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One Mother Wanted
Jeanne Allan


Two-parent family?Allie Lassiter takes pity on the shy little four-year-old at her sister's wedding. Then she discovers who the child's father is: the man Allie has spent years trying to avoid. The man who betrayed her. The man she loved–still loves. Zane Peters.Reluctantly, Allie finds herself back in Zane's life. She gets to know him again–and Hannah, his motherless daughter. All Zane needs to win his custody battle with Hannah's grandparents is a wife. His heart sings with hope when Allie offers to marry him for Hannah's sake. Can he now make Allie his wife for real?HOPE VALLEY BRIDESFour weddings, on Colorado family







“Hi . I’m Allie. What’s your name?” (#u5c19ff99-bcce-514e-b5e8-8acb9e6fc4ad)Letter to Reader (#ubda9d57a-b965-5a48-8b7e-b9848a17c790)Title Page (#ue2c9488b-4e1a-54a6-b974-b3f293914cfb)CHAPTER ONE (#u61a127db-3910-529f-9cd7-fc334ddac28f)CHAPTER TWO (#u57266353-2cce-5c7a-a440-7f433c2f2260)CHAPTER THREE (#ufd6ef7bb-9412-503f-8c78-f17001997f47)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Hi . I’m Allie. What’s your name?”

The little girl popped her free thumb into her mouth. A second later her thumb shot out of her mouth and she fleetingly touched Allie’s dress. “Pretty.”

“Thank you. Your dress is pretty, too.”

The little girl lovingly patted the acres of skirt. “Daddy bought it.”

“Who is your daddy?” Allie asked.

The child looked past Allie. Her face lit up like a million candles. “He’s my daddy.” She pointed up.

“Hello, Allie.”

Allie’s heart stopped. The room went dim. Her body froze and she forgot to breathe.

What was Zane Peters doing here?


Dear Reader,

Sitting in my red-wallpapered office, I’m surrounded by family photographs. I love seeing my husband as a baby, my father as an adolescent and my daughter at age four holding her new baby brother.

For better or worse, we all have families. I didn’t plan to write about the Lassiter family, but as one character formed in my mind I realized I was dealing with all three Lassiter sisters—Cheyenne, Allie and Greeley. Then their older brother demanded his story be told, and who can say no to a sexy man like Worth Lassiter? What started out as one book had suddenly become four.

I hope you enjoy reading about the Lassiter family and the strong men—and woman!—who match them.

Love











Four weddings, one Colorado family




One Mother Wanted

Jeanne Allan







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


CHAPTER ONE

THE Augusta Room in the century-old, Steele-owned St. Christopher Hotel in Aspen, Colorado provided the perfect backdrop for the wedding reception of Thomas Steele and Cheyenne Lassiter. Autumn had cooled the September afternoon enough to permit fires in the carved Art Nouveau fireplaces at either end of the huge ballroom. Slender metal pillars encircled the room, while chandeliers hanging from the two-story-high vaulted ceiling bathed the room’s occupants with a soft pink glow as friends, neighbors and relatives toasted the happy couple. Curious hotel guests and tourists who’d wandered in from the street to see the historic ballroom found themselves accepting flutes of champagne and gawking at the movie stars, business tycoons, sports figures and politicians moving easily through the throng. Immense arrangements of creamy pink roses, white lilies and herbs, such as marjoram for joy and happiness, myrtle for love and passion, ivy for friendship and sage for long life, perfumed the air.

Alberta Harmony Lassiter could hardly wait to leave.

“Allie, aren’t you ready to go yet?” The boyish voice rang with desperation. “Cheyenne, I mean, Mom, said we didn’t have to stay forever.”

Allie smiled at her new nephew. Davy Steele had been an infant when his parents died in a plane crash. Cheyenne told him his mother would always be his mother, but if he wanted to call Cheyenne “Mom,” he could. Davy had eagerly embraced the idea.

Tousling the seven-year-old’s hair, Allie said, “We have to wait until they cut the cake and all that stuff.”

“Do we have to? That’ll take forever.”

“Yes, we have to. Since you’ll be staying on the ranch with Mom and Worth and Greeley, you’ll have plenty of time to ride horses while Cheyenne and Thomas are on their honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. It didn’t seem possible. It was a matter of weeks since Allie’s sister had met Davy and his Uncle Thomas. Today Cheyenne had become Mrs. Thomas Steele and Davy’s mother. Davy would undoubtedly soon call Thomas “Dad.”

Allie’s eyes grew damp. Her older sister married with a ready-made family. Cheyenne made a beautiful bride. Her sister’s beauty transcended mere physical appearance. Cheyenne’s glowing beauty came from within. The kind of beauty that came from being deeply loved.

Once Allie had thought she was loved like that. She’d been wrong.

“Oh, no, here she comes.”

The muttered words of dismay reminded Allie of the boy at her side. “Who comes?”

“Her.” He pointed toward a small girl trotting in their direction, a shy smile on her face. “I can’t get away from her.”

Despite a sense of familiarity, Allie had never seen the child before. Curly red ringlets framed a cherubic face. “She doesn’t look dangerous to me.” She looked about four years old.

Davy gave Allie a disgusted look. “She keeps bothering me.” The little girl reached for his hand and he jerked it from her grasp. “Go away. I don’t like girls.”

Giant tears welled up in the child’s eyes.

“See?” Davy appealed to Allie. “She does that every time I tell her to go away. Stop crying,” he said to the girl. “We’re going to have cake. Don’t you like cake?”

The girl nodded and reached out her hand again. With a huge sigh, Davy took it.

Giving Davy a smile in which commiseration mingled with approval, Allie crouched down so her face was level with the child’s. “Hi. I’m Allie and this is Davy. What’s your name?”

The little girl popped her free thumb into her mouth.

“She won’t talk,” Davy said. “Maybe she don’t know how.”

The child gave him an indignant look.

Allie swallowed a laugh. “Do you like weddings?”

The child shrugged. A second later her thumb shot out of her mouth and she fleetingly touched Allie’s dress. “Pretty.”

“Thank you. Your dress is pretty, too.” The neon pink monstrosity of ruffles and ribbons was too big and the wrong color. A torn ruffle had been inexpertly mended.

The little girl lovingly patted the acres of skirt. “Daddy bought it.”

“Who is your daddy?” Allie asked.

The child looked past Allie. Her face lit up like a million candles. “He’s my daddy.” She pointed up.

“Hello, Allie.”

Allie’s heart stopped. The room went dim. Her body froze and she forgot to breathe. What was Zane Peters doing here? He couldn’t be here. Not at a wedding. Not when she once believed she’d be the first Lassiter sister to marry. Believed she’d marry him. How dare he show up uninvited at Cheyenne’s wedding? How dare he speak to Allie? He couldn’t possibly think she’d forgiven him.

She’d never forgive him. He’d hurt her more than any person had a right to hurt another. Past tense. He no longer had the power to hurt her. He had no power over her at all.

“Allie? You okay? You look kinda funny. Can’t you get up? Want me to get Grandma Mary or Cheyenne, I mean, Mom?”

Davy’s anxious voice snapped Allie from her trance. “No.” Her voice came out sharply. Giving Davy a smile she hoped was reassuring, Allie said, “I’m okay. My foot went to sleep.”

“Let me help you up,” Zane said.

She ignored his offer and his extended hand. Standing, Allie saw her older sister across the room. Concern covered Cheyenne’s face. And guilt.

Dam Cheyenne. For five years Allie had managed to avoid Zane Peters. She’d taught school in Denver, and when in Aspen, she’d developed a kind of radar that prevented chance encounters.

Without once looking at the man who had betrayed her, Allie headed straight for her sister.

“I can explain,” Cheyenne said, as soon as Allie reached her. “Zane was Worth’s best friend.”

“I’m Worth’s sister.” Allie paused. “Are you telling me Worth invited him?”

Cheyenne’s color heightened. “I saw Zane in town yesterday. He said ‘hello’ so cautiously, it would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad. You’ve told me a million times you don’t care about him anymore. That he’s nothing to you. But he was one of our oldest friends, and Worth misses him.”

“He’s never said so to me.”

“Worth wouldn’t. Okay, so he’s never said anything to me, either, but they were best friends forever.”

Allie hadn’t been born yesterday. “And that’s the only reason you invited him? For Worth?” She watched her sister’s face. Cheyenne had never been able to tell a convincing lie.

“Why else? I know you’re not interested in him.”

Proper decorum prevented one from strangling a bride on her wedding day, even if she was the lyingest bride that ever said her vows. “You know I hate it when you stick your pointed nose into my business.”

Red flagged Cheyenne’s cheeks. “It’s no more pointed than yours. Besides—” she looked somewhere in the vicinity of Allie’s forehead “—his wife is dead. You and Zane could—”

“Could nothing. You listen to me, Cheyenne Lassiter, it you want to be some stupid man’s doormat, go ahead. I don’t, so mind your own cotton-picking business.”

“Personally I can’t see my wife being anyone’s doormat.” A solid arm snaked around Allie’s waist.

“If you hadn’t been warned,” she said to a smiling Thomas Steele, “I’d feel sorry for you. The rest of us are stuck with her, but you could have walked away.”

“I may be a stupid man, but I can guess what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry I called you stupid—” mortification heated Allie’s face “—but sometimes my sister...”

“What did Ms. Busybody do now?” Thomas smiled at his bride. “I love you, Mrs. Steele, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to your interfering ways.”

Cheyenne looked so penitent, Allie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She summoned up a big smile. “I was surprised and overreacted. It isn’t every day my big sister gets married. I guess I’m a little emotional.”

Cheyenne gave her a big hug. “Liar,” she whispered in Allie’s ear. Taking Allie’s hands in hers, out loud she said, “I blew it. It won’t happen again. I promise. Cross my heart.”

Allie gave an unladylike snort and they both laughed.

Thomas looked from one to the other. “I’m never going to understand women, am I?”

“That’s what puts the fun in marriage,” Allie’s mother teased as she joined them. “My new grandson is going to go berserk if you two don’t hurry up and cut the wedding cake so he and Allie can head for the ranch. Davy rates riding horses much higher than weddings,” Mary Lassiter added with a laugh.

Short hair suited her.

She smiled at the groom. Once she’d reserved her warmest smiles for Zane. He’d fallen in love with Allie Lassiter ten years ago. Many things had changed, but not that. Never that

He had no right to love her, not after what he’d done. He didn’t expect her to welcome him back into her life. Or her arms. Which didn’t stop him from indulging in fantasies.

“Starving dogs don’t look that hungrily at food.”

Zane didn’t need to turn to identify the speaker. “When I ran into Cheyenne yesterday and she invited me to her wedding, I thought maybe...” He uttered a short, bitter laugh. “Allie didn’t know I was coming. Cheyenne didn’t tell her.”

“Cheyenne couldn’t have gotten married without both her sisters in attendance,” Worth Lassiter said.

“Meaning Allie would have stayed away rather than meet me. How about you? Would Cheyenne have walked down the aisle alone if you’d known I was coming?”

“I knew. Cheyenne had second thoughts and asked me if she should phone you and take back the invitation. Then she decided you wouldn’t come. I knew you would.”

Zane couldn’t decipher Worth’s tone of voice. Nor could he bring himself to look at this man who’d been his best friend. “We had some good times together, you and I.”

“Yeah.” Worth added quietly, “I’ve missed you, you son of a gun, but Allie’s my sister. What you did about killed her.”

Zane said fiercely, “I’d do anything, pay any price, if I could undo what I did.”

“I know.”

Zane looked at Worth. “Does she?”

Worth shrugged. “She hasn’t spoken your name to me since the night she walked into the house and told us you were marrying someone else.”

“I thought she’d be married by now.”

“Men have been interested. She’s not. Between Beau and you, Allie’s opinion of men isn’t too high.”

Zane shoved clenched fists in his pockets. Men didn’t come much lower than Beau Lassiter, Allie’s late and unlamented father. Yet Zane couldn’t deny the truth of Worth’s words, no matter how painful they were. “Hannah’s been looking forward to the cake, but we’d better leave.”

“I never knew you had a yellow streak a mile wide down your back.” Worth walked away.

Zane watched his former friend cross the room. Worth had called him a coward. Zane had no idea why.

Laughter caught his attention. Allie and her two sisters laughed with the groom. Zane used to dream about her laughing in his bed. Although he’d tossed away the right to have those kind of dreams, the dreams had never stopped.

Hannah had wandered off again, but he kept her in sight. She stood near the bridal party, her big blue eyes locked on Allie. Little girls were supposed to be crazy about weddings, but Hannah appeared fascinated by the maid of honor instead of the bride.

Most people thought the two older Lassiter sisters looked alike. They couldn’t be more wrong. Cheyenne was an open book. Allie was a closed book, with only a precious few allowed to peek inside. Once Zane had been privileged to share her innermost thoughts. A privilege he’d stupidly thrown away. Even from across St. Chris’s ballroom, he could see how shuttered her face was, how hidden her thoughts and emotions. If he were a man given to crying, he’d cry now. He could have cried a million times over the past five years. Crying wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Neither would running. He’d stay until Hannah had her cake. Then he’d get the hell out of here. Away from Allie Lassiter.

Jake Norton joined the bridal party and put his arms around Allie and her sister Greeley. Zane had read in the newspaper about Norton and his wife staying on the Lassiter ranch while the movie star filmed a Western in the area. He knew the couple had become close friends with the Lassiters. The knowledge did nothing to stop the jealousy that rocketed through Zane as Allie laughed up at Norton.

He’d been an idiot to come. If only the bride would cut the damned cake. Not that he’d be able to choke any down. Just cut it, so Hannah could have her piece. Then he could leave.

She was so damned beautiful. More beautiful than five years ago. He could almost taste her mouth. His own went dry. Cut the damned cake.

Allie wanted to scream. They’d cut the cake, and everyone had toasted the newlyweds. Brides were supposed to be anxious to leave on their honeymoons. Thomas ought to be chomping at the bit to get Cheyenne to himself. If Cheyenne would throw the darned bouquet, Allie could escape. She had to get out of here.

Out of this clinging blue floral silk dress that had seemed so elegantly simple and classic when she’d put it on earlier. Now the dress felt wrong. Too tight. If he didn’t quit watching her... She couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.

“I assume you know Zane’s here. I just saw him. You okay?” Greeley asked quietly at her side.

Allie turned to her younger sister. “Of course I’m okay,” she said brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“How would I know? I’m just your half sister.”

“Greeley Lassiter, you are as much my sister as Cheyenne is. You make me furious when you say such stupid things.”

“That’s better than you standing there looking like the sole, dazed survivor of some disaster.”

“I don’t look like that,” Allie said in a low, fierce voice. At Greeley’s skeptical look, she added, “It was a shock, that’s all. I didn’t know Cheyenne had invited him.”

“I thought I detected the hand of our resident meddler. Want me to tell him to take a hike?”

“Worth talked to him.”

“And told him to leave?”

“Obviously not. They seemed to be just talking. They didn’t shake hands or anything.”

“I should hope not.”

Allie gave her sister a quick squeeze of appreciation for her loyalty. “No, Cheyenne is right. If he no longer matters to me, he and Worth should be able to resume their friendship. If Worth wants such a shallow friend.”

“If,” Greeley emphasized the word, “he no longer matters?”

“He doesn’t matter,” Allie said firmly. He couldn’t matter. Their love had died. Not died, been trampled in the dirt. Nothing remained. Nothing. She forced a smile to her face. “Cheyenne’s finally ready to throw the bouquet. You know she’ll aim it over here. You catch it, because I’m not going to.”

Sent on its way with teasing comments, the bridal bouquet arced through the air. Directly toward Allie and Greeley. Allie stepped to her right at the exact second Greeley stepped to her left. The bouquet sailed between them.

“Look, Daddy! The lady threw flowers to me.”

One look at Cheyenne’s dismayed face confirmed Allie’s suspicions about her older sister’s intent.

“I’m not getting involved in this.” Greeley strolled away before Allie could ask what she meant.

“Are mine,” came a determined voice from behind Allie.

She turned.

Zane crouched inches away, speaking to his daughter. The little girl clutched the bridal bouquet to her chest and shook her head. “Mine.”

He held out his hand. “No, they’re not. The flowers are for a big girl.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“They’re for a lady,” Zane amended. “Give these back to the bride, and we’ll go to a flower shop and buy you some flowers.”

“I caught ’em.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

The little girl’s mouth wobbled. “I want ’em.”

Allie wanted to smile indulgently like everyone else watching the scene. The high color on Zane’s face told her he knew he and his daughter were the focus of attention. Not that that would stop him from doing what he thought was right. Zane Peters prided himself on doing what he thought was right.

He wrested the flowers from his daughter’s grasp and awkwardly wiped a tear from her cheek. “We can buy yellow flowers. You like yellow flowers.” Desperation edged his voice.

Red curls bounced as the little girl shook her head. “Don’t want yellow flowers. Want these.”

Without stopping to think, Allie leaned over and jerked the bouquet from Zane. Turning her back to him, she offered the flowers to the little girl. “Here. You caught them.”

The little girl put her hands behind her back. “Daddy said I can’t have ’em.”

Allie wanted nothing to do with Zane’s daughter, but the girl had caught the bouquet and should be allowed to keep it. Allie knelt on the floor. “Your daddy is a man, and men know nothing about weddings. Whoever catches the bouquet keeps it. It’s a rule, and I know your daddy doesn’t believe in breaking rules.” Allie coated the last sentence with deliberate mockery.

The little girl looked at the floor and shook her head. Her hands stayed behind her. “Daddy said flowers for a big lady.”

“I’m a big lady. May I have the flowers?”

The little girl hesitated, then nodded sadly.

“All right, if they are my flowers, I may give them to someone else, and I’m giving them to you.” Allie held out the bouquet, proving she could act with dignity and fairness, no matter the circumstances.

The little girl started to bring her hands forward, stopped and looked past Allie in her father’s direction. Then, smiling shyly, she accepted the bouquet and buried her face in a large lily. “Pretty.” She held the bouquet to Allie’s face. “Smell.”

Hoping compliance would make the child and her father go away, Allie sniffed.

“What do you say, Hannah?” Zane prompted.

“Thank you.”

Hannah. Unbelievable pain slashed through Allie. The child had been named after his grandmother. They’d planned to name their first daughter Hannah. This little girl could be, should be, Allie’s daughter. Allie’s throat ached with the effort not to cry, then hot, burning anger replaced the pain. He’d taken “their name” and used it for that woman’s daughter. Not that it mattered anymore. He didn’t matter anymore.

“Allie, aren’t you ready yet?”

Davy’s impatient voice rescued her. She smiled gratefully at him. “Ready and raring to go.”

The child’s hand tugging on her arm kept Allie from rising. “You his mommy?”

Allie shook her head as Davy pointed to Cheyenne and said proudly, “She’s my mom now. That makes Allie my aunt.”

“Whose mommy?” Zane’s daughter asked.

“I don’t have any children,” Allie said stiffly.

“How come? They playing with angels?”

“Let’s go, Hannah,” Zane said in a rough voice.

“But Daddy, maybe her kids know Mommy.”

Zane snatched up his daughter and walked away.

A hand gripped Allie’s shoulder. “You okay?” Worth asked.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Davy said you looked funny.”

“Davy thinks I look funny every time he sees me in a dress,” Allie said to her brother, trying to make a joke of it. “He says I look like a girl.” She mimicked the disgusted tone of Davy’s voice. “He wants me in jeans because I promised him we’d ride horses after the wedding. Where’d Davy go? He was in such a hurry to leave.”

“Last minute hugs and kisses from the bride and groom.”

Loud voices caught Allie’s attention. “They must be leav...” Her voice died as she spotted the cause of the commotion.

Zane’s daughter was throwing a grade-A tantrum in her father’s arms. Hanging on to her bouquet with one hand, she used her other hand to cling to one of the stylized metal Art Nouveau pillars. Zane’s face turned the shade of cooked beets as onlookers tittered with laughter. The child drummed his side with her feet. “I want down,” she howled.

Setting his daughter on the floor, Zane grabbed in vain for her hand as she darted across the ballroom. The little girl skidded to a stop in front of Allie, still kneeling on the floor. Throwing her arms around Allie’s neck, Zane’s daughter pressed an enthusiastic kiss on Allie’s cheek. “Bye.” The little girl spun around and dashed back to her father, her childish voice floating across the ballroom. “I had to tell Allie bye.”

The rest of his life without Allie. How long must he pay? Hadn’t he been punished enough? Zane had had five long years to think about the answers to those questions. No punishment, no matter how severe or how long, could wipe out what he’d done. Allie’s face when he’d told her would forever haunt him.

He’d thought he’d reconciled himself to the devastation he’d wrought. Accepted that Allie would never be part of his life. The minute he saw her at Cheyenne’s wedding, he knew he’d been deluding himself.

The crazy idea came to him on the way home from the wedding. There must have been too much sugar in the wedding cake. Or else the smell of those damned flowers had rotted his brain.

For about the hundredth time, Zane picked up the telephone. And put it back down. If he drank, he’d pour himself a huge glass of courage. Except he no longer drank alcohol, and no one knew better than he that drinking made a man stupid, not brave.

At the wedding reception, Allie had avoided looking at him. Not that he was any great shakes to look at. An ordinary guy with black hair and a square jaw. Allie had never seemed to mind the ridiculous dent in his chin.

Smart about everything else, Allie had been stupid when it came to him. Stupid enough to love him. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for his pitiful scheme. She wouldn’t believe it for a second. She wouldn’t do it.

He’d searched long and diligently for the right horse.

Zane rubbed one thumb over the other and eyed the phone. Think about the filly. Damn it, even if he’d royally screwed up his life, the filly deserved help. He’d call.

Allie would hang up on him.

Angrily he pushed the phone aside and rose. Allie roamed through his mind the way she used to roam around his family’s ranch. At the uncurtained window, he stared into the black night. Nights were the worst. Thinking about Allie. Remembering. Little things. Like the way she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she concentrated. He used to tease her that one day she’d be on a horse, concentrating, and the horse would buck and she’d bite off the end of her tongue.

His body tensed with need. He wanted to nibble that tongue. Gently. Lovingly.

He’d thrown away that privilege. Thrown away love.

Horses moving in the home pasture caught his eye. The filly would be in the middle. She never let herself get isolated. The other horses were her protection. She didn’t trust men.

Allie could teach the filly to trust.

If he didn’t call, Allie couldn’t help the filly. He started to turn toward the phone, then stopped.

If he didn’t call, Allie couldn’t say no. There was no reason for her to say yes and too many reasons for her to say no. If she said no...

Zane couldn’t remember when he hadn’t known Allie. At first she was merely one of Worth’s sisters. Then she’d turned sixteen, and he found himself falling in love with her. On Allie’s eighteenth birthday he asked her to marry him.

Allie’s mom asked them to wait. Mary Lassiter had married young. Beau Lassiter had been a rodeo cowboy, long on looks and charm, short on character. Beau had left Mary on her parents’ ranch when she became pregnant with Worth. After that, Mary stayed on the ranch while Beau rode the rodeo circuit. Whenever a bull stove him up, Beau would head to the ranch where Mary nursed him back to health. Then Beau returned to the bright lights, alone. More often than not, he left Mary pregnant.

With the help of her widowed father, Yancy Nichols, Mary had raised four kids. Greeley not even hers. No one ever heard a word of complaint from Mary. When Mary asked them to wait, Zane assumed she wanted Allie to be sure. Later he wondered if she’d seen something of Beau in him.

He was nothing like Beau Lassiter.

Hearing the lie, Zane felt like smashing his fist through the window.

He wanted to blame Beau for what happened. Beau, whose irresponsible behavior had rushed his children into adulthood. Six years older than Allie, Zane had often told her she needed to lighten up, to live a little, but she’d been inflexible, and intolerant with youthful high spirits in others. In him.

No. He wouldn’t make excuses. The sole responsibility for what had happened belonged to one person. Zane Peters.

He shouldn’t have gone to Cheyenne’s wedding, but the temptation to see Allie, to speak to her, had been overwhelming. Watching her stand tall and slim beside her sister as Cheyenne said her vows, he’d ached to touch her. When he’d seen her smile at Hannah, he’d craved one of her smiles.

One look at her face told him she hadn’t forgiven him. If not for Hannah, he would have left.

She’d been kind to Hannah.

His daughter had rattled on about Allie all the way home. Zane had lost count of the things he regretted, but he’d never regretted Hannah. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault Allie hated him. He knew who to blame.

So did Allie. Allie would never blame Hannah, because she loved kids and animals.

She’d help the filly. Allie hated him, but she’d help the filly. And then, maybe... Taking a deep breath, Zane dialed.

At the sound of her voice, intense longing swept over him. He couldn’t speak.

Allie had polished the kitchen and bathroom, cleaned the cat box and walked Moonie so long the greyhound had practically sighed with relief when they’d returned to the condo. She’d washed windows, done her laundry, baked a loaf of bread and caught up on filing for C & A Enterprises, the small, specialized tour agency she and Cheyenne owned and operated. The night stretched endlessly before her.

She should have stayed in Hope Valley at the Double Nickel, the family ranch named for her great-great-grandparents. Or persuaded Davy to stay in Aspen with her instead of at the ranch. With Cheyenne gone, the condo had too many empty corners. Too much quiet. She needed a roommate. Someone who’d fill the silence. Silence led to thinking. And remembering. Allie didn’t want to remember.

As if she’d ever forget.

By the time she was ten, Allie knew every nuance of Zane Peters’s walk. She’d memorized his low-pitched laugh and his slow and easy way of talking. The way he’d drawled her name and called her honey had sent shivers down her spine. She’d teased him, telling him he was a Southern boy, not a true Westerner.

The accent came from his Texas-born mother. Dolly Peters had ridden the barrel-racing circuit where she’d become fast friends with Mary Lassiter, and like Mary, had married a rodeo cowboy. The difference was Buck Peters quit the rodeo and came home to his family’s ranch near Aspen. Buck and Dolly had moved to Texas when Dolly’s aged parents needed them, and now they operated the Texas ranch Dolly had inherited while Zane raised and trained horses and ran some cattle on the Colorado ranch.

Her thoughts always circled back to Zane. If Allie hadn’t agreed to her mother’s request to wait, she and Zane would have been married almost eight years now.

Or divorced.

Loving Zane hadn’t blinded her to his flaws. He had a reckless streak and took too many chances. Allie had been away at school, but reports filtered to her about his partying. She’d worried about him drinking too much and driving too fast on the curving mountain roads back to his ranch. Home on a holiday visit, she’d nagged him; he’d accused her of not trusting him and of asking friends to spy on him. The argument had escalated until she’d ripped off her engagement ring and shoved it in his shirt pocket. Told him to go away, that she’d never marry him.

If he’d apologized, begged her to take back the ring... He hadn’t. Without a word, he’d left her standing in front of the ranch house. She’d watched him tear out the gate and down the dirt road, driving so fast his truck fishtailed on the curves.

Her throat ached with angry, unshed tears. She didn’t want to think about Zane. The shock of his betrayal. The wrenching pain. The slow, agonizing realization that her life had drastically changed.

Resentment flared. He didn’t look like a man who’d suffered. He looked... She searched for an acceptable word. He looked well.

The phone rang sharply, startling her and providing welcome respite from unwanted, bitter memories. When she answered, silence greeted her. “Hello? Hello? I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t hang up, Allie. I’m calling about a horse.”

Allie’s brain went blank, rendering her incapable of uttering a word.

“I have this filly who needs help. She’s a good-looking two-year-old who’s been mistreated. I’ve watched her in the pasture, and she’s quick and smart. She might make a good little cow pony for Hannah in a few years. I don’t think there’s an ounce of vice in her, but she’s terrified of people. I’d like you to work with her. I’m willing to pay whatever you want.”

The uncharacteristic fast-paced flow of words told her how nervous Zane was. Let him be nervous. She was hanging up.

“She needs you,” Zane said quickly, as if reading Allie’s mind. “A man goes near her, she gets the shimmering shakes so bad, her hide’s going to fall off. I can’t use her, and even if Hannah would let me, I can’t sell her. It’s not the filly’s fault she learned to distrust men.”

“No, it takes a man to teach a female that men are the lowest of scum.”

A stark silence met her bitter retort before Zane asked, “Will you help the filly?”

“No.”

“You didn’t used to hold an owner’s behavior against an animal,” he said evenly.

Allie wanted to scream he’d destroyed the person she used to be. She said nothing, wrapping the phone cord so tightly around her fist, her fingers ached.

“So much for all your animal-rescue rhetoric.”

How dare he try to shame her into helping him?

“Don’t worry. Your friends won’t find out from me you refused to help an animal in need.”

Allie yanked the phone cord tighter around her fingers. His subtle blackmail wouldn’t work. Zane could call any number of people to help him with a horse. She had a tour business to run.

Amber strolled into the living room and jumped lightly up onto Allie’s lap. Curling into a furry ball, the three-legged cat gave Allie an unblinking yellow-eyed stare. Allie had found the cat abandoned and half-dead beside the highway.

Zane exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Stroking Amber’s neck, Allie knew she couldn’t ignore the filly’s plight. “I’m taking a family with a blind child up Independence Pass tomorrow to the Braille trail and to the ghost town of Independence. I won’t be able to get to the Double Nickel until after four. That gives you plenty of time to trailer the filly over to Hope Valley and be gone.”

“I’m not trailering her anywhere. She went crazy coming here. Luckily she didn’t injure herself, but I’m not putting her through that again. I’ll move her to the round pen by the barn.”

Allie didn’t want to go anywhere near Zane’s ranch. She didn’t want to see Zane again. Amber rolled on her back, presenting her stomach for Allie to rub. The cat bore no resemblance to the pitiful near-skeleton Allie had brought home from the veterinarian’s office. Then, Amber had lashed out in a fear-crazed fury at every kind overture.

Taking a deep breath, Allie buried her fingers in Amber’s fur. “I’ll look at her tomorrow, but I’m not making any promises. There’s no reason for you to be there. I’ll call you with my answer.” Allie put down the phone. She’d leave a message on his answering machine. After she found someone else to work with the filly.

Even with Amber’s contented purring, thirty minutes passed before Allie quit shaking.


CHAPTER TWO

INCREDIBLY stupid didn’t begin to describe Allie driving to Zane Peters’s ranch. Ahead of her tourists in a rented vehicle rubbernecked at the palatial homes while the September sunlight sparkled off the creek rushing beside the road. Two deer stood motionless in a mowed field watching a flock of magpies erupt into the sky. The black-and-white birds circled to land on a dead stag high up the ridge. Clumps of aspen trees splashed the hillside with gold.

Curves of the road and breaks in the trees provided glimpses of the Elk Mountains. Normally the sight of the rugged peaks raised Allie’s spirits and brought her peace. Not today. Not when she couldn’t quit wondering why Zane Peters had telephoned her. Not that his reasons mattered. She’d agreed to see the horse for the horse’s sake. Not to renew any kind of relationship with Zane.

Allie had dressed to make that point perfectly clear, digging the stained, worn jeans from the dirty clothes hamper. Moonie had slept on her shirt, an ancient one of Worth’s.

Driving slowly into the ranch yard, Allie parked by the barn. She had no intention of going anywhere near the house.

The horse in the round pen dashed to the far side where she stood stiffly facing Allie.

Allie shut the car door and leaned against her sport utility vehicle admiring the paint filly. Large patches of white splashed her black shoulders and flanks and blazed down her face. The filly’s well-muscled shape and compact build showed why Zane thought she’d make a good stock horse. With her beautiful head, the filly was the kind of horse little girls fell in love with.

And big girls. To Allie, the colorful paint horses symbolized a mythical, magical, romantic Old West.

The paint maintained her vigilance, never taking her attention from Allie. Allie could read the fear and distrust in the filly’s stance, in her stiff mouth, flared nostrils and wide-open eyes. The horse wanted to flee; the enclosed pen gave her nowhere to go.

Allie didn’t need the increased flicking of the filly’s ears to tell her Zane had walked up. She’d sensed him standing in the shadows of the barn’s interior. Watching her. Before he spoke, she said, “A beauty like her, you’ll have no trouble selling her. You don’t need me to train her.” Allie wanted to run as badly as the mare. Coming here had been a mistake.

“Selling her’s not the problem.”

The silence lengthened while Allie watched the filly. She wouldn’t ask why he’d called. She wouldn’t mention the past, his daughter or his wife. They had nothing to talk about. The only thing she wanted to say was goodbye. “What’s wrong with her?” she blurted out and wanted to kick herself for showing interest.

“Some fool over near Rifle decided to play cowboy and raise quarterhorses. No one told him if two solid-colored horses each have a recessive overo gene, they could produce a paint foal with an overo-patterned coat. When he found out he couldn’t register the filly as a quarterhorse because of her paint markings, he sold her for chicken-feed to a kid who’d never had a horse and didn’t have a clue how to train one.”

Allie refused to look at him. “I suppose he mistreated her.” Dumb, dumb, dumb to prolong the conversation when Allie had no intention of helping with the filly.

“No, but he expected her to act like a ten-year-old trained mare, and when she didn’t, he sold her to a spoiled teenage girl who thought the filly was cute and whipped her when she wasn’t. The girl sold her to a man who bought the filly for his daughter and he turned her over to one of his hands who tried to break the filly through fear and punishment. When the owner told me about the paint, I thought she deserved another chance.”

To a stranger, their conversation might sound normal, but Allie heard the tension in Zane’s voice.

The filly watched them apprehensively. Experience had taught her humans couldn’t be trusted. She didn’t know she could trust Allie. Or Zane. No matter what Zane had done to Allie, he’d never abuse an animal. “You could train her,” Allie said.

“You get her started and I’ll finish her.”

Her cue to refuse, but the filly’s fear tugged at Allie’s heart. The wrong approach could ruin the horse forever. Allie walked around her SUV to the driver’s side. “She’ll take time.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“I’ll see how it goes.” The setting sun heated the side of her face. “With Cheyenne away, I’m running the agency by myself, so I’ll have to schedule around work.”

“I heard you resigned your teaching position.” He paused. “Want me to bring in a horse for you tomorrow?”

“I’ll bring Copper. Nothing spooks her.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee? Some iced tea or lemonade?”

“No.” Allie reached for the door handle. All she wanted was to escape.

He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Zane pushed against the car door, preventing her from opening it. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. About how much he’d missed her. How much he regretted hurting her. How much he loved her.

Afraid to say any of it, he said, “We’ve known each other a long time, Allie. Couldn’t we at least try to be friends?”

“No.” She directed a cool look at him. “I want to be able to trust my friends. Move your hand before you lose it.”

“I’d give anything, my right arm if I could, if it would change what happened.”

“How dramatic,” she said lightly. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, you can’t change the past?”

He wanted to smash through the thick wall she’d built around herself, but he didn’t know how. “I didn’t plan to hurt you.” Her face dismissed his words for the inadequate excuse they were.

“I lived.” She pushed at his arm to remove his hand from her car door.

Her touch sent a shock of longing through him. He wanted to explain. He wanted understanding. Forgiveness where forgiveness was impossible. He wanted her to love him. “Just listen to me.” Zane plunged ahead before she could argue. “You told me to go away, said I was too much like your father. You said you’d never marry me.” She’d sounded so adamant, he hadn’t tried to dissuade her, but had stumbled to his truck and driven to the nearest bar.

“I was angry and hurt, and Kim listened to me. I didn’t sleep with her to get back at you.” Allie flung up her head, making no effort to hide her disbelief. “All right,” Zane said savagely, “maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to prove to you that another woman wanted me in spite of all those flaws you’d enumerated at great length.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, I proved something, didn’t I? I proved I was every bit as immature and irresponsible as you said I was.”

She didn’t bother to disagree. Zane doggedly continued. “No matter how juvenile my reasons for sleeping with Kim, she became pregnant with my child. I couldn’t ignore the situation. I had to marry her.” Despite what Allie believed, that was the first time he’d ever gotten drunk. The first and only. Although when he realized the bitter cost of his shameful behavior, he’d been tempted to drown his troubles in alcohol. “It wouldn’t have been fair to marry her and then refuse to try to make the marriage work. I hoped we could be comfortable together, raise our child. I intended it to be a real marriage.”

He held Allie’s gaze. “In every way.” The way her eyes darkened told him she knew what he meant. He locked his hands on Allie’s arms, forcing her to stay and listen. “Our marriage was not a success.”

“I’m not interested.”

An urgent need to break through the barriers she’d erected compelled him to go where he knew he had no business going. “Get interested. Ask me why our marriage didn’t work.”

“I don’t care why.”

His fingers tightened. “Ask me,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

This time he had no trouble reading her face. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. She wanted to ask.

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “All right. Why didn’t your marriage work?”

Her patronizing voice filled him with fury. He was practically on his knees, and she wanted him to think she was humoring him. She couldn’t quite carry off a contemptuous twist of her lips. Or disguise the heaving of her breast. Zane tossed common sense in the dirt. “This, is why.”

She made an O of surprise with her mouth as he lifted her to her toes. He kissed her before she had a chance to argue. Her body went stiff as a fence post. He wanted to toss her down on the ground and rip that filthy shirt off her. He wanted to nuzzle her breasts and wrap her long legs around him. He wanted to touch her in a million and one ways and places. He allowed himself to touch nothing but her mouth and her arms.

Allie didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away. His body hardened as he feasted on the fullness of her bottom lip. She hated her lower lip, thought it pouty. Loving it, he ran his tongue over it. When her mouth softened, he slid the tip of his tongue between her parted lips.

Her breathing quickened. She wasn’t as disinterested as she pretended. Her body betrayed her arousal. Zane wondered how far he could go, and his body grew so tight at the thought he almost lost control.

Knowing she’d never forgive him if he did what he longed to do, Zane eased his grip and stepped back. His shallow, rapid breathing echoed hers. He didn’t care if she noticed. “I think you get the picture.”

Despite the pulse racing in her throat and the breathing she couldn’t control, she tried to act cool and unaffected by his kiss. “I get the picture. You forced your kisses on your wife, and she didn’t like them any better than I do.” Allie’s voice barely shook. “Do not kiss me again.”

She deliberately misunderstood him. Just as she was deliberately ignoring her response to his kiss. Fighting her feelings and fighting him. He wanted to smile. Allie would go down fighting. He did smile at that. He liked a good fight.

When he won. His smile vanished.

He’d been stupid to risk everything by kissing her. He’d waited five years. He could have waited longer. Given her time.

If that much time existed.

He wanted to kiss her again. Instead he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I won’t kiss you again until you want to kiss me.” The words he’d meant as compliance with her wishes echoed arrogantly.

Quick anger flashed in her eyes before they narrowed with cunning. “It’s a deal. We won’t kiss again until I want to kiss you.” Taking his silence for agreement, Allie reached for the car door handle.

“Who’s here, Daddy?”

Hannah’s voice came from the direction of the house. Zane didn’t take his eyes off Allie. “Allie Lassiter. The lady you met at the wedding.”

“I wanna see Allie.”

“I have to leave.”

Zane held on to the door. “You can stay long enough to say hello to Hannah.”

“I’m not interested in saying hello to your daughter.”

Her cold, brittle voice cut like ground glass in his gut. He’d done this to her. Nothing he could do or say would ever change that fact. Or reach the depths of his regret. She’d agreed to help the filly. She would come to his ranch. He could see her. Talk to her. That would have to be enough.

Hannah skipped to his side. “Hi, Allie. How come you’re here?”

“To see the paint,” Allie answered curtly.

Zane smiled down at his ragamuffin of a daughter. She looked as bad as Allie in her dirty jeans and shirt. She’d lost another button. He’d be glad when she learned to do her own mending. Little needles and his big hands didn’t go together.

“Isn’t she beautiful? Daddy said she has to go to school. He said you’re a teacher.”

“I used to be. I don’t teach anymore.”

Red curls bobbed as Hannah nodded her head vigorously and pointed to the filly. “Daddy said you’re gonna teach her. He promised.”

Hannah had a habit of taking every word he said as a kind of pronouncement from on high. Zane smiled wryly at Allie.

She glared back. “Your father’s good at making promises. He’s not very good at keeping them.” Jamming her key into the ignition, Allie added in a tight voice, “I won’t be back.”

He couldn’t believe it. Damn it, she’d been a teacher. She ought to know how kids interpreted things. She did know. Hannah’s remarks had given her the excuse she wanted

Zane wanted to throw back his head and howl in despair. Frustration and pain boiled up from deep inside him. Slamming her car door shut, Zane braced his hands on the rolled-down window and stuck his face close to hers.

“Does this make you feel better, Alberta? I betrayed you so you’re refusing to help a blameless filly and rejecting a little girl who’s reaching out to you for friendship. Do you think sinking to my level will make you feel better? I’ve got news for you, honey. Life down here in the slime pits is dark and dirty and rank. and you’ll hate yourself from the moment you wake up in the morning until you work yourself into an exhausted sleep at night. And every time you look in a mirror, you’ll loathe the person looking back at you.”

“My, don’t we feel sorry for ourselves? Why don’t you have a beer and forget your troubles? It worked for you before.”

Her words slashed painfully deep. Zane dropped his hands and stepped back. Allie’s car roared into life and tore out of the ranch yard. The dust swirling around his boots smothered the false crumbs of hope he’d secretly nourished.

A car honked behind her. Allie checked her rearview mirror as an unfamiliar car flashed around her. Her eyes darted back to the mirror and her own image. She looked no different. The same blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, chopped-off chin, ordinary nose. Only the mouth seemed different. As if it didn’t belong to her. Because she didn’t want to lay claim to a mouth that could say such horrible, hurtful words. The ugly taunt replayed itself endlessly in her mind.

Hateful words. Said in a reasonable, quiet tone of voice, which made them all the more hateful. “Proud of yourself, Alberta Lassiter?” she mocked her twin in the mirror. Worse was the shameful knowledge Zane had been right. She’d refused to help the filly because she didn’t have the power to hurt Zane the way he’d hurt her.

Allie pulled over to the side of the road and parked. She’d always thought of herself as a good person. Condemning others for callous and uncaring behavior, she’d set herself up as a paragon of goodness and mercy. Prided herself on her compassion.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest. She was a fraud, her behavior a total sham, her heart as black as three of the filly’s legs.

She wanted to blame Zane Peters for pulling her down. “The slime pits,” he’d said. “Dark and dirty and rank.” He’d put himself there.

He couldn’t put her there. Only she could.

Starting the engine, Allie retraced her route.

The paint filly had joined a small herd in a nearby pasture. Zane stood by the corral watching the horses. His daughter sat on the top rail, leaning back against her father’s chest. Allie forced her legs to carry her across the yard.

Zane didn’t turn as Allie leaned on the corral beside him.

The child peeked around her father, then curled tighter into Zane. Her thumb sought her mouth.

“I apologize for what I said.” For all Zane’s response, Allie could have spoken a foreign language. “And I’m sorry I said it in front of your daughter.”

Moments passed before Zane spoke. “I haven’t had a drop of any kind of alcohol since that night.”

“That’s good.” Allie drew on a rail with her finger. She knew he meant the night he’d impregnated Kim Taylor.

The sun took its warmth below the mountain peaks. Zane straightened, and lifting his daughter from the railing, settled her on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming back. I know how difficult it was for you to apologize, and I appreciate it.” He turned toward the house.

Allie rubbed her palms along the seams of her jeans. He wasn’t making this easy for her. “You don’t need to put the filly in the round pen tomorrow. I’ll bring her in.”

Zane didn’t slow his pace. “All right.”

“All right? That’s all you have to say?” she shouted after him.

He stopped. “What did you expect me to say?” he asked without turning.

“You could act a little surprised that I’m coming.”

“I’m not surprised. I knew you’d come tomorrow.”

She couldn’t let it go. “I suppose you knew I’d come back tonight, too.”

At that he turned. “Alberta, sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself.”

“You don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I hate to be called Alberta.”

“I know you hate it.” Sliding one hand up and down his daughter’s denim-clad leg, Zane gave Allie a slow smile. “And, yes, Alberta, I knew you’d be back.”

He took his daughter into the house leaving Allie standing there. She hated him. Hated his teasing, his smile, his little girl who wasn’t hers. Hated his wide shoulders and lean hips. Hated that a mere flexing of facial muscles could jolt a person’s stomach and speed up her heart.

Once that slow smile would have sent Allie rushing into Zane’s open arms. Older and wiser, she knew the difference between love and shallow physical attraction. Besides, Zane no longer had open arms. His daughter filled his arms.

Her face had told Zane how close he’d come to ruining everything. His only excuse was giddy, overwhelming relief. He’d gambled, remembering how painfully honest with herself Allie had always been. He’d told himself she’d come back. Reminded himself she’d never walk away from an animal in need. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been until she’d returned.

Then he’d wanted to shout with joy and grab her in his arms.

The years, his marriage, Hannah—they changed nothing. He wanted Allie Lassiter. She’d stood there in ragged, dirty clothes—worn deliberately, he’d bet—her nose pointed snootily skyward, her eyes dark with annoyance, and Zane had wanted to send Hannah to the house and throw Allie down in the dirt and make mad, passionate love to her.

He had to be content with Allie’s agreeing to come to the ranch and help the filly. The animal had enough problems to keep Allie coming for a long time.

But was it long enough for Zane to break through the fences she’d erected around herself? Fences for which he’d supplied the barbed wire and poles.

The reason he’d betrayed Allie came padding on bare feet down the stairs. “Daddy?”

No, he hadn’t betrayed Allie because of Hannah. That he had a daughter was the result of his behavior, not the cause. He smiled at her. “Ready for a story before bed?”

Hannah crossed the room and eyed him solemnly. “How come Allie talked mean to us?”

“Allie didn’t talk... well, I suppose it sounded that way to you.” He scooped his daughter up on his lap. “Sometimes when people get hurt, they sound angry.” Before Hannah could ask where Allie hurt, Zane quickly steered the conversation away from Allie. “Remember when you stubbed your big toe on the footstool the other night?”

Hannah nodded. “It hurt really, really bad and I cried.”

“You were grouchier than a hungry bear. You growled and growled, like this.” Zane made growling sounds and pretended to bite her neck.

Hannah squirmed around until she faced him. “No, no! I growled like this.” She roared at the top of her lungs.

Zane laughed and hugged her tightly, breathing in the smell of baby shampoo. Holding her close, he stood. “C’mon, little bear, time for your prayers and a story, then beddy-bye.”

On the side of her bed, Hannah curled in his lap, squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and pressed her palms together. “Hi, Mommy. Daddy and I played bear.”

Zane didn’t know how Hannah’s nightly prayers came to mean chatting with her mother, who was no one’s idea of an angel or a saint. His book on how-to-parent hadn’t covered how one explained to a toddler the death of the mother she’d barely known. Kim hadn’t been much of a mother, but he hoped her daughter never learned that.

There was so much he hoped Hannah would never learn about. War and hate and pain and betrayal. Zane smoothed a hand over his daughter’s soft, rumpled curls, knowing he couldn’t protect her forever. Horses broke legs, dogs bit, kids at school said cruel things, animals and people you cared about died.

Heading the long list of bad things in the world were people who betrayed you. How did a parent protect a daughter from a man like him?

Mary Lassiter hadn’t been able to protect Allie.

Copper greeted Worth with a nicker as he walked up to the horse trailer. Her brother scratched the crest of the elderly mare’s mane and smiled at Allie. “Need any help?”

“If that’s your subtle way of asking why I’m loading Copper and where I’m going with the horse trailer, I told Mom.”

“Zane called this morning and told me you’re going to help him with a horse.”

Finished loading the mare, Allie gave Copper a pat on the rump and closed the back of the trailer. “I’m not helping him anything. I’m helping the filly.” She stepped around the greyhound at her heels.

“Do you want to talk about it? I never knew what you and Zane fought about that night he went to the bar.”

“What we always fought about. I felt he sometimes acted too much like Beau, irresponsible, not ready to settle down.” Allie gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t know how close to the truth I was.” She hadn’t known then, or when Zane had come back two days later, an apologetic smile on his lips, a bunch of hothouse flowers in one hand, and her ring in the other. She’d accepted all three because she’d loved him and because she’d believed him when he promised to grow up.

Allie rubbed her bare finger. He’d neglected mentioning that he’d gone straight from their argument to a local bad where, to celebrate his liberation and to prove what a big boy he was, he’d gotten roaring drunk. He’d also neglected to mention the sympathetic bartender who’d taken him home to her bed.

“That was five years ago,” Worth said. “Zane wasn’t much more than a kid. A man can do a lot of growing up in five years. You have to admit, he took responsibility for his actions, and didn’t look for the easy way out. Zane could have supported the child without marrying Kim.”

Allie carefully placed her gear in the trailer’s storage area. “Is that what you would have done?”

“No. I’d have married her. Nothing against Mom and Grandpa and their raising of us, but I resented Beau for being a father in name only. I’d never allow a kid of mine to grow up without me there.”

She shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge. There’s no going back.”

Worth shook his head in amusement. “You sound like Yancy. Grandpa always said the situation didn’t exist that couldn’t be covered by a well-worn cliché.”

“He was right.” She reached for the door handle.

Worth beat her to it and opened the door. “Now that Zane’s a widower, you two could try again.” He moved aside as Moonie slid around him and leaped into the SUV.

“Not interested,” Allie said flatly, climbing behind the steering wheel.

Without comment Worth stepped back and waved her on her way.

Driving down the highway, Allie thought darkly about Worth’s tendency to view his younger sisters as about ten years old. “He’d better not be planning on playing matchmaker,” she said to the greyhound looking out of the passenger window. Moonie turned and lay down, his head resting on Allie’s thigh. She stroked his head. “Who needs a man when she has a dog?” A gentle snore met her rhetorical question.

Males. You couldn’t count on them for anything. Except to let you down. In all fairness, she had to exempt her grandfather and her brother from the category of worthless males. Beau always said Worth fit his name. A person could count on Worth.

Turning off the highway, Allie wished her brother hadn’t brought up the past. No one could resurrect what had been—Allie corrected herself—what she’d thought had been between her and Zane. People didn’t mourn a one-sided love affair. Especially if you’d been the stupid one in love.

Worth talked about the difficulty of Zane’s choice. At least Zane made his choice. Allie had been given no choice.

She cringed to think how gullible she’d been. How she’d seen Zane’s exemplary behavior in the weeks before their upcoming wedding as proof he’d matured. Now she knew he’d been feeling guilty because he’d slept with Kimberly Taylor.

Five years later Allie still didn’t know if she would have accepted back the ring if she’d known he’d slept with another woman. She told herself she wouldn’t have, but she’d been young. And in love. The question would never be answered.

An aspen tree, its leaves gleaming with gold, caught her eye. The aspens had been green then, the green of spring and promise. She’d been sitting on the porch waiting for Zane, her mind jumbled with last-minute wedding plans. The memory of his face, pale with eyes almost black as he told her, superimposed itself on the ribbon of highway ahead of her.

“I slept with another woman. Kimberly Taylor. She’s pregnant, Allie, so I’m going to marry her.”

Her ears heard the words, but her mind refused to take in their meaning. “What do you mean? How? When? What are you talking about?”

Zane held his arms down stiffly in front of him, his hands gripping the wide brim of his hat. “I got drunk and slept with her the night you broke our engagement. She’s pregnant.”

“I don’t believe you.” She hadn’t wanted to believe.

“I wish I were lying. I’m more sorry than I can say, Allie. I know this is a rotten thing to do to you.”

Her throat had swollen, making it painful to swallow. “You’re going to marry someone else?”

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it’s the right thing, the only thing, I can do. I was wrong to sleep with Kim, but I can’t erase what I did. And now I have to do the honorable thing and marry her.”

“What about me?” she’d cried.

He wouldn’t look at her. Just stood there, curling his hat brim tighter and tighter. Finally he said, “You’ll find someone else. A better man. A man who deserves you.” He’d turned and walked toward his pickup.

She’d screamed at him then. Called him names, cursed him, heaped upon him every bit of verbal abuse that came to mind. Zane had stood by his truck, his hand on the door handle, his head bowed. Not until she’d run out of words had he picked up the ring she’d thrown in the dirt at his feet, climbed wearily into his truck and driven slowly away.

He’d married Kimberly Taylor the next day.

Zane Peters married or Zane Peters a widower, it was all the same to Allie. The filly drew her to his ranch. Not Zane.

And definitely not his daughter with her mother’s hair. Allie should have guessed the girl’s identity the minute she saw her. Despite her red hair, the child looked like Zane.

The gossip about Kim Taylor had quickly reached Allie. People seemed to think a jilted bride would be happy to know the man who’d jilted her was himself being cheated on. She hadn’t been happy. The gossip only proved how little wrecking Allie’s life meant to either Zane or Kim.

The child was swinging on a rope swing tied to a large cottonwood tree near the house when Allie drove up. At the sight of Allie’s car and trailer, the little girl dragged her feet in the dirt, slowing down the swing.

Allie intended to concentrate on the filly, not on some other woman’s kid. Ignoring the child, Allie opened the trailer and backed Copper down the short ramp.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Allie answered shortly. So much for hoping the kid would stay out of her way.

“Daddy said I can’t bother you.”

“He’s right.”

“What’s her name?”

Allie glanced over to see the girl petting the greyhound. “Moonie. You shouldn’t pet strange dogs. You could get bitten.”

“She likes me.”

“He. He’s a male dog.” Males had no discrimination.

“He’s funny-looking. He’s skinny.”

Telling Moonie to stay by the trailer, Allie swung up on Copper and walked the mare toward the pasture.

On short, stubby legs, the little girl trotted beside the large mare. “What’s your horse’s name? My new horse is Honey. Daddy calls me honey.”

Allie carefully closed and locked the gate into the pasture. Zane’s daughter said the endearment in exact mimicry of the way her father used to say it to Allie.

The child climbed up the metal pasture gate and clung to the top. “He calls me honey ’cuz he really loves me. I really love Honey.”

Allie wheeled Copper around and gave the small girl a stern look. “Your father told you not to bother me. Go back to your swing and stay there.” Allie refused to call the paint Honey.

The filly stood in the middle of a group of horses. As Allie guided Copper slowly toward the small herd, a brown mare nickered a greeting to Copper, and Allie’s mare nickered back. Used to horses with riders, the horses curiously watched Allie’s approach. Their calm behavior reassured the filly. Slowly Allie guided the small herd toward the open gate of the round pen. The horses obligingly ambled inside.

One by one, Allie extracted the horses from the pen until only the paint remained. Paying no attention to the filly, Allie shut the gate, then guided Copper around the pen, walking at first, then trotting. All the while, Allie talked in low, calm voice. Eventually the filly, curious or wanting o herd up with Copper, trotted in their wake. Allie gradually slowed her mare until the filly moved almost abreast of hem. Now she patted and rubbed Copper, her hand coming closer by degrees to the paint but never touching the filly. At first the filly shied away each time Allie’s hand moved, put imperceptibly she grew accustomed to the movement.

Round and round. Finally Allie guided Copper over to he gate. When she opened the gate, the filly humped her back at the noise, but quickly spotted the opening and dashed into the pasture. After a few yards, she slowed and turned to look at Allie. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Allie asked.

“You have more patience than any woman I know, and you hardly ever lose your temper. I’ll bet you made a good school teacher.”

Focused on the filly, Allie had missed Zane’s approach. She rode Copper through the pasture gate Zane held open md guided the mare toward the horse trailer. “Hardly ever,” he’d said.

She knew he referred to the night she’d totally lost conrol, screaming and yelling like a banshee. “I never claimed to be a saint,” she said. “If you’d wanted a submissive hamby-pamby, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to me in he first place.”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Where’d that come from? I was complimenting you.”

He knew very well what she was talking about. Allie pushed him aside when he would have removed Copper’s saddle. “I take care of my own horse, and I don’t want your compliments. I don’t want you checking up on me. If you ion’t trust me with the filly, train her yourself.”

“I’m not checking up. I wanted to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

He leaned against the side of the trailer. “We haven’t discussed what it’s going to cost me for you to work with the filly.”

Everything, she wanted to scream. He owed her for more than a few minutes a day training a horse. He could never repay her for what he owed her. “I’m not training the filly for you.”

Zane gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t think Hannah’s allowance will cover horse-training.”

She turned away, fussing with Copper. It wasn’t fair that a smile from a low-down skunk could unsettle her stomach and interfere with her breathing. Against the mare’s flank, she muttered, “I’m here for the filly’s sake. No other reason.”

He didn’t reply. Crossed at the ankles, his worn boots remained in her field of vision. Hardworking, serviceable boots. If they’d ever seen a lick of polish, it didn’t show. She wished he’d take them out of her sight.

He uncrossed his ankles. “You’re making Hannah happy.”

“Your daughter’s your responsibility, not mine.”

“Hannah’s not a responsibility. She’s a privilege and a joy.”

Allie put Copper in the trailer, glad the task kept her face from Zane’s view. Once she’d anticipated having his children. Dreamed of seeing her sons and daughters on his shoulders, on his lap, in his arms. Her Hannah. Not another woman’s. Allie settled her hat firmly on her head, jumped down from the trailer and latched the back. “I should be able to come tomorrow. You told your daughter not to bother me. Take your own advice.”

Zane looked around. “Where is Hannah? I’m surprised the temptation of watching you and the filly wasn’t too much for her. Ruth must have called her in for dinner.” He hesitated, then walked toward the house.

Guilt needled Allie as she thought of her stern directive to the little girl. Not that she’d been wrong to order the child away from the corral. The girl would have disturbed Allie’s concentration and distracted the filly. Allie had no reason to feel guilty about a rational decision. Maybe Zane’s daughter had looked a little down at the mouth, but she was obviously a spoiled brat who used tears and pouting to wrap her father around her finger. Spoiling a child was bad for her. The child had to learn she couldn’t always do what she wanted.

Allie looked around for Moonie, frowning. It wasn’t like the greyhound to leave the spot where he’d been told to stay. Failing to locate him, she called, “Moonie, come here, boy, come. We’re going home, boy. Home!”

A sharp bark answered her call. Looking in the direction of the sound, Allie saw Moonie standing at the base of the large cottonwood tree.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

The dog barked urgently, but stayed where he was.

Irritation swept over Allie. If that kid had dragged Moonie over there and tied him to the tree and then gone off and left him... Allie stomped toward the tree.

Stiff-legged, Moonie raised the pitch of his barking.

Seeing a patch of blue beside the dog, Allie broke into a run.

Zane’s daughter lay in a heap beneath the rope swing. Tears mingled with dirt to smear mud over her cheeks. “My arm hurts,” she whimpered as Allie dropped to her knees beside the child.

“Hannah?” Zane called from the front of the house.

“She’s over here. She hurt her arm,” Allie added as Zane came around the corner.

Trying to avoid bumping the arm his daughter cradled with her other hand, Zane carefully lifted her into his arms. “It’s okay, honey, Daddy has you. What happened?”

“I went really high to watch Allie and Honey and I fell.” She gave him a tiny, waterlogged smile of triumph. “I’m a good girl, Daddy. I stayed at my swing like Allie told me.”


CHAPTER THREE

ALLIE’S stomach churned with guilt and self-condemnation. Zane hadn’t given her a single accusatory look. He hadn’t uttered one word of blame. He hadn’t yelled at her for ordering his daughter to stay on the swing. He hadn’t blamed his daughter’s accident on Allie or done or said anything indicating he thought Allie was in any way at fault.

He didn’t have to. Allie knew she was to blame.

Greeley walked into the hospital waiting room in Aspen. “How is she?”

“She broke her left radius. This bone.” Allie pointed to her lower arm. “Luckily it was a simple fracture. They didn’t have to move it back into place or anything. They’re putting on a cast now. What are you doing here?”

“After you called her, Mom called me on the cell phone since I was on my way to Aspen to deliver a sculpture. I picked up Moonie from Zane’s truck and went over to your place and fed Amber and Moonie and walked him. He refused to stay there, so he’s out in my truck.” Greeley sat beside Allie. “Mom said you sounded pretty upset. You okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t break anything. It was all my fault,” Allie added in a rush.

“You push her out of the swing?”

Greeley meant the question to be absurd, but her sister wasn’t so far wrong. “I sent her away. Told her to go to her swing and stay there. When she fell, she lay under the swing in pain. She told Zane she was being a good girl.”

“Don’t tell me Zane is blaming you.”

“He hasn’t said anything, but he must blame me. If I hadn’t told her to stay there...”

“It could have been dangerous for you or for her if she’d climbed up on the round pen while you were working a green filly. You did the right thing telling her to stay away.”

“I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly.”

“Harshly? Or firmly?”

Allie clenched her hands together. “I used the voice I use when boys are fighting on the playground. Worth calls it my ‘or else’ voice.”

“An adult has to protect children from themselves. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”

Allie didn’t know what to do with her hands. She picked at the frayed edges of the hole in the knee of her jeans. “I never wanted her to get hurt. I didn’t mean...”

Greeley patted Allie’s restless fingers. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I?” The words burst from Allie. “What if, subconsciously, I wanted to hurt her, wanted her to go away, not just from the round pen, but go away forever?”

“What is with you? You don’t usually dramatize like this.”

“I’m serious, Greeley. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how much Zane hurt me and how much I hated him and hated that woman he married.”

“What does all this have to do with the girl’s fall?”

“Don’t you get it?” Allie leaned her head against the wall behind her chair. “The only reason Zane married that woman was because she was pregnant with his child. You have no idea how much I resented one little girl. It’s unreasonable, childish and ugly, but I couldn’t stop. I told myself she didn’t ask to be born, but...” Her voice faltered. “I couldn’t stop thinking, if she hadn’t been conceived, hadn’t been born...”

“I don’t think any of us had any idea you felt this way,” Greeley said slowly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“What could I say that didn’t make me out more of a fool than I’d already been? I’d loved Zane so much for so long. What does that say about me that I loved someone so worthless, someone who could hurt me so badly? I know what happened was Zane’s fault, but if I blamed him, I admitted I was stupid, a loser. You know I’m too vain for that.” Allie made a pathetic attempt at a smile. “But I had to blame someone, so I blamed the woman he married, and by extension the baby, because without the baby he never would have married that woman. None of it makes sense, but I couldn’t help it.”

Greeley reached for Allie’s hand and squeezed hard. “Listen to me, Allie Lassiter. Zane Peters’s behavior does not reflect on you. Do you think Mom was stupid for putting up with Beau?”

Allie looked directly at her sister. “Yes.”

Greeley made a face. “Actually, so do I, so that was a bad example. Mom took him in every time he showed up at her door, knowing full well the second he healed enough, he’d cheat on her again. It’s not the same at all with you and Zane.”

Her sister had missed the point. “Mom never seemed to resent you because of Beau sleeping with the woman who gave birth to you.”

“Mom knew what Beau and that woman did had nothing to do with me. Sometimes I thought she had to be pretending she loved me as much as she loved the rest of you.” After a moment, she added, “I used to test her.”

“I know.” Allie closed her eyes in despair. “I wish I were more like Mom. All I could think about was how Zane’s daughter messed up my whole life. She’s a baby, and I resented her. Greeley, I hated her.”

This evening when she’d found the child lying in pain beneath the swing, for the first time Allie had seen Hannah as an individual, not an extension of her mother or the reason why Zane had abandoned Allie. She’d wanted to take Hannah in her arms and hold her close, begging the child’s forgiveness. The realization that she’d sunk so low as to hate a child appalled and shamed Allie. “I couldn’t stand being around Hannah,” she said in a tortured voice. “I couldn’t even say her name. I couldn’t bear talking to her or looking at her.”

“You won’t have to ever again. I’ll find someone else to work with the filly.”

Allie’s eyes snapped open, and her stomach plunged to the floor. Zane had heard her confession to Greeley. The hard, angry look on his face told her he’d accept neither an apology nor an explanation. If one could explain the pain and confusion leading to such unforgivable behavior. Allie stared helplessly at him.

“Don’t go off half-cocked, Zane,” Greeley said. “Everyone’s a little upset right now, but the important thing is, your daughter is all right. She is, isn’t she? Where is Hannah?”

“The nurse took her to the bathroom so I could come talk to Allie. I was fool enough to think she might be concerned,” Zane said in a clipped voice, his cold eyes never leaving Allie.

“Here we are.” The nurse’s voice rang cheerfully as she brought Hannah into the waiting room.

Thanking the nurse, Zane gathered up his daughter.

“Look, Allie, the doctor gave me a cast.” Hannah’s mouth turned down. “My arm hurts.”

Allie felt sick. “I’m sony,” she said inadequately to the child.

Zane’s upper lip curled with contempt, then softened as he looked away from Allie to his daughter. “Let’s go home, honey.”

“You said I get an ice-cream cone. Allie, too.” Hannah looked at Greeley. “Who are you?”

“I’m Allie’s sister. My name is Greeley.”

“You want ice cream?”

“No, thanks. Moonie can have my cone.”

“Daddy, Moonie eats ice cream.”

Allie looked at Greeley in panic as her sister turned toward the door. “You have to give me a ride to Zane’s place. I left the rig and put Copper in his corral so I could drive his truck while he took care of Hannah.”

“I’ll take you back,” Zane said shortly. “No point in Greeley driving out there, when I’m going that way.”

Allie took a deep breath. “You’re right.” She’d already delayed her sister. “Thanks, Greeley, for taking care of Amber and Moonie.” At Greeley’s doubtful look, Allie nodded. She didn’t want to go with Zane any more than he wanted to take her, but shut in the truck with her, Zane would have to listen.

Moonie went crazy when he saw them come out of the hospital. Greeley opened her truck door and the greyhound shot out.

“The dog’s not going with us,” Zane said.

“I want Moonie,” Hannah cried. “He’s my friend.”

“He won’t hurt her. He’s very gentle.” Allie motioned to the dog to sit. Moonie’s quivering tail registered his excitement as he obeyed.

Zane buckled Hannah into her child seat in the back seat of his pickup. When he straightened, Hannah said, “I want Moonie.”

Allie released Moonie and the dog leaped into Zane’s truck and lay down, his muzzle on Hannah’s leg.

Zane frowned. “Put him up front with you.”

“I want Moonie.”




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