maura Donovan, something he couldn’t ignore, but was desperately trying to.
“No thanks,” she replied. “I’ll make do.”
Her focus returned to his arm and Quint found himself taking in her dark hair. It was smooth and shiny and threaded with lighter and darker shades that all blended to make an auburn shade so deep it verged on being black. The length of it nearly reached her waist and Quint wondered how it would look draped against her naked back.
“There. That should keep it protected for a while,” she announced as she rose to her full height. “But I wouldn’t advise getting the bandage wet and you’ll have to change it tomorrow or the next day.”
To Quint’s dismay, he realized he’d only caught a portion of her words because his mind had been too busy conjuring erotic images of her. What was the matter with him? Since Holly had dumped him for another man, he’d found it damned easy to ignore the sexual pull of a woman. The humiliation she’d put him through had killed his libido deader than a dose of potassium nitrate.
But now, with this sultry nurse standing far too close for his comfort, he was feeling things again. Things that could only lead to trouble.
“I’ll be sure to take good care of it.”
She slowly released her hold on him, then turned to fetch his shirt from the end of the vanity. When she pivoted back, she was holding the shirt out for him to stick his arms through.
“Let me have it,” he said. “I don’t need help getting dressed.”
“Don’t try to act like such a he-man,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anybody I helped you.”
Knowing it wasn’t wise to linger in such close quarters with her, he decided not to argue and was glad that he hadn’t as he struggled to push the bundled arm through the shirtsleeve.
“Don’t be surprised if your arm is already starting to feel stiff,” she said. “You’re going to have one hell of a sore muscle for a while.”
“I’m finding that out,” Quint muttered.
Once his arms were in the sleeves, she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, then stepped back to allow him to button the garment himself. Quint found it safer to look at the buttons rather than her.
“A couple of over-the-counter pain relievers will help.”
“I have some in the kitchen,” he told her, then motioned for her to precede him out the door. “Would you like something cool to drink? It’s the least I can do for bandaging me. I was having a heck of a time trying to manage with one hand.”
He began to move down a short hallway and Maura followed him into a large kitchen. A row of paned windows ran along the west wall of the room and without any curtains or shades to cover them, the afternoon sun streamed golden shafts across the old printed linoleum covering the floor.
The house was very livable, yet it was far from fancy. In fact, Maura was totally surprised to see how modest Quint’s living quarters actually were. Anyone who’d lived for any length of time in Lincoln County and beyond was aware that the Cantrell family was rich. Abe owned thousands and thousands of acres and his cattle ranch, Apache Wells, had long been one of the most profitable in the state. On another section of land, just north of Alto, Quint’s father, Lewis, had also built a cattle empire called the Chaparral. Maura had never visited that particular ranch, but her parents and older brother Conall had attended a party there. From what they’d said, the Chaparral house was a showy hacienda with luxury and space to spare. So why was the younger Cantrell living like this? she wondered. Because he wanted to emulate his grandfather?
While he headed to the refrigerator, he gestured toward a small, round dining table. “Have a seat,” he invited. “I have beer, soda or fruit juice. Take your pick.”
“Soda is fine,” she told him as she eased onto one of the wooden chairs.
He carried two chilled cans of cola over to the table and pushed one her way, but didn’t immediately take a seat. Instead, he walked over to a row of cabinets, fished out a bottle of acetaminophen and shook two out in the palm of his hand.
“I’m glad to see you’re going to take my advice,” she said as she popped the lid on her drink.
He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a long drink of the soda before he walked over to the table and took a seat across from her.
“I still have a stretch of fence to finish before it gets dark,” he explained. “I don’t want my arm to get too stiff to work.”
There was no way he needed to be straining his arm using post-hole diggers or wire stretchers, but she wasn’t going to bother pointing that out to him. He was a grown man and his well-being was not her responsibility. Besides, being a nurse had taught her that there wasn’t a man alive who wanted a woman to hamper him with limitations.
“So this is where you’ve been doing all this work that Abe talks about,” she commented. “As I drove up I noticed the new barn. It looks nice.”
“Thanks. The barn is taking a lot more work and twice as much money as I’d first anticipated. But I think it’s turning out okay.”
He must have removed his hat when he’d come into the house to attend his cut, she thought. It was only the second time she’d seen him without the battered felt atop his head. The other being when he’d sat down at Abe’s dinner table. But that occasion hadn’t lasted long enough for him to get the chair warm. Now, as quiet moments ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice the thick, rusty wave dipped across one corner of his forehead, the unruly strands curling around his ears.
His face and arms were tanned as dark as a coffee bean, but the glimpses she’d had of his bare chest told her he wasn’t into lounging around in the sun without his shirt. She doubted he was into lounging around anywhere. From the looks of his lean, hard muscles, the man worked tirelessly.
Her carnal thoughts brought her up short. The two of them were entirely alone and with the letter delivered and his arm bandaged, she no longer had any good reason to remain in Quint Cantrell’s house.
Quickly rising to her feet, she said nervously, “Well, I’m glad that I didn’t interrupt your work—though I guess the injury to your arm had already done that. But I won’t keep you any longer. I promised Abe I’d be back to Apache Wells before it got too late.”
Quint rose to his feet also. “You haven’t finished your soda.”
“I’ve had enough. Thank you.”
She started out of the kitchen and as she did, she could feel Quint’s presence following close behind her. The idea made her heart thump at a rapid pace and she drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm it.
“I’m not in that big of a hurry to get back to work, Maura. Why don’t you let me show you around before you leave?”
His suggestion caught her by surprise and she dared to glance over her shoulder at him. “Do you really want to?”
He suddenly chuckled and Maura was amazed at how different he looked with humor softening his features.
“I don’t make offers unless I want to.”
Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in his eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through her. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a thirty-six-year-old woman who’d been married and divorced.
But just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.
“In that case,” she said, “I’d love to have a look around.”
Moving forward, he touched a hand to her back and Maura felt her senses splintering in all directions.
“Good,” he murmured. “Just let me get my hat and we’ll be on our way,” he told her.
Chapter Three
Once they stepped onto the porch, Quint dropped his hand from her back and Maura was finally able to draw in a normal breath. But as they moved into the yard, he immediately wrapped a hold around her upper arm.
“Let’s go to the barn first,” he suggested. “I need to let Jake, my ranch hand, know I’m okay.”
Nodding, she looked away from him and tried not to dwell on his warm, rough fingers pressing into her flesh.
The afternoon was all bright sunshine, while a soft west wind carried the scent of sagebrush and juniper. A lone aspen shaded one corner of the house, but that was the only bona fide tree that she could see for miles around. The rest of the vegetation growing beyond the ranch yard amounted to a few spindly pinyon pines, some twisted snags of juniper and a sea of jumping choya cactus and sagebrush. It was a stark, yet beautiful sight and Maura instinctively knew it would be even more so in the late evening when the sun fell from the sky and twilight purpled the nearby mountains.
“How many men do you have working for you?” she asked.
Now that they were walking abreast, he dropped his hold on her arm and Maura didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Either way, just being this near him left her shaky and nothing like the practical, no-nonsense nurse that had dealt calmly with all sorts of men. She kept remembering the way he’d looked without his shirt and how the warmth and scent of his body had filled up the little bathroom and stifled her breath.
“The contractor working on the barn and storage sheds has several men working with him. But as far as the ranch goes, I only have two hands. Once I start putting livestock on the place, I’ll hire more. Though my grandfather deeded over the land a few years ago, I only started full-time here about two years ago.”
She kept her gaze on the rocky ground in front of her. “Do you have plenty of land here to support cattle?”
“Ten thousand acres. Not that much, but enough to do what I want to do.”
Glancing over at him, she asked curiously, “And what is that?”
He shrugged and not for the first time, Maura couldn’t help thinking how serious and driven he was for a man his age. Abe had commented one day that his grandson wasn’t yet thirty so that meant he was either twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He certainly didn’t look any older than that, Maura thought. Yet he seemed older, as though the years he’d been on this earth had pushed his soul to manhood long before his body had caught up.
“My plans aren’t anything grand. Just raise a few purebred cattle and a few horses.”
“What about the old gold mine—the Golden Spur—that your ranch is named after?”
She’d not meant to ask that question. It had just slipped out on its own. The same way her heart seemed to jump into a crazy jig each time she looked at his face.
Frowning, he glanced her way. “What about it?” he asked curtly.
Knowing she’d touched on a tender spot, she shrugged in an effort to appear casual. “Nothing really. Except that I couldn’t help noticing the letter Abe asked me to deliver to you. The return address was Red Bluff Mining Company. And your grandfather doesn’t make any secret about wanting to reopen the old thing.”
His footsteps paused on the barren ground and Maura came to a stop with him. As he looked at her, she could see frustration edging his features.
“Gramps thinks the mine could be profitable again. But I don’t want anything to do with it. Having a bunch of trucks and men and equipment going across the ranch is the last thing I need.”
“If it turned out to be profitable, the extra money might come in handy,” she suggested. “Especially when you start buying stock for this place.”
“I don’t need the money,” he said flatly. “Nor do I want it. I’m a rancher, not a miner.”
He picked up his stride again, only this time it was much longer and purposeful as he covered the last few yards to the barn. Maura quickened her steps to stay up with him.
“So if money isn’t the issue, why does your grandfather want to reopen the mine?” she said, darting a quick glance at his sober face.
“For the adventure, Maura. He’s always wanted to turn over a rock just to see what was beneath it. That’s how he got rich in the first place—on the plains of Texas, drilling for oil. He hit it big and brought his fortune out here to New Mexico to buy land and cattle. To him, the mine takes him back to those days when he was drilling for black gold. Guess it makes him feel young all over again. He didn’t care about the mine for years when he owned it, but now that I have the land, it’s all he seems to care about.”
“Sometimes feeling young or having a dream is very important. Sometimes it even keeps a person from dying.”
The muscles around his hard mouth tightened with impatience. “Don’t try to make me believe that Gramps is dying. That he needs you or the mine to keep him healthy.”
“I wouldn’t attempt such a thing,” she said defensively. “Abe isn’t ill. He has a perfectly good mind. And the way I see it, he has the right to dream his own dreams. Just like you.”
By now they had reached the massive barn. Instead of opening the huge double doors at the south end of the building, Quint led her to a smaller entrance at the side.
With his hand pausing on the door latch, he turned a searching look on her. “And what about you, Maura? What are your dreams?”
A few years ago his questions would have been easy to answer. Her dreams were waiting for the day her roving husband would settle down to a life exclusively with her. She’d been dreaming of the time they could start having children and Gilbert would be home so that they could parent them together. She’d waited because he kept promising he’d be ready the next year, and she wanted to raise her children with her husband home every night. But none of those dreams had come true. Instead, she’d discovered he’d changed women as often as he’d changed the cities his job had taken him to. And she’d had to accept the fact of his infidelity and that he’d never intended to change his job and settle down to family life. That had only been one of his false promises.
Maura had spent the past year trying to restore her broken self-confidence and move on from her shattered marriage. For months after her divorce, she’d struggled to simply put one foot in front of the other, and looking back, she realized her responsibilities as a nurse had been the only thing keeping her going. She was good at her job and no man could take that fact away from her. As for her dreams, she wasn’t sure what they were now.
“I don’t know, Quint,” she said honestly. “Sometimes dreams get lost along the way.”
Nobody had to tell him that, he thought grimly. His romantic dreams had been busted years ago. Now his goals were concrete and didn’t depend on another person—particularly a woman.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And when that happens, it’s damned hard to find new ones.”
While the two of them had been talking, her face had taken on a sad hue and Quint realized he didn’t like seeing her in such a mood. Maybe because it reminded him of his own lonely existence. Or maybe because he simply didn’t like to think of this woman suffering over anyone or anything.
The unwanted notions disturbed him so much that he quickly turned away from her and shoved open the door.
“Let’s go in,” he urged. “I think Jake is probably at the back of the building where the men are working.”
Since livestock hadn’t yet been moved onto the ranch, the barn was missing the smells of animals and hay and leather. Instead, the scents of sawdust and fresh paint filled the air. On the opposite side of the building, a table saw buzzed and hammers rang out as men erected a frame of lumber that Quint explained would eventually become a large feed room.
“The contractor hasn’t yet finished the horse stalls or the tack room. They’ll get to that next,” Quint continued as they slowly made their way through the building.
She was looking around her with real interest, a fact that surprised Quint. Even though she came from a ranching background, she didn’t seem the sort that would be personally interested in such things. After all, she’d chosen a profession outside the Diamond D, her family’s famous thoroughbred ranch. Add to that, she had a soft, feminine air about her that was totally opposite of an outdoor girl.
“This is going to be very nice,” she said. “And I like the way you’ve laid out everything. When you open the big doors, the horses will be able to look outside. They like that, you know. When they can see what’s going on, they’re more content.”
Bemused by her observation, Quint paused to look at her. Now that they were indoors, her features were muted by shadows, yet the dimness couldn’t diminish the pearly sheen of her skin and for a brief moment he wondered what it would feel like to press his cheek against hers, to experience such softness next to him.
“You know about horses, do you?” he asked.
A smile tilted her lips and at that moment he decided he’d never seen anything so fetching or genuine.
“Why wouldn’t I? My family raises thoroughbreds.”
He folded his arms against his chest. “But you don’t work with them. The horses, I mean.”
Her smile turned whimsical. “No. Not since I went into nursing. But I spent a lot of time at the barns when I was young.”
“I know that Bridget is a doctor, but if I remember correctly, you have another sister. What does she do?”
She glanced away from him. “Dallas operates Angel Wing Stables, a therapy riding clinic for handicapped children. It’s completely nonprofit and something she feels deeply about.”
So all three of the Donovan sisters were dedicated to helping needy people. That should have reassured Quint and allowed him to quit worrying aboutAbe hiring Maura as his nurse. But it didn’t. The more he got to know this woman, the more concerned he was. And not because he believed she was out to snag any sort of money from the old man. No, he’d written that idea off fairly quickly. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d concluded she wasn’t the gold-digger sort. Furthermore, the Donovans had just as much money or more than the Cantrells. She didn’t need it.
No, Quint was far more concerned about his grandfather’s emotional state than his bank account. It was obvious the old man had already grown extremely fond of Maura. And just because Abe was in his eighties, didn’t mean he was immune to a female’s charms. His grandfather might even fall in love with her. Stranger things had happened. And Maura had just now talked about the importance of a man’s dreams. When she left Apache Wells, and she would, what would happen to his grandfather’s dreams? They’d be broken.
Forcing his thoughts back to the moment, he touched a hand to her shoulder and urged her forward. “I see Jake. Let’s go catch up with him.”
At the end of the building, a young man wearing a black cowboy hat and ranch gear was applying neat’s-foot oil to a fancy tooled saddle. The moment he saw their approach, he laid the oily rag to one side and stepped up to meet them.
“I was about to come to the house to make sure you weren’t bleeding to death,” he said to Quint, while his gaze strayed curiously over to Maura.
“I’m fine,” Quint replied. “It just so happens that Maura is a nurse. She was kind enough to bandage me up.”
A wry grin crossed the man’s face. “Now isn’t that something? A beautiful woman comes to your house and she’s a nurse—just when you need one. You always were a lucky dog, Quint.”
Quint couldn’t see where slicing his arm open was lucky, but apparently Jake considered having Maura as a nurse more than fortunate. The idea grated on Quint to no end. Which was a ridiculous reaction. She wasn’t anything to him. If Jake, or any man, wanted to make a play for her, then that was their business, not his.
“Maura, this is my good friend and ranch hand, Jake Rollins. Jake, this is Maura Donovan. She’s my grandfather’s personal nurse.”
Ignoring the last tidbit, the dark-haired man reached to take Maura’s hand. “Are you by any chance related to Liam Donovan?” he asked.
She smiled at Jake and Quint had to fight the urge to jerk her away from the other man and usher her back outside where the two of them would be alone, where her smiles would be directed only at him.
What the hell was coming over him? Quint wondered with self-disgust. Instead of worrying about his grandfather, he needed to be concerned about his own reaction to this woman. He was behaving like a moony bull turned loose in a herd of cows.
“He’s my brother,” Maura said.
“I know him from working the barns at Ruidoso Downs,” Jake informed her. “Nice guy. Heck of a trainer, too. No one told me that he had a beautiful sister.”
Quint made a loud display of clearing his throat. “You’d better finish that saddle, Jake. In a few minutes, we’ve got to get back on that wire stretcher.”
The other man cast him a look of faint surprise, then reluctantly dropped Maura’s hand. “Maybe you’d better keep Maura around. Just in case one of us gets hurt again,” he joked. “Next time it might be me who needs her touch.”
“Keep it up, Jake, and I’ll make sure you get tangled up in barbed wire,” Quint muttered, then carefully steered Maura away from the ranch hand and out a back door.
Once they were well away from the barn, Maura asked, “Have you two known each other long?”
Quint grimaced. “Since kindergarten. We grew up together. He’s like a brother. That’s why I put up with his big mouth.”
Smiling, Maura shrugged. “I didn’t pay him any mind. He was only joking.”
“Don’t bet on it. Jake loves women. Always has.”
They were walking toward a long corral built of rough cedar boards. Attached to one end were several smaller pens with separate gates leading to the outside. Like the barn, the riding arena would have taken lots of time and effort to build. And as Maura looked around her, she could plainly see that Quint was far from the idle sort. He obviously worked hard for everything he had and she admired him greatly for that. Especially when she knew he loved what he was doing.
Gilbert, her ex-husband, had been a pharmaceutical representative and his job was to sell medical products to doctors in private practices, health clinics and hospitals. There was nothing physical about the job. He’d used his mouth and a pen. Two things he was good at. Especially the mouth, she thought grimly. He could sweet-talk a rabid dog into lying down and wagging his tail.
Thanks to his glib tongue, everyone had liked Gil and for several years running, he’d been top salesperson for his company. And that same gift of gab had made him very attractive to women, including Maura. In the beginning of their marriage his sweet talk had sustained and convinced her of his love. Then later, when things between them had grown difficult and doubts of his sincerity had haunted her, that same sweet, persuasive talk had kept her clinging to a man who was incapable of changing.
Yes, she knew all about flirts and all about trying to keep a man at her side. The first had fooled her into thinking she could succeed at the second. And in the end, her five-year marriage had crumbled along with her self-worth.
Shaking away the humiliating thoughts, Maura leaned a shoulder against the board fence and gazed back at the simple stucco house. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in such a simple place? With Quint Cantrell? He wasn’t a wanderer. Apparently he was a homebody, choosing to make his livelihood, his future, with the land. But it didn’t appear that he was a family man. Or maybe he was and just keeping those plans hidden, she silently mused.
“You’re going to have a fine place to raise a family here someday, Quint.”
His features stiffened. “It’ll raise cattle and horses. As for a family—I’m not looking for a woman or family right now,” he said flatly. “And I’m sure not holding my breath until that day.”
Seeing that her comment had rubbed him the wrong way, she pushed away from the fence. “Well, thanks for the tour, Quint. I enjoyed it. But I’d better be heading back. It’s not exactly a short drive back to Apache Wells.”
She started walking back in the direction of the house and her parked truck. Quint followed alongside her.
“Gramps rarely leaves Apache Wells. Maybe you can talk him into coming over here and taking a look at all the work we’ve finished. If that doesn’t interest him, then maybe visiting the old mine might budge him.”
Just from his words, Maura could see that having his grandfather’s admiration meant a lot to him. But what else really mattered to this man? If there was no special woman, no children to be had in his dreams, then what was the Golden Spur going to mean to him? Other than just a place to hang his hat?
At least the man has a future planned for himself, Maura. You have nothing on your agenda, except taking care of an old cantankerous man who could buy a dozen nurses like yourself.
Shoving away the mocking voice in her head, she said to Quint, “I’ll see what I can do about getting him to come for a visit. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that your grandfather does what he wants. Not what others would like for him to do.”
“No. You don’t have to tell me that.”
As they walked the remaining distance to the house, Quint realized he couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman. Her white shirt was sheer enough for him to see the imprint of her bra, the pattern of feminine lace covering her breasts.
She was not a small woman and he could tell by the silhouette of her curves that one breast would be more than enough to fill his hand, his mouth. The idea caused desire to flicker in some part of him that he’d long ago crossed off as dead. And he could only wonder what it was about her that had suddenly stirred him like this.
Since Holly had removed herself from his life, and he’d gotten burned by some superficial gold diggers, sex had become casual, something to forget afterward. And down through the years he’d pushed so hard and so long that he’d felt positive he’d never want another woman in his lifetime.
So why had Maura Donovan come along and reminded him that he was still a man? Lord, he didn’t know the answer. But now that she had, he was going to have to deal with her and himself in a smart and practical way.
At the truck, Quint opened the driver’s door and helped her up into the cab. She smiled down at him and he felt his practicality fly off with the dusty wind.
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Stella Bagwell
A Pregnant Proposal…
After her recent heartbreak, all Maura Donovan wanted was to pick up the pieces of her life. Taking a position as nurse to an elderly rancher seemed a perfect temporary tonic.
Then she met his grandson His rugged masculinity mesmerised her. His passion branded her. Quint Cantrell was an impossible man to resist. But he was six years younger and now she was having his baby…
“I don’t make offers—unless I want to.”
Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in Quint’s eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through Maura. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a woman who’d been married and divorced.
But, just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.
Dear Reader,
Most often the characters I write about are clear in my mind. I know every detail about them and what makes them tick. But Quint Cantrell was an enigma to me. He loves his family, yet keeps to himself. He has lots of money, though he doesn’t particularly like having it. He could live in a mansion. Instead he makes his home in a run-down ranch house. And though he’s considered one of the most eligible bachelors around, he prefers the company of his horse.
The man appeared happy, so why bother stirring him up? Because I, like his grandfather Abe, finally realized that Quint was missing the most important thing in life—love. ‘Course, a man like Quint is bound to rebel. After all, he knows what he wants—or does he?
I hope you’ll travel with me again to the rugged southwest to see the twists and turns that Quint takes before he finally learns to share his heart.
God bless the trails you ride,
Stella
About the Author
STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple have a son, who is a math teacher and athletic coach.
BRANDED WITH
HIS BABY
BY
STELLA BAGWELL
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my sissy, Thelma Foster.
To have a sister like you is to be truly blessed.
I love you.
Chapter One
The moment Quint Cantrell walked through the door of his grandfather’s ranch house, he got the eerie feeling that something was wrong.
At this time of the early evening Abe was usually watching the news on the small television situated in a corner of the cozy living room. Instead, the old man’s leather recliner was empty and the TV screen was black.
Uneasy, Quint started to call out, but stopped as he caught the sound of a radio coming from the direction of the kitchen. As he quickly strode toward the back of the house, he realized with another start that the singer was Billie Holiday.
What the heck was going on around this place? His grandfather liked music, but certainly not that kind! And the house held the peculiar scent of roses instead of pipe tobacco and old boots.
Rounding the open doorway to the kitchen, he practically skidded to a halt as he spotted a woman standing at the cabinet counter. Yesterday, while he’d been eating lunch at the Blue Mesa, a family acquaintance had stopped by his table and mentioned that a rumor was going around about a woman staying out at Apache Wells. Quint had laughingly dismissed the idea as nothing more than a wild rumor. Since his grandmother had passed away fifteen years ago, the only females who ever stepped foot in this house were Quint’s mother or sister. Hell freezing over would be more likely to happen than a woman living in Abe’s house. Or so Quint had believed.
Stunned by this turn of events, Quint stared.
Tall and slender with hair the color of a black cherry hanging nearly to her waist, she was dressed casually in blue jeans and a green Western shirt with darker green flowers dotting the yokes and cuffs. If her face looked anything like her backside, Quint decided, she was definitely a pretty woman.
“Uh—excuse me, ma’am.”
Obviously surprised by the sound of his voice, the woman whirled around to stare at him. Her dark eyes were wide, and her lips parted as she took a halting step in his direction.
“Oh! I didn’t realize anyone had come in,” she said in a breathy voice. “You gave me a fright.”
He stepped forward and even though his gaze was focused solely on her, he knew his grandfather wasn’t in the room. He also realized his initial guess had been correct. The woman was pretty—though quietly so. Like a violet hidden beneath a clump of sagebrush, it might take a second look to find the beauty, but it was there.
“I could say the same about you,” he replied, his eyes sliding over her face. She appeared vaguely familiar. “It’s not every day I walk into my grandfather’s house and find a woman. Who are you, anyway?”
Her lips, which were full and dusky pink, twisted ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. I urged Abe to warn you about me, but you know that he pretty much does things his own way. He wanted me to be a surprise,” she said with a mixture of amusement and regret. “As to who I am, I thought you might recognize me. But I suppose I’ve been away from Lincoln County too long for you to remember.”
So his earlier assumption had been right. He had met the woman before. But where? he wondered, as his gaze scanned her dark green eyes, high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. She was definitely easy to look at, he realized, and then his memory kicked in like a startled mule. Hellfire, she was one of the Donovan bunch! A rich, rough and rowdy family that owned a notable horse farm down in the Hondo Valley.
“I remember now,” he said. “You’re one of the Donovan brood. A nurse. You were at the hospital when my sister had her baby.”
She inclined her head forward. “That’s right. I’m Maura—second oldest of six siblings. You’ve probably seen us around from time to time.”
Shrugging, he wondered why her suggestion made him feel like a recluse. “I don’t do much socializing anymore. But I know your brothers and sisters. Bridget is my mother’s doctor.”
She nodded. “Bridget is very good at her job. And very busy.”
Folding his arms against his chest, Quint glanced beyond her shoulder to where a pot of something was simmering on the stove. It was filling the whole room with the scent of chicken and spices. Where was Jim, the old bunkhouse cook who usually prepared his grandfather’s meals? And why in the world would a Donovan be here at his grandfather’s ranch?
“Yesterday, when someone in town told me that a woman was staying on the ranch, I practically called him a liar.” Quint shook his head as he tried to assemble the questions running rampant in it. “I don’t mean to sound meddlesome, but why are you here? And where is Gramps?”
Her breasts rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, then blew it out. His questions appeared to make her uncomfortable, which only roused his curiosity even more.
“Abe is down at the ranch yard visiting with the hands,” she answered. “And I’m here because I live here now. With your grandfather, as his nurse.”
If she’d whacked Quint’s shins with an ax handle, the shock couldn’t have been any greater. He sputtered. “His nurse!”
“That’s right,” she said smoothly, then quickly added, “Excuse me, would you? I need to tend to the soup.”
Dazed by her revelation, Quint watched her turn to the cookstove, where she stirred a bubbling pot with a wooden spoon. Her movements seemed so casual, that he got the feeling she’d been here long enough to feel at home.
Two weeks had passed since he’d taken the time to drive to Apache Wells, but he’d talked on the phone to his grandfather several times and nothing had been mentioned about a nurse, or any need for one. She’d said that Abe had wanted to surprise him. Well, the old man had done that and more, Quint thought.
Walking farther into the room, Quint lifted the gray Stetson from his head and raked a hand through his curly hair. He’d had a day that would try a saint, and he wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush.
“Okay, is this one of my grandfather’s outlandish jokes? Abe doesn’t need a nurse. He’s as healthy as a horse.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked politely.
“Hell, yes!” he blurted out, then stabbed his fingers through his hair again and added in a calmer tone, “I mean of course, I do. Gramps went for a checkup about three weeks ago. The man pronounced Abe as fit as a fiddle. Or is there something I need to know?”
“I doubt that. Abe says you’re aware of his vertigo problem.”
Putting down the spoon, she turned to face him and Quint was knocked for a loop all over again. Of the three Donovan sisters, he was least familiar with this one. If his calculations were right, she’d finished high school a few years ahead of him. Which would make her midthirties—though she sure didn’t look five or six years older than his twenty-nine. He recalled hearing, a long time ago, that she’d moved away and married some man from Albuquerque. But from the look of her empty ring finger—Quint told himself he didn’t know why he had looked there first—her marital status had changed along with her residence.
“I’m aware that he has dizzy spells,” Quint replied. “But the way I understand it, the condition isn’t life-threatening and it only hits him occasionally.”
“If a spell of vertigo caused him to suffer a bad fall, it could be life-threatening.”
“Sorry, Ms. Donovan, but I could suffer a fall walking across the backyard. Any of us could.”
“The likelihood of that happening skyrockets when a person’s head is spinning.”
Quint couldn’t argue that point. He’d been with his grandfather when one of these spells hit him and the old man had been unable to walk without someone to assist him.
“So? I’d rather see him die than to chain him to a chair. And you can’t go around holding onto his arm all day. In fact, I doubt you could keep up with him,” Quint added.
She sighed. “Abe isn’t a young man anymore, you know.”
Quint bristled. He didn’t want anyone insinuating that Abe was getting old and decrepit. He wasn’t. And Quint refused to let anyone make him believe otherwise.
“Eighty-four may sound old to you,” Quint said to her, “but trust me, Gramps has the mind and the body of a man twenty years younger.”
“I agree with that.”
His expression turned incredulous. “If you know that, then what the hell are you doing here?”
She walked forward and leaned a hip against the edge of a chrome-and-Formica dining table. Quint couldn’t help but notice the sensual curve of her breasts and waist, the way her dark red hair waved against her pale cheek. He didn’t recall Maura Donovan as being so sexy. But back before she’d left the area, he’d only had eyes for Holly. Lovely, fickle Holly.
“Are you angry because I’m living here?” she asked.
Was he? The question jarred him almost as much as the sight of her. No. He wasn’t angry. He was confused, shaken and a bit hurt that Abe hadn’t seen fit to consult him about hiring Maura Donovan. But then, his grandfather had always been a maverick. The only person he’d ever answered to was his late wife, Jenna. There was no reason for Quint to think Abe needed or wanted his grandson’s opinion.
“I’m not angry. I’m confused. Abe isn’t sick. And there’s no way you can protect him from a dizzy spell. So why did he hire you?”
A faint smile tilted the corners of her lips and it suddenly dawned on Quint that it was the first semblance of warmth he’d seen on her face since he’d walked into the room. The subtle expression softened her features and he found himself looking at things about her that had nothing to do with anything. Like her skin that was all smooth and pink and pearly.
Hell, what had she done to Abe? he wondered. Batted her long lashes at him and smiled? He could see how a young man would succumb to this woman’s charms. Quint was feeling the effects of her presence himself. But Abe? Sure, his grandfather was still a man, but he’d always been so crazy in love with his late wife that he’d never looked twice at another woman. But maybe she did something to change that, Quint thought.
“Your grandfather suffers from benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. When it happens I can help him with the exercises and head maneuvers he needs to do in order to get over it. And see that he takes his medication, whenever it’s needed. Having a nurse close by makes him feel safe and cared for. Surely you wouldn’t want to deny the man that much?”
Shaking his head with resignation, Quint pulled out one of the dining chairs and flopped down on the seat. He’d been building fences all day. Sweat and dirt stained his shirt and jeans and he was tired enough to sleep for a week. He wasn’t in any shape to argue with Maura Donovan. And maybe he shouldn’t be arguing, he thought wearily. Maybe he should just thank his lucky stars that Abe was being looked after on a daily basis.
“I didn’t realize nurses also cooked for their patients,” he said, his gaze straying to the simmering pot on the stove, then back to her.
He watched faint color warm her cheeks and then his gaze dropped to her lips. She didn’t appear to wear lipstick. But then, she didn’t need to. Her lips were already dark and moist and the idea of biting into them, kissing them, flashed through his mind, shocking him with the totally erotic thought.
“I understand that before I came Jim did all the cooking around here, but I offered to take over because—” Pausing, she wrinkled her nose. “Well, neither man was eating a healthy diet. Red meat and potatoes was about all I could find around here.”
“That’s what Gramps likes,” Quint said automatically while he pushed his mind to more pertinent issues. How long was she planning on staying here and was she thinking to get more out of his grandfather than just nurse’s wages? The Donovans were wealthy people. If Maura never worked a day in her life, she could still live in luxury. So why would she want to hide herself away here on Apache Wells? Abe’s ranch was remote, with the nearest neighbor—an old woman everyone called Crazy Gertie—fifteen miles away. Gertie was someone who’d been known to take potshots at anyone who decided to come near the shack she lived in. As for his grandfather, Abe could be charming whenever he chose to be, but for the most part he was set in his ways and didn’t hesitate to speak his mind. A young, beautiful woman like Maura wouldn’t deliberately choose to spend her days like this unless there was something in it for her, would she?
The questions were really none of Quint’s business and probably totally out of line. But damn it, Abe was his grandfather! Someone had to look out for the old man’s security. Two years ago his sister had married a Texas Ranger and moved to his ranch near San Antonio. A month ago, Alexa had given birth to daughter Jessica. Add her to the couple’s toddler son, J.D., and his sister’s life was consumed with caring for her own family. That left only Quint and his mother, Frankie, to keep an eye on their aging relative.
“What we like and what’s good for us aren’t always the same, Mr. Cantrell.”
Amen to that, he thought drily. “My grandfather never was one to follow rules—good or bad.”
And Maura figured the man sitting at the small dining table wasn’t much of a rule follower, either. He’d said he wasn’t angry about her being here, yet she could see doubts and questions unfolding like a picture show across his rough-hewn face.
Well, she couldn’t blame the man. She’d had her own doubts about taking this job. But Abe had been persistent. He’d also come along with the proposition at just the right time. She’d loved her job at Sierra General Hospital. Helping ailing patients get back on their feet was something she’d always wanted and needed to do since she’d become a nurse nearly fourteen years ago. But recently Dr. Weston’s uninvited pursuit of her had turned the job she’d once cherished into a walking nightmare. On the whole he was a nice man and an excellent doctor, but he’d refused to believe she didn’t want to see him romantically. His attention hadn’t quite crossed over to harassment, but it was making her a bit uncomfortable. So she’d spent the past two months running around the hospital trying to dodge the man.
Turning back to the cabinet counter, she began to gather makings for a fresh pot of coffee while she attempted to convince herself that Quint Cantrell wasn’t making her heart beat fast, her mouth go dry. She’d not expected him to look so raw and sexy, so much a man. Even with her back to him, she could easily visualize the rusty-brown color of his hair, the sky-blue of his eyes and the strong, stubborn square of his jaw.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “When Abe approached me a few weeks ago, he was going through tests to find the cause of his vertigo. He told me then that he was afraid of falling and breaking a bone.”
Quint snorted. “What a bunch of bull. Gramps has never been afraid of falling. Why, only a few weeks ago, he rode a green broke horse on roundup. The thing reared up and fell over backward with him. Do you think that scared him? Hell, no. He climbed back on and rode the animal that day and the rest of the week.”
Pausing in the middle of her task, Maura glanced over her shoulder at him and as her eyes settled on his face, some subtle thing fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been properly introduced to Quint Cantrell, but their families had often traveled in the same circles and she recalled seeing him a few times oh so many years ago. He’d been a handsome young guy then, one that as a teenager, her younger sister Bridget had swooned over. But according to Bridget, he’d never given her the time of day. Instead he’d steadily dated Holly Johnson and everyone in Lincoln and Ortero Counties had believed the two would eventually get married. Maura had never heard what happened with the couple, but she’d heard nasty rumors. But then, Maura knew all too well that most breakups were ugly.
“I’m hardly saying your grandfather is scared,” she said quietly. “I think—well, I think you should ask him yourself why he believes he needs a nurse. As for me, I’m very happy to be here. Abe is—” She broke off with a fond smile. “He’s quite a character, and I’ll be honest, I’ve already fallen a little in love with him.”
His lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval, but Maura told herself she didn’t care what this man was thinking. Let him think what he wanted. Her relationship with Abe was between the old man and her.
“I didn’t think nurses were supposed to become emotionally involved with their patients,” he said.
Turning back to the cabinet counter, she poured water into the coffeemaker, then shoved the carafe in place. “That’s right. But I have a heart in my chest, not a rock. And it has a mind of its own.”
He didn’t make any sort of reply and after a few moments, the air in the kitchen felt so tense that she had to turn and face him. Yet the sardonic expression she expected to see wasn’t there. Instead, she was jolted by his sober blue gaze honing in on her like a microscope.
“Abe tells me that you’ve been developing more of your family land,” she said as casually as she could.
“Gramps purchased the property over near Capitan more than twenty years ago and since then has done little with it. For some reason, he thinks I can make something out of the place.”
He didn’t go on to tell her that the property was the only Cantrell land that belonged solely to Quint. Along with that, it possessed some of the finest grazing land in southern New Mexico. Unlike the other two family ranches, the Golden Spur, named after the old gold mine on the property, was being built with Quint’s own two hands and from his own ideas and dreams. And that made it all very special to him.
“I heard about your father dying—what was it—two years ago?”
His gaze turned uncomfortably away from her. “Over two years now.”
“I was very sorry to hear about Lewis’s passing. I met him a couple of times. He was a warm, perfect gentleman.”
She saw him swallow and realized that the hurt of losing his father was still a raw wound in him. The vulnerable side of the man touched Maura in a way she’d not expected. She would have liked to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but to do such a thing would only rouse his suspicions of her. And he did have suspicions, she thought wryly. She’d spotted them in his eyes the moment she’d told him she was living with Abe.
“Yeah. Everyone liked Dad.”
Clearing her throat, she replied, “So who’s managing the Chaparral now? Obviously, not you.”
“Laramie Jones. But I still keep a hand in things there. That’s where Mom still makes her home.” Eventually, the Chaparral would go to his sister Alexa, and Apache Wells would be split equally between the two siblings. As of now, it was Quint’s job to keep an eye on both properties. Not an easy task for Quint, especially since he had his own place to deal with, too. But ranching was his life and he considered the extra work a labor of love.
“I see.”
Behind her the coffeemaker gurgled its last drop. Maura walked to the end of the cabinet where the cups were located. “Would you like coffee?” she asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She gathered up two cups and proceeded to fill both of them. After she’d carried them over to the table and took a seat across from him, she reached for a small pitcher of cream.
As he stirred sugar into his own cup, he said, “This may sound insensitive, but I thought you were married.”
Maura tried not to cringe. Being divorced wasn’t like she’d committed some sort of shameful crime, but for some reason it bothered her to think this man might be viewing her as a failure. Especially at being a wife, a woman, a lover.
“I was married for five years,” she replied. “But it ended more than a year ago. That’s when I moved back to Lincoln County.”
“Oh.”
She pushed a hand through her hair and the thought suddenly struck her that her face was bare of makeup, her hair mussed. But her appearance hardly mattered. This man was at least six years younger. He’d never look at her in a romantic way. Which was more than okay with her. She wasn’t ready to tangle herself up in any sort of emotional commitment again. And if she did ever get ready, she would hardly take her chances on a young man who was still in his twenties and apparently not looking to settle down.
“No children?” he asked.
Gripping her cup, she tried to push away the empty ache that always seemed to be lingering near her heart. “No. My ex-husband’s job required him to travel all the time. I kept waiting for that to change. It didn’t.”
She could feel his blue eyes upon her, but she didn’t have the courage to lift her gaze to his. “What about you, Mr. Cantrell? You’ve not married yet?”
He took his time sipping his coffee and as tense moments begin to tick away, Maura decided he was going to ignore her question entirely. Which was embarrassing. Especially since she’d talked about her personal life.
“No,” he said finally. “I haven’t been looking for a wife. Can’t see that I need one.”
And why would he? she asked herself. The man had everything. Cattle, horses, thousands of acres of prime ranch land at his disposal, anything that money could buy. And that probably included women; the sort that he could take or leave at his convenience. A young hunk like him probably didn’t want to be saddled with a wife.
“And I wish you wouldn’t call me Mr. Cantrell,” he went on. “That was my father’s name. I’m just Quint to everyone.”
Calling him Mr. Cantrell helped keep him at an emotional distance. But it looked as though he meant to tear down even that flimsy barrier. Feeling even tenser, she drained her cup and rose to her feet. “Okay, Quint. Will you be staying for supper? There’ll be plenty.”
He got to his feet and Maura unconsciously stepped backward to put plenty of space between them. He was a big man. In size and presence. Strength and masculinity were stamped all over his rough features, broad shoulders and long, hard legs. Just being near him left her feeling cornered.
“I don’t know yet. Right now I’m going to go find my grandfather.” He placed his cup in the sink, then went out the back door, the screen banging behind him.
Maura stared after him and wondered why meeting Quint Cantrell had felt like going through an earthquake. Even her hands were still shaking.
Because Jenna Cantrell had wanted the dust and commotion of a ranch yard well away from her home, Abe had built the working part of Apache Wells two miles west of the house. Normally, he and Quint drove the distance, but there were times they chose to walk to the bunkhouse and work pens.
Down through the years, the outbuildings and barns had been built with no particular style or planning in mind, except durability and practical use. Some were made of wood, some corrugated iron, but one thing the buildings did have in common was their whitewashed walls and red tin roofs.
To one side of the network of buildings and connecting holding pens was a long arena where the hands gathered to train their horses to follow and cut cattle, and in quieter times, swap stories around a small campfire.
This late summer evening just happened to be cool enough to appreciate the warmth of a fire and, after Quint parked his truck, he found his grandfather with several of his hired hands squatting around the ring of rocks. The moment Abe spotted his approach, he left the circle of men and walked over to his grandson.
The older man was the same height as Quint and bony thin. He never went outdoors without his black hat and he always wore the legs of his jeans stuffed deep into his knee-high cowboy boots. This particular pair had lime-green tops with fancy yellow stitching and the leather was as scarred and worn as his grandfather’s face. Tonight he was wearing a brown quilted vest to ward away the chill and the puffy garment camouflaged his wiry torso.
Stroking his thick white mustache, he said to Quint, “So I see you finally managed to come check on your grandfather.”
Not allowing the old man any slack, Quint said, “I had to work at it. But I’m here.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Abe rocked back on his high heels. “Well, it’s about time.” He jerked his head toward the men behind him. “Jim’s makin’ some camp coffee. Come have a cup with us.”
“I just had coffee—with your nurse,” Quint added pointedly.
Abe grinned that goofy sort of grin that men got on their faces when they talked about women. “So you met the little filly, did ya? What’d you think about her?”
If Quint hadn’t been so shocked at his grandfather’s ribald questions, he would have rolled his eyes and cursed a blue streak.
“Forget about that,” he muttered. “What the hell are you doing, Gramps? You’re not sick! You’re using that vertigo problem of yours as an excuse to have her here. Aren’t you?”
“S-s-shh! Don’t be raising your voice so, damn it! She might hear you.”
“She’s in the house—two miles from here,” Quint reasoned.
His head tilting one way and then the other, Abe chuckled. “Well, she thinks I’m needy—and I am. At times. You know, Quint, I always had it in my mind that nurses were hard-hearted women. They sure seem like it when a man is sick. But Maura ain’t. She’s as sweet as a summer peach.”
“Since when did you need a summer peach?” Quint countered.
Abe shrugged. “Well—since I got dizzy.”
Quint snorted. “Looks to me like you’ve gotten more than dizzy.”
“That’s right,” Abe retorted. “I got the notion that I was tired of living alone.”
Shaking his head, Quint looked out at the ranch yard. The dipping sun was lengthening the shadows of the buildings. A pen of horses munched on alfalfa while around their feet several dominickers pecked at the morsels of oats and corn that had fallen from the feed troughs. Apache Wells had always felt more like home to Quint than any of the other Cantrell properties in Lincoln County.
As a young child he’d spent many days and nights here with his grandparents and those memories were more than special to him. His time here had influenced his life. The endless days he’d spent with his grandfather working in and out of the saddle had set Quint’s goals and visions for the future.
Yes, Apache Wells had always been special to him and he didn’t want a woman coming along and changing anything about it.
“Living alone! Gramps, you have men all around you. That’s hardly being alone.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Abe countered with a question.
Quint frowned, then heaved out a heavy breath. “Look, Gramps, I’m not the one complaining about being lonely. You are. My life is one big whirlwind right now. I don’t have time to be lonely. And frankly, neither do you. So spare me.”
Abe scowled at him. “Spare you? I’d like to kick your ass.”
Seeing he was getting nowhere, Quint took a different direction. “So how long do you plan on keeping this nurse?”
Abe gave him a palms-up gesture. “‘Til I don’t need her, I suppose. ‘Course if I get over this dizzy problem, I’m hardly likely to run her off.”
Quint suddenly decided he’d been all wrong about the old man. Abe was sick. With dementia or something like it. Had Maura already recognized Abe’s problem and saw it as a way to get her foot in the door? He hated to think the woman might be that calculating. She didn’t seem the sort, at all. But then, he’d spent four years believing that Holly Johnson was a true-blue innocent and look what that had gotten him. She’d run off with a rich real-estate mogul and Quint had become the laughingstock of Lincoln County.
“Gramps, I want you to have a complete checkup. You need blood work, scans, the whole nine yards. You’re not yourself and we both know it.”
Abe laughed gleefully. “I’m not acting like myself, am I? Just because I’m enjoying a little female company? I think any doc would say you’re the one who’s messed up.”
“What about Granny?” Quint challenged him. “Doesn’t she matter anymore?”
Abe’s expression suddenly softened and he patted Quint on the shoulder. “She ain’t here anymore, Quint. All I have is memories and photos. A man needs more and you ought to understand that.”
Lord, did his grandfather have romantic intentions toward the nurse? “Gramps, did you hire her to be your nurse or something more personal?” Quint asked point-blank.
Abe turned a completely innocent look on him. “Why, to be my nurse, of course. But if she so happens to stumble around and fall in love with me—well, I sure as heck ain’t gonna push her away. If you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Quint knew all too well what his grandfather meant. He also knew that if he didn’t do something about this situation and soon, Abe was going to be hurt. In more ways than one.
Gazing thoughtfully in the direction of the ranch house, Quint rubbed a hand against his jaw. “I think I’ll stay for supper,” he suddenly announced.
Clearly skeptical, Abe asked, “Why? You thinkin’ you’re gonna hang around and horn in on your grandfather’s business?”
Quint looked at him. “No. I’m thinking that soup she was making smelled mighty good.”
He was also thinking that the moment he’d first walked into the kitchen, Maura Donovan had set off some sort of spark in him, a flash of heat that had taken Quint totally by surprise. Now he wanted to get closer to the woman, he decided. So close that he could see right into her pretty head. He could take a second look into her green eyes and found out for himself if that spark he’d felt had been real or imagined.
Though he wasn’t too sure which direction he wanted the decision to land…
Chapter Two
Two days later, on the dirt drive that led to the Apache Wells ranch house, Maura was finishing the last of a two-mile jog. The early afternoon sun was hot. Sweat sheened her body and dampened her red tank top. The thought of languishing over a tall glass of iced tea pushed her forward, until the musical ring of her cell phone sounded in the pocket of her shorts.
Pausing in the middle of the narrow road, she fished out the small instrument and was immediately surprised to see the caller was her mother. Now that the Donovan children were all grown and capable of running the Diamond D horse ranch without them, her parents, Fiona and Doyle Donovan, had become regular globe-trotters. Only two days ago they’d been in Ireland visiting relatives on both sides of their extensive families.
“Hello, Mother!”
“You’re out of breath,” Fiona observed. “What did you do, run to the phone?”
“No. I’m out jogging,” Maura explained.
“Oh. I can call back later.”
Having five siblings meant that getting any exclusive, one-on-one attention from their mother was rare and precious. Just having her mother call so quickly after her return home made Maura feel special.
“Nonsense. I can walk and talk for a while,” she assured the other woman. “It’s so good to hear your voice. When did you get home?”
“Late last night. Your father and I are so jet-lagged we’re just getting around to having breakfast. Dallas was the only one still up when we arrived last night and this afternoon everyone seems to be out of pocket.”
“Just because you and Dad live the life of luxury doesn’t mean your children can loll around in bed until midafternoon,” Maura teased as she started to the house.
“Hmm. It’s good to hear that we’ve taught you children good work ethics. And speaking of work, Dallas tells me you’re still with Mr. Cantrell.”
Before her parents had left for Ireland more than a month ago, Abe had not yet approached Maura about the job here at Apache Wells. But once she’d decided to take the old man’s offer, she’d called her parents in Ireland and told them about her decision. Neither had understood her choice to abruptly change jobs, but they’d hardly tried to deter her. At thirty-six, it had been years since her parents had tried to tell her what to do. And even if they did try, Maura was too stubborn and strong-minded not to take the path she chose for herself. Even if it might be the wrong path, she thought drily.
“That’s right.”
“So what are your duties? Does he keep you busy fetching and complaining?”
Maura smiled to herself. “Not in the least. Right now Abe is out riding range with the rest of the ranch hands. I don’t expect him in until later this afternoon.”
“Riding—” Fiona gasped. “I thought—if I remember correctly, Abe Cantrell is older than your father! And I thought he was ill and needed a nurse!”
The smile on Maura’s full lips deepened even more. “Abe is eighty-four. And he’s as healthy as a horse. Except for when he gets vertigo. And thankfully that’s only happened once since I’ve been here.”
There was a long pause and then Fiona said in a slow, pointed voice, “Maura, I may be butting in, but I’d like to know why you gave up a wonderful, good-paying job at the hospital for a man who only needs you occasionally?”
“Abe needs me more than occasionally, Mother.”
“You just assured me he was healthy and—”
“He needs me in other, emotional ways. Having me here makes him feel secure. Besides that, he’s lonely and starved for affection.”
“Maura!” Fiona said in a scolding tone. “You hardly know this man. His emotional needs aren’t your responsibility.”
Maura had told herself exactly that same thing. More than once. Yet for some reason she couldn’t explain to anyone, a part of her had connected to the old man the minute she’d first met him striding down a hallway at Sierra General. He’d been trying to find his way through the maze of corridors to the closest exit and Maura had offered her help. The two of them had hit it off instantly and before Abe had left the building, he’d offered her the private nursing job.
“Mother, I’m a nurse and Abe needs mental and physical nourishing. That’s what my job is all about,” Maura responded. “The degree of his need has nothing to do with things.”
On the other end of the line, she could hear her mother sighing softly. “You’ve gotten attached to this man. I can hear it in your voice,” Fiona said flatly.
“I suppose I have.”
“And what about Frankie, his daughter-in-law? And his grandson—what is his name?”
“Quint.”
“Yes, Quint. What about them, aren’t they around to see to Abe’s needs?”
Maura talked to Frankie on a frequent basis and the woman had made it clear that even though she checked in on Abe from time to time, Quint was the one relative the old man wanted and needed in his life. Frankie had also assured her that she was going to keep mum about Maura and let Abe be the one to tell his grandson about having a nurse. Obviously Frankie had kept her word. Two days ago, when he’d appeared unannounced in the kitchen, he’d been shocked to find Maura there and she’d been totally tilted off-kilter by his presence. Since then it had been impossible to forget the strong physical reaction she’d felt toward the man. Just thinking about him made her feel utterly foolish.
“The Cantrells are busy people. Just like you and Dad. They have lives of their own to deal with.”
In fact, the night Quint had sat down to eat supper with her and Abe, he’d received some sort of important call and hadn’t even taken the time to gulp more than three bites before he’d quickly departed the ranch. Abe had clearly been disappointed when his grandson had rushed off. As for Maura, she’d felt deflated as she’d watched the man dash out the door. A part of her had wanted more of his company while the other part had been leery of the strange feelings he’d elicited in her.
“I’m sorry if I sounded fussy, darling,” Fiona said after a pause. “If you like the job, that’s all that matters. But I can’t see why you’d want to isolate yourself out there on Apache Wells, though. It’s miles and miles from anything.”
Because the isolation was soothing to her fractured nerves, Maura thought. Because after going through a humiliating, heartbreaking divorce, not to mention the unwanted chase by Dr. Weston, Maura needed the calm quiet of Abe’s home to restore herself.
“My truck is in good working order and I can drive into town whenever I want. I promise to see you and Dad soon.”
“I’m holding you to that promise and—”
Fiona broke off as Maura caught the sound of her father’s voice booming in the background for his wife to hang up the phone and come to breakfast.
“You’d better put the phone down, Mother. Dad never did like waiting on his meals.”
Laughing, Fiona said goodbye and quickly closed the connection between them. Maura put her own phone back in her pocket and trotted on to the house.
She was nearing the porch when the screen door pushed open and Abe stepped onto the small alcove.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been huntin’ all over for you.”
“I’ve been out getting a little exercise,” Maura said with a smile. “Did everything go okay on your ride? Any dizziness?”
He grinned at her and Maura thought that it must be true that the older a man got the more he resembled the boy he’d once been. Abe was one of the most mischievous, prank-playing men she’d ever been around and that included her three rowdy brothers.
“Not even one little spin. Everything went as fine as spring rain. Got the cattle moved and the old pump off the broken windmill. We’ll have it fixed in a few days.”
Maura gestured toward one of the two lawn chairs grouped together on the small porch. “Sit down and I’ll get you coffee or something,” she suggested.
“Don’t have time. We got some green colts penned and some of the boys are gonna try to halter ‘em. I’d better be there. These young’ns try to hurry things along. I have a hell of a time tryin’ to teach them that when you’re dealin’ with horses, the slow way is the fastest way.”
Maura smiled. How many times had she heard her own father say the same thing, she wondered fondly. Like Abe, Doyle Donovan was a horseman and would be until he died.
Turning toward the house, Abe motioned for her to follow. “Come along inside,” Abe said to her. “I’ve got a chore for ya. That is, if you don’t mind doin’ it.”
Curious, Maura followed the old man into the house, where he immediately walked over to a rolltop desk that was situated in one corner of the small living room. Inside the desk, he pulled a large white envelope from one of the storage slots, then waved it in Maura’s face.
“This came in the mail yesterday. Quint needs to look it over. Pronto. I called him last night, but he says he can’t get back over here for a few days. I’d like for you to take these papers over to the Golden Spur.”
Go to Quint Cantrell’s ranch? The thought of seeing the man again sent a thrill of excitement zinging through Maura. Yet at the same time, she was wary of meeting him on her own without Abe’s presence to act as a buffer. The other evening, during his short visit, Quint had been polite enough to her, yet she’d sensed he wasn’t all that pleased about Abe’s having a nurse. If he decided to really jump her out about the issue, she didn’t know how she would handle him.
Lord, Maura, you wouldn’t know how to handle Quint Cantrell under any circumstance. He’s way too much man for a woman like you. And don’t you forget it.
“I—well, if it’s important to you, I’d be glad to,” she finally said. After all, the man was paying her an extravagant wage for being his private nurse. And it was her job to see that he didn’t fret unduly over things. “Is the ranch hard to find?”
“No trouble at all,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll make you a little map while you go fix yourself up or whatever it is you women do before you leave the house.”
Maura wasn’t about to fix herself up for Quint Cantrell, but she couldn’t say that to Abe. Instead she went to her room and hurriedly showered, then changed into a cool white shirt over a pair of Levi’s. After swiping a brush through her hair and a bit of peach color across her lips, she returned to the living room and found Abe waiting with the map and papers in hand.
As he watched her approach, a wide grin spread across his face. “Here you go, honey. The map is easy to follow. Just take your time and don’t get in no hurry to get back here. I feel good. Not nary a vertigo spell. Maybe I’m plumb over ‘em.”
Abe’s way of putting things made Maura want to laugh out loud. Instead, she said with a straight face, “If you’re plumb over them, Abe, then you probably don’t need me to keep hanging around here.”
Frowning now, he reached out a bony hand to grip one of her shoulders. “Maura, now I was just tryin’ to be positive. We both know that those damned spells could hit me right out of the blue. And I ain’t lyin’ when I say that they’re scary things. Makes me feel like I’m dyin’. What would I do if you weren’t around to get my head straight and all those little marbles back in place?”
He had ten men working here on this end of the ranch, not to mention several more on the western half of Apache Wells property. Except for the nights, the man was never alone. True, none of the ranch hands had any medical training, but then Abe wasn’t looking for them or her to keep him physically safe, she realized. It was becoming obvious to her that he wanted her here for other, emotional reasons, and for now Maura was content to leave things at that.
“They’re not marbles that make you dizzy, they’re pieces of calcium that float around,” she pointed out to him. “But don’t worry, Abe. I’m not leaving. I just want to make sure that you’re still okay with me being here.”
The worried frown on his face eased into a genuine smile. “I’m better than okay. Havin’ you around is almost like havin’ Jenna back.”
Maura patted his arm. Since she’d moved onto the ranch, Abe had talked to her a lot about his late wife. He was clearly still in love with the woman and missed her greatly. She empathized with the old man’s loss. Especially now that she was on her own and her bed was as empty as her heart.
“I’m glad,” she said softly, then clearing her throat, she promised, “I’ll be back later this evening.”
An hour later, on Highway 380, Maura very nearly missed the small sign on the left side of the road. Golden Spur were the only words written on the piece of tin nailed to a cedar fence post, but that was enough to tell Maura it was Cantrell property. The simple sign also told her that there was nothing showy about Quint Cantrell.
Turning into the entrance, she drove her Ford over the wooden cattle guard, then pulled to one side of the dusty road to study the map Abe had sketched for her.
From this point she would travel north for ten miles, then take the left fork in the road and drive due west for five more miles. The ranch house, Abe had told her, sat at the foot of a bald mountain.
Before she could take note of the butterflies in her stomach, Maura lifted her chin and stepped down on the gas. There wasn’t any need for her nerves to jump around like a swarm of grasshoppers, she assured herself. It wasn’t like she was going to see the man for personal reasons. All she was doing was making a delivery.
Normally, Quint was rarely in the house during the daytime. He couldn’t waste the daylight. But today the wire stretchers had malfunctioned and barbed wire had popped loose, lashing backward to catch Quint’s forearm. The long barbs had ripped the denim fabric of his shirt like a piece of fragile paper and torn a deep gash into his flesh.
The bleeding had forced him to come to the house and make an effort to patch up the wound. Now as he stood at the bathroom sink, pouring alcohol into the angry lesion and gritting his teeth against the sting, he heard a faint knock at the front door.
Figuring it was the man he’d been working with, he yelled out, “Come on in, Jake. Get yourself a beer from the fridge, while I try to wrap up this thing.”
“Um—this isn’t Jake,” a female voice called back.
Stunned by the sound, Quint wrapped a small towel around the wounded arm and hurried out of the bathroom and down a short hallway to the living room. The moment he spotted Maura standing just inside the door, he halted in his tracks.
“What are you doing here?” he asked without preamble.
She answered his question by holding up a long white envelope. “The papers your grandfather wanted you to have. He sent me to deliver them.”
Papers? Quint couldn’t remember talking to his grandfather about papers, but then his days and nights were filled with so many tasks that after a while everything began to run together. Besides, he could hardly think. Just seeing Maura Donovan standing inside the walls of his house was enough to jar his senses. Dressed in a pair of clinging jeans and a close-fitting shirt, she was just as sexy and attractive as he remembered and for a few seconds he forgot about the pain slicing through his arm.
“Oh. Well, just lay them anywhere, would you? Right now I’m—” Grimacing he glanced ruefully down at his arm. “I’m in a bit of a mess. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”
Her eyes followed his gaze down to the bloody towel wrapped around his arm. Quickly stepping forward, she exclaimed, “You’ve hurt yourself! Let me help.”
Quint unconsciously took a step backward. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a minute and I’ll slap a bandage on it.”
Concern marking her brow, Maura placed the envelope on the nearest end table, then closed the distance between them. “Don’t be silly, Quint. I’m a nurse.” Not waiting for his permission, she wrapped her hand firmly around his upper arm. “It’s my job to deal with wounds.”
Since Quint could hardly argue that point, especially now that she had a grip on him, he said, “Okay. I have some things set out in the bathroom. Let’s go in there.”
Dropping her hold on his arm, she followed him down a short hallway and into the small room. A vanity surrounded a white lavatory and after he’d removed the towel and his shirt, she quickly positioned his injured limb over the clean basin.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“A piece of barbed wire came loose from the stretcher and whacked me.”
She was taller than he’d first thought, he realized. If her head hadn’t been bent over his arm, the top of it would have measured to a spot just beneath chin.
“It looks to me as though this could use a stitch or two,” she told him. “Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”
The close proximity of her body was rattling him, while the sweet, flowery scent of her skin and hair seemed foreign to a man that mostly kept his distance from women.
“No,” he answered gruffly. “Just clean the thing out and I’ll take my chances.”
Turning her head, she gave him an impatient glance. “That’s not very smart of you.”
“I’ve never been accused of being smart. Besides, you medical people go overboard with precautionary measures. Gramps would consider this a scratch.”
A soft sigh escaped her. “Have you always tried to fashion yourself after your grandfather?”
“Not always.” Quint certainly wouldn’t have a nurse living with him, he thought ruefully. Especially if he didn’t need one.
Thankfully, she turned her attention back to his arm and Quint gritted his teeth as she used a nail brush to scrub the lesion with water and antibacterial soap.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Trying to rip open my arm even more?”
“Sorry. I know it hurts, but it’s important to make sure no debris is left behind. Was the wire rusty?”
“No. It was new—galvanized.” To his surprise the scrubbing hadn’t made the bleeding worse. In fact, it was on the verge of stopping completely.
“That’s good,” she said. “At least we don’t have that problem to worry about.”
We? It was his arm. As far as he could see, she didn’t have anything to worry about. But he kept the thought to himself. If she was kind enough to offer her services, he could at least show his gratitude.
Once she had the cut clean and dried, she applied antiseptic, then ointment. Quint couldn’t help but notice how her hands had gentled during the process and now her fingers felt warm and soothing against his flesh as she slowly wrapped gauze around his forearm.
“Is this all the gauze you have?” she asked.
“Afraid so. I might have some horse bandage down at the barn,” he suggested.
She glanced up at him and Quint felt something inside him jerk as he met her earthy-green gaze. There was something very womanly about Maura Donovan, something he couldn’t ignore, but was desperately trying to.
“No thanks,” she replied. “I’ll make do.”
Her focus returned to his arm and Quint found himself taking in her dark hair. It was smooth and shiny and threaded with lighter and darker shades that all blended to make an auburn shade so deep it verged on being black. The length of it nearly reached her waist and Quint wondered how it would look draped against her naked back.
“There. That should keep it protected for a while,” she announced as she rose to her full height. “But I wouldn’t advise getting the bandage wet and you’ll have to change it tomorrow or the next day.”
To Quint’s dismay, he realized he’d only caught a portion of her words because his mind had been too busy conjuring erotic images of her. What was the matter with him? Since Holly had dumped him for another man, he’d found it damned easy to ignore the sexual pull of a woman. The humiliation she’d put him through had killed his libido deader than a dose of potassium nitrate.
But now, with this sultry nurse standing far too close for his comfort, he was feeling things again. Things that could only lead to trouble.
“I’ll be sure to take good care of it.”
She slowly released her hold on him, then turned to fetch his shirt from the end of the vanity. When she pivoted back, she was holding the shirt out for him to stick his arms through.
“Let me have it,” he said. “I don’t need help getting dressed.”
“Don’t try to act like such a he-man,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anybody I helped you.”
Knowing it wasn’t wise to linger in such close quarters with her, he decided not to argue and was glad that he hadn’t as he struggled to push the bundled arm through the shirtsleeve.
“Don’t be surprised if your arm is already starting to feel stiff,” she said. “You’re going to have one hell of a sore muscle for a while.”
“I’m finding that out,” Quint muttered.
Once his arms were in the sleeves, she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, then stepped back to allow him to button the garment himself. Quint found it safer to look at the buttons rather than her.
“A couple of over-the-counter pain relievers will help.”
“I have some in the kitchen,” he told her, then motioned for her to precede him out the door. “Would you like something cool to drink? It’s the least I can do for bandaging me. I was having a heck of a time trying to manage with one hand.”
He began to move down a short hallway and Maura followed him into a large kitchen. A row of paned windows ran along the west wall of the room and without any curtains or shades to cover them, the afternoon sun streamed golden shafts across the old printed linoleum covering the floor.
The house was very livable, yet it was far from fancy. In fact, Maura was totally surprised to see how modest Quint’s living quarters actually were. Anyone who’d lived for any length of time in Lincoln County and beyond was aware that the Cantrell family was rich. Abe owned thousands and thousands of acres and his cattle ranch, Apache Wells, had long been one of the most profitable in the state. On another section of land, just north of Alto, Quint’s father, Lewis, had also built a cattle empire called the Chaparral. Maura had never visited that particular ranch, but her parents and older brother Conall had attended a party there. From what they’d said, the Chaparral house was a showy hacienda with luxury and space to spare. So why was the younger Cantrell living like this? she wondered. Because he wanted to emulate his grandfather?
While he headed to the refrigerator, he gestured toward a small, round dining table. “Have a seat,” he invited. “I have beer, soda or fruit juice. Take your pick.”
“Soda is fine,” she told him as she eased onto one of the wooden chairs.
He carried two chilled cans of cola over to the table and pushed one her way, but didn’t immediately take a seat. Instead, he walked over to a row of cabinets, fished out a bottle of acetaminophen and shook two out in the palm of his hand.
“I’m glad to see you’re going to take my advice,” she said as she popped the lid on her drink.
He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a long drink of the soda before he walked over to the table and took a seat across from her.
“I still have a stretch of fence to finish before it gets dark,” he explained. “I don’t want my arm to get too stiff to work.”
There was no way he needed to be straining his arm using post-hole diggers or wire stretchers, but she wasn’t going to bother pointing that out to him. He was a grown man and his well-being was not her responsibility. Besides, being a nurse had taught her that there wasn’t a man alive who wanted a woman to hamper him with limitations.
“So this is where you’ve been doing all this work that Abe talks about,” she commented. “As I drove up I noticed the new barn. It looks nice.”
“Thanks. The barn is taking a lot more work and twice as much money as I’d first anticipated. But I think it’s turning out okay.”
He must have removed his hat when he’d come into the house to attend his cut, she thought. It was only the second time she’d seen him without the battered felt atop his head. The other being when he’d sat down at Abe’s dinner table. But that occasion hadn’t lasted long enough for him to get the chair warm. Now, as quiet moments ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice the thick, rusty wave dipped across one corner of his forehead, the unruly strands curling around his ears.
His face and arms were tanned as dark as a coffee bean, but the glimpses she’d had of his bare chest told her he wasn’t into lounging around in the sun without his shirt. She doubted he was into lounging around anywhere. From the looks of his lean, hard muscles, the man worked tirelessly.
Her carnal thoughts brought her up short. The two of them were entirely alone and with the letter delivered and his arm bandaged, she no longer had any good reason to remain in Quint Cantrell’s house.
Quickly rising to her feet, she said nervously, “Well, I’m glad that I didn’t interrupt your work—though I guess the injury to your arm had already done that. But I won’t keep you any longer. I promised Abe I’d be back to Apache Wells before it got too late.”
Quint rose to his feet also. “You haven’t finished your soda.”
“I’ve had enough. Thank you.”
She started out of the kitchen and as she did, she could feel Quint’s presence following close behind her. The idea made her heart thump at a rapid pace and she drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm it.
“I’m not in that big of a hurry to get back to work, Maura. Why don’t you let me show you around before you leave?”
His suggestion caught her by surprise and she dared to glance over her shoulder at him. “Do you really want to?”
He suddenly chuckled and Maura was amazed at how different he looked with humor softening his features.
“I don’t make offers unless I want to.”
Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in his eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through her. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a thirty-six-year-old woman who’d been married and divorced.
But just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.
“In that case,” she said, “I’d love to have a look around.”
Moving forward, he touched a hand to her back and Maura felt her senses splintering in all directions.
“Good,” he murmured. “Just let me get my hat and we’ll be on our way,” he told her.
Chapter Three
Once they stepped onto the porch, Quint dropped his hand from her back and Maura was finally able to draw in a normal breath. But as they moved into the yard, he immediately wrapped a hold around her upper arm.
“Let’s go to the barn first,” he suggested. “I need to let Jake, my ranch hand, know I’m okay.”
Nodding, she looked away from him and tried not to dwell on his warm, rough fingers pressing into her flesh.
The afternoon was all bright sunshine, while a soft west wind carried the scent of sagebrush and juniper. A lone aspen shaded one corner of the house, but that was the only bona fide tree that she could see for miles around. The rest of the vegetation growing beyond the ranch yard amounted to a few spindly pinyon pines, some twisted snags of juniper and a sea of jumping choya cactus and sagebrush. It was a stark, yet beautiful sight and Maura instinctively knew it would be even more so in the late evening when the sun fell from the sky and twilight purpled the nearby mountains.
“How many men do you have working for you?” she asked.
Now that they were walking abreast, he dropped his hold on her arm and Maura didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Either way, just being this near him left her shaky and nothing like the practical, no-nonsense nurse that had dealt calmly with all sorts of men. She kept remembering the way he’d looked without his shirt and how the warmth and scent of his body had filled up the little bathroom and stifled her breath.
“The contractor working on the barn and storage sheds has several men working with him. But as far as the ranch goes, I only have two hands. Once I start putting livestock on the place, I’ll hire more. Though my grandfather deeded over the land a few years ago, I only started full-time here about two years ago.”
She kept her gaze on the rocky ground in front of her. “Do you have plenty of land here to support cattle?”
“Ten thousand acres. Not that much, but enough to do what I want to do.”
Glancing over at him, she asked curiously, “And what is that?”
He shrugged and not for the first time, Maura couldn’t help thinking how serious and driven he was for a man his age. Abe had commented one day that his grandson wasn’t yet thirty so that meant he was either twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He certainly didn’t look any older than that, Maura thought. Yet he seemed older, as though the years he’d been on this earth had pushed his soul to manhood long before his body had caught up.
“My plans aren’t anything grand. Just raise a few purebred cattle and a few horses.”
“What about the old gold mine—the Golden Spur—that your ranch is named after?”
She’d not meant to ask that question. It had just slipped out on its own. The same way her heart seemed to jump into a crazy jig each time she looked at his face.
Frowning, he glanced her way. “What about it?” he asked curtly.
Knowing she’d touched on a tender spot, she shrugged in an effort to appear casual. “Nothing really. Except that I couldn’t help noticing the letter Abe asked me to deliver to you. The return address was Red Bluff Mining Company. And your grandfather doesn’t make any secret about wanting to reopen the old thing.”
His footsteps paused on the barren ground and Maura came to a stop with him. As he looked at her, she could see frustration edging his features.
“Gramps thinks the mine could be profitable again. But I don’t want anything to do with it. Having a bunch of trucks and men and equipment going across the ranch is the last thing I need.”
“If it turned out to be profitable, the extra money might come in handy,” she suggested. “Especially when you start buying stock for this place.”
“I don’t need the money,” he said flatly. “Nor do I want it. I’m a rancher, not a miner.”
He picked up his stride again, only this time it was much longer and purposeful as he covered the last few yards to the barn. Maura quickened her steps to stay up with him.
“So if money isn’t the issue, why does your grandfather want to reopen the mine?” she said, darting a quick glance at his sober face.
“For the adventure, Maura. He’s always wanted to turn over a rock just to see what was beneath it. That’s how he got rich in the first place—on the plains of Texas, drilling for oil. He hit it big and brought his fortune out here to New Mexico to buy land and cattle. To him, the mine takes him back to those days when he was drilling for black gold. Guess it makes him feel young all over again. He didn’t care about the mine for years when he owned it, but now that I have the land, it’s all he seems to care about.”
“Sometimes feeling young or having a dream is very important. Sometimes it even keeps a person from dying.”
The muscles around his hard mouth tightened with impatience. “Don’t try to make me believe that Gramps is dying. That he needs you or the mine to keep him healthy.”
“I wouldn’t attempt such a thing,” she said defensively. “Abe isn’t ill. He has a perfectly good mind. And the way I see it, he has the right to dream his own dreams. Just like you.”
By now they had reached the massive barn. Instead of opening the huge double doors at the south end of the building, Quint led her to a smaller entrance at the side.
With his hand pausing on the door latch, he turned a searching look on her. “And what about you, Maura? What are your dreams?”
A few years ago his questions would have been easy to answer. Her dreams were waiting for the day her roving husband would settle down to a life exclusively with her. She’d been dreaming of the time they could start having children and Gilbert would be home so that they could parent them together. She’d waited because he kept promising he’d be ready the next year, and she wanted to raise her children with her husband home every night. But none of those dreams had come true. Instead, she’d discovered he’d changed women as often as he’d changed the cities his job had taken him to. And she’d had to accept the fact of his infidelity and that he’d never intended to change his job and settle down to family life. That had only been one of his false promises.
Maura had spent the past year trying to restore her broken self-confidence and move on from her shattered marriage. For months after her divorce, she’d struggled to simply put one foot in front of the other, and looking back, she realized her responsibilities as a nurse had been the only thing keeping her going. She was good at her job and no man could take that fact away from her. As for her dreams, she wasn’t sure what they were now.
“I don’t know, Quint,” she said honestly. “Sometimes dreams get lost along the way.”
Nobody had to tell him that, he thought grimly. His romantic dreams had been busted years ago. Now his goals were concrete and didn’t depend on another person—particularly a woman.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And when that happens, it’s damned hard to find new ones.”
While the two of them had been talking, her face had taken on a sad hue and Quint realized he didn’t like seeing her in such a mood. Maybe because it reminded him of his own lonely existence. Or maybe because he simply didn’t like to think of this woman suffering over anyone or anything.
The unwanted notions disturbed him so much that he quickly turned away from her and shoved open the door.
“Let’s go in,” he urged. “I think Jake is probably at the back of the building where the men are working.”
Since livestock hadn’t yet been moved onto the ranch, the barn was missing the smells of animals and hay and leather. Instead, the scents of sawdust and fresh paint filled the air. On the opposite side of the building, a table saw buzzed and hammers rang out as men erected a frame of lumber that Quint explained would eventually become a large feed room.
“The contractor hasn’t yet finished the horse stalls or the tack room. They’ll get to that next,” Quint continued as they slowly made their way through the building.
She was looking around her with real interest, a fact that surprised Quint. Even though she came from a ranching background, she didn’t seem the sort that would be personally interested in such things. After all, she’d chosen a profession outside the Diamond D, her family’s famous thoroughbred ranch. Add to that, she had a soft, feminine air about her that was totally opposite of an outdoor girl.
“This is going to be very nice,” she said. “And I like the way you’ve laid out everything. When you open the big doors, the horses will be able to look outside. They like that, you know. When they can see what’s going on, they’re more content.”
Bemused by her observation, Quint paused to look at her. Now that they were indoors, her features were muted by shadows, yet the dimness couldn’t diminish the pearly sheen of her skin and for a brief moment he wondered what it would feel like to press his cheek against hers, to experience such softness next to him.
“You know about horses, do you?” he asked.
A smile tilted her lips and at that moment he decided he’d never seen anything so fetching or genuine.
“Why wouldn’t I? My family raises thoroughbreds.”
He folded his arms against his chest. “But you don’t work with them. The horses, I mean.”
Her smile turned whimsical. “No. Not since I went into nursing. But I spent a lot of time at the barns when I was young.”
“I know that Bridget is a doctor, but if I remember correctly, you have another sister. What does she do?”
She glanced away from him. “Dallas operates Angel Wing Stables, a therapy riding clinic for handicapped children. It’s completely nonprofit and something she feels deeply about.”
So all three of the Donovan sisters were dedicated to helping needy people. That should have reassured Quint and allowed him to quit worrying aboutAbe hiring Maura as his nurse. But it didn’t. The more he got to know this woman, the more concerned he was. And not because he believed she was out to snag any sort of money from the old man. No, he’d written that idea off fairly quickly. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d concluded she wasn’t the gold-digger sort. Furthermore, the Donovans had just as much money or more than the Cantrells. She didn’t need it.
No, Quint was far more concerned about his grandfather’s emotional state than his bank account. It was obvious the old man had already grown extremely fond of Maura. And just because Abe was in his eighties, didn’t mean he was immune to a female’s charms. His grandfather might even fall in love with her. Stranger things had happened. And Maura had just now talked about the importance of a man’s dreams. When she left Apache Wells, and she would, what would happen to his grandfather’s dreams? They’d be broken.
Forcing his thoughts back to the moment, he touched a hand to her shoulder and urged her forward. “I see Jake. Let’s go catch up with him.”
At the end of the building, a young man wearing a black cowboy hat and ranch gear was applying neat’s-foot oil to a fancy tooled saddle. The moment he saw their approach, he laid the oily rag to one side and stepped up to meet them.
“I was about to come to the house to make sure you weren’t bleeding to death,” he said to Quint, while his gaze strayed curiously over to Maura.
“I’m fine,” Quint replied. “It just so happens that Maura is a nurse. She was kind enough to bandage me up.”
A wry grin crossed the man’s face. “Now isn’t that something? A beautiful woman comes to your house and she’s a nurse—just when you need one. You always were a lucky dog, Quint.”
Quint couldn’t see where slicing his arm open was lucky, but apparently Jake considered having Maura as a nurse more than fortunate. The idea grated on Quint to no end. Which was a ridiculous reaction. She wasn’t anything to him. If Jake, or any man, wanted to make a play for her, then that was their business, not his.
“Maura, this is my good friend and ranch hand, Jake Rollins. Jake, this is Maura Donovan. She’s my grandfather’s personal nurse.”
Ignoring the last tidbit, the dark-haired man reached to take Maura’s hand. “Are you by any chance related to Liam Donovan?” he asked.
She smiled at Jake and Quint had to fight the urge to jerk her away from the other man and usher her back outside where the two of them would be alone, where her smiles would be directed only at him.
What the hell was coming over him? Quint wondered with self-disgust. Instead of worrying about his grandfather, he needed to be concerned about his own reaction to this woman. He was behaving like a moony bull turned loose in a herd of cows.
“He’s my brother,” Maura said.
“I know him from working the barns at Ruidoso Downs,” Jake informed her. “Nice guy. Heck of a trainer, too. No one told me that he had a beautiful sister.”
Quint made a loud display of clearing his throat. “You’d better finish that saddle, Jake. In a few minutes, we’ve got to get back on that wire stretcher.”
The other man cast him a look of faint surprise, then reluctantly dropped Maura’s hand. “Maybe you’d better keep Maura around. Just in case one of us gets hurt again,” he joked. “Next time it might be me who needs her touch.”
“Keep it up, Jake, and I’ll make sure you get tangled up in barbed wire,” Quint muttered, then carefully steered Maura away from the ranch hand and out a back door.
Once they were well away from the barn, Maura asked, “Have you two known each other long?”
Quint grimaced. “Since kindergarten. We grew up together. He’s like a brother. That’s why I put up with his big mouth.”
Smiling, Maura shrugged. “I didn’t pay him any mind. He was only joking.”
“Don’t bet on it. Jake loves women. Always has.”
They were walking toward a long corral built of rough cedar boards. Attached to one end were several smaller pens with separate gates leading to the outside. Like the barn, the riding arena would have taken lots of time and effort to build. And as Maura looked around her, she could plainly see that Quint was far from the idle sort. He obviously worked hard for everything he had and she admired him greatly for that. Especially when she knew he loved what he was doing.
Gilbert, her ex-husband, had been a pharmaceutical representative and his job was to sell medical products to doctors in private practices, health clinics and hospitals. There was nothing physical about the job. He’d used his mouth and a pen. Two things he was good at. Especially the mouth, she thought grimly. He could sweet-talk a rabid dog into lying down and wagging his tail.
Thanks to his glib tongue, everyone had liked Gil and for several years running, he’d been top salesperson for his company. And that same gift of gab had made him very attractive to women, including Maura. In the beginning of their marriage his sweet talk had sustained and convinced her of his love. Then later, when things between them had grown difficult and doubts of his sincerity had haunted her, that same sweet, persuasive talk had kept her clinging to a man who was incapable of changing.
Yes, she knew all about flirts and all about trying to keep a man at her side. The first had fooled her into thinking she could succeed at the second. And in the end, her five-year marriage had crumbled along with her self-worth.
Shaking away the humiliating thoughts, Maura leaned a shoulder against the board fence and gazed back at the simple stucco house. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in such a simple place? With Quint Cantrell? He wasn’t a wanderer. Apparently he was a homebody, choosing to make his livelihood, his future, with the land. But it didn’t appear that he was a family man. Or maybe he was and just keeping those plans hidden, she silently mused.
“You’re going to have a fine place to raise a family here someday, Quint.”
His features stiffened. “It’ll raise cattle and horses. As for a family—I’m not looking for a woman or family right now,” he said flatly. “And I’m sure not holding my breath until that day.”
Seeing that her comment had rubbed him the wrong way, she pushed away from the fence. “Well, thanks for the tour, Quint. I enjoyed it. But I’d better be heading back. It’s not exactly a short drive back to Apache Wells.”
She started walking back in the direction of the house and her parked truck. Quint followed alongside her.
“Gramps rarely leaves Apache Wells. Maybe you can talk him into coming over here and taking a look at all the work we’ve finished. If that doesn’t interest him, then maybe visiting the old mine might budge him.”
Just from his words, Maura could see that having his grandfather’s admiration meant a lot to him. But what else really mattered to this man? If there was no special woman, no children to be had in his dreams, then what was the Golden Spur going to mean to him? Other than just a place to hang his hat?
At least the man has a future planned for himself, Maura. You have nothing on your agenda, except taking care of an old cantankerous man who could buy a dozen nurses like yourself.
Shoving away the mocking voice in her head, she said to Quint, “I’ll see what I can do about getting him to come for a visit. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that your grandfather does what he wants. Not what others would like for him to do.”
“No. You don’t have to tell me that.”
As they walked the remaining distance to the house, Quint realized he couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman. Her white shirt was sheer enough for him to see the imprint of her bra, the pattern of feminine lace covering her breasts.
She was not a small woman and he could tell by the silhouette of her curves that one breast would be more than enough to fill his hand, his mouth. The idea caused desire to flicker in some part of him that he’d long ago crossed off as dead. And he could only wonder what it was about her that had suddenly stirred him like this.
Since Holly had removed herself from his life, and he’d gotten burned by some superficial gold diggers, sex had become casual, something to forget afterward. And down through the years he’d pushed so hard and so long that he’d felt positive he’d never want another woman in his lifetime.
So why had Maura Donovan come along and reminded him that he was still a man? Lord, he didn’t know the answer. But now that she had, he was going to have to deal with her and himself in a smart and practical way.
At the truck, Quint opened the driver’s door and helped her up into the cab. She smiled down at him and he felt his practicality fly off with the dusty wind.
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Stella Bagwell
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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