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The Cowboy's Million-Dollar Secret
Emilie Rose


One lucky bachelor was about to inherit millions! And not just any bachelor–but the chivalrous cowboy Leanna Jensen had coveted ever since she'd read about his boyhood escapades in his illegitimate daddy's old love letters. And now Patrick Lander had grown into a hard-muscled, smolderingly sexy Texan.As executor of his estate, Leanna was honor-bound to fulfill her deathbed promise to filthy rich Hollywood legend Arch Golden and give Patrick his due. But when she bided her time playing hostess at the family-run dude ranch, the straitlaced virgin hadn't counted on melting beneath Patrick's hot, hungry stare…or experiencing exquisite tenderness ensconced in his protective arms. Would her proclamations of love fall on deaf ears when Patrick discovered he didn't have Lander blood coursing through his veins?









“Afraid You Can’t Keep Up With Me?”


The dare in Leanna’s eyes stirred his competitive blood. “Sweetheart, the question isn’t whether or not I could keep up with you. It’s whether or not I’d leave you eating my dust. I am good.”

For three dances he spun, dipped and twirled her, using every intricate dance move he knew, and he knew ’em all. Leanna never missed a step. It’d been ages since he’d had a partner who could keep up with him. His breathing became unsteady and he felt a little feverish. He had a serious hankering to kiss that sassy smirk right off her lips.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Did I mention my former employer’s last lover was a dance instructor?”

He’d been hustled twice by a wet-behind-the-ears gal. He’d underestimated her abilities as a hostess and a dance partner, and he had to wonder if she had any more surprises in store for him….




The Cowboy’s Million-Dollar Secret

Emilie Rose







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


To Kim Nadelson, my editor.

I couldn’t do this without you.




EMILIE ROSE


lives in North Carolina with her college-sweetheart husband and four sons. This bestselling author’s love for romance novels developed when she was twelve years old and her mother hid them under sofa cushions each time Emilie entered the room. Emilie grew up riding and showing horses. She’s a devoted baseball mom during the season and can usually be found in the bleachers watching one of her sons play. Her hobbies include quilting, cooking (especially cheesecake) and anything cowboy. Her favorite TV shows include Discovery Channel’s medical programs, ER, CSI and Boston Public. Emilie’s a country music fan because there’s an entire book in nearly every song.

Emilie loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619 or at http://www.EmilieRose.com.










Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue




One


One cowboy.

One final request.

Fifteen million dollars.

Leanna Jensen smiled and congratulated herself on finding a way to tie all three into a neat package. “You won’t regret giving me the job, Ms. Lander.”

“Call me Brooke. If you’ll follow me into the kitchen I’ll introduce you to my brother-in-law.” Leanna’s new boss led the way across the expansive common room, calling over her shoulder, “I forgot to mention when we spoke on the phone that Patrick will be managing the dude ranch while my husband and I are away.”

Leanna’s steps faltered. She hadn’t expected to meet the star player of her adolescent daydreams so soon. Would he measure up to her high expectations or disappoint her like every other man? “Patrick is here? Now?”

“In the flesh.” The deep voice drew her gaze to the cowboy already occupying the spacious dude ranch dine-in kitchen. Slumped over a glass of iced tea at the end of the long pine table, he slowly straightened. His twinkling dark eyes and charismatic grin stole her breath.

Brooke motioned her forward. “Patrick, this is Leanna Jensen. She’ll be filling in for me as hostess for the next month. Leanna, Patrick.”

Pressing a hand over her leaping heart, Leanna moved farther into the room. Her feet practically floated above the floor. She’d waited nine years to meet the son Carolyn Lander had described in her letters to her lover.

At thirty-six, the man unfolding inch by muscular inch in front of her was ten times more potent than the lean and lanky sixteen-year-old he’d been in the last photo Arch had received.

“I-it’s n-nice to meet you.” She never stuttered or stammered, but Patrick in the flesh was much more manly than she’d imagined. Taller. Broader.

Sexier. She pushed that unwelcome thought aside.

Her gaze raced over his features like a runaway roller coaster. Patrick’s dark, smoldering looks were the complete opposite of his biological father’s, but his classically honed features and sensuously full mouth were the same ones Arch Golden had parlayed into a fortune on the big screen. He’d left that fortune to Patrick, the son he’d never met, but had worried about up until his last breath.

The ache in her heart over losing Arch momentarily overshadowed the thrill of finally meeting his son. Perhaps once she and Patrick became friends they could curl up by a campfire and exchange stories—his exciting tales of life on a ranch, rescuing animals and fighting wildfires and hers about the incredible man who’d fathered him. She especially wanted to make sure Patrick knew that his father—his real father—had loved him even though the two had never met.

She hadn’t been as lucky.

Squaring her shoulders, Leanna met the gaze of the man she’d driven over a thousand miles to meet, and eagerly reached for the hand he extended. She’d read so much about him in his mother’s letters that meeting him was almost like meeting an old friend, and yet an old friend wouldn’t make her fingers tremble.

As if he knew the unsettling effect his good looks had on her, Patrick’s grin deepened, crinkling the laugh lines around his dark eyes and deepening the grooves bracketing his mouth. His warm, slightly rough grasp seemed to reach right down inside her and squeeze her already nervous stomach tighter.

Dear heavens, he was handsome. Her mouth dried and her knees wobbled.

“Hey, there. So we’re gonna play house?” He waggled his dark brows and gave her a slow wink.

Her stomach bottomed out. A tiny drop of doubt threatened to rain on her parade. Was Patrick a charmer and a flirt? Surely the man she’d waited so long to meet wasn’t the very type she’d spent most of her life avoiding?

“I’m going to be keeping house, not playing.” Nervousness made her voice come out sterner than she’d intended. She sounded like a schoolmarm. Embarrassed, she tugged her hand free. Witty, be witty. She’d learned social repartee at her mother’s knee. What was her problem?

He rolled his wide shoulders in a shrug. “‘All work and no play…”’

“Is a good way to get ahead.” Rats. That sounded worse than before, but her insides jangled like loose change in a jogger’s pocket. She fought the urge to wring her hands, shoving her fists into her pants pockets instead. Her palm continued to tingle.

The wattage in his lady-killer grin dimmed. Leaning a hip against the table, he crossed his scuffed and dusty boots. “I can tell you’re going to be a load of fun.”

His sarcasm stung, like tearing a scab off a nearly healed wound. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that from a man.

He folded his arms and turned a long-suffering look toward his sister-in-law. “You and Caleb did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Brooke’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you do. You and big brother hired a straitlaced baby-sitter to keep me in line while you’re off on your book tour.” And he wasn’t pleased.

Hurt that he’d pigeon-holed her so easily and that he obviously wasn’t as thrilled to meet her as she was to meet him, Leanna clenched her teeth. “I’m a hostess, not a baby-sitter.”

He shoved a lock of hair off his brow, yanked his black hat from the hook beside the back door, and parked it on his head in one smooth, choreographed move. “Right.”

With his hat pulled low on his forehead, Patrick Lander looked like the real deal as far as cowboys went. She’d bet the muscles straining the shoulders of his plaid shirt and the thighs of his faded jeans hadn’t come from a personal trainer, and his tanned skin looked genuine, not the result of some expensive cream. There wasn’t any Hollywood in him.

Yet. She chewed her lip.

Would a multimillion-dollar inheritance change him? She certainly hoped not, because thanks to her mom, she’d already had a parade of Hollywood phonies and live-for-the-minute men in her life. What she needed now was a man she could trust, a friend to replace the one she’d lost. She hoped to find one in Arch’s son.

He turned for the door, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She had a zillion questions to ask. None of which she actually could ask without giving too much away too soon. But she had to think of something to keep him from walking out. “Do you need someone to watch your every move?”

Patrick paused and slowly pivoted. An assessing light entered his eyes and then he chuckled. The sound slid over her nerve endings like the scrape of a cat’s tongue. “If I did, it wouldn’t be some gal half my age. I could run circles around you without breaking a sweat.”

She swallowed hard. Gaining his friendship wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. “How old do you think I am?”

His dark gaze fastened on her with the sharp focus of a paparazzo’s zoom lens. He took in the stick-straight brown hair she’d pulled back with a barrette, her beige shirt and slacks, and her sensible shoes in a look so slow and thorough she grew warm all over.

The flash of vanity making her long for something besides her baggy traveling outfit was totally ridiculous. The last thing she wanted to be was attracted to a charmer, or worse yet, to have to dodge one’s advances.

The corners of his mouth curled upward, and her stomach fluttered. Then, when his smile twisted into an irritated expression, her hopes sank.

“You can’t be more than eighteen, kid. It’s likely I’ll end up hauling your butt out of trouble every time I turn around. Between corralling the dudes and keeping Dad from working himself to death over on our place, I won’t have time. We’re short-handed and there’s no room for dead weight.”

The “kid” comment rankled. She’d been looking after herself and her mother for as long as she could remember. Stretching up to her full height, which left her a head shorter than Patrick, she threw back her shoulders.

“I’m twenty-one. I don’t need looking after, and I’ll carry my share of the load. As for you running circles around me…you’ll be lucky if you can keep up with me.”

She bit her tongue and took a calming breath. When backed into a corner she tended to get smart-mouthed, but now was not the time to wise-off. Arguing in front of her new employer was likely to get the job offer rescinded. She glanced at Brooke.

Her new boss watched the byplay with an interested and amused expression on her face but made no comment.

Leanna forced a smile. “I came here to work, Mr. Lander, not to have fun.”

“You might not be looking for fun, but our guests will be. From sunup to bunk-down, fun is our profession. And the name’s Patrick. I don’t answer to anything else except in the bedroom. And, kid—” his lips curled in a sly, knowing smile that twisted her insides in a peculiar way “—you and I won’t ever be in the same one at the same time.”

At least they agreed on one thing. Relieved, she smiled back. “Not unless you’re pushing the vacuum.”

He didn’t smile, but his lips twitched, and a spark danced in his dark eyes. She thought she detected a trace of grudging respect. “Where are you staying?”

She blinked at his change of topic and bit the inside of her cheek. Glancing from Patrick to Brooke and back, she shrugged. “The job description was a little unclear. Aren’t accommodations part of the package?”

Brooke shook her head. “The only staff member who lives on-site is Toby, the head trail boss.”

Patrick faced Brooke. “Your painters will be in first thing tomorrow morning. The Double C’s booked solid. She can’t stay here.”

An unexpected twist, but she’d sleep in her car, if necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time she made her bed in a back seat. Leanna asked, “Painters?”

Brooke nodded and rested a hand over her stomach. “Caleb and I are expecting. We decided to have our private quarters redecorated while we’re traveling, because we didn’t want the baby exposed to the paint fumes or the dust from the floor refinishers. Maria, our housekeeper, offered to keep an eye on everything, but she’s been unexpectedly called away.”

Brooke crossed the room and pulled a phone book from the drawer. “Patrick’s right. We can’t house you at the Double C, but there’s a rooming house about ten miles from here. I’ll write down the address and phone number for you—if you’re still interested in the job?”

“I’m definitely interested.” She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than spending the next month learning more about the Lander family. Carolyn Lander hadn’t been happy in this remote section of Texas, although she’d stayed there till she died twenty years ago. But to Leanna, who’d spent years dodging paparazzi as part of her job with Arch, wide-open spaces sounded like heaven.

Besides, someone had to help Patrick deal with the devastating news she was about to deliver. And maybe, just maybe, he could fill the void Arch’s death left in her life.

“In that case,” Brooke continued, “I’ve left a thorough description of my job duties for you along with Maria’s daughter’s phone number.” She pointed to a piece of paper pinned on the bulletin board above the counter. “She said you could call her if you had any questions. I don’t think I left anything out during our tour of the facilities, but why don’t you look over the list while I get the boarding house address?”

Patrick intercepted Leanna before she could reach the bulletin board. He moved so swiftly she had to put up her hands to prevent a collision. Her fingertips grazed his firm chest and a tingle jolted clear to her elbows. His cedar and citrus scent teased her senses. Disconcerted, she took a quick step back.

“Maria has her hands full with her grandkids while her daughter’s recuperating from surgery. Don’t bug her. You need anything, you whistle for me. Got it?” His voice was low and intimate, as if he didn’t want his sister-in-law to overhear.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Patrick didn’t think she was qualified for the position of hostess. Mentally dusting off her hands, she met the challenge in his eyes.

“My former employer had a forty-room home with an in-house staff of four, along with an outside staff that varied depending on the season. I supervised them all. Guests were always coming and going. I can handle the dude ranch.”

Her words had no visible effect on him, but she held her ground. Experience had taught her not to respond to intimidation.

Brooke’s voice intruded on their staring match. “I’m sorry Arch Golden’s death forced you to seek other employment, Leanna, but his attorney—who coincidentally used to be mine before I moved to Texas—gave you a glowing reference.”

He would. Phil knew the role Leanna had played in his client’s life, as well as the one she’d now been assigned to play as the executrix of Arch’s estate. Sitting in Phil’s office it had sounded relatively easy to fulfill her executrix duties. All she had to do was contact Patrick and tell him about his real father and his inheritance before the press crashed down on him with the news.

Arch’s last request was a little more complicated. He’d asked her to explain to Patrick that although he’d never tried to contact his son, he had loved him. In return, Arch had promised her enough money to finish college and keep her mother in rehab. She would have agreed without the promise of money, because the stories Carolyn had written about Patrick’s boyhood escapades had whetted her appetite for adventure—cowboy-style.

Patrick Lander, according to his mother, was a man of the land and good with animals and children. He had a family history—something Leanna sorely lacked—and he’d lived in the same place since birth. Compared to her life, his sounded like a fairy-tale, and compared to the court jesters she’d dated, he sounded like King Arthur. The tales of his gallantry had certainly spoiled her for every man she’d met.

“You worked for a movie star?” Patrick stepped back, looking and sounding repulsed rather than impressed, the way most people were by her former employer.

She sighed. Her friendship apparently didn’t rank high on his list of things to accomplish today. Well, tomorrow was another day, as Scarlett had said. “Yes, but managing staff and making guests comfortable, whether it’s paying customers or just friends dropping in, are universal skills.”

“Right.”

She’d never known one word could carry so much sarcasm, and she’d lived with an actor for the last six years. Pivoting on his worn-down boot heel, her quarry opened the back door but paused in the threshold. “Brooke, tell Caleb I’ll catch up with him later.”

“Patrick.” Brooke hurried across the kitchen and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I know the extra work is going to be tough on you while we’re away, and I want you to know how much Caleb and I appreciate you allowing us this time together before the baby comes.”

A flush darkened Patrick’s neck and cheekbones. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he shifted from one boot to the other. “You haven’t been married to my brother long enough to know there’s nothing I won’t do for family.”

Leanna’s heart soared with hope. Family loyalty. She’d sell her soul for it. Oh, how she longed to be a part of a big clan like the Landers’. She crossed her fingers and said a prayer that her announcement wouldn’t test Patrick’s family bonds.

Brooke went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Patrick’s flushed cheek. “Well, this is certainly above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you.”

His blush intensified. “No big deal. Caleb would do the same for me.” He ducked out quickly and closed the door.



What was Caleb thinking to hire a kid to baby-sit him?

All right, Patrick admitted as he crossed the yard, maybe his past escapades might lead some to think he needed a watchdog. But a kid? Okay, so Leanna wasn’t exactly a kid, but she was too damned young to have the experience necessary to handle the huge responsibility of hostess on a dude ranch during peak season no matter what she said.

He glanced back over his shoulder and there she stood, framed in the kitchen window. Big hazel eyes. A pouty mouth. Curves a man would need a road map to get around. Attraction was a distraction he didn’t need right now.

It didn’t help that she had a sense of humor. He chuckled. Vacuum. Right. He’d been trying to warn her off and she’d put him in his place.

He made a beeline for the barn to escape the sun baking his hide and spotted a station wagon parked near his truck. Probably hers, judging by the out-of-state tags.

Slowing his steps, he looked through the windows. Had she packed everything she owned into the back of her wagon? You’d think the gal didn’t have a home to return to. He shook his head and shrugged off the questions piling up in his brain. Not his problem. She’d hostess awhile and then haul her load back to California. End of story.

The barn was dark, but still hotter than Hades, and the humidity was thick enough to drown in. The windows to the tack room were open, but that didn’t matter since not even a hint of a breeze stirred the stagnant air. He swiped the sweat from his brow, snatched up the phone and punched in his home number. His father picked up.

“What’re you doing, Pop?”

“Same damned thing I was doing last time you called.”

“Well, take a break and get out of the heat. It’s hotter than the devil’s hearth today.”

“You’d be more likely to know about the devil than most of us, I reckon, but I ain’t got time for lollygag-gin’.”

“And I don’t have time to haul you to the clinic for heat stroke. It’s your turn to fix lunch. Why don’t you head inside and make us a couple of sandwiches and a cold drink. I’m on my way.”

Patrick hung up on his father’s grumbling and hiked toward his pickup.

Stubborn ol’ coot. His father was aging right before his eyes. The workload was too heavy for just the two of them, but his dad was as obstinate as a mule about hiring anyone to help. Said money was too tight to squeeze in another salary. Swore he’d pick up any slack his sons’ marriages had created.

Not without killing himself. Maybe both of them.

Patrick couldn’t refuse his brother’s request to manage the dude ranch while he and Brooke were away, but he sure didn’t know how he’d juggle the family spread and the Double C Dude Ranch and keep his father from working too hard at the same time. But he would. Dammit, he would.

It meant temporarily giving up poker, beer and women until Caleb returned, but he could handle hard work and celibacy for a short spell without going insane. Probably.

He’d call Caleb later and ask him about those college kids he’d turned away. Hiring them would be another bone of contention between him and his father, but what was one more? It seemed these days he and Pop fought about everything.

He jerked to a stop at the sight of a set of prime hind quarters bent over the open hood of the station wagon. Leanna might wear baggy clothes, but nothing could conceal those curves. Not to a man with eyes in his head, anyway. He tamped down his reaction and reminded himself that he had no time for detours.

“Problem?”

She spun around and a shy smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “The engine smelled a little hot when I arrived, but everything looks and sounds okay now.”

He bit down on the urge to flex his muscles and smile back. Something in the way the Double C’s newest employee looked at him made him feel ten feet tall. She was definitely too darn young for him.

So why did one shy glance from her hit him like a sucker punch in the gut?

He stifled the urge to help. This wasn’t his problem, even though damsels in distress were his number-one weakness. Heck, women period were his weakness, but starting today, he was on a woman-free diet.

A quick check of her car’s reservoir told him it held plenty of antifreeze. The engine wasn’t in danger of overheating and it sounded normal. “Pete’s Garage is on the way to the Pink Palace. If you’re worried, get him to take a look.”

“The Pink Palace?”

In the bright sunlight he noticed the dapple of faded freckles on her nose and cheeks and the golden streaks in her light-brown hair. She was cute, in an all-American girl-next-door kind of way. He preferred women with a little more flash and a lot more experience, but heaven help the men on the spread—and him—if she ever slapped on a layer of war paint or squeezed herself into tight blue jeans.

“Penny’s place. It used to be a whor—brothel.”

A blush crawled up her neck and spread to her hairline. That blush was a sure sign she was out of his league. Only virgins blushed like that, and he adhered to a strict no-virgins policy. Virgin hearts broke too easily. Virgins expected a guy to be loyal, but he was his mother’s son. Loyalty wasn’t encoded on his DNA.

Leanna was off-limits. Taboo.

If he repeated the words often enough he might remember ’em.

“I’ll be staying in a whore house?”

Aw, heck, she wasn’t going to get prudish on him, was she? “Used to be one, but the sheriff closed down that side of the business years ago. It’s been a rooming house all my life.”

She slammed the hood and grimaced at her dirty hands.

Patrick pulled his bandanna out of his pocket and offered it to her before he could stop himself. Even good habits were hard to break. “Don’t let Penny put you in room ten.”

Her chin jerked up and suspicion dimmed the gold flecks in her eyes. “Why?”

“It’s haunted.”

Instead of looking at him like he was a couple of bales short of a trailer load, he noted a spark of interest. “You’re teasing me.”

“No, ma’am. Story is that one of the madam’s customers wanted to take her away from her business. He proposed. She refused. He offed her because she loved her, ah…work more than him and he didn’t want to share.”

Her eyes widened, and then she beamed like he’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket. He staggered back a step. That smile of hers nearly blinded him. Leanna Jensen wasn’t just cute, she was damned dazzling. Put a cork in it, Lander. He tried to shake off the unwanted attraction.

She practically danced with excitement. “Get out of here. A ghost? Really?”

He hesitated to tell her the local legend, fearing she’d misread any effort at conversation as sign of interest, but he couldn’t resist the questions in her eyes. “Folks say that if you make love in room ten your partner won’t be the only one with you.”

Ghost stories creeped him out. He’d never had the desire to investigate the madam’s story or any of the others his mother had told him on those long nights when she’d dragged him out of bed, strapped him into the car and circled the Palace time and time again. Whatever it was she thought she’d see, she’d always gone home disappointed, and he’d always crawled into bed and cowered under the covers, waiting for the nightmares her tales conjured up.

“A haunted whore house.” Leanna’s delighted chuckle drew him back from his bitter childhood memories. The sound, combined with the anticipation lighting her up like a neon sign, made him wonder if she might not be a straitlaced stick-in-the-mud after all. His body responded in a way it shouldn’t, considering he had no intention of following where it urged him to go.

“I love ghost stories.” Her smile widened and mischief made the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle. Pink tinted her cheeks as she peeked at him from beneath her gold-tipped lashes. She lowered her voice. “Have you ever tested the tale? You know, to see if there’s an amorous ghost?”

Too cute. Too young. Into ghosts. And testing his temporary vow of celibacy. Just his luck.

“No.” He took a long stride backward, opened his truck door and put it between them.

In the past year, wily women had shanghaied two of his brothers into marriage, and while Leanna didn’t seem to be the wily type, he wasn’t taking any chances. Brand and Caleb were happy enough, but marriage wasn’t for him. His mother hadn’t had a faithful bone in her body, and as far as he could tell, he was just like her. More’n one woman had tried to put a ring around his finger—a noose around his neck, to his way of thinking—but he wasn’t promising forever to anybody. He’d disappointed enough people in his life.

“Penny can probably tell you more about it. Don’t forget to stop by Pete’s. See you tomorrow.” He climbed into the cab and backed out of the space before he did something stupid like ask her to dinner.




Two


Leanna’s Buick roared like an expensive sports car. It wasn’t a good sign since the station wagon wasn’t moving—unless you counted the slight backward roll.

She pursed her lips and pressed the gas pedal once again. Nothing. The gauges gave no indication of distress, but something was definitely wrong with her car. Taking her foot off the brake, she coasted backward off the road and onto the grassy verge and then turned off the engine. Heat immediately filled the interior, forcing her to roll down the windows while she debated her options.

Arch’s chauffeur had walked her though filling the assorted fluid tanks before she’d left Carlsbad, but that was the extent of her knowledge about the inner workings of a car. She pulled the latch and climbed out to take another look beneath the hood, but to her inexperienced eye everything appeared as it should.

Sweat plastered her clothes to her body within minutes. She nibbled a nail. Her car had to be repaired. One of the most important lessons she’d learned growing up was that you had to have a plan B—a way to escape if a situation became ugly. It was the reason she’d saved a portion of her salary—the portion her mother’s treatment didn’t consume—and bought her own car a few months ago.

She stared into the distance at the heat haze wavering on the asphalt. Barbed-wire fencing stretched along either side of the road, marking dry, empty pastures. She hadn’t passed another car on the six-mile stretch of road between here and the Double C Dude Ranch. If Brooke’s directions were correct she was closer to the gas station and rooming house than the ranch.

As much as she loved to read about knights and heroes, she’d learned the hard way that they rarely walked off the pages of a book.

She secured the vehicle and hiked toward help.



Hot, tired, and sweat-soaked from the skin out, Leanna wasn’t in the mood for bad news.

“Transmission’s shot,” Pete said without losing the toothpick stuck between his teeth. The man was every Hollywood cliché she’d ever seen of a small-town garage mechanic. His overalls were stained and the bill of his ball-cap faced backwards. Every third sentence he spit a stream of tobacco into a paper cup.

She daubed the sweat from her brow with Patrick’s bandanna and tried to ignore the way his scent lingered on the fabric. “How much to repair the car?”

“New parts, fifteen hundred. Rebuilt, eleven. It’ll take me about a week either way.”

Her stomach sank. She’d destroyed all of her credit cards after her mother’s last binge, and she’d emptied her bank account paying in advance for three months’ worth of her mother’s rehab at the new and expensive clinic. Arch’s estate had only allowed her two thousand dollars for the entire Texas trip—a portion of which she’d spent on the way here. “Rebuilt.”

“Cash. Up front.”

She tried not to wince, but she wouldn’t receive a paycheck from the dude ranch until the end of the month. If she paid the mechanic now she wouldn’t be able to afford a room at the Pink Palace. She’d barely be able to buy food. At least working at the dude ranch included most meals.

Regret pulled her gaze back to the plate glass window. Down the road, the elegant lines of a large Victorian house with a resident ghost called to her. “Can I pay you half now and half at the end of the month?”

“Don’t extend credit to strangers—especially the ones with out-of-state tags.”

“I’ll be working at the Double C Dude Ranch.”

“Ask Caleb’s missus for an advance on your salary. She’s a Californian, too.” He made it sound like she’d come from another planet not just another state.

She made it a practice never to owe anybody anything, except Arch, and she was here to clear that debt.

Between the time she’d run away at fifteen and when Arch had found her sleeping in one of his classic cars eight months later, she’d hidden in all kinds of places. It looked like she’d have to again tonight.

She took one last wistful glance at the Palace’s twin-turreted structure and vowed that one day she’d own a home with a deep front porch, window boxes and porch swings. Right now she needed a place to sleep. Reluctantly she counted out the money.

“Could you give me a ride to the Double C?”



Patrick found his father hunched over breakfast before sunup. The ashen tone of his skin and the tired slump of his shoulders worried him. “You have trouble sleeping again?”

“No.”

A blatant lie. He’d heard his father pacing the floor because he’d also been awake thinking about the Double C’s new hostess. He couldn’t do her job and his, too, if she didn’t measure up.

He couldn’t afford to be attracted to her.

“Why don’t I run you by the clinic this morning and get the doc to check your blood pressure?”

“I ain’t going to the doctor. Won’t get nothing but a little bottle of pills and a big bill.”

“You can’t put a price on your health, Pop.”

“Tell that to those bandits.”

The muscles in Patrick’s neck knotted. They’d had this argument a dozen times. Nothing short of an ambulance would get Jack Lander to the clinic. “How about taking it easy today? The heat index is going to be up there.”

“You take it easy if you want. I got work to do.”

“Caleb gave me the name of a couple of college kids. I hired them to help here while I’m managing the dude ranch.”

His father scowled. “Can’t afford it.”

“Caleb’s paying me enough to cover both salaries.”

“You hired your brother’s rejects?”

He gritted his teeth, counted to ten and wondered if he should have his own blood pressure checked. “The kids are majoring in animal science at Tech, and they need on-the-job experience. Helping them helps us.”

“Well, I ain’t interested in baby-sitting greenhorns.”

Talking was a waste of breath when his father was this tetchy. “I’m heading over to the Double C. Keith and John will be here by nine. I’ll be back to get ’em started.”

Arguing with his father before his first cup of coffee guarandamnteed he’d start the day in a foul mood. Patrick headed for his truck and took out his frustrations on the gearshift during the short drive to the property next door.

The Double C had been a part of Crooked Creek until a decade ago when Caleb’s first wife had nearly bankrupted them. They’d been forced to sell half the ranch to keep from losing the entire spread. The new owner had opened a dude ranch which Brooke had bought right out from under their noses a few months back. And then Caleb had married her. Worse, his brother had fallen in love—an affliction Patrick planned on fighting all the way to his grave.

His newest sister-in-law had crazy ideas about operating a motivational retreat. City-slickers getting in touch with their inner souls, or some such hype. Caleb had convinced her to try running a dual operation for a year, but Patrick worried that her motivational thing would take off and she’d phase out the dude ranch.

He was probably the only one who hoped she wouldn’t decide to close the dude ranch portion of the Double C. His brother and his father preferred ranching, but for him working with the dudes was like summer camp—a little grit, but mostly fun. Each week brought new faces and a fresh crop of enthusiasm. It beat the heck out of riding drag and eating dust behind a herd of cattle. Besides, the dudes actually begged to do the dirty work. It left him feeling a little like Huck Finn when he pawned off his chores.

He glanced at his watch as he parked in the shade beside the barn. None of the crew was due until after lunch. Since the next batch of guests would arrive tomorrow, he’d have to work his tail off today. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish.

He stomped up the back porch stairs of the Double C homestead.

“Good morning.”

He whipped around at Leanna’s husky greeting. She lay curled in a lounge chair in the far corner of the porch with Brooke’s mangy mutt Rico at her side. With her hair mussed and hanging over her shoulders, she looked soft and sleepy. And sexy. He slammed the door on his wayward thoughts.

“You’re early. Trying to score points with the boss?”

She smiled up at him. “Would it work?”

He couldn’t help but grin back. “Nope. Beating me to work makes me look bad.”

She scratched the dog behind his ragged, partially chewed-off ear and cupped the mutt’s face. “Rico won’t tell. Will you, boy?”

You had to like a gal who’d befriend a butt-ugly dog. He dug in his pocket for his key and unlocked the door.

“Brooke said you’d give me keys and introduce me to everyone.”

Evidently, Brooke and Caleb had made him social director before they’d left last night. Brooke wasn’t handling mornings well in the first trimester of her pregnancy and preferred not to travel early in the morning.

“Should be a set of spares inside.”

Leanna unfolded in increments as if her muscles were stiff. He thought it a little odd considering her age—or lack of age. “You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth an image formed in his mind—an image that had nothing to do with mistreating a horse. Down boy. He shoved open the door and motioned her to go ahead.

“Uh…no, just a strange bed. Do you mind if I make coffee?”

He followed her into the kitchen, wondering if the lack of caffeine was causing his mind to wander in the wrong direction. “Go ahead.”

She searched through the cabinets looking for the fixings. Each time she reached up, the strip of skin between the waistband of her baggy pants and the hem of her loose butter-yellow T-shirt widened.

His hormones obviously realized he was fixin’ to hang’em out for a long dry spell and were already rebelling.

With enormous effort he yanked his gaze away and reached past her for the coffee. His chest brushed her shoulder. Her hip nudged his. By the way his body reacted, she might as well have jumped on the kitchen table and started a bump-and-grind strip show.

Damn, he needed coffee. And a cold shower. He shoved the can into her hands and hustled across the room before he gave in to the urge to see if her skin felt as warm and smooth as it looked.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded a little husky.

He squinted at her. Was she having as hard a time catching her breath as he was? Get your head outta the gutter and back on business, Lander. “You and Brooke handled all the paperwork yesterday?”

She scooped coffee grounds into the filter and smiled at him. “Yes, and she explained the dude ranch schedule. Guests arrive on Saturday and stay through Wednesday afternoon. The staff has Thursday and half of Friday off.”

“Why’re you early?”

Her cheeks looked flushed, but it was probably just a reflection of the sunrise coming through the window. “I need to familiarize myself with where everything is before we get caught up in the guests’ arrival.” She stretched to put up the coffee.

He caught another glimpse of skin and inhaled, but it wasn’t coffee he smelled—not unless Brooke had switched to a prissy vanilla-scented brew. Suddenly it struck him that he and Leanna were the only ones in the house. Clearing his throat, he wiped a hand across his face. The bristles reminded him that in the rush to avoid another argument with his father he’d forgotten to shave.

“She gave you the uniform?”

“Yes, but she said I didn’t have to wear it until tomorrow and then only for the first two days to help the guests identify me as an employee. Can you tell me where Rico’s food is kept?”

“Laundry room.”

She called to the dog and walked out of the room. Patrick caught himself tracking her—or rather the hip-rolling motion of her tight, round hind quarters, and shook his head. Label the gal off-limits, and danged if he didn’t develop a one-track mind.

Quit thinking about her and get back to work, dammit. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a truckload to do. He snatched up the computer printout Caleb had left him and scanned the information about the incoming dudes. Most were families with kids, but there were a few couples and singles. He’d learned the hard way to keep his eye on the singles.

He heard the splash of coffee into a mug and turned. Leanna had returned so quietly he hadn’t heard her. She lifted the pot in his direction and arched a brow. He nodded and she filled his cup.

Leaning against the counter, she asked, “Brooke said you had two brothers besides Caleb. Are you close?”

He jerked his gaze away from the freckles splashed across her nose and discovered a toe ring on her sandaled foot. Different. Sexy. Heat curled in his belly. Aw, hell, did he have to discover a foot fetish now? “As close as most, I guess.”

“Do you help Caleb and Brooke with the dude ranch often?” She pursed her lips and blew on her steaming coffee, and he almost forgot her question. She’d painted her pouty mouth today. Red. Ripe. Ready.

Wrong. Man, he needed to go back home and start this day over. He rubbed the back of his neck. She’d asked him a question. What was it? “Brooke’s only owned the place a few months, but Caleb and I used to help the previous owner regularly.”

“You live next door with your father?”

“Yeah.”

“How does he feel about you working here?”

Where was the line of questions leading, and why did he feel as if he were being interviewed? “Probably glad to have me out of his hair.”

“You don’t get along?”

It could take him all day to answer that one. “Not as good as we could. Why?”

He thought she smiled into her coffee mug. “Just curious.”

“Right. If we’re playing twenty questions then why’re you here?”

She stilled and slowly lifted her gaze to his. “I needed a job.”

“In Texas?” He sipped his coffee and discovered Leanna made a danged good brew. It wasn’t strong enough to put hair on a man’s chest, but it came close. Had to like that.

She gnawed her lip and lifted her chin. “I’ve been fascinated with Texas since I read about it as a teenager, and this job seemed like the perfect opportunity to fulfill a dream. Brooke interviewed me over the phone and hired me.”

“So you decided to pack everything you own in the back of your car and satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes.”

He couldn’t imagine loading up his truck and leaving his family behind. This patch of land in McMullen County, Texas, was his home. Two of his brothers had left home, but they’d had good reasons. Brand had traveled the rodeo circuit for ten years because they’d needed his winnings to hold on to the ranch. Cort had gone all the way to North Carolina for college because he’d had a partial scholarship at Duke.

Why had Leanna left home? Uprooting herself for a temporary job didn’t make sense. “Are you on the run?”

Her face paled, and her eyes widened. “From what?”

“Or whom.”

“I’m not running from anything or anyone.” She sounded pretty defensive for somebody who had nothing to hide.

“What did your family say when you took off?”

She glanced away. “I don’t have any family who’ll worry about me.”

He recognized a dodge when he saw one, and something in her tone didn’t sound right. “Show me your ID.”

“What?” She set her mug down on the counter with a thump.

“You look like a teenager. Your car’s packed with God-knows-what. You allegedly leave a job in a movie star’s mansion to hide out on a dude ranch halfway across the country. It doesn’t add up. I figure either you’re lying about your age or you’re on the run. For all I know you could have robbed the dead guy and skedaddled across the state line.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she frowned. “You’re incredibly suspicious.”

He pulled his gaze away from the taut fabric stretched over her breasts. “Did you steal his silver?”

She gaped at him. “No.”

“Nothing crammed in your car belonged to Arch Golden?”

Guilty pink climbed her cheeks. “I didn’t sneak anything out of Arch’s house.”

Yep. Evasive. “Where’s the ID?”

“I don’t have it with me.” He made a face and she continued, “I showed all the proper documentation to Brooke yesterday. I didn’t bring my purse today.”

Right. He’d never known a woman who went anywhere without the arsenal she carried in her purse. “Where is it?”

Again she averted her gaze. “I…I left it under…my bed.”

Sure she had. “Lemme see your car’s registration.”

“My car is at Pete’s.”

She had an answer for everything, but the last one he could and would check out with a phone call. Brooke had left him in charge, and danged if he’d let anything go wrong. His days of letting folks down were over. “How’d he die?”

She blinked and shook her head as if he’d surprised her. “Who? Arch?”

He nodded.

“Lung cancer. Do you smoke?”

What difference did it make if he did? “Never have. Expensive habit. You?”

“No.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

“Do you have any secrets I need to know about, kid?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights expression sent alarm bells clanging in his mind. “Secrets?”

His gut twisted into one big knot of apprehension. Aw hell, Brooke, what have you dumped on me? He didn’t have time to police the Double C’s hostess. “Vices. Bad habits.”

“As many as your average citizen, I guess.”

An average citizen from a Hollywood movie star’s neighborhood was a whole different species from the folks he was used to dealing with. He couldn’t head off a problem if he’d never heard of it. “Like what?”

She rubbed her forehead with one long, slender finger. Her hand was steady and her skin and eyes were clear. He could probably rule out substance abuse.

“I have a weakness for jelly beans.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Now that’s scary. What else?”

She angled her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I like lobster with drawn butter and two-hour bubble baths.”

And just like that, his body took that wrong-way detour again. A picture of Leanna in a tub with her long hair piled on top of her head and bubbles teasing the tops of her breasts immediately formed in his mind. He chugged several sips of coffee to distract himself from that irrational, illogical, impossible fantasy and scalded his tongue.

What in the hell was wrong with him that he’d be fantasizing about a gal still wet behind the ears? Wasn’t thirty-six too young for a midlife crisis?

She arched a brow. “You?”

“Ask anybody. I have more vices than any man ought to.”

She frowned and shoved away from the counter. “If I want to figure out where everything is and go over the menus and cabin assignments before the others arrive I should get started.”

She hightailed it out of the room, leaving him wondering what he’d said to make her run away.



Leanna closed a guest room door, moved on to check the towels, sheets and soaps in the next one. She’d give anything to crawl into one of those beds and sleep for a couple of hours.

Darkness had fallen by the time Pete had dropped her off at the dude ranch entrance last night, and after lugging her suitcases up the mile-long driveway, she’d been too tired to poke around in the inky shadows looking for a place to sleep. Since Brooke had mentioned that the ranch would be empty for the night, she’d stashed her luggage under the porch and crashed on a lounge chair. Luckily she’d packed bug repellant because the mosquitoes here were huge, and they liked California cuisine—namely her.

At first light she’d found the barn and made use of the big concrete stall used for washing the horses to shower and change clothes. With a little snooping, she’d found an out-of-the-way building which looked to be unused except for furniture storage. After picking the lock, she’d stashed her bags and returned to the main house, only to drift off to sleep while waiting for Patrick to arrive.

She yawned and arched her stiff back. Living with Arch had spoiled her. She used to be able to sleep anywhere. Tonight she looked forward to stretching out on the long sofa in the storage building, without the bugs. Maybe Rico would keep her company. She’d felt safe with the tough-looking dog beside her.

As she moved from room to room, her mind drifted back to this morning’s conversation with Patrick. He’d said he and his father didn’t get along. That was good—at least as far as the inheritance went. He might be reluctant to announce his true paternity if he and the man who’d raised him were close.

She wondered if Mr. Lander knew Patrick wasn’t his son. Carolyn’s letters suggested he didn’t. If he didn’t, her surprise wouldn’t be a pleasant one.

After Arch made it in Hollywood, he’d written to Carolyn wanting to claim his son. She’d promised to write again when she’d broken the news to Patrick about his true paternity and asked her husband for a divorce. The letter never came, because Carolyn had died.

Stopping in front of the mirror, she smoothed her hair and reapplied her tinted lip balm. Her mother constantly urged her to “do something with herself,” fearing she’d never catch a man if she continued her plain-Jane ways. Tonya, who’d had more lovers than Tootsie had rolls, couldn’t understand that not every woman wanted to depend on a man to keep food on the table and a roof over her head.

The last thing Leanna wanted to do was give someone the power to break her heart. She’d nursed her mother’s broken hearts for most of her life and wasn’t eager to drag herself through that morass.

She closed the door on the last room and made her way down the wide staircase to the small office. It’d be wise to go over the registration packets for each of their guests so she would know whom she’d be expected to entertain and what kinds of interests the guests might have.

As soon as she entered Brooke and Caleb’s private quarters, the smell of fresh paint and the rumble of voices told her the decorators had arrived. She jerked to a halt inside the office.

Patrick sat at the desk with his head bent over a stack of papers. In profile, he looked so much like Arch that her heart ached and her throat clogged with loss. Soon, after they got to know each other a little better, she’d tell him about Arch. The truth would be easier coming from a friend than a stranger.

“Patrick, could I get the keys to the cabins?”

His dark eyes focused on her and the image of her mentor vanished. Arch had been an attractive man, but he hadn’t oozed sensuality the way Patrick did. Patrick was the kind of man who made a woman stand up straighter and hold her shoulders back.

“Sure. Need anything else?” Frown lines scored his forehead, as if something were bothering him.

“I’d like to go over the registration packets.”

“They’re in the basket, but I’ve already double-checked them. Everything’s in ’em.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a key ring with at least three dozen keys on it. “The keys are marked with the cabin numbers.”

If one of those went to the storage building, she wouldn’t have to pick the lock tonight. Her fingertips brushed his palm when she took the keys. A tingle traveled all the way up her arm. Alarmed, she snatched her hand back. “Thank you.”

“You can meet the crew after lunch.” He drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Fine. I’ll go check the cabins.” She’d look over the packets later. The office was too small for both of them to work in without tripping over each other, and his blatant masculinity was…overpowering. She turned to leave.

“Leanna, how old was Arch Golden?” His question stopped her at the door.

She turned and could have sworn his eyes were focused on her bottom before he blinked and met her gaze. A flush spread from her middle through her limbs. “Fifty-nine. Why?”

“He was too old for you.”

Her shoulders sagged. Patrick wasn’t the first to jump to the wrong conclusion about her relationship with Arch. “Arch wasn’t my lover.”

He sat back in the chair, lacing his fingers over his flat belly and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Then what was he?”

“A friend.” A mentor, a father figure, a safe harbor. He’d given her a home when she’d felt unsafe in her own.

“Right.” There was that sarcasm again. “You lived with him almost six years.”

Seven if you counted the year he and her mother had been a couple, but that wasn’t common knowledge. Arch had done his best to shield her from the press. “How do you know that?”

Muttering under his breath, he swiveled back to the desk.

“You know, Patrick, every relationship between a man and a woman doesn’t have to be sexual.”

His scowl bordered on ferocious. “A relationship between a man and a child sure as hell shouldn’t be—unless he’s a pervert.”

“Your—Arch was not a pervert. He was a kind and generous and…” But Patrick wasn’t listening. He’d focused his attention on the papers in front of him. Her name nearly leaped off the page. She moved closer. “What are you reading?”

“The report on you.”

“What?” She halted midstep.

“Brooke orders background checks on every employee—including you. Although yours is sketchy because it was done on short notice.”

Anger rippled through her like waves on a pond. He had some nerve going through her confidential files. She reached for it, but he pulled it out of reach. “That’s private information. You have no right—”

“I have every right to know what kind of employee I’m responsible for supervising.”

Maybe he did, but she didn’t want her dirty laundry aired. She snatched at the report again. He put a hand out to hold her back. His fingers splayed over her waist, distracting her from her goal. Alarmed by the unexpected contact and even more by the heat pooling beneath his fingers, she jumped back.

He fisted his hand in his lap. “You said you had no family. Does your sister know where you are?”

She winced at the hurt his words inflicted and sank back on her heels. One of these days she’d get used to Tonya’s lies. “I don’t have a sister.”

He tapped the page on the desk in front of him as if seeing it in print made it a fact.

She huffed out an exasperated breath. “You need a better investigator. The woman who claims to be my sister is actually my mother. She lies about her age to get parts.”

“She’s an actress?” He obviously wasn’t a Hollywood fan.

“Not one you’ve ever heard of. And in case your lousy snoop missed it, she was Arch’s lover, not me.” She turned to leave once again.

“Is Golden your father?”

Leanna bit her tongue to keep from yelling, No, he’s yours. Patrick had no idea how lucky he was to have not one, but two men who wanted to claim him. If that wasn’t enough, according to Carolyn’s letters, he’d been his mother’s favorite son as well.

She had no one except a mother who’d only become interested in her when a millionaire had taken her under his wing. Her own father had been horrified when she’d looked him up and introduced herself. He’d threatened to call the police if she didn’t leave him alone.

“Arch didn’t come into our lives until I was twelve. My mother didn’t tell me who my father was until I turned eighteen, and she only told me then because I threatened to hire one of those agencies to find him.” She hated revealing her dirty secret, but he’d find out sooner or later, and she hoped he wouldn’t hold her mongrel background against her.

“We lived with Arch for about a year and then moved on. I returned later—without my mother.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

“Save your pity. You can’t miss what you never had.” But she did. More than anything, she wanted to be part of a strong family unit. For a while Arch had been that for her. But now he was gone, and with each hour that passed, it looked less and less like Patrick would fill his father’s shoes.




Three


The way the dude ranch crew tumbled into the kitchen reminded Leanna of a litter of eager puppies.

The staff came in all shapes and sizes, more males than females, but their camaraderie made it clear that they were all glad to be here.

A man about Patrick’s age straddled a chair and called out, “Wanna know what the bet’s up to now, Romeo? One month. My fifty bucks says you can’t make it.”

Leanna glanced at Patrick, hoping he’d enlighten her, but he flushed and avoided her gaze. “You’re full of it, Toby.”

“Won’t be me full of rising sap.”

“My money says he won’t make it past Saturday night,” another man called out.

One of the women shushed them. “Leave him alone.”

Curiosity and her own competitive nature got the better of Leanna. “What’s the bet?”

“We’re betting—”

Patrick interrupted Toby. “Folks, this is Leanna. She’s filling in for Brooke. Introduce yourselves.”

But Toby wasn’t dissuaded. He continued, “I’m Toby, trail boss, and I’m betting Patrick can’t stay away from Red Dog’s Bar or women until Caleb gets back.”

Leanna chewed the inside of her cheek. Womanizing and drinking. That didn’t sound good. Was Patrick a loser like her mother’s exes? She hoped not.

The group doled out names and job descriptions until only one man, about her age, was left. He ambled toward her and didn’t stop until he’d crowded her against the counter. “Sweet thing, I’d love to show you the local sights.”

Leanna’s heart raced and her muscles constricted. The last man who’d called her “sweet thing” had tried to rape her. The counter pressed into her spine, reminding her too much of the slick shower stall. Cold sweat beaded her lip, but she stood her ground. “No, thanks. I bought a map.”

“A map can’t show you half what—”

“I prefer fact to fiction, and I suspect you’re full of it.”

She heard snickers from the crew.

“Back off, Warren.” Patrick clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder and yanked him out of her space. “She said no.”

Patrick turned, putting his broad shoulders between her and the rest of the crew. Leanna fought the nausea stirring her stomach and tried to steady her nerves as Patrick gave orders for the day.

The encounter had surprised her. Flirtatious creeps had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Usually she could spot them a mile off and defend herself from them, but she’d let down her guard in the crowded kitchen.

The crew emptied out of the kitchen, and Patrick turned to face her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered.

“Right. That’s why you look like you’re gonna toss your cookies on my boots.”

The concern in his eyes wrapped around her like a warm blanket. No one besides Arch had ever stood up for her before. “Your imagination is working overtime.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, kid?”

If only he knew. “Stop calling me kid.”

“I’ll stop when you tell me what you’re really doing here.” He continued to study her until she wanted to squirm. She wouldn’t tell him the truth until he knew her well enough to trust her when she told him how much Arch had cared about him.

She held his gaze, trying to act as if she hadn’t nearly had a panic attack. The concern on Patrick’s face slowly changed. His features tightened. His gaze heated and dropped to her mouth.

Her nerves clamored again, but panic wasn’t the cause. An unknown emotion spread through her, shortening her breath and making her skin prickle.

Patrick shook his head and took a step back. He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “Ring the brass bell on the back porch if you need me.”



The sun was a dim light on the horizon when Patrick parked his truck beside the barn. The sound of running water had him swearing and jogging toward the washing stall, but it wasn’t a busted pipe that made his knees lock up and his jaw drop.

Leanna was naked.

She had her back to him as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair with the nozzle she held in one hand. Water and bubbles slid from her shoulders to the nip of her waist, faithfully following her curves the way a skilled lover would with his hands. Suds washed over the bow of her hips, her taut pale behind, and down long, sleek legs to puddle around her shower sandals before swirling down the drain.

His throat knotted up and his heart hammered. His blood headed south. He was rock-hard in an instant.

He ought to let her know he was here. Better yet, he should get outta here. His feet wouldn’t move, but his eyes sure did, savoring the feast of a beautiful, wet woman.

Get a grip, Lander. You’ve seen naked ladies before. Dozens of them. But why in the hell was this one showering in the barn? He couldn’t ask. His mouth was as dry as dirt.

Slowly she rotated, but her eyes remained closed. Full, pale breasts with tightly puckered dusky tips. A tiny waist. Rounded hips. A tangle of dark curls framed by a narrow triangle of lighter skin.

Leanna was built better than any wet dream he’d ever had. Air gushed from his lungs.

Her lids flew open. The shock in her eyes gave way to fear—the same fear he’d seen in her eyes yesterday when Warren had hit on her. She reached for the knob behind her and turned off the hot water, and then aimed the hose right at his crotch. “Cool off, cowboy.”

A blast of frigid water jerked him out of his trance. She redirected the spray to his face, knocking off his hat and soaking him from head to toe. “Hey!”

Bounding forward, he grabbed the hose. Leanna wrestled him for it. His knuckles brushed her silky belly. Her breast hit his biceps like an electric cattle prod.

She gasped and jerked back, tripping over the hose coiled at her feet. Her arms flailed.

He tried to catch her and keep her from falling on the concrete, but his hands slipped on the slick, wet skin of her back. Before he knew it he had a handful of her soft bottom, and her pebbled nipples branded a hole through his wet shirt.

Every cell in his body rose for “Reveille.”

“Cut it out.” He said it to himself as much as to her. She stopped struggling, but remained rigid in his arms. He righted her, released her and turned off the water, even though he seriously needed to aim the icy flow down the front of his Wranglers.

Covering her breasts and the curls between her legs with her hands, she backed as far away from him as she could in the confines of the wash stall.

Although he would have preferred to make another leisurely inspection of her figure, the wariness in her eyes stopped him cold. He snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the wall beside him and tossed it to her.

She caught it and swiftly wound it around herself, but she didn’t take her gaze off him—not even long enough to blink.

He had to say something. While he’d never had trouble talking to a naked woman before, he didn’t have a clue what to say now. Might as well start with the obvious. “Why are you showering in the barn at four-thirty in the morning?”

“Y-you’re early.”

“Last I heard, the Pink Palace had running water.”

“I’m…I’m not st-staying at the rooming house.”

“Why?”

Her brows dipped and she chewed her bottom lip. “I can’t afford it.”

He shoved the wet hair off his forehead and swiped the water from his face. “Why in the hell didn’t you say so?”

She tipped up her chin and squared her shoulders, but her white-knuckled grip on the towel didn’t loosen. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t come early.”

Fine if he hadn’t… He rubbed the back of his neck. How did this get to be his fault? “Where did you sleep last night?”

She pressed her lips together and remained mute.

“Tell me or you’re fired.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

Water trickled off his wet clothes, filling his favorite boots. He was beginning to suspect he’d be looking for a new hostess when she said, “In one of the storage buildings.”

“One of the—” He snapped his jaw shut on the stampede of curses battling to get out.




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