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Stranded with the Rancher
Janice Maynard


The Doctor and the CowboyStranded at single father Dan Gallagher's ranch during a Colorado blizzard, Dr. Beth Rogers is counting the days till the roads are clear. She can't wait to leave for her exciting new life in New York. But suddenly the big-city doctor is delivering babies in log cabins, helping to feed newborn calves and teaching Dan's little girl to play hymns on the piano. No-nonsense Beth even throws a snowball or two at the handsome, love-shy cowboy. She thought she had her heart set on leaving, so why does she dream of Dan asking her to stay forever?









“I don’t know what to do with you,” Drew muttered.


She rested her forehead on his collarbone. “I have a few ideas.”

Her droll humor startled a laugh from him. “I hope we’re on the same page.”

Her answer was to kiss him sweetly. Breathing heavily, he stepped away, trying to elude temptation. “I think one of us is supposed to say this is going too fast.”

She shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “I’ve had a terrible crush on you for over a year, even when you were being an obnoxious, overbearing plutocrat.”

“Ouch.” His wince was not feigned. Hearing her description of his less-than-stellar qualities made him squirm. “I thought we called a truce.”

“Under duress and the threat of apocalypse.”

“Then I’ll say it again,” he muttered quietly. “For the moment, I’m not going to fight with you or try to make you see reason.”

She crooked a finger. He went to her like a kite on a string, hoping she didn’t recognize the hold she had on him.

* * *

Stranded with the Rancher

is a Texas Cattleman’s Club: After the Storm novel—

As a Texas town rebuilds, love heals all wounds …




Stranded with the Rancher

Janice Maynard





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


JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.

Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com (http://www.janicemaynard.com), and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.


To police, fire and rescue personnel who rush in

during times of chaos to keep us all safe …

Thank you for what you do …


Contents

Cover (#uab024fee-c784-5ddd-8ccc-709606ba24a6)

Excerpt (#u91621a2c-0c2c-52a0-9a15-d1c7b0e568fc)

Title Page (#u3a79cca8-3b90-5599-a955-7ac7a0b1bd34)

About the Author (#ud5ea6de5-aacd-514d-a04e-bee08dae987c)

Dedication (#u84c77368-83f8-5930-a1ba-bbb306bd3b2a)

One (#u3ef7c6f3-409a-5cf9-89b3-9574c5e2ddfd)

Two (#udefba79d-c7fe-52a0-8a0e-4d738834dcdb)

Three (#u12ddea4f-530a-5494-bf28-14d082ec3264)

Four (#ubea46461-bfdc-5428-8772-19e5003aecb4)

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_f7f6794c-d164-5202-9585-a08c15411bae)

Drew Farrell glanced at the sky. Storm clouds roiled and twisted, setting his mood on edge. He shoved the truck’s gearshift into park, jammed his Stetson on his head and strode across the road. Dust billowed with each angry step, coating his hand-tooled cowboy boots.

Deliberately, he crossed the line that separated his property from his neighbor’s. Beth Andrews. His beautiful, long-legged, sexy-as-hell neighbor. After two years of butting heads with her at regular intervals, you’d think he would be immune to her considerable physical appeal.

But no. Her naturally curly blond hair and green eyes hit his libido at a weak spot. Sadly, there was no twelve-step program for men wanting women who drove them nuts.

He approached Beth’s organic produce stand and ground his teeth when he saw she had multiple customers waiting. Cooling his heels, jaw clenched, he courted patience. But he wanted to lambast her with righteous indignation while his temper was hot.

Like every day recently, at least a dozen cars had parked haphazardly up and down the private lane, causing congestion and spooking Drew’s prize-winning thoroughbreds in the adjoining pasture. This morning, his men had been forced to move seven horses to a grassy field on the opposite side of his property, for no other reason than because Beth had started selling pumpkins.

Pumpkins, for God’s sake. The traffic she had created during the summer—selling squash and tomatoes and a dozen other vegetables—had increased tenfold since she’d put up signs all over Royal advertising fall harvest decorations. At least during the summer months the crowd was spread out. But come October first, it was as if everyone within a fifty-mile radius of Drew’s ranch had decided they had to buy one of Beth’s fat, healthy pumpkins for their porches.

As Drew waited impatiently, several of the patrons loaded up their purchases and drove away. Finally, only one woman remained—a young blonde. Very pregnant. From what Drew could tell, she had picked out the largest pumpkin she could find. Beth and the customer squatted to lift the pumpkin from its perch on a bale of hay. The big, orange orb slipped out of their hands, nearly rolling onto their feet.

Oh, good grief. Snapping out of his funk, Drew strode forward, determined to stop them before somebody got hurt. The thing must weigh forty pounds.

“Let me do that,” he said, elbowing them out of the way. “One of you has a baby to consider and you, Ms. Andrews, ought to know better.” The spark of surprise and irritation in Beth’s eyes made him want to grin despite his surly mood. The pregnant woman’s car sat only a few feet away in the handicapped parking spot. For Halloween, Beth had designated the space beside the shed with a sign and a skeleton holding a crutch. She was creative—he’d give her that.

Hefting the pumpkin with ease, he set it gently in the trunk. Fortunately, the base of the thing was pretty flat. Given its weight, there was little chance it would roll over unless the driver made a reckless turn.

The customer smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.” Unlike Beth’s sunshiny curls, this woman’s straight blond hair was so fair it was almost white. Her skin was pale as well. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she was thin, almost frail.

He dusted his hands on his pants. “No problem. Get someone to help you lift that thing when you get home.”

“I will.” She paused, one handing resting protectively on her rounded abdomen. “I always loved Halloween as a kid. I thought it would be fun this year to carve a jack-o’-lantern for my daughter and put pictures of it in her baby book.”

Beth glanced at the woman’s belly. “Are you due that soon?”

“No. I have another eight or nine weeks to go. But she’s already a person to me. I talk to her all the time. I guess that sounds crazy.”

“Not at all.”

Beth’s smile struck Drew as wistful. Maybe if her biological clock ticked loud enough, she’d meet some guy and move away. Then Drew could buy the land she had stolen from him. Oddly, that notion was not as appealing as it should have been.

Beth spoke up again. “Who’s your master carver? The baby’s dad?”

A flash of anguish darkened the woman’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Drew thought he might have imagined it. “I’m going to do it. I’m trained in graphic design, so this is right up my alley. I should go,” she said, as if suddenly realizing that the weather was going downhill fast. “Don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

Drew stood shoulder to shoulder with Beth as they watched the car disappear into the distance. “Did she look familiar to you?” he asked, frowning.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just an odd feeling that I might have seen her before.”

At that moment, a strong gust of wind snatched the plastic banner and ripped it off the top of Beth’s produce stand. The bright green lettering spelled out GREEN ACRES. Drew seldom had time to watch TV, but even he got the reference to the old sitcom where the wealthy Manhattan couple moved to the country and bought a farm. It was easy to imagine Beth wearing an evening gown and heels. She was tall for a woman, at least five seven. But Drew had half a dozen inches or more on her.

He helped her capture the surprisingly heavy sign and roll it up. “You might as well put it away for now,” he said. “The wind is not going to die down anytime soon.”

When they had stashed the sign beneath a plywood counter, Beth shook her head and stared at him. “I’d be happy to sell you a pumpkin, Drew, but somehow, I don’t think that’s why you’re here.”

The derision in her voice made it sound as if he were the most boring guy on the planet. “I decorate the ranch for fall,” he said, wincing inwardly when he heard the defensive note in his voice.

“Correction. You have people who do that for you. It’s not the same thing at all, Drew.”

He’d grown accustomed to her barbs. In fact, if he were honest, he occasionally enjoyed their heated spats. Beth gave as good as she got. He liked that in a woman. Now, when he didn’t shoot back immediately with a retort, she watched him with a wary gaze, her arms wrapped around her waist in a cautious posture.

The tint of her green eyes was nothing as simple as grass or emerald. They were an unusual mix of shades, shot through with tinges of amber and gold. The color reminded him of a prize marble he’d had as a kid. He still kept the little ball of glass as a good luck charm in his dresser. Perhaps that was why he had so much trouble getting Beth out of his head. Every day when he reached in the drawer to grab a pair of socks, he saw that beautiful marble.

“Earth to Drew. If you’re not buying anything, please leave.”

Every time she pursed her lips in that disapproving schoolmarm fashion, he wanted to kiss her. Even when he was mad as hell. Today was no different. But today he was determined to get a few things ironed out.

Glaring at her with his best intimidating frown, he spoke firmly. “You have to relocate your produce stand. The traffic jams spook my horses, block the road and besides....” He pulled up short, about to voice something best left unsaid.

Beth’s shoulder-length hair danced in the breeze, the curls swirling and tangling. It gave her a just-out-of-bed look that was not helping him in his determination to be businesslike and resolute.

“Besides what?” she asked sharply. “Spit it out.”

He hesitated. But what the hell... He and Beth shared the road. She might as well know where he was coming from. “My clientele is high-end. When they come to Willowbrook Farms to drop several million dollars on a thoroughbred that might have a shot at the Triple Crown, your little set-up here gives the wrong impression. It’s like having a lemonade stand on the steps of a major banking institution. Your business is frivolous, mine is not.”

* * *

Beth absorbed his words with a pang of regret. Virtually everybody in town liked Drew Farrell and thought of him as a decent down-to-earth guy. He was an important member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Membership in the TCC—an elite enclave where the wealthy ranchers of Royal met to broker deals, kick back, relax and count their millions—was a privilege and a lifelong commitment. Not that Beth really knew what went on behind those hallowed doors, but she could imagine. Which meant that Beth, who saw Drew as arrogant and self-important, was out of step with the rest of the county. For whatever reason, she and Drew were the proverbial oil and water.

But he’d just exposed the root of the matter. His lineage was impeccable. He was blue-blooded old money, while she came from near-poverty, part of a family line that was crooked on its best days.

“If the traffic is such a big deal to you, put a road in somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else,” he said, his jaw carved in stone. “My plan two years ago was to buy this land we’re standing on and put a beautiful white fence along both sides of the road. A Kentucky horse farm look, minus the bluegrass. But you stole it out from under me.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she said patiently, hiding her glee that for once in her life she had staged a coup. “You lowballed the guy because you thought nobody else wanted it. I merely had the good sense to make a reasonable offer. He accepted. End of story. I might point out that you’re trespassing.”

The wind had really kicked up now. Even so, the heat was oppressive. The sky changed colors in rapid succession...one moment angry gray, the next a sickly green.

Beth glanced toward Drew’s property, feeling her skin tighten with unease. “Have you listened to a weather forecast?” she asked. It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to change the subject. She was concerned. Normally, she would keep the shed open until four-thirty at least, but today she wanted to batten down the hatches and be tucked up in her cozy two-bedroom bungalow before the first raindrop fell.

In the time since she purchased the farm, she had updated the inside of the cute little house and made it her own. If Drew had bought the property, he probably would have bulldozed the place. The farmhouse was old, but Beth loved it. Not only was it a wonderful home, it was concrete proof that she had made something of her life.

She had a knack for growing things. The Texas soil was rich and fertile. She wasn’t going to let a self-important billionaire push her around. Drew had been born into money, but his horse breeding enterprise had added to the coffers substantially.

Now Drew’s gaze scanned the sky as well. “The radio said we have a tornado watch, but I doubt it will be too bad. We’re a little bit out of the usual path for storms like that. Haven’t had one in years. Even when we do, the ones that do the damage tend to happen in the spring, not the fall. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I hope not.”

“So back to my original point,” he said. “Your little enterprise here is adversely affecting my business. If we can’t come to some kind of amicable solution, I’ll have to involve the county planning board.”

“Are you actually threatening me?” She looked at him askance.

His wording made her heart race. In some perverse way, she got a charge out of their frequent heated arguments. Despite his suborn refusal to acknowledge her right to operate her produce stand as she saw fit, she was secretly attracted to him, much against her better judgment.

Although most days she would be more than happy to wring Drew Farrell’s wealthy, entitled neck, she couldn’t discount the fact that he was 100 percent grade A prime beef. That probably wasn’t a politically correct description, but seriously, the man was incredibly handsome. He wore his dark brown hair a little on the shaggy side. The untamed look suited him, though. And his bright blue eyes had probably been getting females into trouble since he graduated from kindergarten.

She knew he had been engaged once in his mid-twenties. Something happened to break it off, so Drew had been a free agent for the last six or seven years. He was a mover and shaker in Royal, Texas. In short, everything Beth was not.

She didn’t have a chip on her shoulder about her upbringing. More like a large splinter, really. But it didn’t take a genius to see that she and Drew were not at all suited. Still, it was difficult to ignore his physical appeal.

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not a threat, Beth. But I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect my investments. It’s worth it to me to restore peace and quiet to this road, to my life for that matter.”

“So mature and staid,” she mocked.

“I’m only four years older than you,” he snapped.

His knowledge surprised her. “Be reasonable, Drew. I have as much right to be here as you do. True, I may be David to your Goliath. But if you remember your Sunday school lessons, that didn’t end well for the giant.”

“Now who’s threatening whom?”

For the first time, a nuance of humor lightened his expression. But it was gone so quickly it was possible she imagined it. He was definitely spoiling for a fight. If it weren’t for her splitting headache caused by the change in weather, she would be more inclined to oblige him.

She really did understand his frustration. As a horse breeder, Drew’s reputation was world-renowned. He sold beautiful, competitive animals to movie stars, sheikhs, and many other eccentric wealthy patrons. Her modest organic farming operation must drive him berserk.

But why should she have to suffer? Her small house and a few acres of land were all she had in the world. She’d worked hard to get them.

“Plant some trees,” she said. “Fast-growing ones. You really should quit harassing me. I might have to get a restraining order or something.”

She was kidding, of course. But her humor fell flat. Drew was not amused. “I don’t think you understand how serious I am about this. There’s a road on the far side of your place. Why can’t customers come to the produce stand that way?”

Hands on hips, she glared at him. “It’s a cattle path, not a road. It would take thousands of dollars to improve it, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one with the silver spoon in my mouth.”

His gaze was stormy. “Why did you want this particular piece of land anyway?”

She shrugged, unable to fully explain the emotions that had overtaken her when she realized she could finally afford a place of her own. “It was the right size and the right price. And I fell in love with it.”

“You can’t run a serious business based on feelings.”

“Wanna bet?” His patronizing attitude began to get on her nerves. “Why don’t you tell your elite clients that I’m a sharecropper, and you’re doing your good deed for the year?”

“That’s not funny.”

Earlier, she had picked up an inkling of humor from him. Now he looked like he would sooner murder her in her sleep than make a joke.

“I have two whole fields of pumpkins ready to sell,” she said. “And a third bunch not far behind. I’ll make enough money this month to keep my books in the black during the winter. Lucky for you, a horse is still a horse in the middle of January. But my farm will be cold and dead until spring.”

“You’re fighting a losing battle. In this economy, you can’t hope to survive long term. And in the meantime, you’re creating enormous problems for me.”

Fury tightened her throat. She had struggled her entire life to make something of herself, against pretty long odds. To have Drew dismiss the fruits of her labor with such careless male superiority told her he had no clue who she really was.

“Maybe I’ll fail,” she said, her tone as dispassionate as she could make it. “And maybe I won’t. But I’m like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. I read the book when I was thirteen. Even then, I understood what her father told her. Land is what’s important. Land is the only thing that lasts.”

Drew rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, probably to keep from strangling her. “That makes perfect sense,” he said quietly, “if this had been in your family’s possession for generations. But it’s not Andrews land. And I freely admit that it’s not Farrell land either. It does, however, adjoin my property, Beth.”

“If you were so hell bent on having it, you should have outbid me.” They squabbled frequently about her supposed infractions of the “neighbor” code, but this was the first time he’d been so visibly angry. She knew that at the heart of the matter was his desire to buy her out, though he hadn’t mentioned it today. The last time he’d tried, she’d accused him of harassment.

“I’m merely asking you to see reason.”

His implication that she was unreasonable made her grind her teeth. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.”

“Will you at least consider selling your produce somewhere in town? If you think about it, the central location could increase your customer base and it would keep the traffic off this road.”

Darn him, he had a point. But she wasn’t willing to cede the field yet. Her involuntary mental pun might have made her laugh if she hadn’t been in the midst of a heated argument with her macho, gorgeous neighbor. “Part of the experience of coming to Green Acres is for tourists and locals to see the pumpkins in the field. They can take pictures to their heart’s content and post them on Facebook. If they want to, they can traipse around the lot and choose their own prize. The ambience would be totally different in town.”

* * *

Drew knew when to back off strategically. He had given her something to think about. For the moment. But he wasn’t going to give up. Horse breeding was a long-term venture. Patience and planning and persistence made the difference. Of course, a little dollop of luck now and then didn’t hurt either.

Beth was stubborn and passionate. He could respect that. “I tell you what,” he said. “If you think about my suggestion and decide you could sell in bigger quantities in town, my guys will help you get set up, including all the logistics of hauling your stuff. Does that sound fair?” He paused. “You can have as much time as you need to think about it.”

She tugged at a strand of hair the wind had whipped into her mouth. He couldn’t help noticing her lips. They were pink and perfect. Eminently kissable. He wondered if her lip gloss was flavored. The random thought caught him off guard. He was in the midst of a serious conflict, not an intimate proposition. Though the latter had definite appeal.

Beth stared at him, her expression hard to fathom. “Do you always get what you want?” she asked quietly.

Guilt pinched hard. His life had been golden up until this point. He had a hunch Beth’s had not. “It’s not a sin to go after what you want,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” she said. “And that’s what I did when I bought my home. You had a chance, but you made a poor business decision. You can’t blame me for that.”

Drew noticed in some unoccupied corner of his mind that the wind was no longer as wild. The air was thick and moist. Sweat trickled down his back. Beth, however, looked cool and comfortable in a navy tank top that hugged her breasts and khaki shorts that showcased her stunning legs.

What stuck in his craw was that she was right on one point. It was his fault that he had lost this property. If he had wanted it so badly, he should have made a generous offer and sealed the deal. Unfortunately, Drew had been in Dubai at the moment the land came on the market. His business manager, a smart, well-intentioned employee, had taken the initiative and made an offer on Drew’s behalf.

No one had imagined that the small farm would attract any buyers, hence the lowball offer. Drew had been as surprised as anyone to hear he’d been outbid.

Beth touched his arm. “Look at that,” she said, pointing.

He tried to ignore the spark of heat where her fingers made contact with his skin. But it was immediately replaced by a chilling sensation as he glanced upward. The clouds had settled into an ominous pattern. It looked as if someone had taken a black marker and drawn a line across the sky—parallel to the ground—about halfway between heaven and earth. Below the line everything seemed normal. But in that unusual formation above, menace lurked.

“It’s a wall cloud,” he said, feeling the hair on his arms stand up. “I saw one as a kid. We have to take shelter. All hell is about to break loose.”

As the words left his mouth, two things happened almost simultaneously. Warning sirens far in the distance sounded their eerie wail. And a dark, perfectly-shaped funnel dropped out of the cloud.

Beth gasped. “Oh, God, Drew.”

He grabbed her arm. “The storm cellar. Hurry.” He didn’t bother asking where it was. Everyone in this part of the country had a shelter as close as possible to an exit from their home, so that if things happened in the middle of the night, everyone could make it to safety.

They ran as if all the hounds of hell were after them. He thought about picking her up, but Beth was in great shape, and her long legs ate up the distance. Her house was a quarter of a mile away. If necessary, they could hit the ground and cover their heads, but he had a bad feeling about this storm.

Beth panted, her face red from exertion. “Are we going to make it?”

He glanced over his shoulder, nearly tripping over a root. “It’s headed our way...but at an angle. We have to make it. Run, Beth. Faster.”

The rain hit when they were still a hundred yards from the house. They were drenched to the bone instantly. It was as if some unseen hand had opened a zipper and emptied the sky. Unfortunately, the rain was the least of their worries. A roar in the distance grew louder, the sound chilling in volume.

They vaulted across the remaining distance, their feet barely touching the ground.

In tandem, they yanked at the cellar doors. The furious wind snatched Beth’s side out of her hand, flinging it outward.

“Inside,” Drew yelled.

Beth took one last look at the monster bearing down on them, her wide-eyed gaze panicked. But she ducked into the cellar immediately. Drew wrestled one door shut, slid partway down the ladder, and dragged the final side with him, ramming home the board that served as an anchor, threading it through two metal plates.

On the bottom was a large handle. He knew what it was for and wished he didn’t. If the winds of the tornado were strong enough, the simple cellar doors would be put to the test.

The dark was menacing for a moment, but gradually his eyes adjusted. Tiny cracks let in slivers of daylight. He turned and found Beth huddled against a cinder block wall. “Come sit down,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and drawing her toward the two metal folding chairs. Her fingers were icy as she resisted him.

“I don’t want to sit. What are we going to do?”

The storm’s fury grew louder minute by minute. He had a sick feeling that Beth’s property was going to take a direct hit. Given the angle of the storm’s path, it was possible that his place was in danger, too. The most he could do was pray. His crew was trained for emergencies. They would protect human life first, but they would also do everything they could to save the horses.

He ran his hands up and down Beth’s arms. She was wet and cold and terrified. Not that she voiced the latter. “Take my shirt, Beth. Here.” When he wrapped it around her and she didn’t protest, he knew she was seriously rattled. “I’m scared, too,” he said, with blunt honesty. “But we’ll be okay.”

The violent tornado mocked him. Debris began hitting the cellar doors. Beth cried out at one particularly loud blow. She stuffed her fist against her mouth. He put his arms around her and tucked her head against his shoulder.

For the first time, he understood the old life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing. It couldn’t end like this. But he had no illusions about the security of their shelter. It was old and not very well built.

How ironic that he was trapped with the one woman who evoked such a confusing mix of emotions. Though he knew her to be tough and independent, in his arms she felt fragile and in need of his protection. He held her tightly, drawing comfort from the human contact.

Regrets choked him as he inhaled the scent of her hair. If they were going to die, he should have kissed her first.


Two (#ulink_0b9d4c40-7ce3-5ce3-8b12-b9898bcc47ed)

Beth clung to Drew unashamedly. He was her anchor in the storm. The very arrogance that irritated her on an almost daily basis was a plus in this situation. Drew said they were going to be okay. She chose to believe him.

Beneath her cheek she felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. His bare skin, lightly dusted with hair, was as warm as hers was cool. If anyone had told her twenty-four hours before that she would be standing in a dark room wrapped in Drew Farrell’s arms, she would have laughed her head off. Now, she couldn’t imagine letting go.

Above their heads, the winds howled and shrieked like banshees delivering a portent of doom. Time slowed down. Perhaps she should have been making contingency plans for what came next, but the only thing that seemed at all real in this horrifying nightmare was Drew’s big warm body sheltering hers.

The small space was claustrophobic. It was dank and dark and smelled of raw dirt. But no matter how lacking in ambience, it felt more like a haven than a grave. At least as long as she had Drew. She couldn’t bear to think about what it would have been like to survive this storm alone. For one thing, she wasn’t sure she could have closed the cellar doors by herself given the strength of the winds.

How long did a tornado last?

The sound began to fill her head. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any louder, it did. She was stunned when Drew released her. He shouted something at her. It took him three tries to make her understand.

“The hinges,” he yelled. “They’re old. I don’t think they’re going to hold. Put your arms around my waist and hang on to my belt.” She stumbled toward him as he grabbed the handle on the base of the cellar doors and prepared to battle the mighty winds. The thought of Drew getting sucked away from her was more terrifying than the tornado itself. She flung herself against his back, circling his waist with her arms and wrapping her fingers around his belt.

She could actually feel the winds pulling at him. Closing her eyes, she prayed.

* * *

Drew was not going to let this son of a bitch win. He’d deal with whatever aftermath they had to sift through. But he and Beth were going to make it. The vicious noise was no longer merely above them. It raged and swelled and battered itself into their small shelter. Beth pressed against him, adding her weight to his.

His fingers were numb already. His grip on the handle weakened as his arms strained to hold on. The pain in his shoulders radiated through his torso into his gut, leaving him breathless. For a split second, one mighty gust ripped at the fragile barrier, actually lifting his feet a couple of inches off the ground.

Despair shredded his determination. His grip was slipping. Life couldn’t end like this. If the storm won they would be sucked into oblivion.

It was Beth who saved him, Beth who shored up his will. Even without speaking, she was with him. Fighting.

He focused on the sensation of her warm body wrapped around his. Blocking his mind to the pain, he concentrated on her and only her. She held him like a lover. A woman who never wanted to let go.

An enormous crash sent tiny bits of debris filtering through the cracks above them. He heard Beth cry out. The fury of the wind was terrifying. Like some apocalyptic beast locked in struggle with a foe, the tornado did its mad dance.

In a second wave of terror, hail pelted their hiding place. The sound echoed like a million gunshots. He couldn’t have heard Beth’s voice now even if she tried to speak. Pieces of ice big enough to make such a racket would decimate her crops and ruin roofs and property.

The storm crescendoed for long, agonizing minutes. Hail changed to the steadier, quieter deluge of rain. And then it was over. The pressure on the cellar door vanished abruptly, causing him to stagger.

Beth’s finger’s dug into his waist. In the growing silence as the storm moved away, he could hear her rapid breathing. His own pulse racketed at an alarming rate, helped along by the surge of adrenaline that had stayed with him when he needed it.

He flexed his fingers, forcing them to uncurl. Dropping his arms to his sides, he groaned. “Are you okay?”

He had to make her release him. Holding her shoulders, he shook her gently. “It’s over, Beth. We made it.”

For some reason, it was darker now. Virtually no light found its way into their bolt-hole. He could barely make out her face. “We have supplies,” she said, her voice shaky but clear. “I saw a metal box on the floor when we climbed down.”

Releasing her reluctantly, he felt around in the darkness until he found the chest. It wasn’t locked. Lifting the lid, he located flashlights and handed her one. The illumination they provided enabled him to see her expression. She appeared stunned, perhaps in shock. He didn’t feel too steady, himself, for that matter.

Grabbing a couple of water bottles, he pulled her toward the chairs and sat beside her. “Take a minute,” he said. “Breathe.”

“How do we know it’s safe to go out? What if there’s another one?”

“I’ll check the radar.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, touched a couple of icons, and cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“The cell towers must be out. No service at all. We’ll give it a few minutes and then see what things are like up top. If we hear the sirens again, we can always come back down here.”

“What time is it?”

It was oddly surreal to be asked that question. He honestly had no idea how long they had been in the cellar. It felt like hours. When he checked the illuminated dial of his watch, he shook his head. “It’s only four thirty.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Drink some water. Let’s catch our breath.” Honest to God, he was in no real hurry to survey the damage. He’d seen enough news footage in the past to know what a monster tornado could do. Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Moore, Oklahoma, small towns in Tennessee. Hopefully, Royal’s storm hadn’t been that bad.

He wasn’t counting on it, though. The winds they had heard and felt carried the force of destruction. Which meant lots of structural damage, but hopefully, no loss of life.

Beth set her bottle on the floor. She had barely drained an inch. “I can’t stay down here anymore. I want to know what happened.”

“You realize this isn’t going to be a walk in the park.” They stood facing each other. He took her hands in his. “We’ll deal with whatever it is. We’re neighbors. Neighbors help each other.”

“Thank you, Drew.” She squeezed his fingers and released them. “I can handle it. But not knowing is worse.”

“Fair enough. Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Surviving a ferocious tornado was the most terrifying experience of Beth’s life. Right up until the moment she realized they were trapped in an eight by eight storm cellar. Her skin crawled at the thought of being buried alive.

Drew had managed to remove the piece of wood that served as a locking mechanism for the cellar doors, but they wouldn’t budge. Something heavy lay against them. Shining a beam of light on her cell mate, she saw the muscles in his arms and torso flex and strain as he tried to dislodge whatever was blocking their escape route.

She turned off the flashlight despite the false sense of security it afforded. Drew was balanced on a step, the awkward position making his job even harder. “Can I help push?” she asked, proud of the calm she projected. The fact that it was entirely false seemed immaterial.

“I don’t know if we can both fit on the step, but sure. It can’t hurt.”

He extended his arm and helped her balance beside him. Bracing themselves, they shoved in tandem against the unforgiving wood. Beth’s foot slipped, and she nearly tumbled backward. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Drew beat his fist against the doors. “Damn it, this is pointless. It won’t budge. Whatever is up there has us pinned down for good. I’m sorry, Beth.”

She could do one of two things—indulge in a full-blown panic attack...or convince Drew that she was a calm, rational, capable woman. “No apologies necessary. I’m sure someone will find us. Eventually.” When the roads are cleared and when at least one person remembers that Drew came to Green Acres this afternoon. She cleared her throat. “Did you happen to mention to anyone at the ranch that you were coming over here to read me the riot act?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

“No.” He helped her down to the floor and began to pace. It wasn’t much of an exercise since his long legs ate up the space in two strides. “Will your family check up on you?”

“We’re not close,” she said, choosing not to go into detail. No need for him to see the seedy underbelly of her upbringing. Despite Drew’s cell phone experience, she pulled hers out of the pocket of her shorts and tried to make a call. No bars...not even one.

Drew saw what she was doing. “Try a text,” he said. “Sometimes those will go through even with no signal.”

She stared at the screen glumly, holding up the phone so he could see. “It says not delivered.”

“Well, hell.”

Her sentiments exactly. “I wish I had eaten lunch.”

“Concentrate on something else,” he urged. “We don’t want to dig into the food supply unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

What he wasn’t saying was that they could be trapped for days.

Beth refused to contemplate the implications. The storm cellar was equipped with a small, portable hospital commode tucked in the far corner. Things would have to get pretty bad before she could imagine using the john in front of Drew Farrell. Oh, Lordy.

Now all she could think about was waterfalls and babbling brooks and the state of her bladder.

Drew sat down beside her. They had both extinguished their flashlights to save the batteries. She gazed at her phone, feeling its solid weight in her hand as a lifeline. “I suppose we should turn these off.”

“Yeah. We need to preserve as much charge as we can. We’ll check one or the other on the hour in case service is restored.”

“But you don’t think it’s likely.”

“No.”

In the semidarkness, soon to get even more inky black when the sun went down, she couldn’t see much of him at all. But their chairs were close. She was certain she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I feel so helpless,” she said, unable to mask the quiver in her voice.

“So do I.” The tone in his voice was weary, but resigned. It must be unusual for a man who was the undisputed boss of his domain to be bested by an act of nature.

“At least we know someone at the ranch will realize you’re missing,” she said. “You’re an important man.”

“I don’t know about that, but my brother, Jed, is visiting from Dallas. He’ll be looking for me.”

She wanted to touch him, to feel that tangible reassurance that she was not alone. But she and Drew did not have that kind of relationship. Even without the filter of social convention, they were simply two people trapped in an untenable situation.

His voice rumbled in her ear. “Why don’t we call a truce? Until we get rescued. I’ve lost the urge to yell at you for the moment.”

“Please don’t be nice to me now,” she begged, her anxiety level rising.

“Why not?”

“Because it means you think we’re going to die entombed in the ground.”

He shifted on his chair, making the metal creak. “Of course we’re not going to die. At the very worst we might have to spend a week or more in here. In which case we’d run out of food and water. We’d be miserable, but we wouldn’t die.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Farrell.” His analytical summation of their predicament was in no way reassuring.

The dark began to close in on her. Even with Drew at her side, her stomach jumped and pitched with nerves. “I need a distraction,” she blurted out. “Tell me an embarrassing story about your past that no one knows.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Not at all. What happens in the storm cellar stays in the storm cellar. You can trust me.”

His muffled snort of laughter comforted her in some odd way. She enjoyed this softer side of him. When he stood to pace again, she missed his closeness. His scent clung to the shirt he had given her, so she pulled it more tightly around her in the absence of its owner and waited for him to speak.

* * *

Drew was worried. Really worried. Not about his and Beth’s situation. He’d leveled with her on that score. But what had his stomach in knots was the bigger picture. He should be out there helping with recovery efforts. To sit idly by—while who knows what tragedy unfolded in Royal and the surrounding environs—made him antsy. He was not a man accustomed to waiting.

He made things happen. He controlled his destiny. It was humbling to realize that one random roll of the dice, weather-wise, had completely upended his natural behavior. All he could do at the moment was to reassure Beth and to make sure she was okay. Not that he regarded such responsibility as insignificant. He felt a visceral need to protect her. But he also realized that Beth was a strong woman. If they ever got out of here, she would be right by his side helping where she could. He knew her at least that well.

Her random request was not a bad way to pass the time. He cast back through his memories, knowing there was at least one painful spot worth sharing. The anonymity of the dark made it seem easier.

“I was engaged once,” he said.

“Good grief, Drew. I know that. Everyone knows that.”

“Okay. Then how about the time I took my dad’s car out for a joyride when I was ten years old, smoked a cigar and got sick all over his cream leather upholstery?”

“And you lived to tell the tale?”

“Nobody ever knew. My brother helped me clean up the mess, and I put the car back in its spot before Mom and Dad woke up.”

“Are your parents still living?”

“Yes. Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Are you going to complain to them about their hard-assed son?”

“Don’t tempt me. And for the record, my secret is not nearly as colorful. One day when I was nine years old I took money out of my mother’s billfold and bought a loaf of bread so I could fix lunch to take to school.”

“Seriously?” he asked, wondering if she was deliberately trying to tug at his heartstrings.

Without answering, she stood and went to the ladder, peering up at their prison door. “I don’t hear anything at all,” she said. “What if we have to spend the night here? I don’t want to sleep on the concrete floor. And I’m hungry, dammit.”

He heard the moment she cracked. Her quiet sobs raked him with guilt. He’d upset her with his snide comment, and now he had to fix things. Jumping to his feet, he took her in his arms and shushed her. “I’m sorry. I was being a jerk. Tell me the rest.”

“No. I don’t want to. All I want is to get out of this stupid hole in the ground.” Residual fear and tension made her implode.

He let her cry it out, surmising that the tears were healthy. This afternoon had been scary as hell, and to make things worse, they had no clue if help was on the way and no means of communication.

Beth felt good in his arms. Though he usually had the urge to argue with her, this was better. Her hair was still wet, the natural curls alive and thick with vitality. Though he had felt the pull of sexual attraction between them before, he had never acted on it. Now, trapped in the dark with nothing to do, he wondered what would happen if he kissed her.

Wondering led to fantasizing which led to action. Tangling his fingers in the hair at her nape, he tugged back her head and looked at her, wishing he could see her expression. “Better now?” The crying was over except for the occasional hitching breath.

“Yes.” He felt her nod.

“I want to kiss you, Beth. But you can say no.”

She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “You saved my life. I suppose a kiss is in order.”

He frowned. “We saved each other’s lives,” he said firmly. “I’m not interested in kisses as legal tender.”

“Oh, just do it,” she said, the words sharp instead of romantic. “We’ve both thought about this over the last two years. Don’t deny it.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “I wasn’t planning to.”

When their lips touched, something spectacular happened. Not the pageantry and flourish of fireworks, but something sweeter, softer, infinitely more beautiful. Time stood still. Not as it had in the frantic fury of the storm, but with a hushed anticipation that made him hard as his heart bounced in his chest.

Beth put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined connecting with her at this level in the midst of a dark, dismal, cellar. Women deserved soft sheets and candlelight and sophisticated wooing.

There was, however, something to be said for primeval bonding in life-and-death situations. He was so damned glad he had been with her. In truth, he didn’t know if she could have managed to lock herself in the cellar on her own. And if the hinges hadn’t held.... It made him ill to think of what might have happened to her.

“Beth?”

“Hmm?” The tone in her voice made him hungry for something that was definitely not on the menu at this moment.

“We need to stop.”

“Why? I enjoy kissing you. Who knew?”

He swallowed against a tight throat. “You’re doing something to me that won’t be entirely comfortable given our situation.” Gently pushing his hips against hers, he let her feel the extent of his arousal.

Beth jerked out of his arms so quickly it was a wonder they didn’t both end up on the floor. Her voice escalated an octave. “You don’t even like me.”


Three (#ulink_cd9ced45-d666-5226-a299-774a7a9efeba)

Beth was mortified...and aroused...and exhausted from their ordeal. And aroused. Did she say that out loud? Fantasizing about kissing Drew Farrell was nothing like the real deal. For one thing, he was far gentler with her than she’d imagined he’d be. Almost as if he expected her to be afraid of him. Fat chance. She’d been dreaming about this moment for months.

But why did it have to happen in such incredibly drab and dreadful surroundings? As truly thankful and grateful as she was to be alive, getting out of this cheerless hole was fast becoming a necessity. She was pretty tough. Not only that, she had beaten some pretty tough odds to make it as far in life as she had. But claustrophobia and fear of the dark were gaining the upper hand. Even hanky-panky with Drew was not quite enough to steady her nerves when she felt the walls closing in.

She decided to ignore his situation. He’d been right to call a halt to their exploratory madness. Such impulsive actions would only embarrass them both after they were rescued.

When she sat down again, her legs weak, Drew resumed his pacing. If sexual energy had an aura, she was pretty sure the two of them could have lit up their confined cell without ever using a flashlight.

Silence reigned after that. With her phone turned off, she had no way to check the time. She didn’t want to ask Drew. So she sat.

The chair grew harder. The air grew damper. Far in the distance, she thought she heard the wail of sirens. Not another tornado alarm, but a medical vehicle this time. Now, she could no longer pretend that she and Drew were a couple enjoying an innocent kiss. What waited for them above was terrifying. She had no clue what to expect, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

After a half hour passed in dead quiet, she heard him sigh heavily. He reclaimed his spot beside her, scooting his chair a few inches away from hers. She didn’t waste time being offended. It was survival of the fittest at this moment. Sexual insanity would only exacerbate matters.

When he finally spoke, she jumped.

“Did you really steal money to buy bread?”

* * *

Drew wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. But he did.

After a very long pause, Beth finally spoke. “Yes. My mother was not very responsible when it came to things like that. I often had to fake her signature on permission slips for my brother and me. Most kids learn to count money in kindergarten and first grade because it’s part of the curriculum. I learned out of necessity.”

Drew sat in silence absorbing the spare details of Beth’s story. Contrasting her early life with the way he had grown up made him wince at his good fortune.

He knew instinctively that she wouldn’t want his sympathy. So instead, he focused on that kiss. Beth had been eager and responsive and fully in the moment. He adjusted his jeans, groaning inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was to acknowledge an attraction that had been growing for two years. Beth was beautiful and smart and capable. Of course, he was drawn to her. But that didn’t mean he had to be stupid. His sole focus at the moment needed to be making sure he and Beth could manage until help arrived.

Her quiet voice startled him. “Will you check the time, please? And see if cell service is back up.”

“Sure.” He hit the dial on his watch. “Nine o’clock.” He turned on his phone, waited, and winced when he saw the battery at sixty-eight percent. “Still nothing.”

Sitting was no longer an option. His muscles twitched with the need to do something...anything. He went to the cellar doors and tried again to push upward. Whatever was holding them in place might as well have been an elephant. He and Beth were never going to be able to get out on their own.

Leaning his hip against the ladder, he admitted the truth. “We might as well accept the fact that we’re going to be here overnight. It’s dark up top. There are probably power lines down and roads that are blocked. Search and rescue will have a wide area to cover, and they may not get to us until morning.”

“If then.”

He let that one pass. “I think it’s time to eat something.” Rummaging in the footlocker, he found a small metal tin full of beef jerky. He removed a couple pieces and handed one to Beth. “Bon appétit.”

She didn’t say anything, but he heard the rustle of plastic packaging as she opened the snack.

There were two more box-shaped flashlights in the footlocker. If he wanted to, he could turn on one of the smaller ones they were already using to illuminate their living space—until the juice ran out. But on the off chance their incarceration lasted longer than twenty-four hours or more, it made sense to preserve the batteries.

He rummaged a second time and handed Beth a bottle of water. “Drink only half if you can. We need to hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

“If we ever get out of here, I’ll put that on a T-shirt for you. The wisdom of Drew Farrell.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Not at all. Merely trying to stave off feminine hysteria.”

He grinned in the darkness, chewing the jerky and swallowing it with a grimace. “You’re about the least hysterical woman I’ve ever met.”

“I have my moments.”

“Not that I’ve seen. I admire you, Beth, despite my grousing.”

“There you go again...being nice. It creeps me out.”

“That’s because you’ve only seen one side of me. I can actually be quite a gentleman when I choose. Case in point, I promise not to have my wicked way with you while we sleep tonight.”

She laughed out loud. “I don’t think I can get down on this floor unless we turn on a light and check for spiders and other nasty stuff.”

The husky feminine amusement in her voice made him happy. At least he’d distracted her for a moment. “That’s doable. I came across one of those reflective silver space blankets in the trunk. I thought we could spread that on the ground. It won’t make us any more comfortable, but at least it will be clean. I’ll sit up and lean against the wall. You can put your head in my lap for a pillow.”

“You can’t sleep sitting up. Either we both lie down, or we perch on these folding chairs until we fall over.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Definitely the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Are you tired?”

“I don’t really know. All my synapses are fried. Sheer terror will do that to you.”

She was right. The adrenaline had flowed hot and heavy this afternoon. “I’m betting if we keep still long enough we might be able to sleep. We’ll need rest to handle whatever happens tomorrow.”

He heard rather than saw her stand up. When her hand touched his arm, he realized that she had come to him.... one human seeking comfort from another. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

He nodded, squeezing her hand briefly. “Yeah. Wind strong enough to lift whatever is on top of us will have done a hell of a lot of damage.”

Her sigh was audible. “Let’s get settled for the night, then. The sooner we sleep, the sooner morning will come.”

* * *

Beth wanted to weep with joy when Drew turned on one of the flashlights so they could construct their makeshift bed. Being able to see his face gave her a shot of confidence and relief. Everything in Royal might have changed, but Drew was still Drew. His features were drawn and tired, though. She could only imagine what she looked like. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a mirror. Her hair felt like a rat’s nest.

Thankfully, the cellar was not as bad as she’d imagined. Drew checked every corner and cranny, killing a couple of spiders, but nothing major. By the time they had spread the silver blanket on the floor, she was more than ready to close her eyes.

But first, she had to deal with something that couldn’t wait. “Drew...I....” Her face flamed.

He was quick on the uptake. “We’ll both use the facilities.” He went to the ladder and stood with his back to her, beaming the flashlight toward the cellar doors, diffusing the illumination so that she could see but not feel exposed.

Beth did what had to be done and swapped places with him. In hindsight, it was not nearly as embarrassing as she had expected. She and Drew were survivors in a bad situation. No point in being prissy or overly modest.

At last, they were ready to court sleep. She knelt awkwardly, wincing when the concrete floor abraded her knees through the thin barrier that was their only comfort. She curled onto her side, facing the wall.

Drew joined her, facing the same direction, but leaving a safe distance between them. “All set?” he asked.

“Yes. But I should give you your shirt. You’ll get cold.”

“I’m fine.” He sighed, a deep, ragged exhale that could have meant anything. “I’m turning off the light now.”

Her stomach clenched. “Okay.”

This time the darkness was even worse after she’d been able to see for the last half hour. Her eyes stung with tears she would not let fall. She was okay. Drew was okay. That was all that mattered.

Her heart thundered too rapidly for sleep. And she couldn’t regulate her breathing. She trembled all over—delayed reaction probably.

Drew’s arms came around her, dragging her against him, his hands settling below her breasts. “Relax, Beth. Things will look better in the morning.”

The feel of his warm chest against her back kept her sane—that and his careful embrace. Her head rested on his arm. It must have been painful for him, but he didn’t voice a single complaint.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Go to sleep.”

* * *

For Drew, the night was a million hours long. He barely slept—and then only in snatches. His gritty eyes and aching body reminded him that he wasn’t a kid anymore. But even a teenager would have trouble relaxing on a bare cement floor. To take his mind off the physical discomfort, he concentrated on Beth.

It took her a half hour to fall asleep. He knew, because he kept sneaking peeks at his watch. Her body had been tense in his embrace, either from the miserable sleeping arrangements, or because she was uneasy about their inescapable physical intimacy. Or perhaps both.

Either way, she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

He liked holding her. As he tucked a swath of hair behind her ear, he inhaled the faint scent of her shampoo. Apple maybe...or some other fruity smell. In the dark, his senses were magnified. The curl he wrapped around his finger was soft and springy and damp. He allowed himself for one indulgent moment to imagine Beth’s beautiful hair tumbling across his chest as they made love.

The image took his breath away. All these months of verbal sparring had hidden a disturbing truth. He was hungry for Beth Andrews—totally captivated by her spunky charm—and physically drawn to her sexy body.

If he hadn’t been in pain, and if every one of his muscles weren’t drained from battling a tornado, he would have been more than a little aroused. As it was, his body reacted. But only for a short moment. He closed his eyes and prayed for oblivion.

* * *

Beth woke up with a sensation of doom she couldn’t shake. It was only after she opened her eyes that she remembered why. Her concrete prison was still intact with no way out.

Despite the circumstances, it wasn’t the worst morning after she’d ever experienced. Far from it. Drew’s right arm lay heavy across her waist. His right hand cupped her breast. Even though his gentle snore reassured her that he was still asleep, she blushed from her toes to her hairline. Until yesterday, Drew Farrell had been nothing more than her annoying, arrogant neighbor.

Except for the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous, masculine and sexy, she had been able to ignore him and his continuing dissatisfaction with her thriving business. But now, in one brief stormy adventure, they had been thrust together in a pressure cooker. No longer were they merely bickering acquaintances.

For better or for worse, they were comrades in arms. Friends.

It was difficult to sleep with someone, even fully clothed, and not experience a sense of intimacy. Not necessarily sexual intimacy, though that was certainly a real possibility when it came to her feelings for Drew.

But they shared another equally real type of closeness. They had stared death in the face.

Even now the words sounded too dramatic. But when she remembered looking over her shoulder and seeing the monster storm barreling toward them with ferocity, something inside her shivered with dread. Disaster had come close enough to breathe down their necks. They had escaped with their lives, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

It was probably still early. Whatever landed on them during the tornado had darkened most of the tiny holes in the cellar doors that let in light. But the few that were left filtered the faint glow of dawn.

She felt no real urgency to move. Though her hip ached where it had spent the better part of the night battling with the unforgiving floor, she was surprisingly content. Being held close in Drew’s warm, comforting embrace was better than a tranquilizer. His big body was hard and muscular, reminding her without words that she was under the protection of a confident, capable male.

There was something to be said for primitive responses. Though Beth could hold her own in most situations, the fact remained that Drew was larger and stronger and more equipped to deal with the physical challenges of their crisis.

She let her mind wander. How badly had her farm been damaged? What about Drew’s horses? And the town of Royal? Had it avoided a direct hit? Thankfully, the storm had struck late enough in the day that most children would have already been home from school. But businesses in town would still have been open.

The not knowing drove her crazy. Even so, worrying accomplished nothing. She had no other choice but to live in the moment.

Closing her eyes, she savored the unfamiliar sensation of her cheek resting on Drew’s arm. The light covering of masculine hair tickled her nose. His scent was so familiar to her now that she could pick him out of a crowd in a dark room.

He must be very uncomfortable. But there was no reason to wake him. Had he thought it odd to hold her like this?

They had been adversaries from the beginning. It seemed he was always rubbing his good fortune in her face. Though perhaps she was too sensitive on that score, because most people thought he was a great guy. In fact, the only person she knew in Maverick County who ever got crossways with the owner of Willowbrook Farms was Beth Andrews.

Their feud had gone on a long time, probably because they were too much alike. Both stubborn. Both sure they were right.

He muttered in his sleep, tightening his grasp, his fingers brushing her nipple though three thin layers: his shirt, her tank top, and a lacy bra. Was he dreaming about a woman?

Unbidden, arousal stirred in Beth’s veins. It was sweet and yearning and ultimately for naught. Nothing was going to happen. The time and place were wrong. More importantly, she and Drew had to hope that rescue was on the way and that whatever they discovered above ground was not going to be too terrible.

She felt his steady breathing ruffle the hair at her nape. Had he thought about kissing her there? Or had he been too wiped out to even notice she was a woman? How sad that their first opportunity to really get to know each other was fraught with difficulty and struggle.

Being Drew’s neighbor had been a pain in the ass until today. His repeated bluster about the problems her business caused his had added to the stress of getting the farm up and running. In the midst of his frequent complaints, she had been busy tending to her fledgling crops, learning new things she needed to know and trying to keep the checkbook in the black.

Now, there would be no going back. What would this new awareness mean to their ongoing battle?

Sometime later she realized that she must have dozed off again. One of her legs was trapped between Drew’s thighs. It was as if his body was trying to stake a claim. She knew she should wake him, if only to let him move his arm. But this moment was pleasurable despite the context.

Once they were officially awake and alert, they would have to face things like a tiny water supply, dwindling stores of food, and the reality that no one knew where they were. All the harsh realities that defined them at the moment.

Given that truth, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When Drew woke up, he stifled a groan. His body was one big throbbing toothache, and he wasn’t at all sure he would be able to stand. But having Beth tucked up against him was a bonus. Carefully, he eased his arm out from under her head, wincing as the blood returned. Beth muttered and frowned when her cheek came to rest on the unsympathetic ground.

He checked his watch. Seven thirty. Surely late enough for police and rescue personnel to begin going house to house. Rolling to his feet, he tried to ignore the sudden craving for eggs and bacon and hot coffee. Sadly, beef jerky was on the menu again. But not until Beth joined him.

Standing on the ladder, he turned on his phone and held it as close as he could to the cellar doors, praying for a signal. Still nothing...not that he really expected an overnight miracle. The storm had probably destroyed numerous cell towers.

He heard Beth sit up. “Any change?” she asked.

He wanted to be able to give her good news, but there was none. “No. You okay?” She was nothing more than a dim outline in the gloom.

“I’ve been better.”

“We have to eat and drink something. If this drags on, we’ll need to keep our energy up.” He hopped down from his perch and located more beef jerky and water. “Welcome to breakfast, Survivor-style.”

“Thanks. I think.”

He joined her on the floor, their knees touching as they sat cross-legged on the crinkly blanket. “Somehow, during all those years in the Boy Scouts, I never imagined this scenario.”

“Did you make it all the way to Eagle?”

“Yeah. My dad was a stickler for never giving up on anything.”

“Ah, now I get it,” she said. “That’s why you continue to browbeat me.”

“Eat your breakfast, woman.”

If he had to be trapped in a hole in the ground, Beth was the perfect companion. She hadn’t whined. She hadn’t panicked. Her sense of humor had survived the tornado intact even though she had to know, as he did, that things would probably get worse before they got better.

Holding her as they slept last night tapped into more than his human need to cheat death. With all the societal expectations stripped away, he discovered something deeper than physical attraction. Beth Andrews had edged her way into his heart.

That information was sensitive—need-to-know basis only. But it was something to be tucked away and savored at a later date.

“Seriously, Drew. What are we going to do to pass the time? If we can’t use our flashlights, our options are seriously limited.”

Several inappropriate suggestions came to mind immediately. But he squelched the impulse to voice them. “We can try lifting the doors again.”

“And that will take all of ten minutes.”

“Sarcasm, Beth? I thought we’d reached a détente.”

A faint noise from above interrupted her answer. He put a hand on her knee. “Shh...did you hear that?”


Four (#ulink_416000b0-2aa6-50a6-b227-287e54f4d098)

They both froze, their ears straining in the darkness. Next came the screech of metal, followed by a muffled shout. “Anybody down there?”

Drew leapt to his feet, dragging Beth with him. “Yes,” he shouted. “Yes.”

Beth was trembling. Hell, he probably was, too. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist and she curled her arms around him. Together, they faced the specter of uncertainty.

They waited for what seemed like forever but might only have been a minute or two. Thumps and curses rained down on them, along with dust particles that made them cough. The voice came again, louder this time. “Hang on.”

Beth leaned into him. “What’s taking so long?”

“I think they’re trying to move whatever has the doors stuck. It must be big.”

She murmured something under her breath.

“What?” he asked, still straining to hear what was going on up top.

“I hope the doors don’t break and whatever that is doesn’t fall and crush us in this pit.”

He chuckled, despite the tension gripping him. “An active imagination can be a curse at times.”

“Tell me about it.”

They fell silent again. All the commotion above them had ceased. Surely the rescue team had heard him shout.

Beth voiced his concern. “What if they didn’t hear you? What if they went away?”

“I don’t think they would give up without making sure no one is down here...even if they didn’t hear me.”

But doubt began to creep in. Why was nothing happening?

Beth burrowed her face into his chest. He held her close. “Don’t freak out. If they left, they’ll come back.” God, I hope so.

He checked his watch. “It’s almost nine.”

“What time did we hear the first shout?” The words were muffled.

“I’m not sure. Maybe ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

The return of absolute silence was infinitely more difficult than if they had never received a ray of hope.

Beth was shaking.

He rubbed her back. “Hang on. We’ve made it this far.”

Suddenly, the loud racket returned, a shrill high-pitched noise that might have been a winch. Then a dreadful dragging scrape, and finally a human shout.

Seconds later the cellar doors were flung wide. The brilliant sunlight, after hours of captivity, blinded them.

A figure crouched at the opening. “Ms. Andrews? Are you down there?”

Drew shielded his eyes with his arm. “She is. And me, too. Is that you, Jed?”

The minutes that followed were chaos. Drew boosted Beth up the ladder, passing her up to helping hands, and then followed her. He grabbed his brother in a bear hug. “God, I’m so glad to see you.”

Jed’s face was grim. “You scared the hell out of me. No one had any idea where you were.” Two EMTs muscled in, checking Drew’s and Beth’s blood pressure, firing off questions, taking care of business. Drew gave a terse summation of the events that had stranded them below ground.

It was easy to see why he and Beth had been trapped. Her small car, now a mangled mess of metal, had been snatched up and dumped...right on top of the cellar.

When the immediate furor died, he searched for Beth. She had walked several hundred feet away and stood gazing at what was left of her fall pumpkin crop. Virtually nothing. The tornado had ripped across her land, decimating everything in its path.

The front left portion of her bungalow was sheared off, but two-thirds of the house remained intact.

He stood by her side. “I’ll help you with repairs.”

She turned to face him, her expression lost. “I appreciate the offer. But unless you know how to grow a pumpkin overnight, my revenue stream just vanished until June at the earliest.” She searched his face. “What did he tell you about your place?”

The day was already heating up. Beth slipped off his shirt and handed it to him. He slid his arms into it and fastened a few buttons. “I was very lucky. We lost a lot of fencing...and one outbuilding. But the staff and the horses are all safe.”

“Your house?”

“Minor stuff.”

Jed joined them. “Let’s get you two back to Willowbrook. You can shower and have a decent meal.”

Beth glanced at Drew’s brother, her eyes haunted. “Tell us about Royal. How bad is it?”

Jed hesitated.

Drew squeezed Beth’s hand. “Tell us, Jed. We’ve been imagining the worst.”

Jed’s shoulders slumped. He bent his head and stared at the ground before looking up with a grim-faced stare. “Mass destruction. The storm was an EF4. A quarter-mile wide and on the ground for twenty-two miles. The center of the storm missed Willowbrook, but it turned and traveled straight over Beth’s place and on east.”

“God help us,” Drew said. Nothing so tragic had ever touched the town of Royal. “How many dead?”

“As of this morning, the count stood at thirteen. A family of four...tourists. They took shelter beneath an overpass, but you know how dangerous that is. A young couple in a mobile home.”

Beth put her hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. “And the other seven?”

Jed’s jaw worked as if couldn’t form the words. “The town hall was destroyed.”

“Jesus.” Drew’s stomach pitched. Beth sobbed openly now.

Jed shook his head, grief on his face. “The deputy mayor is dead. Also, Craig Richardson, who owned the Double R. Plus five others who were in the building at the time.”

“And the mayor? Richard Vance?” Drew knew the man by sight and respected him.

“Life threatening injuries. But stable. I don’t have a clue about the total number injured. The hospital is overloaded but managing.”

Beth put her hand on Jed’s arm briefly, claiming his attention. “A pregnant woman. She stopped by my produce stand just before the storm hit. Do you know anything about her?”

“I’m afraid I do. We found her car late last night when we were searching for the two of you. The tornado flipped her vehicle. She has severe head injuries, so they’ve put her in a medically induced coma.”

Beth had stopped crying and now visibly pulled herself together. “And the baby?”

“Delivered by emergency C-section. Last I heard, they think she will make it.”

Drew remembered the odd feeling that he knew the woman. “Do you know the mother’s name?”

“They’ve listed her for now as a Jane Doe. Her car was destroyed. Cell phone and purse missing, probably in someone’s backyard five miles away.”

Jed motioned toward his car. “We need to go. Drew, after you’ve had a few minutes to rest, I know they could use the two of us in town.”

Beth still stared at her forlorn house. “You guys go on. I’ll stay here. There’s plenty to do.”

Drew realized then that Beth was definitely in shock. He put his arm around her shoulders, steering her toward the car. It disturbed him that her skin was icy cold. “We can bring some tarps over this evening, but you can’t stay here. I know you don’t want to enter the enemy camp, but I’ll promise you good food, a hot shower and a bed for as long as you need it.”

* * *

Beth allowed Drew to take charge because it was in her best interests and because she was too disheartened to deal with anything but basic needs at the moment.

The road between her house and the magnificent entrance to Willowbrook Farms was two miles long. Ninety-nine percent of the time when Beth departed her property, she turned left out of her driveway. So it felt odd to be deliberately closing the gap between her home and Drew’s. She had only been out this way once or twice, more out of curiosity than anything else. Both times she had been struck by the pristine appearance of Drew’s ranch. It was an enormous, well-cared-for equine operation.

As they drove along—slowly because of the debris littering the road—it was far too easy to see the storm’s path. The twister had clipped a section of Drew’s acreage, veered toward the private road and traveled along it until deciding to thunder across Beth’s once thriving farm. She knew in her heart she was lucky her house was still standing. There were almost surely others in far more dire straits.

“I should have gotten clean clothes,” she cried, realizing her omission.

Drew shook his head vehemently. “You can’t go inside your house until an expert checks for structural damage. Not unless you want to chance spending another night beneath a pile of rubble.”

“Low blow, Farrell,” she muttered. “What am I supposed to wear? I have plans to burn this current outfit.”

“I have seven women on my staff. I’m sure between them they can come up with a solution.”

By the time they finally pulled up in front of Drew’s classic two-story farmhouse, she was so tired her eyes had trouble focusing. He helped her out of the car. Jed followed them inside.

Drew took her arm, steering her toward the back of the house. “Food first.”

“And a bathroom.”

That made him grin. “Of course.”

Jed smiled as well. “If you would like me to, while the two of you are eating, I can round up some necessities for Ms. Andrews and have the housekeeper put them in a guest room.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you. And please call me Beth. I’m pretty sure that rescuing me from a storm cellar puts us on a first name basis.”

She was surprised when Drew spoke up, his face a mix of emotions. “Thanks, Jed. That would be great. Get a couple of the women in the front office to help you. But I’ll pick out a bedroom.”

The brothers exchanged an odd glance that Beth was unable to decipher.

In the kitchen, the housekeeper was waiting. Evidently, she had been on standby since Jed called to say he thought Drew and Beth had been found.

The size of the breakfast was overwhelming, but Beth did her best to try some of everything. Biscuits, ham, fresh peaches and eggs so light and fluffy they almost floated off the plate. Beth hated eating in her grubby clothes, but her stomach held sway, demanding to be fed. The coffee was something exotic and imported. Nothing at all like the stuff she drank at home.

She and Drew exchanged barely a dozen words as they ate. The housekeeper had excused herself, leaving them to their meal in private. Surrounded by windows, the cozy breakfast nook overlooked a small pond.




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