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Nelson's Brand
Diana Palmer
Can he get past betrayal?Allison Hathoway's life was about healing. And she was good at it. Or had been good at it until the tragedy in South America. Now she couldn't even fix herself. She didn't know how to go on, didn't know what to do, or who to be.She had that in common with Gene Nelson. After the rancher found out the truth about his father, he'd realized his whole life was a lie. He'd gone a little wild, and saw no reason not to give in to his every desire. And the minute he saw Allison, he wanted her. But underneath their explosive passion, Allison and Gene found comfort in each other's wounded souls. And a chance to start over.


CAN HE GET PAST BETRAYAL?
Allison Hathoway's life was about healing. And she was good at it. Or had been good at it until the tragedy in South America. Now she couldn't even fix herself. She didn't know how to go on, didn't know what to do, or who to be.
She had that in common with Gene Nelson. After the rancher found out the truth about his father, he'd realized his whole life was a lie. He'd gone a little wild, and saw no reason not to give in to his every desire. And the minute he saw Allison, he wanted her. But underneath their explosive passion, Allison and Gene found comfort in each other's wounded souls. And a chance to start over.


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Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer
“Palmer demonstrates, yet again, why she’s the queen of desperado quests for justice and true love.”
—Publishers Weekly on Dangerous
“Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Nobody does it better.”
—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard
Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author Kathie DeNosky
“DeNosky’s keen touch with family drama and enduring love makes for a great read.”
—RT Book Reviews on Expecting the Rancher’s Heir
“Kathie DeNosky finishes up her Lonetree Ranchers trilogy with a true winner… Readers will race to the delightful conclusion, only to regret that there are no more pages to turn.”
—RT Book Reviews on Lonetree Ranchers: Colt



Nelson’s Brand
New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Kathryn Falk and Melinda Helfer of
Romantic Times with love

CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten

DIANA PALMER
The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com (http://www.DianaPalmer.com).

Chapter One
He was very noticeable, and he knew it. He also had a pretty formidable reputation locally with women and he didn’t usually turn down blatant invitations. But the wide-eyed scrutiny he was getting from the woman at the corner table only irritated him tonight. The past six months had been difficult, and he’d been drinking too much and womanizing too much…or so his family kept saying. Not that he was listening to them much these days. Not when he knew that they weren’t really his family.
She wasn’t hard on the eyes. He gave her one encompassing glance that took in everything from the French plait of black hair at her nape, down high, firm breasts under a soft white blouse, to a small waist and full hips and long elegant legs in tight jeans. She was sitting at a corner table, a little away from it on one side, with his half brother Dwight, and Dwight’s fiancée, Winnie. He didn’t know her name, but he was pretty sure that she was Winnie’s out-of-town houseguest. Pryor, Wyoming, was a small town, and news traveled fast when anyone had company.
He took another sip of his whiskey and stared at the small shot glass contemplatively. He drank far too much lately. When he started staying out late at night and couldn’t remember anything about it the next morning, he needed to take another look at his life, he thought bitterly. Dale Branigan had caught him in a weak moment and now she was hounding him for dates. Not that she was bad-looking, but she reminded him of the excesses that were taking him straight to hell, according to Dwight.
He glanced toward Dwight’s disapproving face, so unlike his, and deliberately raised the shot glass to his thin lips with a mocking smile. He drained it, but when the bartender asked if he wanted another, he said no. It wasn’t Dwight who stopped him. It was the expression on that woman’s face who was sitting with Dwight and Winnie. There was something quiet and calming about her face, about the oddly compassionate way she was looking at him. What he’d thought was a flirting stare didn’t seem to be one. As he met her eyes across the room, he felt a jolt of pure emotion run through him. Odd. He hadn’t felt that before. Maybe it was the liquor.
He looked around. The bar was crowded, and there weren’t many women around. Thank God Dale wasn’t here to pester him. Frequently on a Friday night, he drove up to Billings for a little entertainment. Tonight, he wasn’t in the mood. He’d overheard a chance remark from one of his men and his quick temper had cost him a good mechanic. It was his nature to strike out when he was angry. With a soft, cold laugh he considered that he’d probably inherited that trait from his father. From his real father, not the man who’d been married to his mother for more than twenty years. Until six months ago, his name had been Gene Nelson and he was accepted by everyone as Hank Nelson’s son. But six months ago, Hank Nelson had died—ten years after Gene’s mother—and he’d left a will that was as much a confession as a bequeath. It had contained the shocking news that he’d adopted Gene at the age of four.
Gene realized that he was idly sliding the shot glass around on the bar and stopped. He paid for the drink and turned toward the door.
Dwight called to him and he hesitated. His younger half brother was the head honcho at the Triple N Ranch now. That was the biggest blow to his pride. He’d been the eldest son. Now he was the outsider, and Dwight was the rightful heir. That took a lot of getting used to after thirty years.
He cocked his hat over one eye and strode toward Dwight’s table, his lean, dark face rigid, his pale green eyes like wet peridots under lashes as thick and black as the straight hair under the gray Stetson.
“You haven’t met Gene, have you, Allison?” Winnie asked, smiling. She was blond and petite and very pretty. Her fairness matched Dwight’s, who also had blond hair and blue eyes, a fact that had often puzzled Gene. Their sister Marie was equally fair. Only Gene was dark, and he alone had green eyes. His mother had been a blue-eyed blonde, like Hank Nelson. Why had he never connected those stray facts? Perhaps he’d been dodging the issue all along.
“No, we haven’t met,” Allison said softly. She looked up at Gene with hazel eyes that were his instant undoing. He’d never seen eyes like that. There was something in them that made him feel warm inside. “How do you do, Mr. Nelson?” she asked, and she smiled. It was like sunshine on a cloudy day.
He caught his breath silently. She’d called him Mr. Nelson, but he wasn’t a Nelson. He straightened. What the hell, it was the only name he’d ever known. He nodded curtly. “Miss…?”
“Hathoway,” she replied.
“Are you on your way back to the ranch?” Dwight asked, his tone reconciliatory, hesitant.
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you there, then.”
Gene let his eyes fall to the woman again, to her gentle oval face. Her eyes and mouth were her best features. She wasn’t really pretty, but she had a glow about her. It grew as he looked at her unsmilingly, and he finally realized that she was blushing. Strange response, for a woman her age. She was out of her teens; probably in her mid-twenties.
“Gene, are you coming to the barbecue tomorrow night?” Winnie asked.
He was still staring at Allison. “Maybe.” His head moved a little to the side as he looked down at Allison. “Are you Winnie’s houseguest?” he asked her, his voice slow and deep, without a noticeable accent.
“Yes,” she said. “Just for a couple of weeks, I mean,” she stammered. He made her nervous. She’d never felt such an instant attraction to anyone.
Unbeknownst to her, neither had Gene. He was having a hard time trying to drag himself away. This woman made him feel as if he’d suddenly come out of a daze, and he didn’t understand why. “I’ve got to get home,” he said, forcing the words out. He nodded curtly and left them, his booted feet heavy on the wood floor, his back arrow-straight.
Allison Hathoway watched him go. She’d never seen anyone quite as fascinating as the departing Mr. Nelson. He looked like a cowboy she’d seen in a movie once, tall and lean and lithe, with wide shoulders and narrow hips and long, powerful legs. She, who had little if anything to do with men, was so affected by him that she was still flushed and shaking inside from the brief encounter.
“I didn’t think he was going to stop,” Dwight said with a rueful smile. “He avoids me a lot these days. Marie, too. Except to start fights.”
“It isn’t getting any easier at home, is it?” Winnie asked her fiancé, laying a small hand on his.
Dwight shook his head as he curled his fingers around hers. “Gene won’t talk about it. He just goes on as if nothing has happened. Marie’s at the end of her rope, and so am I. We love him, but he’s convinced himself that he’s no longer part of our family.”
Allison listened without understanding what they were talking about.
“Is he much older than you, Dwight?” she asked.
He lifted an eyebrow, smiling at her interest. “About six years. He’s thirty-four.”
“But he’s not a man to risk your heart on,” Winnie said softly. “Gene’s just gone through a bad time. He’s hurt and he’s ready to lash out at anybody who gets too close.”
“I hate to agree, but she’s right,” Dwight replied quietly. “Gene’s gone from bad to worse in the past few months. Women, liquor, fights. He threw a punch at our mechanic and fired him this morning.”
“The man deserved it,” Winnie said quietly. “You know what he called Gene.”
“He wouldn’t have called Gene anything if my brother hadn’t started acting like one of the hands instead of the boss,” Dwight said angrily. “He hates the routine of working cattle every day. He had the business head and he was good at organization. I’m not. I was better at working cattle and taking care of the shipping and receiving. The will reversed our duties. Now we’re both miserable. I can’t handle the men, and Gene won’t. The ranch is going to pot because he won’t buckle down. He drinks on the weekends and the men’s morale is at rock bottom. They’re looking for excuses to quit or get fired.”
“But…he only had one drink at the bar,” Allison said softly, puzzled, because one drink surely wasn’t that bad.
Dwight lifted a blond eyebrow. “So he did. He kept glancing at you, and then he put down the glass. I was watching. It seemed to bother him. That’s the first time I’ve known him to stop at one drink.”
“He always used to,” Winnie recalled. “In fact, he hardly ever touched the stuff.”
“He’s so damned brittle,” Dwight sighed. “He can’t bend. God, I feel for him! I can imagine how it would be if I were in his shoes. He’s so alone.”
“Most people are, really,” Allison said, her hazel eyes soft and quiet. “And when they hurt, they do bad things sometimes.”
Winnie smiled at her warmly. “You’d find excuses for hardened criminals, wouldn’t you?” she asked gently. “I suppose that’s why you’re so good at what you do.”
“At what I did,” Allison corrected. Her eyes fell worriedly to the table. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to do it again.”
“You need time,” Winnie replied sympathetically. “That’s all, Allie. You just need time.”
“Something I have in common with your future brother-in-law, I gather,” came the reply. Allison sighed and sipped her ginger ale. “I hope you’re right.”
But that night, alone in bed, the nightmares came again and she woke, as she always did these days, in a cold sweat, trying not to hear the sound of guns, the sound of screams.
She wrapped her white chenille bathrobe around her worn white gown and made her way to the kitchen. Winnie was already there. Her mother was still in bed. Mrs. Manley was no early bird, even if her daughter was.
Allison’s long black hair was around her shoulders in a wavy tangle, her hazel eyes bloodshot, her face pale. She felt dragged out.
“Bad dreams again, I’ll bet,” Winnie said gently.
Allison managed a wan smile. She accepted the cup of hot black coffee Winnie handed her as they sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s better than it was,” she said.
“I’m just glad that you came to us,” Winnie replied. She was wearing an expensive pink silk ensemble. The Manleys were much better off financially than the Hathoways had ever been, but Mrs. Manley and Allison’s late mother had been best friends. As they grew up, Winnie and Allison became best friends, too.
They’d all lived near Bisbee, Arizona, when the girls were young and in school. Then the Manleys had moved to Pryor, Wyoming, when Mr. Manley took another job with an international mining concern. The Hathoways had been reassigned and Allison had gone with them to Central America.
The last few weeks could have been just a bad memory except that Allison was alone now. She’d called Winnie the minute she’d landed in the States again, and Winnie had flown down to Tucson to pick her up. It had been days before Allison could stop crying. Now, at last, she was beginning to heal. Yesterday was the first time Winnie had been able to coax her out among people. Allison was running from the news media that had followed her to Tucson, and she didn’t want any attention drawn to her. She’d successfully covered her tracks, but she didn’t know for how long.
“The barbecue is tonight. You have to come,” Winnie told Allison. “Don’t worry,” she added quickly when the taller girl froze. “They’re all rodeo people that Dwight’s introducing me to. Nobody will bother you.”
“Dwight’s brother said he might be there,” Allison murmured.
Winnie groaned. “For God’s sake, don’t tempt fate by getting too close to Gene. You’ve just come through one trauma; you don’t need another one.”
“I know.” Allison cupped her cold hands around her coffee cup and closed her eyes. “I suppose I’m pretty vulnerable right now. It’s just the aloneness. I’ve never been really alone before.” She looked up and there was faint panic in her face.
“You’ll never be alone as long as the Manleys are alive,” Winnie said firmly. She laid a warm hand over Allison’s forearm. “We all love you very much.”
“Yes, I know. Do you know how much I care for all of you, and how grateful I am for a place to stay?” Allison replied sincerely. “I couldn’t even go back to the house in Bisbee. Mom and Dad rented it out… Well, before we went to Central America.” She faltered. “I was afraid to go near it even for possessions, in case somebody from the press was watching.”
“All the furor will die down once the fighting stops,” Winnie assured her. “You’re being hunted because you have firsthand information about what really happened there. With the occupation forces in control, not much word is getting out. Once the government is well in power, it will become old news and they’ll leave you alone. In the meantime, you can stay with us as long as you like.”
“I’m in the way. Your marriage…”
“My marriage isn’t for six months,” Winnie reminded her with a warm smile. “You’ll be my maid of honor. By then, all this will just be a sad memory. You’ll have started to live again.”
“I hope so,” Allison replied huskily. “Oh, I hope so!”
* * *
Back at the Nelson place, Gene had just gone into the house to find his half sister, Marie, glaring at him from the living room. She looked like Dwight, except that she was petite and sharp-tongued.
“Dale’s been calling again,” she said irritably. “She seems to have the idea that she’s engaged to you.”
“I don’t marry one-night stands,” he said with deliberate cruelty.
“Then you should make that clear at the beginning,” she returned.
His broad shoulders rose and fell. “I was too drunk.”
Marie got up and went to him, her expression concerned. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself,” she said miserably. “This is your home. Dwight and I don’t think of you as an outsider, Gene.”
“Don’t start,” he said curtly, his pale green eyes flashing at her.
She threw up her hands with an angry sigh. “You won’t listen! You drink, you carouse, you won’t even pay attention to the lax discipline that’s letting the men goof off half the time. I saw Rance with a bottle in broad daylight the other day!”
“If I see him, I’ll do something about him,” he said, striding toward the staircase.
“And when will that be? You’re too busy having a good time to notice!”
He didn’t answer her and he didn’t look back. He went upstairs, his booted feet making soft thuds on the carpet.
“What about Dale? What do I tell her if she calls again?” she called after him.
“Tell her I joined a monastery and took vows of chastity,” he drawled.
She chuckled. “That’ll be the day,” she murmured as she went back into the living room. At least he had been sober when he got home last night, she thought. And then she frowned. Not his usual style on a Friday night, she pondered.
It wasn’t until later in the morning, when Dwight told her about his meeting with Allison, that his behavior registered.
“You mean, he looked at her and put the shot glass down?” Marie asked, all eyes.
“He certainly did,” Dwight replied. Gene had gone out to check on the branding. Considering the size of the ranch and the number of new calves, it was much more than a couple of days’ work. “He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.”
“Is she pretty?” Marie asked.
He shook his head. “Nice. Very sweet. And a passable figure. But no, she’s no beauty. Odd, isn’t it, for Gene to even notice a woman like that? His tastes run to those brassy, experienced women he meets at rodeos. But Allison seemed to captivate him.”
“If she influenced him enough to keep him sober on a Friday night, I take my hat off to her,” Marie said with genuine feeling. “He was like his old self last night. It was nice, seeing him that way. He’s been so different for the past few months.”
“Yes. I know it’s hurt him. I never realized how much until I saw him coming apart in front of my eyes. Knowing about his real father has driven him half-mad.”
“We can’t help who our parents are,” Marie said. “And Gene wouldn’t be like that man in a million years. Surely he knows it?”
“He mumbled something about never having kids of his own because of his bad blood, one night when he was drinking,” Dwight confided. He sighed and finished his coffee. “I wish we could find some way to cope with it. He has no peace.”
Marie fingered her coffee cup thoughtfully. “Maybe he can find it with our Miss Hathoway,” she mused, her eyes twinkling as they met his. “If she had that effect from a distance, imagine what it could be like at close range?”
“Except that she isn’t Gene’s kind of woman,” he replied, and began to tell her all about the quiet Miss Hathoway.
Marie whistled. “My gosh. Poor kid.”
“She’s an amazing lady,” he said, smiling. “Winnie’s very fond of her. So fond that she’ll discourage her from even looking at Gene, much less anything else.”
“I can see why. The angel and the outlaw,” she murmured, and smiled gently. “I guess I was daydreaming.”
“Nothing wrong with dreams,” he told her as he got up from the table. “But they won’t run a ranch.”
“Or organize a barbecue,” Marie said, smiling. “Good luck with the books.”
He groaned. “I’ll have us in the poorhouse in another few months. If Gene was more approachable, I’d ask him to switch duties with me.”
“Could you do that?”
“No reason why not,” he said. “But he hasn’t been in a listening mood.”
“Don’t give up. There’s always tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Tell him.” He left her sitting there, still looking thoughtful.

Chapter Two
“Are you sure this looks all right on me?” Allison asked worriedly as she stared into the mirror at the low neckline of the strapless sundress Winnie had loaned her for the barbecue. They’d spent a lazy day at home, and now it was almost time to leave for the Nelsons’ Triple N Ranch.
“Will you stop fussing? You look fine,” Winnie assured her. “You’ve been out of touch with fashion for a while. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly proper. Even for Pryor, Wyoming,” she added with a mischievous grin.
Allison sighed at her reflection in the fulllength mirror. The young woman staring back at her looked like a stranger. Her long, dark hair was loose and wavy, framing her lovely oval face to its best advantage. She’d used mascara to emphasize her hazel eyes and she’d applied foundation and lipstick much more liberally than usual. Too, the off-the-shoulder sundress with its form-fitting bodice certainly did make her appear sophisticated. Its daring green, white and black pattern was exotic and somehow suited her tall, full-figured body. The strappy white sandals Winnie had loaned her completed the outfit.
Winnie modeled dresses for a local department store, so she was able to buy clothes at a considerable discount. She knew all sorts of beauty secrets, ways of making the most of her assets and downplaying the minor flaws of face and figure. She’d used them to advantage on her houseguest. Allison hardly recognized herself.
“I always knew you’d be a knockout if you were dressed and made up properly.” Winnie nodded, approving her handiwork. “I’m glad you finally gave in and let me do my thing. You’ll have the bachelors flitting around you like bees around clover. Dwight has a friend who’d be perfect for you, if he just shows up. He’ll be bowled over.”
“That’ll be the day.” Allison laughed softly, but she was secretly hoping that one particular bachelor named Gene might give her at least a second glance. She didn’t know what kind of problems he had, but knowing that he’d been hurt, too, gave her a fellow feeling for him. It wasn’t good to be alone when you were in pain.
“You’re a late bloomer. Trust me.” Winnie dragged her out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room, where her mother was waiting. “Mom, look what I did to Allie,” she called.
Mrs. Manley, a tall, graying woman, smiled as she turned to greet the two young women. “My, what a change,” she said. “You look lovely, Allie. I wish your parents could see you.”
Allie sobered. “Yes. So do I, Mrs. Manley.”
“Forgive me,” the older woman said. “Your mother and I were best friends for thirty years. But as hard as it is for me, I know it must be ten times harder for you.”
“Life goes on,” Allie said. She sighed, spreading her long, elegant fingers over the full skirt of the dress. “Isn’t this a dream? I don’t know how to thank you and Winnie for letting me stay with you. I really had nowhere else to go.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of friends besides us, even if they are spread around the world a bit,” Winnie chided. She hugged Allison. “But I’m still your best one. Remember when we were in seventh grade together back in Bisbee and we had to climb the mountain every day after school to get to our houses?”
“I miss Arizona sometimes,” Allison said absently.
“I don’t,” Mrs. Manley said, shaking her head. “I used to have nightmares about falling into the Lavender Pit.” She shuddered delicately. “It suited me when Winnie’s father changed jobs and we moved here. Of course, if I’d known he was going to have to travel all over the world, I might have had second thoughts. He’s gone almost all the time lately.”
“He’ll retire next year,” Winnie reminded her.
“Yes, so he will.” Mrs. Manley smiled and changed the subject. “You two had better get going, or you’ll be late. The barbecue’s at the Nelsons’?”
“Yes. Dwight invited us.” Winnie grinned. “I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t toss me into the corral with those wild horses and ride off with Allie.”
“Small chance when you’re engaged.” Allison grinned.
Winnie drove them to the Nelson place in her small Japanese car, a sporty model that suited her. Allison could drive, but she didn’t have a current license. Where she’d been for the past two years, she hadn’t needed one.
“Before we get there,” Winnie said with a worried glance at Allison, “remember what I said and don’t get too close to Gene. I don’t think he’d let you get near him anyway—he’s pretty standoffish around shy little innocents. But I wasn’t kidding when I told you he was a dangerous customer. Even his brother and sister walk wide around him lately.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Allison said gently and smiled.
“Don’t you believe it.” Winnie wasn’t convinced. She scowled. “You watch yourself.”
“All right. I will,” she promised, but she had her fingers crossed beside her. “Is he by chance a jilted man, embittered by the faithlessness of some jaded woman, or was he treated horribly by his mother?” she added dryly.
“Gene doesn’t get jilted by women, and his mother was a saint, according to Dwight,” Winnie recalled. “A really wonderful woman who was loved by the whole community. She died about ten years ago. His father was a small-time rancher with a big heart. They were happily married. His…father died about six months ago.”
Allison wondered at the hesitation in Winnie’s voice when she talked about the late Mr. Nelson. “Do you know what’s wrong with Gene, then?” she persisted.
“Yes. But I can’t tell you,” was the quiet reply. “It’s not really any of my business, and Dwight’s already been asked too many questions by the whole community. I don’t mean to sound rude, and I trust you with my life,” Winnie added, “but it’s Gene’s business.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t, but Dwight may tell you one day. Or Marie.”
“Is Marie like Gene or Dwight?”
“In coloring, she’s like Dwight, blond and blue-eyed. Gene’s…different. More hardheaded. Fiery.”
“I gathered that. Doesn’t he ever smile?”
“Sometimes,” Winnie said. “Usually when he’s about to hit somebody. He isn’t an easygoing man. He’s arrogant and proud and just a little too quick on the trigger to be good company. You’ll find all that out. I just don’t want you to find it out at close range, the hard way.”
“I can take care of myself, you know,” Allison mused. “I’ve been doing it in some pretty rough places for a long time.”
“I know. But there’s a big difference in what you’ve been doing and a man-woman relationship.” She glanced at Allison as she turned into a long, graveled driveway. “Honestly, for a twenty-five-year-old woman, you’re just hopelessly backward, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. It isn’t as if you’ve had the opportunity to lead a wild life. But you’ve been criminally exposed in some ways and criminally sheltered in others. I don’t think your parents ever really considered you when they made their plans.”
Allison laughed gently. “Yes, they did. I’m just like them, Winnie. I loved every minute of what we all did together, and I’ll miss it terribly, even now.” Her eyes clouded. “Things happen as God means them to. I can cope.”
“It was such a waste, though….”
“Oh, no,” Allison said, remembering the glowing faces she’d seen, the purpose and peace in the dark eyes. “No, it was never a waste. They’re still alive, in the work they did, in the lives they changed.”
“I won’t argue with you,” Winnie said gently. “We’ve kept in touch and remained friends all these long years since we were in school together in Bisbee. You’re still the sister I never had. You’ll have a home as long as I’m alive.”
Tears sprang to Allison’s big eyes. She hurriedly dashed them away. “If the circumstances were reversed, I hope you know that I’d do the same thing for you.”
“I know,” Winnie said. She wiped away a tear of her own.
There was a crowd of cars in the front driveway at the Nelsons’ after they’d wound their way up past the towering lodgepole pines and aspen trees to the big stone house, backed by jagged high mountains.
“Isn’t it just heaven?” Allison sighed involuntarily. “Wyoming is beautiful.”
“Yes, it certainly is. I can happily spend the rest of my life here. Now, Allie, you aren’t planning to sit behind bushes all night, are you?” she muttered. “The whole idea of this party is to meet people.”
“For you to meet people,” Allison emphasized. “You’re the one who’s getting married, not me.”
“You can take advantage of it, all the same. These are interesting people, too. Most of them are rodeo folks, and the rest are cattlemen or horse breeders.”
“You’re making me nervous,” Allison said, fidgeting in her seat as Winnie parked the car behind a silver-gray Lincoln. “I don’t know anything about rodeo or horses or cattle.”
“No time like the present to learn,” Winnie said easily. “Come on. Out of there.”
“Is this trip really necessary?” Allison murmured, swinging her long, elegant legs out of the car. “I could stay in the car and make sure it doesn’t roll down the hill.”
“Not a chance, my friend. After all the work I’ve put in on you today, I want to show you off.”
“Gloating over your artistry, I gather?” Allison primped. “Well, let’s spread me among the peasants, then.”
“I’d forgotten your Auntie Mame impersonation,” Winnie winced. “You really have to stop watching those old movies. Don’t lay it on too thick, now.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Allison agreed. She drew an imaginary line across her stomach.
“Your heart isn’t down there,” Winnie said worriedly.
“Yes, it is. The only thing I really love is food, so that’s where my heart is. Right?”
“I give up.”
Allison followed her friend up the wide stone steps to where Dwight Nelson waited on the porch, his blond hair gleaming in the fading sunlight.
“There you are!” he chuckled, and swung a beaming Winnie up in his arms to kiss her soundly. “Hello, Allie, glad you could come,” he told the other woman and suddenly stopped, his eyes widening as he stared at her. “Allie? That is you, isn’t it?”
Allison sent a dry look in her friend’s direction. “Go ahead. Gloat,” she dared.
“I did it all,” Winnie said, smiling haughtily. “Just look. Isn’t she hot?”
“Indeed she is, and if I hadn’t seen you first…” Dwight began.
Winnie stomped on his big foot through his boot. “Hold it right there, buster, before you talk yourself into a broken leg. You’re all mine, and don’t you forget it.”
“As if I could.” Dwight winced, flexing his booted foot. “You look gorgeous, Allie, now will you tell her I was kidding?”
“He was kidding,” Allie told Winnie.
“All right. You’re safe, this time.” Winnie slid her arm around Dwight’s lean waist. “Where’s Marie?”
“Around back,” he said, grimacing as he glanced toward the sound of a local band beyond the arch in the surrounding wall. “Gene’s out there.”
“Gene and Marie don’t get along,” Winnie told Allison.
“That’s like saying old-time cowboys and old-time Indians don’t get along.” Dwight sighed. “Fortunately the guests will keep them from killing each other in public. Mother used to spend her life separating them. It was fine while Gene was abroad for a year on a selling trip. We actually had peaceful meals. Now we have indigestion and a new cook every month.” He pursed his lips. “Speaking of food, let’s go see if there’s any left.” Dwight glanced over their heads toward the driveway. “I think you two are the last people we expected.”
“The best always are, darling,” Winnie said, smiling up at him with sparkling affection.
Allison had to fight her inclination to be jealous, but if anyone ever deserved happiness, Winnie did. She had a heart as big as the whole world.
She followed the engaged couple through the stone arch to the tents that had been set up with tables and chairs positioned underneath it to seat guests. A huge steer carcass was roasting over an open fire while a man basted it with sauce, smiling and nodding as two women, one of whom Winnie whispered was Marie Nelson, carried off platters of it to the tables.
Other pots contained baked beans and Brunswick stew, which were being served as well, along with what had to be homemade rolls.
“It smells heavenly,” Allison sighed, closing her eyes to inhale the sweet aroma.
“It tastes heavenly, too,” Dwight said. “I grabbed a sample on my way around the house. Here, sit down and dig in.”
He herded them toward the first tent, where there were several vacant seats, but he and Winnie were waylaid by a couple they knew and Allison was left to make her own way to the long table.
She took a plate and utensils from the end of the table, along with a glass of iced tea, and sat down. Platters of barbecue and rolls, and bowls of baked beans and Brunswick stew, were strategically placed all along the table. Allison filled her plate with small portions. It had been a long time since she’d felt comfortable eating her fill, and she had difficulty now with the sheer volume of food facing her.
Gene Nelson was standing nearby talking to a visiting cattleman when he saw Allison sit down alone at the table. His eyes had found her instantly, as if he’d known the second she’d arrived. He didn’t understand his fierce attraction to her, even if she did look good enough to eat tonight. Her dress was blatantly sexy, and she seemed much more sophisticated than she had in the bar with Dwight and Winnie. Winnie was a model, and he knew she had some liberated friends. He’d even dated Winnie once, which was why Dwight’s fiancée had such a bad opinion of him. Not that he’d gotten very far. Dwight had cut him out about the second date, and women were so thick on the ground that he’d never given Dwight’s appropriation of his date a second thought. That might have added to Winnie’s disapproval, he mused, the fact that he hadn’t wanted her enough to fight for her. It was nothing personal. He’d simply never wanted any woman enough to fight for her. They were all alike. Well, most all alike, he thought, staring helplessly at Allison, with her long, dark hair almost down to her narrow waist.
He sighed heavily as he watched her. It had been a while since he’d had a woman. His body ached for sensual oblivion, for something to ease the emotional pain he’d been through. Not that he remembered much about that supposedly wild night with Dale Branigan that had kept her hounding him. In fact, he hardly remembered it at all. Maybe that was why his body ached so when he looked at Allison. These dry spells were hell on the nerves.
Allison felt his gaze and lifted her hazel eyes to seek his across the space that separated them. Oh, but he was handsome, she thought dizzily. He was dressed in designer jeans and a neat white Western shirt with pearl snaps instead of buttons. He wore a burgundy bandanna around his neck and hand-tooled leather boots. His head was bare, his hair almost black and faintly damp, as if he’d just come from a shower. He was more masculine and threatening than any man Allison had ever known, and the way he looked at her made her tingle all over.
She shouldn’t encourage him; she knew she shouldn’t. But she couldn’t stop looking at him. Her life had been barren of eligible men. It was inevitable that she might be attracted to the first nice-looking bachelor she met, she told herself.
If that look in her eyes wasn’t an invitation, he was blind, Gene thought, giving in to it with hardly a struggle. He excused himself, leaving the cattleman with another associate, and picked up a glass of beer and a plate and utensils before he joined Allison. He threw a long leg over the wooden bench at the table and sat down, glancing at the tiny portions on her plate.
“Don’t you like barbecue?” he asked coolly, and he didn’t smile.
She looked up into pale green eyes in a lean face with a deeply tanned complexion. Her eyes were a nice medium hazel flecked with green and gold, but his were like peridot—as pale as green ice under thick black lashes. His black hair was straight and conventionally cut, parted on the left side and pulled back from a broad forehead. He had high cheekbones and a square chin with a hint of a cleft in it. His mouth was as perfectly formed as the mouth on a Greek statue—wide and firm and faintly chiseled, with a thin upper lip and an only slightly fuller lower one. He wasn’t smiling, and he studied Allison with a blatantly familiar kind of scrutiny. It wasn’t the first time a man had undressed her with his eyes, but it was the first time it had affected her so completely. She wanted to pull the tablecloth off the table and wrap herself in it.
But that wouldn’t do, she told herself. Hadn’t she learned that the only way to confront a predator was with steady courage? Her sense of humor came to her rescue, and she warmed to the part she was playing.
“I said, don’t you like barbecue?” he repeated. His voice was like velvet, and very deep. The kind of voice that would sound best, she imagined, in intimacy. She started at her own thoughts. She must be in need of rest, to be thinking such things about a total stranger, even if he was lithe and lean and attractive.
“Oh, I like barbecue,” she answered with a demure smile. “I’m just not used to having it cut off the cow in front of me.”
He smiled faintly, a quirk of his mouth that matched the arrogant set of his head. “Do tell.”
“Do tell what?” she asked with what she hoped was a provocative glance from under the thick lashes that mascara had lengthened.
He was a little disappointed at her easy flirting. He’d rather expected her to be shy and maidenly. But it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d been mistaken about a woman. He lifted a thick eyebrow. “Give me time. I’ll think up something.”
“A reason to stay alive,” she sighed, touching a hand to her chest. “I do hope you aren’t married with six children, Mr. Nelson. I would hate to spoil the barbecue by throwing myself off the roof.”
His eyes registered mild humor. “I’m not married.”
“You must wear a disguise in public,” she mused.
He studied her with pursed lips for a minute before he picked up his plate and glass and came around the table. Her heart skipped when he sat down beside her—very close. He smelled of soap and cologne, potent to a woman who wasn’t used to men in any form.
“You didn’t come alone, I suppose,” he mused, watching her closely. “Let me get a few bites of this under my belt so that I’ll have enough strength to beat your escort to his knees.”
“Oh, I don’t have one of those,” she assured him, hiding her nervousness in humor, as she always had. “I came with Winnie.”
“That spares my knuckles.” He was flirting, too, but she appealed to him.
“Have you known Winnie a long time?” he asked pleasantly.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, back in Arizona.”
Winnie had never mentioned her, but then, he hadn’t been around Winnie that much since she’d become engaged to Dwight. And these days, he had very little to say to Dwight.
“You said at the bar that you’d only be here a couple of weeks. How long have you been in Pryor?”
She smiled faintly. “Just a few days. I’m looking forward to a nice visit with Winnie. It’s been years since we spent any time together.” She couldn’t very well tell him that the length of her stay depended on whether or not she could keep anybody in Pryor from knowing who she was and why she was here. She’d successfully ducked the media since her arrival. She didn’t want them after her again.
“Have you done much sightseeing?” he asked, letting his eyes fall to her bare shoulders with bold interest.
“Not yet. But I’m enjoying myself. It’s nice to have a vacation from work.”
That sounded odd, as if she’d forced the words out and didn’t mean them. One pale eye narrowed even more. His gaze slid over her curiously, lingering on the thrust of her breasts under the low neckline. “What do you normally do—when you aren’t visiting old friends?” he asked.
“I’m a vamp,” she murmured dryly, enjoying herself as she registered his mild surprise. It was like being an actress, playing a part. It took her mind off the horror of the past months.
“No, I won’t buy that,” he said after a minute. “What do you really do?” he persisted, fingering his glass.
She lifted her own glass to her lips, to give her time to think. He didn’t look stupid. She couldn’t say anything that might give her away to Winnie’s neighbors, especially her future brother-in-law.
“I’m in the salvage business,” she said finally.
He stared at her.
She laughed. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean used cars and scrap metal and such. I’m in the human salvage business. I’m…” she hesitated, searching for something that wouldn’t be a total lie.
“You’re what?” he asked.
He was dangerously inquisitive, and almost too quick for her. She had to throw him off the track before he tripped her up and got at the truth. She lifted her eyebrows. “Are you by any chance the reincarnation of the Spanish Inquisition?”
“I don’t even speak Spanish,” he said. He smiled slowly, interested despite his suspicions. “How old are you?”
“Sir, you take my breath away!” she exclaimed.
His eyes fell to her mouth. “Is that a request?” he murmured, and there was suddenly a world of experience in the pale eyes that skimmed her mouth, in the deepness of his soft voice.
Her hand trembled as she put down the glass. He was out of her league and she was getting nervous. It didn’t take a college degree to understand what he meant. “You’re going too fast,” she blurted out.
He leaned back, studying her through narrow eyes. She was a puzzle, a little mass of contradictions. But in spite of that, she appealed to him as no one else had in recent years.
“Okay, honey,” he said after a minute, and smiled faintly. “I’ll put on the brakes.” He took another bite of barbecue and washed it down with what looked and smelled like beer.
“How old are you?” she asked without meaning to, her eyes on the hard lines of his face. She imagined that he had a poker face when he wanted to, that he could hide what he was feeling with ease. She knew his age, because Dwight had told her, but it wouldn’t do to let him know that she’d been asking questions about him from the very first time she saw him.
He glanced at her, searching her wide, curious eyes. “I’m thirty-four.”
She dropped her eyes to his chin and farther down, to his broad chest.
“Too old for you, cupcake?” he asked carelessly.
“I’m twenty-five,” she said.
His dark brows drew together. He’d thought she was younger than that. Yes, she had a few lines in her face, and even a thread or two of gray in her dark hair. Nine years his junior. Not much difference in years, and at her age, she couldn’t possibly be innocent. His heart accelerated as he studied what he could see of her body in the revealing dress and wondered what she’d look like without it. She was nicely shaped, and if that beautiful bow of a mouth was anything to go by, she was probably going to be a delicious little morsel. If only she wasn’t best friends with Winnie.
He studied her again. She really was a puzzle. Young, and then, suddenly, not young. There had been a fleeting expression in her eyes when he’d asked her about her profession—an expression that confused him. He had a feeling that she wasn’t at all what she seemed. But, like him, she seemed to hide her emotions.
“Twenty-five. You’re no baby, are you?” he murmured.
Her eyes came up and that expression was in them again, before she erased it and smiled. Fascinating, he thought, like watching an actress put on her stage makeup.
“No. I’m no baby,” she agreed softly, her mind on the ordeal she’d been through and not really on the question. She didn’t realize what she was saying to him with her words, that she was admitting to experience that she didn’t have.
He felt his body reacting to the look in her eyes and he stiffened with surprise. It usually took longer for a woman to affect him so physically. He wouldn’t let her look away. The electricity began to flow between them and his eyes narrowed as he saw her mouth part helplessly. She was close, and she smelled of floral cologne that drifted up, mingling with the spicy scent of barbecue and the malt smell of his beer.
His gaze dropped to the cleft between her breasts and lingered there, on skin as smooth and pink as a sun-ripened peach. His chest rose and fell roughly as he tried to imagine how her breasts would feel under his open mouth…
The sudden shock of voices made the glass of beer jerk in his lean hand.
“Did you think we’d deserted you?” Dwight asked Allison, echoing Winnie’s greeting. “I see you’ve found Gene,” he added, patting the older man on the shoulder as he paused beside him. “Be careful that he doesn’t try to drag you under the table.”
“Watch it,” the older man returned humorously. But his eyes were glinting, and he knew that Dwight wouldn’t mistake the warning even if it flew right past his new acquaintance.
Dwight understood, all right, but he didn’t do the expected thing and go away.
“You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”
“Of course not,” Allison said, frowning slightly at Gene’s antagonism. She glanced from him to Dwight. “You two don’t favor each other a lot.”
There was an embarrassed silence and Winnie actually grimaced.
“No, we don’t, do we?” Gene’s eyes narrowed as they glanced off Dwight’s apologetic ones. “We all share the same mother, but not the same father.” He leaned back and laughed coldly. “Isn’t that right, Dwight?”
Dwight went red. “Allison didn’t know,” he said curtly. “You’re always on the defensive lately, Gene.”
The past few months came back to torment him. He stared at his half brother with eyes as cold and unfeeling as green stone. “I can’t forget. Why should you be expected to?”
“You’re family,” Dwight said, almost apologetically. “Or you would be if you’d stop lashing out at everybody. You’re always giving Marie hell.”
“She gives it back.” Gene swallowed his drink and put the glass on the table. His eyes went to a silent, curious Allison. “You don’t understand, do you, cupcake?” he asked with a smile that was mocking and cruel. “I had a different father than Dwight and Marie. I was adopted. Something my mother and stepfather apparently didn’t think I needed to know until my stepfather died six months ago.”
She watched him get up, and her eyes were soft and compassionate as they searched his. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “It must have been very hard to find it out so suddenly.”
He hated that softness in her eyes, that warmth. He didn’t want compassion from her. The only thing he might ever want from her was that silky body, but this was hardly the time to be thinking about it. He glared at her. “I don’t want pity, thanks.”
“Gene, for God’s sake,” Dwight ground out.
“Don’t worry. I won’t spoil your party.” He caught a strand of Allison’s dark hair and tugged it. “Stay away from me. I’m bad medicine. Ask anybody.”
He grabbed his beer and walked away without another word.
Allison’s eyes followed him, and she almost felt his pain. Poor, tormented man….
“Don’t make the mistake of feeling sorry for him,” Dwight told her when Gene was out of earshot. “Pity is the last thing he wants or needs. He has to come to grips with it himself.”
“Where is his real father?” Allison asked quietly.
He started to speak, but before he could, a smaller, female version of Dwight slammed down into a chair beside Winnie.
“So he’s gone,” Marie Nelson muttered. “Dwight, he’s just impossible. I can’t even talk to him….” She colored, looking at Allison. “Sorry,” she said. “You must be Allison. Winnie’s been hiding you for days, I thought she’d never introduce us!” she said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to start airing the family linen in public. You’ll have to excuse me. Gene always sets me off.”
“What’s he done now?” Dwight groaned.
“He seduced my best friend,” she muttered.
“Dale Branigan is not your best friend,” Dwight reminded her. “She’s a divorcée with claws two inches long, and if anybody got seduced it was Gene, not her. It’s not his fault that she won’t realize it was a one-shot fling for him.”
“I don’t mean Dale,” she sighed. “I meant Jessie.”
“Gene’s never been near Jessie,” Dwight said shortly.
“She says he has. She says—”
“Marie,” he said, calling her by name for the first time and confirming Allison’s suspicions, “Jessie couldn’t tell the truth if her life depended on it. She’s been crazy about Gene for years and it’s gotten her nowhere. This is just a last-ditch effort to get him to marry her. I’m telling you, it won’t work. She can’t blackmail him to the altar.”
“She might not be lying,” Marie said, although not with as much conviction as before. “You know how Gene is with women.”
“I don’t think you do,” Dwight said. “Jessie isn’t even his type. He likes sophisticated, worldly women.”
Marie leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Poor Jessie.”
“Poor Jessie,” Dwight agreed. “Now say hello to Winnie.”
“Hi, Winnie,” Marie greeted belatedly, and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again. And I’m glad Allison could come,” she added, smiling. She didn’t add what Dwight had said about the effect she had on Gene. Now that she’d seen it for herself, she was intrigued. There was indeed something very special about Miss Hathoway, and apparently Gene had noticed it.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Allison replied sincerely. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You aren’t. How do you like Wyoming?”
“Very much. It’s beautiful.”
“We think so.” Marie studied her curiously. “Winnie’s very secretive about you. You aren’t a fugitive Hell’s Angel or anything, are you?” she teased, trying not to give away what Dwight had told her about the other woman.
“I don’t think so,” Allison said, leaning forward to add, “but what if I have memory failure and I’ve got a motorcycle stashed somewhere?”
“As long as it’s a Harley-Davidson, it’s okay.” Marie grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ride one.”
“Horses, okay. Motorcycles, never.” Her brother grinned. “She’s a former rodeo champion, or did I mention it?” he added.
“Are you, really?” Allison asked, all eyes.
“Gene, too,” Marie said, sighing. “He was world champion roper one year, before he hurt his hand. He doesn’t compete anymore. He’s bitter about so many things. I wish he could stop blaming Dwight and me. We love him, you know. But he won’t believe any of us do.”
“Maybe he’ll come around someday. It’s a blessing that he has so much to do that he doesn’t have time to brood,” Dwight added. “We supply broncs and bulls for rodeos,” he told Allison. “It’s a full-time job, especially since we’re always shipping or receiving livestock. The paperwork alone is a nightmare.”
“It sounds complicated. And dangerous,” she added, thinking about the wildness of the animals involved. She wasn’t a rodeo fan, but she’d seen the kind of animals cowboys had to ride in competition when she and Winnie had lived in Arizona.
“Working around livestock is always dangerous,” Dwight agreed. “But it goes with the territory.”
“And we have a good safety record,” Marie chimed in. “Have you ever seen a real rodeo, Allison?”
“Yes,” Allison nodded. “Once, when Winnie and I were little.”
“I remember the candy better than I remember the rodeo,” Winnie laughed. “I imagine Allie does, too.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Allison agreed.
“We’ll make a fan of you, if you stay here long enough,” Dwight promised. “How about some music, Marie? We might as well drag the band out of the barbecue and make them work.”
“I’ll get them started.”
The dancing was fun, but by the time Allison and Winnie went home, Gene Nelson hadn’t made another appearance and Allison was disappointed. She was fascinated by him, despite what she’d heard about his reputation. He liked sophisticated women, and tonight she’d pretended to be one. But he’d walked away and left her. She sighed miserably. Even when she was pretending to be a siren, she was still just plain old Allison, she thought dully. It was too much to hope for, that a man like Gene would give her a second glance.
With determination, she smiled and danced and socialized. But her heart wasn’t in it. Without the elusive Mr. Nelson, everything had gone flat.
The elusive Mr. Nelson was, in fact, feeling the same way. He’d had to force himself to leave the barbecue, because he’d wanted to dance with Allison. But getting involved with her would only create more problems and he’d had enough. He thought about going into town to the bar, but that felt flat, too. He was losing his taste for liquor and wild women. Maybe he’d caught a virus or something.
He strolled past the bunkhouse, hearing loud laughter, led by the redheaded Rance. It was Saturday night, and he couldn’t forbid the men liquor on their own time. But one of these days, he was going to have to confront that venomous rider. He’d been needling Gene for days. The man was sweet on Dale Branigan, and fiercely jealous of Gene. He could have told him there was no need, but it wouldn’t have done any good.
He kept walking, his mind still on the way Allison had looked in that sundress. He paused to check two of the sick calves in the barn, marveling at how much he’d changed in just one day and one night. Maybe it was his age, he thought. Then a picture of Allison Hathoway’s soft hazel eyes burned into his brain and he groaned. With a muttered curse, he saddled a horse and went out to check on the night herders—something he hadn’t done in months.

Chapter Three
Allison wasn’t comfortable talking to Winnie about Gene Nelson, but she was too curious about him not to ask questions. He’d warned her away himself, telling her that he was bad medicine. But she was attracted despite the warnings. Secretly she wondered if it could be because of them. She’d led a conventional life all the way, never putting a step wrong. A renegade was bound to appeal to her.
“You can’t get involved with him,” Winnie said quietly when Allison couldn’t resist questioning her the next day.
“He didn’t seem like a bad man,” Allison protested.
“I didn’t say he was,” Winnie replied, and her expression was sympathetic. “In fact, there isn’t a nicer man than Gene. But he’s gone wild since he found out about his father. You heard what Marie accused him of yesterday. She wasn’t kidding. Gene makes no secret that he has only one use for a woman, and he’s done a lot of hard drinking and hard living in the past few months. Because everybody around Pryor knows it, just being seen with him could ruin your reputation. That’s why I don’t want you to go out with him. I’d never begrudge you a little happiness, but Gene could cost you your respectability. And that’s something you can’t afford to lose, my friend, in your chosen vocation.”
“Yes, I know,” Allison murmured. Her heart sank. Winnie was drowning all her dreams. “You said that Gene didn’t know about his real father?”
“No. He was just four when his mother divorced his father and married Hank Nelson,” Winnie said, startling her. “Until six months ago, when his stepfather died, he never knew that he wasn’t a blood Nelson.”
Allison’s tender heart ached for him. “Poor man,” she said huskily. “How terrible, to find out like that!”
“It’s been terrible for all of them,” Winnie said honestly. “Don’t get me wrong. Dwight and Marie don’t feel any differently now than they ever did about Gene, but it’s changed everything for him. He worshiped Hank.”
“No wonder he’s embittered,” Allison said softly.
“None of that,” Winnie murmured dryly. “Your soft heart will be your undoing yet. Now let’s talk about something besides Gene. I don’t think he’s got a soft spot anymore, but he could hurt you if you tried to find it, even for the best of reasons.”
“Yes, I know,” Allison replied. “I sensed that, too. But you don’t need to worry,” she added with a sad smile. “I’m not the type of woman who could appeal to a man like him. He’s very handsome and suave. I’m just…me.”
“You weren’t yourself at the barbecue,” her friend murmured tongue in cheek. “You were light and flirtatious and carefree. Gene has no idea who and what you really are, and that kind of secret is dangerous to keep.”
“Any kind of secret is dangerous to keep,” she replied with a gentle smile.
“Amen. Just trust me and keep your distance.” She patted Allison’s hand gently. “Don’t underestimate your own attractions, my friend. You’re a knockout when you dress up, and that warm heart of yours attracts everyone, including men like Gene.”
“It never has before,” Allison sighed. “Well, not the right kind of men, anyway.”
“One of these days the right man is going to come along. If anybody deserves him, you do.”
Allison smiled. “Thanks. I could return the compliment. I like your Dwight very much.”
“So do I.”
“Will you live with his family when you marry?”
“No,” Winnie returned, grateful for the change of subject. “There’s another house on the ranch, where Dwight’s grandfather used to live. It’s being remodeled, and we’ll live there. I’ll take you to see it one day, if you like.”
“I would.”
Winnie smiled. “You’re so much better than you were when you first came here,” she said gently. “Is it easing off a little?”
Allison nodded. “Every day, thanks to you and your mother.”
“That’s what we both hoped. Dad will be home soon, and then we can do some sightseeing. You know I’m hopeless at finding things, and mother hates to drive distances. There’s a lot of history around here.”
“I know. I read all the books I could find about northern Wyoming before I ever dreamed I might actually come here.” She lowered her eyes. “I had hoped it would be for a happier reason, though.”
“So did I.” Winnie sipped coffee. “What do you want to see?”
“The nightly rodeo in Cody,” came the immediate reply. “Not to mention the historical center there. And there’s a place called Sho shone Canyon just outside it, on the way to Yellow stone…”
“Shoshone Canyon gives me the cold willies,” Winnie said, shivering. “It’s eerie, especially when you have to come across the dam to Cody, through the mountain tunnel. I only have to go that way when we’re coming back from Yellowstone National Park, thank God. Cody is northwest of here, so we can avoid the canyon altogether.”
“You chicken, you,” Allison gasped. “I’d love it!”
“I imagine you would. Well, we’ll go when Dad gets back, but I’ll wear a blindfold.”
“I’ll make sure you have one,” Allison laughed.
There was no more mention of Gene Nelson, even if he did seem to haunt Allison’s dreams.
Then, all at once, she seemed to run into him everywhere. She waved to him in town as he drove by in his big Jeep, and he waved back with a smile. She saw him on his horse occasionally as she drove past the ranch with Winnie, and he seemed to watch for her. When she and Winnie visited Dwight, he sometimes paused in the doorway to talk, and his green eyes ran over her with frank curiosity as he joined in the conversation. It always seemed to be about cattle or horses or rodeo, and Allison never understood it, but then it didn’t matter. She just loved looking at Gene.
He noticed that rapt stare of hers and was amused by it. Women had always chased him, but there was something different about this one. She was interested in him, but too shy to flirt or play up to him. Ironically that interested him more than a blatant invitation would have.
He began to look for her after that, despite his misgivings about getting involved. She stirred something inside him that he didn’t even know he possessed. It was irritating, but he felt as if he’d been caught in an avalanche, and he couldn’t stop it.
A few days after the barbecue he noticed Winnie’s car going past the ranch, with a passenger, on the way in to Pryor. And he’d found an excuse to go into town himself. To get a new rope, he said. The ranch had enough ropes to furnish Pancho Villa’s army already, but it was an excuse if he really needed one to appease his conscience.
That was how Allison came upon him, seemingly accidentally, in Pryor that afternoon while she was picking up some crocheting thread for Mrs. Manley and Winnie was having a fitting for her wedding gown.
He was coming out of the feed store with what looked like a new rope in one lean hand. He’d been working. He was wearing stained jeans with muddy boots and dusty bat-wing chaps. A worn and battered tan Stetson was cocked over one pale green eye, and he needed another shave, even though it was midafternoon. He looked totally out of sorts.
In fact, he was, and Allison was the reason for his bad humor. All the reasons why he should snub her came falling into his brain. It didn’t do any good, of course, to tell himself that she was the last complication he needed right now. Miss Chic Society there wasn’t cut out for ranch life or anything more than a wild fling, and he was beginning to feel his age. Instead of running around with wild women, he needed to be thinking about a wife and kids. Except that kids might be out of the question, considering the character of his real father. His expression hardened. Besides that, considering his reputation with women, it was going to be hard to find a decent woman who’d be willing to marry him. This wouldn’t be a bad time to work on improving his image, and he couldn’t do that by linking himself with another sophisticated party girl. Which Miss Hathoway seemed to be, given her performance at the barbecue.
Of course, it wasn’t that easy to put the brakes on his interest. Now here she stood, looking at him with those big hazel eyes and making his body ache. And he’d initiated the confrontation.
“Hello, Mr. Nelson,” she said, smiling at him. “Out looking for a lost cow?” she added, nodding toward the rope in his hand.
His eyebrows arched. “I came in to buy some new rope, Miss Hathoway.” He was irritated at having told a blatant lie.
“Oh.” She stared at it. “Can you spin a loop and jump through it?”
He glared at her. “This,” he said, hefting it irritably, “is nylon rope. It isn’t worth a damn until you tie it between the back bumper of a truck and a fence-post and stretch it.”
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“I am not.” He moved closer, looking down at her. She was at least average height, but he still had to look down. She seemed very fragile somehow. Perhaps her lifestyle made her brittle.
He searched her soft eyes. “Did you drive in?” he asked so that she wouldn’t know he’d followed her to town.
“Yes. With Winnie,” she said. “She’s trying on her wedding gown.”
His thick eyebrow jerked. “The wedding will be Pryor’s social event of the season,” he said with faint sarcasm. The thought of the wedding stung him. Dwight was a Nelson, truly his father’s son. Dwight had inherited the lion’s share of the business, even though Gene couldn’t complain about his own inheritance. It was just that he’d been the eldest son all his life. He’d belonged. Now he didn’t. Dwight and Winnie’s wedding was a potent, stinging reminder of that.
“It hurts you, doesn’t it?”
The gentle question brought a silent gasp from his lips. He stared down at her, caught completely off guard by her unexpected remark. The compassion in those eyes was like a body blow. She almost seemed to glow with it. He couldn’t have imagined anyone looking at him like that a week ago, and he wasn’t sure he liked it even now.
“Haven’t you got someplace to go, Miss Hathoway?” he asked irritably.
“I suppose that means you wish I did. Why are you wearing bat-wing chaps in the northwest?” she asked pleasantly. “And Mexican rowels?”
His eyes widened. “I used to work down in Texas,” he said hesitantly. “What do you know about chaps?”
“Lots.” She grinned. “I grew up reading Zane Grey.”
“No better teacher, except Louis L’Amour,” he murmured. His pale eyes slid down her body. She was wearing jeans and a white shirt, short sleeved, because it was June and warm.
“No hat,” he observed, narrow-eyed. “You know better, or you should, having lived in Arizona. June is a hot month, even here.”
She grimaced. “Yes, but I hate hats. It isn’t usually this warm, surely, this far north?”
Those hazel eyes were casting spells. He had to drag his away. “We get hot summers. Winters are the problem,” he said, nodding toward the distant peaks, snow covered even in the summer. “We get three and four feet of snow at a time. Trying to find calving cows in that can be a headache.”
“I expect so.” Her eyes went to his thin mouth. “But isn’t summer a busier time?”
He looked down at her. “Not as much so as April and September. That’s when we round up cattle.”
“I guess that keeps you busy,” she said softly.
“No more than anything else does,” he said shortly. He had to get away from her. She disturbed him. “I’ve got to go.”
“That’s it, reject me,” she said with a theatrical sigh, hiding her shyness in humor. “Push me aside— I can take it.”
He smiled without meaning to. “Can you?” he murmured absently.
“Probably not,” she confessed dryly. She searched his eyes. “Winnie warned me to stay away from you. She says you’re a womanizer.”
He stared down at her. “So? She’s right,” he said without pulling his punches. “I’ve never made any secret of it.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Did you expect a different answer?”
She shook her head. “I’m glad I didn’t get one. I don’t mind the truth.”
“Neither do I, but we’re pretty much in the minority. I find that most people prefer lies, however blatant.”
She felt momentarily guilty, because she was trying to behave like someone she wasn’t. But she knew that her real self wasn’t likely to appeal to him. She couldn’t help herself.
Gene saw that expression come and go on her face and was puzzled by it. He glanced past her, watching Winnie in the doorway of a shop, talking to another woman.
“You’d better go,” he said abruptly. “Your watchdog’s about to spot you talking to me.” He smiled with pure sarcasm. “She’ll give you hell all day if she sees us together.”
“Would you mind?” she asked.
He nodded. “For Dwight’s sake, yes, I would. I don’t want to alienate Winnie before the wedding.” He laughed curtly. “Plenty of time for that afterward.”
“You aren’t half as bad as you pretend to be,” she remarked.
He sobered instantly. “Don’t you believe it, cupcake,” he replied. “You’d better go.”
“All right.” She sighed, clutching the bag of thread against her breasts. “See you.”
“Sure.” He walked past her to his black Jeep and he didn’t allow himself to look back. Pursuing her had been a big mistake. She was Winnie’s best friend, and Winnie was obviously determined not to let her become one of his casual interludes. He had to keep his head. He had more than enough problems already, and alienating his future sister-in-law wasn’t going to solve any of them. That being the case, it might be wise, he told himself sarcastically, if he stopped following her around!
Allison was calm by the time Winnie finally joined her. “My dress is coming along beautifully,” she said. “Did I see you talking to someone?”
“Just passing conversation. I got your mother’s thread,” Allison said, evading the curious question gracefully. By the time they got back to the car, Winnie had forgotten all about it.
But Allison couldn’t forget about Gene. When she was invited, along with Winnie, to supper at the Nelson home two days later, it was almost as if Fate was working in her favor.
She wore a plain gray dress with a high neckline and straight skirt, gently gathered at the waist with a belt. It wasn’t a sexy dress, but when she wore it, it became one. She did her hair in a neat French plait and put on makeup as Winnie had taught her. When she finished, she looked much less sophisticated than she had at the barbecue—a puzzling outcome.
“I don’t look the way I did before,” she told Winnie after they’d said good-night to Mrs. Manley and were on the way to the Nelsons’.
“You look great,” Winnie corrected. “And tonight, will you please be yourself?”
“Why? Are you hoping that Gene Nelson might keep his distance if he sees what a frump I really am?” she murmured dryly.
“He seems to be doing that all by himself,” Winnie reminded her. “I’m not trying to be difficult, honestly I’m not.” She sighed worriedly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. Gene…isn’t himself these days.”
“What was he like before?” Allison asked softly.
Winnie laughed. “Full of fun. He always had his eye on the ladies, but he was less blatant with it. Now, he’s reckless and apparently without conscience when it comes to women. He doesn’t really care whom he hurts.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me, though, Winnie,” she said.
“Don’t bet on it,” the other woman replied. “You put too much faith in people’s better instincts. Some people don’t have any.”
“I’ll never believe that,” Allison said firmly. “Not after what I’ve seen. Beauty often hides in the most horrible places.”
Winnie’s eyes were gentle as they glanced toward her friend. She didn’t know what to say to Allison. Probably nothing would do much good. She’d just have to hope that Gene was out, or that, if he was home, he wasn’t interested in Allison.

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