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Two-Week Texas Seduction
Cat Schield


She's willing to bet the ranch that he can't resist temptation… Up-by-her-bootstraps Brandee Lawson fought hard to establish Hope Springs Ranch. But a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose her secret to real estate developer Shane Delgado. She could lose everything, and she can't let sexy Shane short-circuit her survival instinct!Sure, Shane wants her land, but he can't help wanting Brandee, as well. When she offers Royal's most notorious bachelor a winner-takes-all wager in a bid to keep the ranch, it's the ultimate test. Can he resist her charms—and should he even bother to try when something much deeper than sexiness surfaces between them?







She’s willing to bet the ranch that he can’t resist temptation...

Up-by-her-bootstraps Brandee Lawson fought hard to establish Hope Springs Ranch. But a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose her secret to real estate developer Shane Delgado. She could lose everything, and she can’t let sexy Shane short-circuit her survival instinct!

Sure, Shane wants her land, but he can’t help wanting Brandee, as well. When she offers Royal’s most notorious bachelor a winner-takes-all wager in a bid to keep the ranch, it’s the ultimate test. Can he resist her charms—and should he even bother to try when something much deeper than sexiness surfaces between them?


“You’ll have ample opportunity to convince me to sleep with you.”

A shock blasted through him as potent as if he’d grabbed a live wire with both hands. “You call that a wager?” He had no idea where he found the strength to joke. “I call it shooting ducks in a barrel.”

“Don’t you mean fish?” Her dry smile warned him winning wasn’t going to be easy. “Getting me to sleep with you isn’t the wager. Though I’ll admit the thought of you and me has crossed my mind once or twice.”

Shane wondered why he wasn’t feeling more triumphant at the moment. “Damn, woman. You sure do know how to stroke a man’s ego.”

“Oh please,” she said. “You love playing games. I thought this would appeal to everything you stand for.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“You get me to fall for you and I sell you the ranch for ten million.”

He hadn’t prepared himself properly for the devastation of that other shoe. It was a doozy. “And what needs to happen for you to win?”

“Simple.” Her smile was pure evil. “I get you to fall for me.”

* * *

Two-Week Texas Seduction is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: Blackmail— No secret—or heart—is safe in Royal, Texas...


Two-Week Texas Seduction

Cat Schield






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


CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in Business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.com (http://www.catschield.com) and follow her on Twitter, @catschield.


For everyone trying to make ends meet while keeping your dreams alive.

Never give up, never surrender.


Contents

Cover (#u8757be90-af71-54c5-b6ad-dcf5694236a1)

Back Cover Text (#u81f75a87-7f1b-5b55-98a2-0ef52170192f)

Introduction (#ue403fdfb-ebf1-5a9c-afb0-1ad552dcb2b7)

Title Page (#u2fc4f71c-d5da-5114-a51d-5f8ec95bc206)

About the Author (#ucfcb6d22-1bb1-512b-9018-d9ef6cee8113)

Dedication (#udb13068a-15a3-56ac-b4c7-c90a6c0cd737)

One (#ulink_c08e85dc-4e28-5e4b-b9c5-c6c486c9f3ed)

Two (#ulink_a57fa600-3ec3-5b6d-9414-5a207880587f)

Three (#ulink_5a803462-7cd6-55dd-9475-7887e96956cc)

Four (#ulink_40c5b2bc-1785-5807-9f48-8eabdd79622f)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_4697aa9e-4674-5cc1-ac89-94c2eee6f70b)

Before she’d moved to Royal, Texas, few people had ever done Brandee Lawless any favors. If this had left her with an attitude of “you’re damned right I can,” she wasn’t going to apologize. She spoke her mind and sometimes that ruffled feathers. Lately those feathers belonged to a trio of women new to the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Cecelia Morgan, Simone Parker and Naomi Price had begun making waves as soon as they’d been accepted as members and Brandee had opposed them at every turn.

Her long legs made short work of the clubhouse foyer and the hallway leading to the high-ceilinged dining room where she and her best friend, Chelsea Hunt, were having lunch. At five feet five inches, she wasn’t exactly an imposing figure, but she knew how to make an entrance.

Instead of her usual denim, boots, work shirt and cowboy hat, Brandee wore a gray fit-and-flare sweater dress with lace inset cuffs over a layered tulle slip, also in gray. She’d braided sections of her long blond hair and fastened them with rhinestone-encrusted bobby pins. She noted three pair of eyes watching her progress across the room and imagined the women assessing her outfit. To let them know she wasn’t the least bit bothered, Brandee made sure she took her time winding through the diners on her way to the table by the window.

Chelsea looked up from the menu as she neared. Her green eyes widened. “Wow, you look great.”

Delighted by her friend’s approval, Brandee smiled. “Part of the new collection.” In addition to running one of the most profitable ranches in Royal, Texas, Brandee still designed a few pieces of clothing and accessories for the fashion company she’d started twelve years earlier. “What do you think of the boots?”

“I’m sick with jealousy.” Chelsea eyed the bright purple Tres Outlaws and grinned. “You are going to let me borrow them, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Brandee sat down, basking in feminine satisfaction. With all the hours she put in working her ranch, most saw her as a tomboy. Despite a closet full of frivolous, girlie clothes, getting dressed up for the sole purpose of coming into town for a leisurely lunch was a rare occurrence. But this was a celebration. Her first monthlong teenage outreach session was booked solid. This summer Hope Springs Camp was going to make a difference in those kids’ lives.

“You made quite an impression on the terrible trio.” Chelsea tipped her head to indicate the three newly minted members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. “They’re staring at us and whispering.”

“No doubt hating on what I’m wearing. I don’t know why they think I care what they say about me.”

It was a bit like being in high school, where the pretty, popular girls ganged up on anyone they viewed as easy prey. Not that Brandee was weak. In fact, her standing in the club and in the community was strong.

“It’s pack mentality,” Brandee continued. “On their own they feel powerless, but put them in a group and they’ll tear you apart.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help that you’re more successful than they are.”

“Or that I’ve been blocking their attempts to run this club like their personal playground. All this politicking is such a distraction. I’d much rather spend my time holed up at Hope Springs, working the ranch.”

“I’m sure they’d prefer that, as well. Especially when you show up looking like this.” Chelsea gestured to Brandee’s outfit. “You look like a million bucks. They must hate it.”

“Except I’m wearing a very affordable line of clothing. I started the company with the idea that I wanted the price points to be within reach of teenagers and women who couldn’t afford to pay the designer prices.”

“I think it’s more the way you wear your success. You are confident without ever having to build yourself up or tear someone else down.”

“It comes from accepting my flaws.”

“You have flaws?”

Brandee felt a rush of affection for her best friend. An ex-hacker and present CTO of the Hunt & Co. chain of steak houses, Chelsea was the complete package of brains and beauty. From the moment they’d met, Brandee had loved her friend’s kick-ass attitude.

“Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like,” Brandee said. “My lips are too thin and my ears stick out. My dad used to say they were good for keeping my hat from going too low and covering my eyes.”

As always, bringing up her father gave Brandee a bittersweet pang. Until she’d lost him to a freak accident when she was twelve, he’d been her world. From him she’d learned how to run a ranch, and the joys of hard work and a job well done. Without his voice in her head, she never would’ve had the courage to run from the bad situation with her mother at seventeen and to become a successful rancher.

“But you modeled your own designs for your online store,” Chelsea exclaimed. “How did you do that if you were so uncomfortable about how you looked?”

“I think what makes us stand out is what makes us interesting. And memorable. Think of all those gorgeous beauty queens competing in pageants. The ones you remember are those who do something wrong and get called out or who overcome disabilities to compete.”

“So the three over there are forgettable?” With a minute twitch of her head, Chelsea indicated the trio of mean girls.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Brandee smiled. “And I think they know it. Which is why they work so hard to be noticed.”

She’d barely finished speaking when a stir in the air raised her hackles. A second later a tall, athletically built man appeared beside their table, blocking their view of the three women. Shane Delgado. Brandee had detected his ruggedly masculine aftershave a second before she saw him.

“Hey, Shane.” Chelsea’s earlier tension melted away beneath the mega wattage of Shane’s charismatic white grin. Brandee resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Shane would love seeing proof that he’d gotten to her.

“Good to see you, Chelsea.” His smooth Texas drawl had a trace of New England in it. “Hello, Brandee.”

She greeted him without looking in his direction. “Delgado.” She kept her tone neutral and disinterested, masking the way her body went on full alert in his presence.

“You’re looking particularly gorgeous today.”

Across from her, Chelsea glanced with eyebrows raised from Shane to Brandee and back.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She didn’t need to check out his long legs in immaculate denim jeans or the crisp tan shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders to know the man looked like a million bucks. “Something I can do for you, Delgado?” She hated that she was playing into his hands by asking, but he wouldn’t move on until he’d had his say.

“Do?” He caressed the word with his silver tongue and almost made Brandee shiver.

She recognized her mistake, but the damage was done. Her tone grew impatient as she clarified, “Did you just stop by to say hello or is there something else on your mind?”

“You know what’s on my mind.” With another man this might have been a horrible pickup line, but Shane had elevated flirting to an art form.

Brandee glanced up and rammed her gaze into his. “My ranch?” For years he’d been pestering her to sell her land so he could ruin the gorgeous vistas with a bunch of luxury homes.

To his credit, the look in his hazel eyes remained friendly and compelling despite her antagonism. “Among other things.”

“You’re wasting your time,” she told him yet again. “I’m not selling.”

“I never consider the time I spend with you as wasted.” Honey dripped from every vowel as he flashed his perfect white teeth in a sexy grin.

Brandee’s nerve endings sizzled in response. Several times in the last few years she’d considered hooking up with the cocky charmer. He possessed a body to die for and offered the perfect balance of risk and fun. Sex with him would be explosive and memorable. Too memorable. No doubt she’d spend the rest of her days wanting more. Except as far as she could tell, Shane wasn’t the type to stick around for long. Not that she was looking for anything long-term, but a girl could get addicted to things that weren’t necessarily good for her.

“In fact,” he continued, sex appeal rolling off him in waves, “I enjoy our little chats.”

“Our chats end up with me turning you down.” She gave him her best smirk. “Are you saying you enjoy that?”

“Honey, you know I never back down from a challenge.”

At long last he broke eye contact and let his gaze roam over her mouth and breasts. His open appreciation electrified Brandee, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless.

“Good seeing you both.” With a nod at Chelsea, Shane ambled away.

“Damn,” Chelsea muttered, her tone reverent.

“What?” The question came out a little sharper than Brandee intended. She noticed her hands were clenched and relaxed her fingers. It did no good. Her blood continued to boil, but whether with lust or outrage Brandee couldn’t determine.

“You two have some serious chemistry going on. How did I not know this?”

“It’s not chemistry,” Brandee corrected. “It’s antagonism.”

“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to. It’s hot.” Either Chelsea missed Brandee’s warning scowl or she chose to ignore it as she continued, “How come you’ve never taken him for a test drive?”

“Are you crazy? Did you miss the part where he’s been trying to buy Hope Springs Ranch for the last three years?”

“Maybe it’s because it gives him an excuse to stop by and see you? Remember how he came by the day after the tornado and stayed to help?” Two and a half years earlier an F4 tornado had swept through Royal. The biggest to hit in almost eighty years, it had taken out a chunk of the west side of town including the town hall and a wing of Royal Memorial Hospital before raging on to cause various degrees of damage to several surrounding ranches.

“He wasn’t being altruistic. He was sniffing around, checking to see if because of the hit the ranch took whether I was in a position where I had to sell.”

“That’s not why he spent the next few days cleaning up the storm damage.”

Brandee shook her head. Chelsea didn’t understand how well Shane hid his true motives for being nice to her. He lived by the motto “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” The smooth-talking son of a bitch wanted Hope Springs Ranch. If Brandee agreed to sell, she’d never hear from Shane again.

“Where Shane Delgado is concerned, let’s agree to disagree,” Brandee suggested, not wanting to spoil her lunch with further talk of Shane.

“Okay.” Chelsea clasped her hands together on the table and leaned forward. “So, tell me your good news. What’s going on?”

“I found out this morning that Hope Springs’ first summer session is completely booked.”

“Brandee, that’s fantastic.”

Since purchasing the land that had become Hope Springs Ranch, Brandee had been working to create programs for at-risk teens that helped address destructive behaviors and promote self-esteem. Inspired by her own difficult teen years after losing her dad, Brandee wanted to provide a structured, supportive environment for young adults to learn goal-setting, communication and productive life skills.

“I can’t believe how well everything is coming together. And how much work I have to do before the bunkhouses and camp facilities are going to be ready.”

“You’ll get it all done. You’re one of the most driven, organized people I know.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

It had taken years of hard work and relentless optimism, but she’d done her dad proud with the success she’d made of Hope Springs Ranch. And now she stood on the threshold of realizing her dream of the camp. Her life was perfect and Brandee couldn’t imagine anything better than how she felt at this moment.

* * *

Shane strode away from his latest encounter with Brandee feeling like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. Over the years, he’d engaged in many sizzling exchanges with the spitfire rancher. After each one, he’d conned himself into believing he’d emerged unscathed, while in reality he rarely escaped without several holes poked in his ego.

She was never happy to see him. It didn’t seem fair when everything about her brightened his day. Usually he stopped by her ranch and caught her laboring beside her ranch hands, moving cattle, tending to the horses or helping to build the structures for her camp. Clad in worn jeans, faded plaid work shirts and dusty boots, her gray-blue eyes blazing in a face streaked with sweat and dirt, she smelled like horses, hay and hard work. All tomboy. All woman. And he lusted after every lean inch of her.

She, however, was completely immune to him. Given her impenetrable defenses, he should have moved on. There were too many receptive women who appreciated that he was easy and fun, while in Brandee’s cool gaze, he glimpsed an ocean of distrust.

But it was the challenge of bringing her around. Of knowing that once he drew her beneath his spell, he would satisfy himself with her complete surrender and emerge triumphant. This didn’t mean he was a bad guy. He just wasn’t built to be tied down. And from what he’d noticed of Brandee’s social life, she wasn’t much into long-term relationships, either.

And so he kept going back for more despite knowing each time they tangled she would introduce him to some fresh hell. Today it had been the scent of her perfume. A light floral scent that made him long to gather handfuls of her hair and bury his face in the lustrous gold waves.

“Shane.”

His mental meanderings came to a screeching halt. He nodded in acknowledgment toward a trio of women, unsure which one had hailed him. These three were trouble. Cecelia, Simone and Naomi. A blonde, brunette and a redhead. All three women were gorgeous, entitled and dangerous if crossed.

They’d recently been admitted to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and were making waves with their demands that the clubhouse needed a feminine face-lift. They wanted to get rid of the old boys’ club style and weren’t being subtle about manipulating votes in their favor.

Brandee had been one of their most obstinate adversaries, working tirelessly to gather the votes needed to defeat them. She’d infiltrated the ranks of the oldest and most established members in order to preach against every suggestion these three women made. The whole thing was amusing to watch.

Shane responded to Naomi’s wave by strolling to their table. “Ladies.”

“Join us,” Cecelia insisted. She was a striking platinum blonde with an ice queen’s sharp eyes. As president of To The Moon, a company specializing in high-end children’s furniture, Cecelia was obviously accustomed to being obeyed.

Putting on his best easy grin, Shane shook his head. “Now, you know I’d love nothing more, but I’m sorry to say I’m already running late.” He glanced to where his best friend, Gabriel Walsh, sat talking on his cell phone, a half-empty tumbler of scotch on the table before him. “Is there something I can do for you ladies?”

“We noticed you were talking with Brandee Lawless,” Simone said, leaning forward in a way that offered a sensational glimpse of her ample cleavage. With lush curves, arresting blue eyes and long black hair, she, too, was a striking blend of beauty and brains. “And we wanted to give you some friendly advice about her.”

Had the women picked up on his attraction to Brandee? If so, Shane was losing his touch. He set his hands on the back of the empty fourth chair and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink.

“I’m always happy to listen to advice from beautiful women.”

Cecelia nodded as if approving his wisdom. “She’s only acting interested in you because she wants you to vote against the clubhouse redesign.”

Shane blinked. Brandee was acting interested in him? What had these three women seen that he’d missed?

“Once the vote is done,” Simone continued, “she will dismiss you like that.” She snapped her fingers and settled her full lips into a determined pout.

“Brandee has been acting as if she’s interested in me?” Shane put on a show of surprise and hoped this would entice the women to expound on their theories. “I thought she was just being nice.”

The women exchanged glances and silently selected Naomi to speak next. “She’s not nice. She’s manipulating you. Haven’t you noticed the way she flirts with you? She knows how well liked you are and plans to use your popularity to manipulate the vote.”

Shane considered this. Was Brandee flirting with him? For a second he let himself bask in the pleasure of that idea. Did she fight the same intoxicating attraction that gripped him every time they met? Then he rejected the notion. No. The way she communicated with him was more like a series of verbal jousts all determined to knock him off his white charger and land him ass-first in the dirt.

“Thank you for the warning, ladies.” Unnecessary as it had been. “I’ll make sure I keep my wits about me where Brandee is concerned.”

“Anytime,” Naomi murmured. Her brown eyes, framed by long, lush lashes, had a sharp look of satisfaction.

“We will always have your back,” Cecelia added, and glanced at the other two, garnering agreeing head bobs.

“I’ll remember that.” With a friendly smile and a nod, Shane left the trio and headed to where Gabe waited.

The former Texas Ranger watched him approach, a smirk kicking up one corner of his lips. “What the hell was that about? Were you feeding them canaries?”

“Canaries?” Shane dropped into his seat and gestured to a nearby waiter. He needed a stiff drink after negotiating the gauntlet of strong-willed women.

“That was a trio of very satisfied pussycats.”

Shane resisted the urge to rub at the spot between his shoulder blades that burned from several sets of female eyes boring into him. “I gave them what they wanted.”

“Don’t you always?”

“It’s what I do.”

Shane flashed a cocky grin, but he didn’t feel any satisfaction.

“So what did they want?” Gabe asked.

“To warn me about Brandee Lawless.”

Gabe’s gaze flickered past Shane. Whatever he saw made his eyes narrow. “Do you need to be warned?”

“Oh hell no.” The waiter set a scotch before him and Shane swallowed a healthy dose of the fiery liquid before continuing. “You know how she and I are. If we were kids she’d knock me down and sit on me.”

“And you’d let her because then she’d be close enough to tickle.”

“Tickle?” Shane stared at his best friend in mock outrage. “Do you not know me at all?”

“We’re talking about you and Brandee as little kids. It was the least offensive thing I could think of that you’d do to her.”

Shane snorted in amusement. “You could have said spank.”

Gabe closed his eyes as if in pain. “Can we get back to Cecelia, Simone and Naomi?”

“They’re just frustrated that Brandee has sided against them and has more influence at the club than they do. They want to rule the world. Or at least our little corner of it.”

On the table, Gabe’s phone chimed, signaling a text. “Damn,” he murmured after reading the screen.

“Bad news?”

“My uncle’s tumor isn’t operable.”

Several weeks ago Gabe’s uncle Dusty had been diagnosed with stage-four brain cancer.

“Aw, Gabe, I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

Dale “Dusty” Walsh was a dynamic bear of a man. Like Gabe he was a few inches over six feet and built to intimidate. Founder of Royal’s most private security firm, The Walsh Group, he’d brought Gabe into the fold after he’d left the Texas Rangers.

“Yeah, my dad’s pretty shook up. That was him sending the text.”

Gabe’s close relationship with his father was something Shane had always envied. His dad had died when Shane was in his early twenties, but even before the heart attack took him, there hadn’t been much good about their connection.

“Hopefully, the doctors have a good alternative program to get Dusty through this.”

“Let’s hope.”

The two men shifted gears and talked about the progress on Shane’s latest project, a luxury resort development in the vein of George Vanderbilt’s iconic French Renaissance château in North Carolina, but brimming with cutting-edge technology. As he was expounding on the challenges of introducing the concept of small plates to a state whose motto was “everything’s bigger in Texas,” a hand settled on Shane’s shoulder. The all-too-familiar zap of awareness told him who stood beside him before she spoke.

“Hello, Gabe. How are things at The Walsh Group?”

“Fine.” Gabe’s hazel eyes took on a devilish gleam as he noticed Shane’s gritted teeth. “And how are you doing at Hope Springs?”

“Busy. We’ve got ninety-two calves on the ground and another hundred and ninety-seven to go before April.” Brandee’s hand didn’t move from Shane’s shoulder as she spoke. “Thanks for helping out with the background checks for the latest group of volunteers.”

“Anytime.”

Shane drank in the soft lilt in Brandee’s voice as he endured the warm press of her hand. He shouldn’t be so aware of her, but the rustle of her tulle skirt and the shapely bare legs below the modest hem had his senses all revved up with nowhere to go.

“See you later, boys.” Brandee gave Shane’s shoulder a little squeeze before letting go.

“Bye, Brandee,” Gabe replied, shifting his gaze to Shane as she headed off.

All too aware of Gabe’s smirk, Shane summoned his willpower to not turn around and watch her go, but he couldn’t resist a quick peek over his shoulder. He immediately wished he’d fought harder. Brandee floated past the tables like a delicate gray cloud. A cloud with badass boots the color of Texas bluebonnets on her feet. He felt the kick to his gut and almost groaned.

“You know she only did that to piss off those three,” Gabe said when Shane had turned back around. “They think she’s plotting against them, so she added fuel to the fire.”

“I know.” He couldn’t help but admire her clever machinations even though it had come with a hit to his libido. “She’s a woman after my own heart.”

Gabe laughed. “Good thing you don’t have one to give her.”

Shane lifted his drink and saluted his friend. “You’ve got that right.”


Two (#ulink_acebe3d6-9d77-5bb1-9ece-19adda3352a8)

Afternoon sunlight lanced through the mini blinds covering the broad west-facing window in Brandee’s home office, striping the computer keyboard and her fingers as they flew across the keys. She’d been working on the budget for her summer camp, trying to determine where she could siphon off a few extra dollars to buy three more well-trained, kid-friendly horses.

She’d already invested far more in the buildings and infrastructure than she’d initially intended. And because she needed to get the first of three projected bunkhouses built in time for her summer session, she’d been forced to rely on outside labor to get the job done.

Brandee spun her chair and stared out the window that overlooked the large covered patio, with its outdoor kitchen and fieldstone fireplace. She loved spending time outside, even in the winter, and had created a cozy outdoor living room.

Buying this five-thousand-acre parcel outside Royal four years ago had been Brandee’s chance to fulfill her father’s dream. She hadn’t minded having to build a ranch from the ground up after the tornado had nearly wiped her out. In fact, she’d appreciated the clean slate and relished the idea of putting her stamp on the land. She’d set the L-shaped one-story ranch house half a mile off the highway and a quarter mile from the buildings that housed her ranch hands and the outbuildings central to her cow-calving operation.

The original house, built by the previous owner, had been much bigger than this one and poorly designed. Beaux Cook had been a Hollywood actor with grand ideas of becoming a real cowboy. The man had preferred flash over substance, and never bothered to learn anything about the ranching. Within eighteen months, he’d failed so completely as a rancher that Brandee had bought the property for several million less than it was worth.

Brandee was the third owner of the land since it had been lifted from unclaimed status ten years earlier. Emmitt Shaw had been the one who’d secured the parcel adjacent to his ranch by filing a claim and paying the back taxes for the five thousand acres of abandoned land after a trust put into place a century earlier to pay the taxes had run out of money. Health issues had later compelled him to sell off the land to Beaux to pay his medical bills and keep his original ranch running.

However, in the days following the massive storm, while Brandee was preoccupied with her own devastated property, Shane Delgado had taken advantage of the old rancher’s bad health and losses from the tornado to gobble up his ranch to develop luxury homes. If she’d known how bad Beaux’s situation had become, she would’ve offered to buy his land for a fair price.

Instead, she was stuck sharing her property line with his housing development. Brandee liked the raw, untamed beauty of the Texas countryside, and resented Delgado’s determination to civilize the landscape with his luxury homes and fancy resort development. Her father had been an old-school cowboy, fond of endless vistas of Texas landscape populated by cattle, rabbits, birds and the occasional mountain lion. He wouldn’t be a fan of Shane Delgado’s vision for his daughter’s property.

Her smartphone chimed, indicating she’d received a text message. There was a phone number, but no name. She read the text and her heart received a potent shock.

Hope Springs Ranch rightfully belongs to Shane Delgado. –Maverick

Too outraged to consider the wisdom of engaging with the mysterious sender, she picked up the phone and texted back.

Who is this and what are you talking about?

Her computer immediately pinged, indicating she’d received an email. She clicked to open the message. It was from Maverick.

Give up your Texas Cattleman’s Club membership and wire fifty thousand dollars to the account below or I’ll be forced to share this proof of ownership with Delgado. You have two weeks to comply.

Ignoring the bank routing information, Brandee double-clicked on the attachment. It was a scan of a faded, handwritten document, a letter dated March 21, 1899, written by someone named Jasper Crowley. He offered a five-thousand-acre parcel as a dowry to the man who married his daughter, Amelia. From the description of the land, it was the five thousand acres Hope Springs Ranch occupied.

Brandee’s outrage dissipated, but uneasiness remained.

This had to be a joke. Nothing about the documentation pointed to Shane. She was ready to dismiss the whole thing when the name Maverick tickled her awareness. Where had she heard it mentioned before? Cecelia Morgan had spoken the name before one of the contentious meetings at the TCC clubhouse. Was Cecelia behind this? Given the demands, it made sense.

Brandee had been doing her best to thwart every power play Cecelia, Simone and Naomi had attempted. There was no way she was going to let the terrible trio bully their way into leadership positions with the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Was this their way of getting her to shut up?

She responded to the email.

This doesn’t prove anything.

This isn’t an empty threat, was the immediate response. Shaw didn’t search for Crowley’s descendants. I did.

That seemed to indicate that Maverick had proof that Crowley and Shane were related. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t ignore this. Brandee set her hands on the edge of the desk and shoved backward, muttering curses. The office wasn’t big enough for her to escape the vile words glowing on the screen, so she got up and left the room to clear her head.

How dare they? She stalked down the hall to the living area, taking in the perfection of her home along the way.

Everything she had was tied up in Hope Springs Ranch. If she wasn’t legally entitled to the land, she’d be ruined. Selling the cattle wouldn’t provide enough capital for her to start again. And what would become of her camp?

Sweat broke out on Brandee’s forehead. Throwing open her front door, she lifted her face to the cool breeze and stepped onto the porch, which ran the full length of her home. Despite the chilly February weather, she settled in a rocker and drew her knees to her chest. Usually contemplating the vista brought her peace. Not today.

What if that document was real and it could be connected to Shane? She dropped her forehead to her knees and groaned. This was a nightmare. Or maybe it was just a cruel trick. The ranch could not belong to Shane Delgado. Whoever Maverick was, and she suspected it was the unholy trio of Cecelia, Simone and Naomi, there was no way this person could be right.

The land had been abandoned. The taxes had ceased being paid. Didn’t that mean the acres reverted back to the government? There had to be a process that went into securing unclaimed land. Something that went beyond simply paying the back taxes. Surely Emmitt had followed every rule and procedure. But what if he hadn’t? What was she going to do? She couldn’t lose Hope Springs Ranch. And especially not to the likes of Shane Delgado.

It took a long time for Brandee’s panic to recede. Half-frozen, she retreated inside and began to plan. First on the agenda was to determine if the document was legitimate. Second, she needed to trace Shane back to Jasper Crowley. Third, she needed to do some research on the process for purchasing land that had returned to the government because of unpaid back taxes.

The blackmailer had given her two weeks. It wasn’t a lot of time, but she was motivated. And if she proved Shane was the owner of her land? She could comply with Maverick’s demands. Fifty thousand wasn’t peanuts, but she had way more than that sitting in her contingency fund. She’d pay three times that to keep Shane Delgado from getting his greedy hands on her land.

And if she absolutely had to, she could resign from the Texas Cattleman’s Club. She’d earned her membership the same way club members of old had: by making Hope Springs a successful ranch and proving herself a true cattleman. It would eat at her to let Cecelia, Simone and Naomi bully her into giving up the club she deserved to be a part of, but she could yield the high ground if it meant her programs for at-risk teenagers would be able to continue.

Bile rose as she imagined herself facing the trio’s triumphant smirks. How many times in school had she stood against the mean girls and kept her pride intact? They’d ridiculed her bohemian style and tormented anyone brave enough to be friends with her. In turn, she’d manipulated their boyfriends into dumping them and exposed their villainous backstabbing to the whole school.

It wasn’t something Brandee was proud of, but to be fair, she’d been dealing with some pretty major ugliness at home and hadn’t been in the best frame of mind to take the high road.

When it came to taking care of herself, Brandee had learned how to fight dirty from her father’s ranch hands. They’d treated her like a little sister and given her tips on how to get the upper hand in any situation. Brandee had found their advice useful after she’d moved in with her mother and had to cope with whatever flavor of the month she’d shacked up with.

Not all her mother’s boyfriends had been creeps, but enough of them had turned their greedy gaze Brandee’s way to give her a crash course in manipulation as a method of self-preservation.

And now those skills were going to pay off in spades. Because she intended to do whatever it took to save her ranch, and heaven help anyone who got in her way.

* * *

Standing in what would eventually become the grotto at Pure, the spa in his luxury resort project, The Bellamy, Shane was in an unhappy frame of mind. He surveyed the half-finished stacked stone pillars and the coffered ceiling above the narrow hot tub. In several months, Pure would be the most amazing spa Royal had ever seen, offering a modern take on a traditional Roman bath with a series of soothing, luxurious chambers in which guests could relax and revive.

Right now, the place was a disaster.

“I’m offering people the experience of recharging in an expensive, perfectly designed space,” Shane reminded his project manager. “What about this particular stone says expensive or perfect?” He held up a sample of the stacked stone. “This is not what I ordered.”

“Let me check on it.”

“And then there’s that.” Shane pointed to the coffered ceiling above the hot tub. “That is not the design I approved.”

“Let me check on that, as well.”

Shane’s phone buzzed, reminding him of his next appointment.

“We’ll have to pick this up first thing tomorrow.” Even though he was reluctant to stop when he had about fifty more details that needed to be discussed, Shane only had fifteen minutes until he was supposed to be at his mother’s home for their weekly dinner, and it was a twenty-minute drive to her house.

Shane wound his way through The Bellamy’s construction site, seeing something that needed his attention at every turn. He’d teamed with hotelier Deacon Chase to create the architectural masterpiece, and the scope of the project—and the investment—was enormous.

Sitting on fifty-plus acres of lavish gardens, the resort consisted of two hundred and fifty luxury suites, tricked out with cutting-edge technology. The complex also contained fine farm-to-table dining and other amenities. Every single detail had to be perfect.

He texted his mother before he started his truck, letting her know he was going to be delayed, and her snarky response made him smile. Born Elyse Flynn, Shane’s mother had left her hometown of Boston at twenty-two with a degree in geoscience, contracted to do a field study of the area near Royal. There, she’d met Shane’s father, Landon, and after a whirlwind six-month romance, married him and settled in at Bullseye, the Delgado family ranch.

After Landon died and Shane took over the ranch, Elyse had moved to a home in Pine Valley, the upscale gated community with a clubhouse, pool and eighteen-hole golf course. Although she seemed content in her six-thousand-square-foot house, when Shane began his housing development near Royal, she’d purchased one of the five-acre lots and begun the process of planning her dream home.

Each week when he visited, she had another architectural design for him to look over. In the last year she’d met with no fewer than a dozen designers. Her wish list grew with each new innovation she saw. There were days when Shane wondered if she’d ever settle on a plan. And part of him dreaded that day because he had a feeling she would then become his worst client ever.

When he entered the house, she was standing in the doorway leading to the library, a glass of red wine in her hand.

“There you are at last,” she said, waving him over for a kiss. “Come see how brilliant Thomas is. His latest plan is fantastic.”

Thomas Kitt was the architect Elyse was currently leaning toward. She hadn’t quite committed to his design, but she’d been speaking of him in glowing terms for the last month.

“He’s bumped out the kitchen wall six inches and that gives me the extra room I need so I can go for the thirty-inch built-in wine storage. Now I just need to decide if I want to do the one with the drawers so I can store cheese and other snacks or go with the full storage unit.”

She handed Shane the glass of wine she’d readied for him and gestured to the plate of appetizers that sat on samples of granite and quartz piled on the coffee table.

Shane crossed to where she’d pinned the latest drawings to a magnetic whiteboard. “I’d go with the full storage. That’ll give you room for an extra sixty bottles.”

“You’re right.” Elyse grinned at her son. “Sounds like a trip to Napa is in my future.”

“Why don’t you wait until we break ground?” At the rate his mother was changing her mind, he couldn’t imagine the project getting started before fall.

“Your father was always the practical one in our family.” Elyse’s smile faded at the memory of her deceased husband. “But you’ve really taken over that role. He’d be very proud of you.”

Landon Delgado had never been proud of his son.

You’ve got nothing going for you but a slick tongue and a cocky attitude, his father had always said.

Elyse didn’t seem to notice the dip in her son’s mood as she continued, “Is it crazy that I like the industrial feel to this unit?” She indicated the brochure on high-end appliances.

Shane appreciated how much fun his mother was having with the project. He wrapped his arm around her and dropped a kiss on her head. “Whatever you decide is going to be a showstopper.”

“I hope so. Suzanne has been going on and on about the new house she’s building in your development to the point where I want to throw her and that pretentious designer she hired right through a plate-glass window.”

Growing up with four older brothers gave Elyse a competitive spirit in constant need of a creative outlet. Her husband hadn’t shared her interests. Landon Delgado had liked ranching and believed in hard work over fancy innovation. He’d often spent long hours in the saddle moving cattle or checking fences. His days began before sunup and rarely ended until long after dinner. When he wasn’t out and about on the ranch, he could be found in his office tending to the business side.

To Landon’s dismay, Shane hadn’t inherited his father’s love of all things ranching. Maybe that was because as soon as Shane could sit up by himself, his father had put him on a horse, expecting Shane to embrace the ranching life. But he’d come to hate the way his every spare moment was taken up by ranch duties assigned to him by his father.

You aren’t going to amount to anything if you can’t handle a little hard work.

About the time he’d hit puberty, Shane’s behavior around the ranch had bloomed into full-on rebellion, and when Shane turned fifteen, the real battles began. He started hanging out with older friends who had their own cars. Most days he didn’t come home right after school and dodged all his chores. His buddies liked to party. He’d been forced to toil alongside his father since he was three years old. Didn’t he deserve to have a little fun?

According to his father, the answer was no.

You’re wrong if you think that grin of yours is all you need to make it in this world.

“So what have you cooked up for us tonight?” Shane asked as he escorted his mother to the enormous kitchen at the back of the house.

“Apricot-and-Dijon-glazed salmon.” Although Elyse employed a full-time housekeeper, she enjoyed spending time whipping up gourmet masterpieces. “I got the recipe from the man who catered Janice Hunt’s dinner party. I think I’m going to hire him to cater the Bullseye’s centennial party,” Elyse continued, arching an eyebrow at her son’s blank expression.

Shane’s thoughts were so consumed with The Bellamy project these days, he’d forgotten all about the event. “The centennial party. When is that again?”

“March twenty-first. I’ve arranged a tasting with Vincent on the twenty-fourth of this month so we can decide what we’re going to have.”

“We?” He barely restrained a groan. “Don’t you have one of your friends who could help with this?”

“I do, but this is your ranch we’re celebrating and your legacy.”

“Sure. Of course.” Shane had no interest in throwing a big party for the ranch, but gave his mother his best smile. “A hundred years is a huge milestone and we will celebrate big.”

This seemed to satisfy his mother. Elyse was very social. She loved to plan parties and when Shane was growing up there had often been dinners with friends and barbecues out by the pool. Often Shane had wondered how a vibrant, beautiful urbanite like his mother had found happiness with an overly serious, rough-around-the-edges Texas rancher. But there was no question that in spite of their differences, his parents had adored each other, and the way Landon had doted on his wife was the one area where Shane had seen eye to eye with his father.

At that moment Brandee Lawless popped into his mind. There was a woman he wanted to sweep into his arms and never let go. He imagined sending her hat spinning away and tunneling his fingers through her long golden hair as he pulled her toward him for a hot, sexy kiss.

But he’d noticed her regarding him with the same skepticism he used to glimpse in his father’s eyes. She always seemed to be peering beyond his charm and wit to see what he was made of. He’d never been able to fool her with the mask he showed to the world. It was unsettling. When she looked at him, she seemed to expect...more.

Someday people are going to figure out that you’re all show and no substance.

So far he’d been lucky and that hadn’t happened. But where Brandee was concerned, it sure seemed like his luck was running out.


Three (#ulink_60787b0f-b21a-5731-91a8-b71483642801)

After snatching too few hours of sleep, Brandee rushed through her morning chores and headed to Royal’s history museum. She hadn’t taken time for breakfast and now the coffee she’d consumed on the drive into town was eating away at her stomach lining. Bile rose in her throat as she parked in the museum lot and contemplated her upside-down world.

It seemed impossible that her life could implode so easily. That the discovery of a single piece of paper meant she could lose everything. In the wee hours of the morning as she stared at the ceiling, she’d almost convinced herself to pay Maverick the money and resign from the TCC. Saving her ranch was more important than besting the terrible trio. But she’d never been a quitter and backing down when bullied had never been her style. Besides, as authentic as the document had looked, there was no reason to believe it was real or that it was in the museum where anyone could stumble on it.

Thirty minutes later, she sat at a table in the small reference room and had her worst fears realized. Before her, encased in clear plastic, was the document she’d been sent a photo of. She tore her gaze from the damning slip of paper and looked up at the very helpful curator. From Rueben Walker’s surprise when she’d been waiting on the doorstep for the museum to open, Brandee gathered he wasn’t used to having company first thing in the morning.

“You say this is part of a collection donated to the museum after Jasper Crowley’s death?” Brandee wondered what other bombshells were to be found in the archives.

“Yes, Jasper Crowley was one of the founding members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Unfortunately he didn’t live to see the grand opening of the clubhouse in 1910.”

“What other sorts of things are in the collection?”

“The usual. His marriage license to Sarah McKellan. The birth certificate for their daughter, Amelia. Sarah’s death certificate. She predeceased Jasper by almost thirty years and he never remarried. Let’s see, there were bills of sale for various things. Letters between Sarah and her sister, Lucy, who lived in Austin.”

Brandee was most interested in Jasper’s daughter. The land had been her dowry. Why hadn’t she claimed it?

“Is there anything about what happened to Amelia? Did she ever get married?”

Walker regarded Brandee, his rheumy blue eyes going suddenly keen. “I don’t recall there being anything about a wedding. You could go through the newspaper archives. With someone of Jasper’s importance, his daughter’s wedding would have been prominently featured.”

Brandee had neither the time nor the patience for a random search through what could potentially be years’ worth of newspapers. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who would be interested in helping me with the research? I’d be happy to compensate them.”

“I have a part-time assistant that comes in a few times a week. He might be able to assist you as soon as he gets back from helping his sister move to Utah.”

“When will that be?”

“Middle of next week, I think.”

Unfortunately, Maverick had only given her two weeks to meet the demands, and if the claims were true, she needed to find out as soon as possible. Brandee ground her teeth and weighed her options.

“Are the newspaper archives here?”

The curator shook his head. “They’re over at the library on microfiche.”

“Thanks for your help.” Brandee gave Reuben a quick nod before exiting the building and crossing the street.

The library was a couple blocks down and it didn’t make sense for her to move her truck. She neared Royal Diner and her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten breakfast. As impatient as she was to get to the bottom of Maverick’s claim, she would function better without hunger pangs.

Stepping into Royal Diner was like journeying back in time to the 1950s. Booths lined one wall, their red faux leather standing out against the black-and-white-checkerboard tile floor. On the opposite side of the long aisle stretched the counter with seats that matched the booths.

Not unexpectedly, the place was packed. Brandee spotted local rancher and town pariah, Adam Haskell, leaving the counter toward the back and headed that way, intending to grab his seat. As she drew closer, Brandee noticed a faint scent of stale alcohol surrounded Haskell. She offered him the briefest of nods, which he didn’t see because his blue bug-eyes dropped to her chest as they passed each other in the narrow space.

Once clear of Haskell, Brandee saw that the spot she’d been aiming for was sandwiched between an unfamiliar fortysomething cowboy and Shane Delgado. Of all the bad luck. Brandee almost turned tail and ran, but knew she’d look silly doing so after coming all this way. Bracing herself, she slid onto the seat.

Shane glanced up from his smartphone and grinned as he spotted her. “Well, hello. Look who showed up to make my morning.”

His deep voice made her nerve endings shiver, and when she bumped her shoulder against his while sliding her purse onto the conveniently placed hook beneath the counter, the hairs on her arms stood up. Hating how her body reacted to him, Brandee shot Shane a sharp glance.

“I’m not in the mood to argue with you.” She spoke with a little more bluntness than usual and his eyes widened slightly. “Can we just have a casual conversation about the weather or the price of oil?”

“I heard it’s going to be in the midfifties all week,” he said, with one of his knockout grins that indicated he liked that he got under her skin. “With a thirty percent chance of rain.”

“We could use some rain.”

Heidi dropped off Shane’s breakfast and took Brandee’s order of scrambled eggs, country potatoes and bacon. A second later the waitress popped back with a cup of coffee.

“Everything tasting okay?” Heidi asked Shane, her eyes bright and flirty.

“Perfect as always.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

When she walked off, Brandee commented, “You haven’t taken a single bite. How do you know it’s perfect?”

“Because I eat breakfast here twice a week and it’s always the same great food.” Shane slid his fork into his sunny-side up eggs and the bright yellow yolk ran all over the hash on his plate.

Brandee sipped her coffee and shuddered.

“What’s the matter?” Shane’s even white teeth bit into a piece of toast. He hadn’t looked at her, yet he seemed to know she was bothered.

“Nothing.” Brandee tried to keep her voice neutral. “Why?”

“You are looking more disgusted with me than usual.” His crooked smile made her pulse hiccup.

“It’s the eggs. I can’t stand them runny like that.” The same flaw in human nature that made people gawk at car accidents was drawing Brandee’s gaze back to Shane’s plate. She shuddered again.

“Really?” He pushed the yolk around as if to torment her with the sight. “But this is the only way to eat them with corn-beef hash.”

“Why corn-beef hash and not biscuits and gravy?”

“It’s a nod to my Irish roots.”

“You’re Irish?”

“On my mother’s side. She’s from Boston.”

“Oh.” She drew out her reply as understanding dawned.

“Oh, what?”

“I always wondered about your accent.”

“You thought about me?” He looked delighted.

Brandee hid her irritation. Give the man any toehold and he would storm her battlements in a single bound.

“I thought about your accent,” she corrected him. “It has a trace of East Coast in it.”

Shane nodded. “It’s my mom’s fault. Even after living in Texas for nearly forty years, she still drops her r’s most of the time.”

“How’d your mom come to live in Texas?”

Even as Brandee asked the question, it occurred to her that this was the most normal conversation she and Shane had ever had. Usually they engaged in some sort of verbal sparring or just outright arguing and rarely traded any useful information.

“She came here after college to study oil reserves and met my dad. They were married within six months and she’s been here ever since.” Shane used his toast to clean up the last of the egg. “She went back to Boston after my dad died and stayed for almost a year, but found she missed Royal.”

“I’m sure it was you that she missed.”

Shane nodded. “I am the apple of her eye.”

“Of course.” Brandee thanked Heidi as the waitress set a plate down on the counter. With the arrival of her breakfast, Brandee had intended to let her side of the conversation lapse, but something prompted her to ask, “She didn’t remarry?”

Never in a million years would Brandee admit it, but Shane’s story about his mother was interesting. Shane’s father had died over a decade earlier, but Elyse Delgado had accompanied her son to several events at the TCC clubhouse since Brandee had bought Hope Springs Ranch. Her contentious relationship with Shane caused Brandee to avoid him in social situations and she’d never actually spoken to his mother except to say hello in passing. Yet, Brandee knew Elyse Delgado by reputation and thought she would’ve enjoyed getting to know the woman better if not for her son.

“There’ve been a couple men she’s dated, but nothing serious has come out of it. Although she was completely devoted to my father, I think she’s enjoyed her independence.”

“I get that,” Brandee murmured. “I like the freedom to run my ranch the way I want and not having to worry about taking anyone’s opinions into account.”

“You make it sound as if you never plan to get married.” Shane sounded surprised and looked a little dismayed. “That would certainly be a shame.”

Brandee’s hackles rose. He probably hadn’t intended to strike a nerve, but in the male-dominated world of Texas cattle ranching, she’d faced down a lot of chauvinism.

“I don’t need a man to help me or complete me.”

At her hot tone, Shane threw up his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” She snorted. “Tell me you don’t look at me and wonder how I handle Hope Springs Ranch without a man around.” She saw confirmation in his body language before he opened his mouth to argue. “Thanks to my dad, I know more about what it takes to run a successful ranch than half the men around here.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“But you still think I need someone.”

“Yes.” Shane’s lips curved in a sexy grin. “If only to kiss you senseless and take the edge off that temper of yours.”

* * *

The second Brandee’s eyes cooled, Shane knew he should’ve kept his opinion to himself. They’d been having a perfectly nice conversation and he’d had to go and ruin it. But all her talk of not needing a man around had gotten under his skin. He wasn’t sure why.

“I have neither a temper nor an edge.” Brandee’s conversational tone wasn’t fooling Shane. “Ask anyone in town and they’ll tell you I’m determined, but polite.”

“Except when I’m around.”

Her expression relaxed. “You do bring out the worst in me.”

And for some reason she brought out the worst in him. “I’d like to change that.” But first he had to learn to hold his tongue around her.

“Why?”

“Because you interest me.”

“As someone who sees through your glib ways?”

“I’ll admit you’ve presented a challenge.” Too many things in his life came easily. He didn’t have to exert himself chasing the unachievable. But in Brandee’s case, he thought the prize might be worth the extra effort.

“I’ve begun to wonder if convincing me to sell Hope Springs had become a game to you.”

“I can’t deny that I’d like your land to expand my development, but that’s not the only reason I’m interested in you.”

“Is it because I won’t sleep with you?”

He pretended to be surprised. “That never even occurred to me. I’m still in the early stages of wooing you.”

“Wooing?” Her lips twitched as if she were fighting a smile. “You do have a way with words, Shane Delgado.”

“Several times you’ve accused me of having a silver tongue. I might have a knack for smooth talking, but that doesn’t mean I’m insincere.”

Brandee pushed her unfinished breakfast away and gave him her full attention. “Let me get this straight. You want us to date?” She laughed before he could answer.

He’d thought about it many times, but never with serious intent. Their chemistry was a little too combustible, more like a flash bang than a slow burn, and he’d reached a point in his life where he liked to take his time with a woman.

“Whoa,” he said, combating her skepticism with lighthearted banter. “Let’s not get crazy. How about we try a one-week cease-fire and see how things go?”

Her features relaxed into a genuine smile and Shane realized she was relieved. His ego took a hit. Had she been dismayed that he’d viewed her in a romantic light? Most women would be thrilled. Once again he reminded himself that she was unique and he couldn’t approach her the same way he did every other female on the planet.

“Does that mean you’re not going to try to buy Hope Springs for a week?” Despite her smile, her eyes were somber as she waited for his answer.

“Sure.”

“Let’s make it two weeks, then.”

To his surprise, she held out her hand like it was some sort of legal agreement. Shane realized that for all their interaction, they’d never actually touched skin to skin. The contact didn’t disappoint.

Pleasure zipped up his arm and lanced straight through his chest. If he hadn’t been braced against the shock, he might have let slip a grunt of surprise. Her grip was strong. Her slender fingers bit into his hand without much effort on her part. He felt the work-roughened calluses on her palm and the silky-smooth skin on the back of her hand. It was a study in contrasts, like everything else about her.

Desire ignited even as she let go and snatched up her bill. With an agile shift of her slim body, she was sliding into the narrow space between his chair and hers. Her chest brushed his upper arm and he felt the curve of her breasts even through the layers of her sweater and his jacket.

“See you, Delgado.”

Before he got his tongue working again, she’d scooped her coat and purse off the back of the chair and was headed for the front cash register. Helpless with fascination, he watched her go, enjoying the unconscious sashay of her firm, round butt encased in worn denim. The woman knew how to make an exit.

“Damn,” he murmured, signaling to the waitress that he wanted his coffee topped off. He had a meeting in half an hour, but needed to calm down before he headed out.

A cup of coffee later, he’d recovered enough to leave. As he looked for his bill, he realized it was missing. He’d distinctly recalled Heidi sliding it onto the counter, but now it was gone. He caught her eye and she came over with the coffeepot.

“More coffee, Shane?”

“No, I’ve got to get going, but I don’t see my bill and wondered if it ended up on the floor over there.” He indicated her side of the counter.

“All taken care of.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Brandee got it.”

Had that been the reason for her brush by? In the moment, he’d been so preoccupied by her proximity that he hadn’t been aware of anything else. And he understood why she’d paid for his meal. She was announcing that she was independent and his equal. It also gave her a one-up on him.

“Thanks, Heidi.” In a pointless assertion of his masculinity, he slid a ten-dollar tip under the sugar dispenser before heading out the door.

As he headed to his SUV, he considered his action. Would he have been compelled to leave a large tip if Gabe or Deacon had picked up his tab? Probably not. Obviously it bothered him to have a woman pay for his meal. Or maybe it wasn’t just any woman, but a particular woman who slipped beneath his skin at every turn.

Why had he rejected the idea of dating her so fast? In all likelihood they’d drive each other crazy in bed. And when it was over, things between them would be no worse. Seemed he had nothing to lose and a couple months of great sex to gain.

As he headed to The Bellamy site to see how the project was going, Shane pondered how best to approach Brandee. She wasn’t the sort to be wowed with the things he normally tried and she’d already declared herself disinterested in romantic entanglements. Or had she?

Shane found himself back at square one, and realized just how difficult the task before him was. Yet he didn’t shy from the challenge. In fact, the more he thought about dating Brandee, the more determined he became to convince her to give them a shot.

But how did a man declare his intentions when the woman was skeptical of every overture?

The answer appeared like the sun breaking through the clouds. It involved the project nearest and dearest to her heart: Hope Springs Camp for at-risk and troubled teenagers. He would somehow figure out what she needed most and make sure she got it. By the time he was done, she would be eating out of his hands.

* * *

Brandee left the Royal Diner after paying for Shane’s breakfast, amusing herself by pondering how much it would annoy him when he found out what she’d done. She nodded a greeting to several people as she headed to the library. Once there, however, all her good humor fled as she focused on finding out whether there was any truth to Maverick’s assertion that Shane was a direct descendant of Amelia Crowley.

It took her almost five hours and she came close to giving up three separate times, but at long last she traced his family back to Jasper Crowley. Starting with newspapers from the day Jasper had penned the dowry document, she’d scrolled through a mile of microfiche until she’d found a brief mention of Amelia, stating that she’d run off with a man named Tobias Stone.

Using the Stone family name, Brandee then tracked down a birth certificate for their daughter Beverly. The Stones hadn’t settled near Royal but had ended up two counties over. But the state of Texas had a good database of births and deaths, and the town where they’d ended up had all their newspapers’ back issues online.

Jumping forward seventeen years, she began reading newspapers again for some notice of Beverly Stone’s marriage. She’d been debating giving up on the newspapers and driving to the courthouse when her gaze fell on the marriage announcement. Beverly had married Charles Delgado and after that Brandee’s search became a whole lot easier.

At last she was done. Spread across the table, in unforgiving black and white, was the undeniable proof that Shane Delgado was legally entitled to the land where Hope Springs Ranch stood. A lesser woman would have thrown herself a fine pity party. Brandee sat dry-eyed and stared at Shane’s birth certificate. It was the last piece of the puzzle.

In a far more solemn mood than when she’d arrived, Brandee exited the library. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the street. Her research had eaten up the entire day, and she felt more exhausted than if she’d rounded up and tagged a hundred cattle all on her own. She needed a hot bath to ease the tension in her shoulders and a large glass of wine to numb her emotions.

But most of all she wanted to stop thinking about Shane Delgado and his claim to her land for a short time. Unfortunately, once she’d settled into her bath, and as the wine started a warm buzz through her veins, that proved impossible. Dwelling on the man while lying naked in a tub full of bubbles was counterproductive. So was mulling over their breakfast conversation at the Royal Diner, but she couldn’t seem to shake the look in his eye as he’d talked about kissing her senseless.

She snorted. As if her current problems could be forgotten beneath the man’s chiseled lips and strong hands. She closed her eyes and relived the handshake. The contact had left her palm tingling for nearly a minute. As delightful as the sensation had been, what had disturbed her was how much she’d liked touching him. How she wouldn’t mind letting her hands wander all over his broad shoulders and tight abs.

With a groan Brandee opened her eyes and shook off her sensual daydreams. Even if Shane wasn’t at the center of her biggest nightmare, she couldn’t imagine either one of them letting go and connecting in any meaningful way.

But maybe she didn’t need meaningful. Maybe what she needed was to get swept up in desire and revel in being female. She’d deny it until she was hoarse, but it might be nice to let someone be in charge for a little while. And if that someone was Shane Delgado? At least she’d be in for an exhilarating ride.

The bathwater had cooled considerably while Brandee’s mind had wandered all over Shane’s impressive body. She came out of her musings to discover she’d lost an hour and emerged from her soaking tub with pruney fingers and toes.

While she was toweling off, her office phone began to ring. It was unusual to have anyone calling the ranch in the evening, but not unheard-of. After she’d dressed in an eyelet-trimmed camisole and shorts sleepwear set she’d designed, Brandee padded down the hall to her office, curled up in her desk chair and dialed into voice mail.

“I heard you’re looking for a couple horses for your summer camp.” The voice coming from the phone’s speaker belonged to Shane Delgado. “I found one that might work for you. Liam Wade has a champion reining horse that he had to retire from showing because of his bad hocks. He wants the horse to go to a good home and is interested in donating him to your cause.”

Brandee had a tight budget to complete all her projects and was doing a pretty good job sticking to it. When she’d first decided to start a camp, she’d done a few mini-events to see how things went. That was how she’d funded the meeting hall where she served meals and held classes during the day and where the kids could socialize in the evenings. Thanks to her successes, she’d forged ahead with her summer-camp idea. But that required building a bunkhouse that could sleep twelve.

With several minor issues leading to overages she’d hadn’t planned for, getting a high-quality, well-trained horse for free from Liam Wade would be awesome. She already had three other horses slated for the camp and hoped to have six altogether to start.

Brandee picked up the phone and dialed Shane back. Knees drawn up to her chest, she waited for him to answer and wondered what he’d expect in return for this favor.

After three rings Shane picked up. “I take it you’re interested in the horse.”

“Very.” Her toes curled over the edge of the leather cushion of her desk chair as his deep, rich voice filled her ear. “Thank you for putting this together.”

“My pleasure.”

“It was really nice of you.” Remembering that he had the power to destroy all she’d built didn’t stop her from feeling grateful. “I guess I owe you...” She grasped at the least problematic way she could pay him back.

“You don’t owe me a thing.”

Immediately Brandee went on alert. He hadn’t demanded dinner or sexual favors in exchange for his help. What was this new game he was playing? Her thoughts turned to the blackmailer Maverick. Once again she wondered whether Shane was involved, but quickly rejected the idea. If he had any clue she was squatting on land that belonged to his family, he would be up front about his intentions.

“Well, then,” she muttered awkwardly. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help.”

After hanging up, she spent a good ten minutes staring at the phone. Happy to help? That rang as false as his “you don’t owe me a thing.” What was he up to? With no answers appearing on the horizon, Brandee returned to her bedroom and settled in to watch some TV, but nothing held her attention.

She headed into the kitchen for a cup of Sleepytime herbal tea, but after consuming it, she was more wide-awake than ever. So she started a load of laundry and killed another hour with some light housekeeping. As the sole occupant of the ranch house, Brandee only had her cook and cleaning woman, May, come in a couple times a week.

Standing in the middle of her living room, Brandee surveyed her home with a sense of near despair and cursed Maverick. If she found out who was behind the blackmail, she’d make sure they paid. In the meantime, she had to decide what to do. She sank down onto her couch and pulled a cotton throw around her shoulders.

Her choice was clear. She had to pay the fifty thousand dollars and resign from the Texas Cattleman’s Club. As much as it galled her to give in, she couldn’t risk losing her home. She pictured the smug satisfaction on the faces of the terrible trio and ground her teeth together.

And if Maverick wasn’t one or all of them?

What if she’d read the situation wrong and someone else was behind the extortion? She had no guarantee that if she met the demands that Maverick wouldn’t return to the well over and over. The idea of spending the rest of her life looking over her shoulder or paying one blackmail demand after another appalled Brandee. But what could she do?

Her thoughts turned to Shane once more. What if she could get him to give up his claim to the land? She considered what her father would think of the idea and shied away from the guilt that aroused. Buck Lawless had never cheated or scammed anyone and would be ashamed of his daughter for even considering it.

But then, Buck had never had to endure the sort of environment Brandee had been thrust into after his death. In her mother’s house, Brandee had received a quick and unpleasant education in self-preservation. Her father’s position as ranch foreman had meant that Brandee could live and work among the ranch hands and never worry that they’d harm her. That hadn’t been the case with her mother’s various boyfriends.

She wasn’t proud that she’d learned how to manipulate others’ emotions and desires, but she was happy to have survived that dark time and become the successful rancher her father had always hoped she’d be. As for what she was going to do about Shane? What he didn’t know about his claim on Hope Springs Ranch wouldn’t hurt him. She just needed to make sure he stayed in the dark until she could figure out a way to keep her land free and clear.


Four (#ulink_33e6385d-1993-5a07-ae50-6a8110b30326)

At Bullseye Ranch’s main house, Shane sat on the leather sofa in the den, boots propped on the reclaimed wood coffee table, an untouched tumbler of scotch dangling from the fingers of his left hand. Almost twenty-four hours had gone by since Brandee had called to thank him for finding her a horse and he’d been thinking about her almost nonstop. She’d sounded wary on the phone, as if expecting him to demand something in return for his help. It wasn’t the response he’d been hoping for, but it was pure Brandee.

What the hell was wrong with the woman that she couldn’t accept a kind gesture? Well, to be fair, he hadn’t acted with pure altruism. He did want something from her, but it wasn’t what she feared. His motive was personal not business. Would she ever believe that?

His doorbell rang. Shane set aside his drink and went to answer the door. He wasn’t expecting visitors.

It was Brandee standing on his front porch. The petite blonde was wearing her customary denim and carrying a bottle wrapped in festive tissue. She smiled at his shocked look, obviously pleased to have seized the upper hand for the moment.




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