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The Heart Won't Lie
Vicki Lewis Thompson


Much to his family’s displeasure, Michael Hartford pens popular Western paperbacks. But despite his cowboy image, he’s more Central Park West than Wild West. With a major photo shoot coming up, he’ll need to be a cowboy—not just look like one!And Michael has only a week at the Last Chance Ranch get the giddy-up in his game… After a girl-fight scandal, socialite-turned-housekeeper Keri Fitzpatrick is cheerily unrepentant as she waits for the dust to settle. It’s not long before she discovers Michael’s secret and a whole lot of similarities… including an irresistible temptation to play Naughty Naked Cowboy!But does this scrappy socialite have what it takes to ensure her would-be cowboy is both saddle sore and satisfied?










Is there anything sexier than a hot cowboy?How about four of them!

New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson is back in the Blaze


lineup for 2013, and this year she’s offering her readers even more…

Sons of Chance

Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged

Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

Saddle up with

I CROSS MY HEART (June)

WILD AT HEART (July)

THE HEART WON’T LIE (August)

And the first full-length Sons of Chance

Christmas story

COWBOYS & ANGELS (December)

Take a chance…on a Chance!




About the Author


New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’S love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website, www.vickilewisthompson.com.




The Heart

Won’t Lie

Vicki Lewis Thompson







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


To Louis L’Amour, an author who claimed that,

if necessary, he could write a story sitting in the

median of a busy intersection. He’s my kind of guy!




Prologue


August 13, 1988, from the diary of Eleanor Chance

MY GRANDSON JACK, who turns ten this fall, can be a trial at times. I cut him some slack because he still carries the scars from being abandoned by his mother when he was a toddler. I’m not sure if that wound is ever going to heal, no matter how much love we all give him.

Truth be told, Jack and I have a special bond because I took over raising him for a couple of years until my son Jonathon married his second wife, Sarah. I’ve stepped back now, because Sarah is terrific with Jack and the two sons who came along after that, Nick and Gabe. The Last Chance Ranch is a happier place with Sarah living here.

But Jack is still a handful. Even so, he’ll always have a special place in my heart, and that’s partly because we both love to read, especially Westerns. Whenever the real world gets too complicated for Jack, he escapes into a book. I just introduced him to one of my favorites, Louis L’Amour, and he’s gobbling up those stories.

I remember doing the same when I first discovered Louis L’Amour back in the fifties. That man could spin a yarn like nobody’s business. I was so sad to hear that he’d died this past June, but he left us a whole lot of good reading, and I’m grateful for that.

Winters are dark and cold in Jackson Hole, and I don’t know what I’d do without my Westerns. You can bet this winter both Jack and I will be curled up in front of the fire with a book. I envy Jack having all those Louis L’Amour stories ahead of him.

I may read them all again, myself. I should probably try one of the new authors, like that Larry McMurtry everyone’s so keen on. But it just seems as if nobody quite comes up to Louis L’Amour.




1


Present day

“WHAT NAME DO you want to go by while you’re at the ranch?”

Michael James Hartford, aka Western writer Jim Ford, thought about how to answer Jack Chance, who was currently driving him to the Last Chance Ranch. Michael had flown to Wyoming from New York City so he could learn some cowboy basics before a publicity team put him in front of a video camera in three weeks. Nobody besides Jack was supposed to know Michael was also Jim Ford, who wrote as if he could ride and rope but…couldn’t.

He wondered if he should be known as Mike while he was here. A shortened name seemed better for a cowboy, but he already had his Jim Ford persona. If he adopted too many alternate names he wouldn’t remember which one he should answer to. “Michael’s fine,” he said. “Michael Hartford. That shouldn’t tip anybody off.”

“Michael Hartford it is, then. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. Some of the hands have read your books, but they’d never believe a greenhorn like you could possibly be the guy who writes those stories.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael took the blow to his ego with good humor. His lack of cowboying skills really was an embarrassing joke.

“Besides, the picture in the back of your books shows you with a mustache. That really changes how a guy looks.”

“I grow that mustache before I have to make any appearances or get my picture taken. Then I shave it off. I’ll have to start growing it again next week. Between that and the Stetson, I’ve fooled just about everybody except my family, and they’re not about to broadcast the fact that I’m Jim Ford.”

“I don’t get that. You’d think they’d be proud of you.”

Michael laughed. “They would be if I wrote deep, philosophical literature. The Hartfords are old money, loaded to the gills with culture. They don’t want to claim a pulp fiction author. That’s actually worked to my advantage. If nobody knows who Jim Ford really is, then nobody knows that he’s never been on a horse in his life.”

“That still boggles my mind. You write as if you’re a real cowboy. I would have sworn you’d done all those things. What’s your secret?”

“Research.” Michael felt good knowing he’d managed to get it right, despite his lack of experience. “Plus I grew up reading Louis L’Amour.”

“Me, too. I didn’t think I’d find his equal, but you’ve hooked me real good. I wish my grandmother was still alive. She would have loved your books, too.”

“Thank you. That’s high praise.”

“I mean it sincerely.” Jack shook his head. “But I can’t figure you out. The way you write, I can tell you love the idea of being a cowboy. How come you never got the itch to spend time on a ranch?”

“You hit the nail on the head. I love the idea of being a cowboy, but I’ve avoided the reality, in case it doesn’t live up to my image of it.” Or I don’t. “I’m selling a fantasy, and if I discover that fantasy doesn’t exist…”

“Damnation. You mean this visit could burst your bubble? I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Hey, Jack, you’re not the one forcing me into this. The publicity department is to blame.” He blew out a breath. “No, that’s not right, either. I created this stupid situation all on my own. I chose to write about a world I don’t know firsthand, and then I accidentally became a big success at it.”

Jack nodded. “I noticed. Your name keeps getting bigger on the cover.”

“If my books weren’t selling so well the publisher would never pay for a video of me playing cowboy. My secret would be safe. But they made it clear I need to do this video if I expect continued support from the marketing team.”

Smiling, Jack glanced over at him. “Cheer up, little buckaroo. It won’t be so bad.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m going to make a damned fool of myself, and you know it.”

“Maybe so, but I’ll be the only one who’ll know it. Your lessons will be as private as I can make them.”

“Thank you for that.” Michael relaxed a little. “Bethany told me I could trust you.” He’d met motivational author Bethany Grace on the Opal Knightly TV talk show and they’d kept in touch. When he’d needed riding lessons on the QT he’d thought of her, because she’d grown up in Jackson Hole.

“Bethany’s good people,” Jack said. “Did you catch her wedding to Nash Bledsoe on Opal’s show?”

“Sure did. Nash is a friend of yours, right?”

“Yep.” Jack checked his mirrors before pulling around a slow-moving semi. “Nash owns a little spread next door to the Last Chance.”

“Bethany mentioned that. She inherited it, sold it to Nash and the rest reads like a romance novel.”

Jack chuckled. “It does, at that. Poor Nash, though, having to get hitched on national TV. There was some talk of me being the best man at that shindig, but it was way better for Nash’s dad to have that honor.”

Michael was beginning to get a bead on Jack’s personality so he made a calculated guess. “You didn’t want to do it, did you?”

“Hell, no. Not after I found out I had to wear makeup.” Jack grimaced.

“It’s not so bad, little buckaroo.”

“Maybe not for a city slicker like yourself, but real cowboys don’t wear makeup.”

“What about your friend Nash? I guarantee he had on makeup during that wedding.”

“Only because otherwise he wouldn’t get to marry Bethany. Bethany was beholden to Opal for letting her out of her TV contract, and Opal was determined to stage that wedding on TV.”

“What a guy won’t do for love.” As he said it, Michael realized he had no personal experience to go by, and that was a damned shame.

“Ain’t it the truth. My wife, Josie, has got me wrapped around her little finger. Between her and my kid, Archie, I’m like a bull with a ring in its nose. They can lead me anywhere.”

Michael grinned. “I seriously doubt that.”

“No, really. They’ve got me hog-tied. How about you? Is there some citified lady calling the shots in your life?”

“Nope.”

“Too busy?”

“Kind of, but that’s not really the problem. The highsociety women I meet don’t interest me, but I can’t date the ones I meet as Jim Ford because they think I’m a cowboy, which I’m not.” He didn’t like being caught between worlds, not belonging in either one, but he hadn’t figured out what to do about it. He envied a guy like Jack, who knew who he was and where he fit in.

Jack tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “But you will be a cowboy.”

Michael felt a jolt of pleasure at the possibility. But he had to be realistic. “In a week? Not likely.”

“Are you doubting my ability?”

“No, I’m doubting mine.”

“Well, cut that out right now. First and foremost, a cowboy faces every challenge with an air of quiet confidence.”

“Of course he does, especially if he’s a hero in one of my books.” Michael looked over at Jack and expected they’d share a laugh over that. Instead, Jack seemed totally serious. “Wait, you’re not kidding, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Being a cowboy is a state of mind. You can start working on your attitude before you ever put your booted foot in a stirrup.”

“I see.” Michael was fascinated. For years he’d assumed that the larger-than-life cowboys in his books didn’t exist in reality. But Jack Chance was proving that assumption had been dead wrong.

AFTER A YEAR working as the housekeeper at the Last Chance’s main house, Keri Fitzpatrick, former Baltimore socialite, could wield a mean mop. She’d learned the basics from her boss, Sarah Chance, and the cook, Mary Lou Simms. Following their instructions, Keri could clean windows like nobody’s business and polish bathroom fixtures until they sparkled like fine silver.

But she’d challenge anybody, even a professional armed with power equipment, to eliminate some mysterious smell left by eight adolescent boys. They’d been part of the Last Chance’s summer program for disadvantaged youths, and they’d moved out early that morning. She’d been cleaning nonstop ever since except for a short lunch break with Mary Lou.

The second floor, where the boys had slept in two rooms fitted with bunk beds, was warm, and she dripped with sweat. Putting her hair in a ponytail to get it off her neck hadn’t helped cool her off much. She’d opted for jeans instead of shorts because she’d anticipated getting on her hands and knees for this job.

Sure enough, she’d had to clean some gunk off the baseboards. God knew what it was. She’d dealt with this last August right after being hired, but she was sure the previous year’s batch of kids hadn’t left a stink this bad. She’d noticed a slight odor yesterday, but had thought it would leave with the kids. Instead, it was worse.

Glancing at her watch, she gasped. The wealthy tenderfoot from New York City was due any minute. She’d been told very little about him, but Jack had said the guy was used to the best.

Keri had been raised in luxury, too. Although she didn’t live that way now, she knew exactly how to prepare guest quarters for a wealthy man. She’d spit-shined his room, which was at the other end of the hall, right across from her room. The crockery vase of wildflowers she’d placed on his dresser gave off a delicate aroma.

The poor things couldn’t begin to compete with the stench coming from the boys’ rooms. She’d already tested the situation, and the entire top floor, including the tenderfoot’s room, smelled like a garbage dump. Opening all the windows hadn’t made a dent in the foul odor.

Desperate to find the source, she went through everything again—closets, drawers, even under the bunk beds. Finally she found a kitchen matchbox crammed so far under one of the bunks that she’d missed it when she’d swept and mopped. Using a broom, she nudged it free and nearly gagged. She’d found her culprit.

She shouldn’t have looked, but after all this effort, she wanted to know what was in that box. As she slid open the matchbox, the smell got worse. She stared at a very fragrant, and very dead, mouse. It rested on a carefully folded tissue, and a second tissue covered the lower part of its body, so only the head was exposed.

Guessing what had happened wasn’t hard. She’d been around the boys enough to understand how their minds worked. They’d found the dead mouse, decided it deserved a decent burial and put it in the matchbox. Then they’d forgotten all about it.

Now what? She could throw it in the trash, but that seemed wrong. They’d folded the tissues so carefully, and she was touched by their concern for the little creature’s final resting place. Silly as it seemed, she wanted to bury it the way they’d intended.

Okay, so she would. Holding the box, she walked into the hall. She didn’t dare take the smelly thing down the back stairs and through Mary Lou’s pristine kitchen, so she made for the curved stairway leading to the front door. If she was very lucky she could get rid of the dead mouse before the tenderfoot arrived.

Luck was not on her side. The front door opened and Jack Chance ushered a broad-shouldered man through it. From this angle he didn’t look like a tenderfoot. His jeans were slightly worn and his blue chambray shirt was faded. His leather suitcase was scuffed up some, and even his hat seemed broken in. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this was a seasoned cowboy, and a nicely built one, at that.

Jack closed the door behind them. “I’ll take you straight upstairs so you can get settled in before dinner.”

As Keri froze in position, unsure whether to go up or down, Jack spotted her. “Ah, Keri! Perfect! You can show Michael to his room. Michael Hartford, this is Keri Fitzpatrick, our housekeeper. I’m sure she has your room all ready.”

Michael Hartford glanced up. “Nice to meet you, Keri.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Whoa. Cute guy. Square jaw, strong nose and dreamy eyes that were an unusual blue-gray color. He looked vaguely familiar, too, although she was sure she didn’t know anybody named Michael Hartford.

She’d love to show him to his room, but not while she was holding an extremely dead mouse. “Um, Jack, before I show Mr. Hartford to his room, I need to—”

“What’s that godawful smell?” Jack wrinkled his nose.

“I found a dead mouse under one of the bunks.”

“It’s in that box?”

“Yes, and I—”

“Let me have it.” Jack started up the stairs. “I’ll throw it in the trash.”

Although it might not be wise to disagree with the man who signed her paycheck, Keri couldn’t let him take the mouse. “That’s okay. I’m going to bury it out back. I won’t be a minute. The guest room is all ready.” She started down the stairs.

“You’re going to do what?” Blocking her passage, Jack shoved his hat back with his thumb as he stared up at her.

She paused on the step above him. “Bury it.” Jack could be intimidating, but she’d also seen him melt whenever he was with Archie, his little son. Jack had marshmallow insides. “The boys fixed it up with tissues and everything, like it was in a little coffin.”

Jack’s mouth twitched and amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “Keri, those boys are gone. They’ll never know what happened to the mouse. Besides, they obviously forgot all about this burial they’d planned.”

“I realize that, but it was a sweet impulse, a sign they cared for this little creature. I think it proves that they made progress while they were here, and I’d like to carry out their wishes.”

“Or else it was meant as a joke.”

“I prefer to believe it was sincere.”

“All righty, then.” Jack moved aside to let her pass. “Bury it deep. Put a few stones on top. That thing stinks to high heaven and I don’t want the dogs digging it up.”

“I’ll dig a deep hole.” She gave their visitor a quick smile as she walked past him. “Welcome to the Last Chance Ranch, Mr. Hartford. Sorry about the dead mouse.”

He smiled back. “May it rest in peace.”

“That’s the idea.” She held his gaze for a little longer than was polite, but he had such beautiful eyes, especially when they were lit up with that warm smile of his. She hoped he wouldn’t always associate meeting her with the smell of dead animals.




2


AFTER HIS INTRODUCTION to Keri Fitzpatrick, Michael decided he was going to like it here. Most women he knew would refuse to deal with a dead rodent, and if forced to do so, would grab the first opportunity to get rid of it. Instead, Keri had held on to the stinky mouse because she respected the impulse that had caused someone to tuck it into a matchbox.

He would have admired her spunky behavior whether she’d been pretty or not, but she was pretty, which made the encounter even better. He’d thoroughly enjoyed those few seconds of gazing into her vivid green eyes. The fact that she was flushed and sweaty made her eyes even brighter and her dark hair more tempting as it escaped from her ponytail and curled damply at her neck.

Her disheveled state probably wasn’t her favorite way to greet visitors, but she hadn’t bothered to apologize for how she looked. She’d only been concerned about the foul smell of a decaying animal. Good thing he didn’t have a weak stomach.

“Sorry about that,” Jack said. “Ready to go up?”

“You bet.” Michael wanted to ask about Keri. The scene with the dead mouse had charmed him, and when she’d spoken he’d heard a familiar accent. She was from back east somewhere. Not New York, but close.

He’d felt an instant attraction, and her steady gaze had told him she’d been drawn to him, too. But he didn’t ask Jack about her, because that would imply he was intrigued. Maybe he was, but he was here to learn riding and roping skills, not romance the housekeeper.

Pursuing her would be a rotten way to repay the Last Chance’s generous hospitality. Besides, it would be totally out of character for him. He wasn’t a sexual opportunist, ready to make a move on any good-looking woman he ran across.

“The smell should fade in a bit,” Jack said. “At least you’ll be at the other end of the hall. The boys stayed down there.” He gestured to his right as he topped the stairs. “It’ll be a lot more peaceful up here now that they’re gone.”

“Will you miss them?”

Jack glanced at him. “Interesting that you should ask. I will miss those varmints. When they’re here, I’m ready to tear my hair out, but when they leave, the place seems too quiet.”

“I can imagine. All that energy must grow on you.” Michael was impressed by what he’d heard of the program, which Jack had casually described during the ride from the airport.

Judging from the offhand way Jack had talked about it, he’d only intended to give Michael some background in case the subject came up while he was at the ranch. But Michael had made a mental note to donate to the cause. Jack had refused to charge anything for this week because he claimed it was an honor to tutor his favorite living author. So Michael would reimburse Jack in a different way, one the cowboy couldn’t refuse.

“We had to shovel them out of here, though,” Jack said, “to make room for wedding guests arriving at the end of the week.”

“Right. The wedding.” Bethany had told Michael that Sarah, the ranch’s matriarch, was marrying Peter Beckett. Sarah had been widowed several years ago, and everyone seemed thrilled that she’d fallen in love again. “I’m still worried that I’m here at a bad time.”

“No, you’re here at a good time.” Jack grinned as they headed down the hall. “Much as I love my mother and respect Pete, I hate all the fuss and bother that goes into the planning stages of a wedding. You’re the perfect excuse to get me out of that. Come Saturday I’ll dress up and play my role, but until then I’m busy with an important pupil.”

Michael had an uneasy moment. “Why am I so important? I thought nobody knows who I am.”

“Don’t worry. They don’t. But you’re Bethany’s friend. Nash is like family, and Bethany married Nash, so now Bethany’s like family, too. So any friend of Bethany’s is a friend of ours.”

“I see.” Apparently the right connections mattered in the West just as they mattered back east.

“Here’s your room. Used to be mine before I got married, but the furniture’s all different.” Jack walked through a door on the left side of the hallway.

Michael followed him into a large room decorated in shades of green. He noticed a king-size bed and a spectacular view of the Grand Tetons. The jagged peaks still had a smattering of snow, even in August. “Very nice.”

“I like it. Looks like Keri picked you some wildflowers.”

Michael had been captured by the view of the mountains, but now he noticed that a bouquet of Indian paintbrush and purple lupine sat on the dresser. “That was thoughtful.” Research for his books had taught him what they were, because he wouldn’t have had a clue otherwise.

“Yeah, Keri’s a gem. She thinks of those things. Don’t look for an attached bath, though. The bathroom’s right next door, but connecting it would be tricky. The bathtub would get in the way of cutting a door between the rooms. I doubt you’re used to walking out into the hall, but it can’t be helped.”

“Jack, the view from the window is spectacular. I couldn’t care less about an attached bath.”

“Good.” Jack seemed pleased by that. “I’ll leave you to unpack, then. Dinner’s at six, but you can explore the place before then if you want. I have some issues to handle, but Keri should be back from the mouse funeral soon. If you need a guide, I’m sure she’d be glad to show you around.”

“Great.” Michael was careful not to sound too eager about having Keri do him that favor. “And thanks, Jack.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow, when your butt’s sore from spending hours on a horse and you ache all over, you may not be so thankful.”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be too bad?”

Jack smiled. “I didn’t want you to panic.” Then he turned on his booted heel and left the room.

Some exit line. And thanks to that line, anxiety had him firmly in its grip. What the hell did he think he was doing? Nobody could learn to be a cowboy in a week.

Despite the help from Jack, he could end up falling off his horse during the shooting of the video. That would be embarrassing as hell, both to him and to the publicist. He should have confessed his shortcomings to the gung-ho woman who’d called him with feverish excitement to propose the video they would shoot in three weeks.

Michael could have told her the truth and suggested they drop the idea. Some still shots might work if they found a docile horse for him. But no, he hadn’t said those things because he’d wanted to preserve the mystique. Ego, pure and simple.

With a sigh, he walked over to the window and looked out at the majestic Tetons. He should have come to this part of the country years ago. A summer on a dude ranch would have given him what he needed and he wouldn’t be in this fix now.

But he hadn’t admitted all his fears to Jack. He was deathly afraid that he wouldn’t have any talent for being a cowboy, no matter how long he worked at it. By cramming his lessons into a week, he could excuse himself if he failed. If he’d taken an entire summer and failed, he’d have been forced to conclude that he wasn’t cut out for the life he wrote about so convincingly.

That would be a tough pill to swallow. He wasn’t sure how that would affect his writing, but he had a hunch it would make a dramatic difference. If he’d never tried to be a real cowboy, then he could hang on to the illusion that such a thing might be possible.

“Mr. Hartford?”

He turned from the window and discovered Keri standing in the doorway. “Call me Michael, okay?”

“All right, if that’s what you’d prefer. Is there anything you need? I ducked out on my job, but I’m available now.”

“Has the mouse received a decent burial?”

“It was quick, but I think the boys would have been satisfied.” She studied him. “It’s the strangest thing, but I feel as if I know you from somewhere. I don’t, do I?”

He didn’t dare ask if she read Westerns, but this was the very thing he’d worried about. “I doubt it. I have one of those faces. People often think they know me.”

“Maybe, but I’ve seen you somewhere. I’ll figure it out.”

That settled one thing for sure. He wouldn’t start growing his mustache while he was here.

“So, is everything to your liking? Have you checked out the towel supply in the bathroom?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He still couldn’t quite place her accent.

“What’s your pillow preference? You currently have down, but I can substitute polyester fill if you’re allergic.”

“Not allergic. I’m pretty low maintenance.” He had a feeling she was, too. She’d hurried right back without stopping to primp.

“Then I’ll quit pestering you and let you settle in. If there’s anything you need, my room’s right across the hall.”

“It is?”

“I know. It’s not the usual thing to have the employees stay on the same floor as the guests, but Sarah never planned on having more help than Mary Lou, the cook. Then the boys came, which made extra work. When they hired me last summer, they put me up here.”

“Do we…uh…share a bathroom?” That could get quite cozy.

“No, we don’t. That one is all yours. Last fall Jack renovated my space and installed a small bathroom. He also put one in between the boys’ rooms, but it’s tiny, too. The nicest one is yours.” She backed toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything, though. Seriously.”

“Jack said you might give me a tour of the house.”

“He did?” She glanced down at her clothes. Without saying a word, she’d managed to communicate her desperate hope for a shower and change of outfit.

“But it can wait until you get cleaned up.”

Relief showed in her green eyes. “Thank you. I feel gross. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll give you thirty. Listen, I’ve been trying to place your accent. Where are you from?”

“Baltimore. See you in twenty minutes.” Flashing her bright smile, she turned and walked across the hall.

He gazed after her. He had a hunch she hadn’t been a housekeeper back in Baltimore. Everybody had a story, and he wanted to know hers.

KERI RETREATED TO her room so she could give herself a good talking to while she showered off the grime. She was attracted to Michael, and she needed to put a lid on that inconvenient attraction ASAP. She was a member of the staff, which meant no fraternizing with the guests.

Nobody had told her that in so many words, but she’d been on the other end of the social spectrum. Her parents would have fired any maid who’d shown interest in a houseguest. It just wasn’t done.

The Chances hadn’t turned this upstairs bedroom into housekeeper’s quarters so that she could mingle with the guests. They’d put her here because it was the only space available that also could be plumbed for a small bathroom. If she happened to be across the hall from the extremely good-looking Michael Hartford, she didn’t have to emphasize the fact. God knew what he’d thought when she’d mentioned how close she was to his room.

When she took him on a tour, she’d establish more distance between them. The whole mouse incident had thrown her off and made her forget her position here. She’d even pushed the issue of burying the little rodent when Jack had clearly thought that was nonsense, and she’d made her stand in front of Michael. She’d apologize to Jack about that.

After years of being at the top of the social pecking order, she sometimes forgot that she wasn’t there now, at least not in Jackson Hole. Then again, the Chance family didn’t stand on ceremony with their employees. Back home, the household help wouldn’t dream of calling their employers by their first names. At the Last Chance, first names were all anybody used.

That made it easy for her to forget that she wasn’t in charge around here. She figured the Chances understood why she slipped up sometimes, though. They all knew that anytime she chose, she could tap into her trust fund. She was proud to say she hadn’t needed to.

Eighteen months ago, on New Year’s Eve, she’d scandalized Baltimore society by engaging in an epic girl fight at a ritzy party. Selena had started it, and Keri had finished it. Pictures of the fight had shown up on Facebook, and somehow Keri had become the villain of the piece.

When she could no longer be effective in her job at a Baltimore PR firm because of the gossip, she’d decided that a change of scenery might be a good idea. Wyoming had seemed far enough away to accomplish that, and she’d loved the area when the family had come for ski vacations. She’d flown to Jackson, rented a car and searched for a job.

Lucky for her, the Last Chance had taken her on, and instinct had told her to grab the opportunity. Sure, she could have lived off her trust fund while she was in Jackson Hole, but she’d wanted to see if she could make it on her own. She’d been a trust-fund baby for too long, and she hadn’t realized how that steady income had undermined her confidence.

Earning a living without depending on anything but her own grit and determination had boosted her morale quite a bit. She didn’t miss her old life much. She’d only intended to be here a few months, until the gossip had died down, but the place had grown on her.

Theoretically she could go back to Baltimore anytime, because according to her parents, nobody mentioned the incident anymore. But Keri found herself looking for excuses to stay at the ranch. They’d needed her when the boys had arrived in June, and now they needed her to help with the wedding guests.

Come winter, her services wouldn’t be so critical. She could give her notice then, which would allow them plenty of time to find a new housekeeper. She loved living on the ranch, but she didn’t intend to be a cleaning lady for the rest of her working life. What she did want was still up for debate.

She showered in record time, and true to her word, she made it out of her room and back over to Michael’s in twenty minutes. She’d even managed to blow-dry her hair. Getting dressed was easy these days. Jeans, a T-shirt, running shoes. She no longer spent much time on makeup, either.

Some fancier outfits hung in her closet, but she had no reason to wear them. Once in a while she longed for a reason to put on party clothes, but people didn’t do that much at the ranch, or in the little town of Shoshone ten miles down the road. She’d accepted dates with some of the ranch hands, but jeans were fine for the Spirits and Spurs in Shoshone. Those dates hadn’t resulted in any wild love affairs, either.

Maybe that explained her attraction to Michael. He hailed from her neck of the woods, and she felt that gave them something in common that she didn’t have with everyone here. As she rapped on his door frame to announce her presence, she cautioned herself to be very careful. She might not want to keep this job forever, but she didn’t want to be booted out for inappropriate behavior, either.

Michael closed a drawer and turned. He’d taken off his hat and it lay on the bed, brim side down. She’d have to tell him to flip it the other way, which preserved the shape better.

He glanced at the clock sitting on top of the dresser. “Twenty minutes, and you’re showered and changed. I don’t think I know any woman who could accomplish that.”

“It’s the simplicity of the existence here. Ranch life can be complicated sometimes, but getting dressed for it isn’t.”

“Maybe not if you’ve been here long enough.” He gestured toward his shirt, jeans and boots. “This outfit took an enormous amount of effort.”

“It did? Why?”

“I didn’t want to look like I just stepped out of a Western wear store, so I had someone rough these things up a bit. Everything’s been artificially distressed so it looks as if I’ve been out riding the trails and roping those doggies.”

She pressed her lips together, not sure if she was supposed to find that funny or not.

“It’s okay. You can laugh. It makes me laugh, too.”

“Whoever worked on it did a good job. When you walked through the front door, I thought you were the real deal.”

“I’m not, but maybe Jack will whip me into shape.”

“I’m sure he will, but why are you…” She caught herself just in time. Her question was inappropriate coming from a staff member.

“Why am I doing this?”

She shook her head. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

“Well, it’s complicated.”

“Really, you don’t have to explain.”

“I know, but it’s a legitimate question. All my life I’ve wanted to be a cowboy. I can’t really be one because my life is in New York City. But this week, I’ll at least find out if I have what it takes.”

“I completely understand that.” Yep, that feeling of connection was snapping into place. She’d come out here to get away from gossip, but she’d stayed because she wanted to see if she had what it took to live in a completely different environment.

She was testing herself, and apparently, so was he. She admired that impulse to seek a different path from the one you were born to. Talking about that with him would make for interesting conversation. Maybe someday, when they were both back in their normal environments…but that was getting way ahead of the game.

“I believe that you do understand. I’ll take a wild guess that you might have some similar reasons for being in Wyoming.”

“Good guess.” But she wouldn’t elaborate, because the more they exchanged confidences now, the stronger the link between them. And now was not the time for making a connection. “Let’s go see the rest of the house.”




3


KERI WAS AN excellent tour guide, and Michael was interested in the history of the massive two-story ranch house with its sturdy log construction. But he was even more interested in Keri and why she’d left Baltimore to come out here. Whatever the reason, she’d adapted with a can-do attitude that both attracted and inspired him.

She kept the focus on the ranch, though, and he couldn’t figure out how to question her without being intrusive. He learned about the grandparents, Archie and Nelsie Chance, who’d homesteaded the place in the thirties. As a storyteller, he appreciated the tale of how they’d taken a run-down place and created a gem that was now worth millions to their heirs. Jack was the oldest grandson, followed by Nick, a veterinarian, and Gabe, who specialized in showing the registered Paints bred and trained at the Last Chance. Raising cattle had been abandoned for the horse business.

Keri proudly showed off the awards Gabe had won, all displayed in a case in the large living room, which was anchored by a great stone fireplace. The leather furniture and wagon-wheel chandelier were the sort of rustic touches Michael often included in his books. He was gratified to find out that in this, too, he’d gotten it right.

But whenever he tried to turn the conversation in the direction of Keri’s background, she dodged away. Close to six o’clock, she took him into a large dining room at the end of the house’s left wing. His bedroom would be directly above it.

She gestured to four round tables, each of which could seat eight people. “This is where everyone gathers for lunch,” she said. “That includes the ranch hands and as many members of the Chance family as are available. It’s a tradition to get together for the noon meal and exchange information about ranch business.”

“Do you eat lunch here, then?”

“That depends on whether Mary Lou needs my help. When the boys were here, they also ate in the dining room, so Mary Lou needed me to serve and clear.”

“But now?”

“I grabbed a quick lunch in the kitchen today because I had so much cleaning to do, but tomorrow I’ll probably eat here. Mary Lou may join everyone, too, at least for a few days until the wedding guests arrive. Then it’ll get busy again.”

Michael felt ridiculously pleased that he’d see her at lunch tomorrow. Between now and then he planned to do some research on the internet. Social media could be a pain in the ass, but through it he might be able to get a bead on Keri Fitzpatrick.

A regal woman with silver hair walked out of the kitchen. She wore jeans and a Western blouse, nothing fancy, but she had an air of command about her. “I thought I heard voices.” She walked forward, hand extended. “You must be Michael Hartford, Bethany’s friend.”

“And you must be Sarah Chance.” He clasped her hand and felt the firm grip of a woman who was as sure of her place in the world as Jack was of his. Bethany had told him that Sarah was the reigning queen of the neighborhood, and Michael began to see why.

“That’s right.” She smiled at him. “Looks like Keri’s been showing you around. Thanks for doing that, Keri. I’ve been a little distracted today. Pete wants to fly in floral arrangements from Hawaii, and I want wildflowers. I do believe it’s our first fight.”

Michael spoke without thinking. “Wildflowers.” Then he realized he didn’t have a vote. “Forget that. It’s not my place to—”

“Hey, I’ll take all the support I can get.” Sarah glanced at Keri. “What do you think?”

“I agree with Michael. This is Wyoming. You need wildflowers, not some exotic tropical arrangement. But I’ll bet Pete wants to do something extravagant because he’s so happy. It’s sweet, really.”

“It is sweet.” Sarah’s blue eyes grew soft. “So maybe I’ll let him order a tropical bouquet for me to carry, and the altar can be decked with wildflowers. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Keri said. “Great compromise. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go in and see if Mary Lou needs any help in the kitchen.” Just like that, she was gone.

Sarah turned to him. “How about a drink before dinner?”

“Sounds good.” Not as good as following Keri into the kitchen, but he had no excuse to do that. Guests probably weren’t allowed to help out, and he’d be worthless at it, anyway.

“Let’s go back into the living room.” She led him down the hall past a rogue’s gallery of family pictures. “Pete should be here soon. He had some errands in town. Jack and Josie are coming, too. They’ve left little Archie over at Gabe and Morgan’s house.” She paused. “Here I am rattling off names, and I have no idea if you know who I’m talking about. Did Bethany fill you in at all?”

“I know the names of your sons, and Jack mentioned Josie and little Archie on the drive in.”

“Morgan is Gabe’s wife, and they have two kids, a girl and a boy. Nick is married to Dominique, and they have one adopted boy. All three of my sons have built their own homes on ranch land, and I love having them so close.”

“You have quite a legacy here, Sarah.”

“Thanks to Archie and Nelsie.” She gestured around the living room as they walked in. “I married into this, so I can’t take any credit for it.”

“That’s not what Keri said. She told me that you’re the lynchpin holding everything together.”

“Did she? What a nice thing for her to say.” Sarah moved over to the liquor cabinet. “I do like that woman. I wish she’d stay on, but I can’t expect someone with her background to be a housekeeper much longer.”

“She’s leaving?” Michael felt a moment of panic. If she took off tomorrow or the next day, he’d never have a chance to learn more about her.

“Oh, not right away, but she will. I think she’s waiting until after the wedding, which is considerate.” She opened the hand-carved liquor cabinet. “What would you like?”

“Two fingers of Scotch, if you have it.”

“We do.” In moments she’d poured herself a glass of red wine and given Michael a squat tumbler containing ice and his requested Scotch. “Here’s to friendship.”

“To friendship, and to your generosity in letting me stay here the week before your wedding.”

She touched her glass to his and took a sip. “I’m thrilled you’re here. Jack needed something to do this week, so your arrival is perfect. If he didn’t have you to distract him, he’d be underfoot. He pretends not to like the preparation stage, but he can’t keep his nose out of things, either.”

Good thing Michael hadn’t been drinking when she’d said that or he might have choked on his Scotch. No wonder Sarah was considered the lynchpin of the family. She understood people better than some CEOs he’d met.

She gestured toward the leather chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. “Let’s sit. It’s too warm for a fire, but we tend to gather here and stare at the cold grate, anyway. Habit, I guess.” She settled into one of the leather armchairs.

Michael took the one next to her. “Great chair.”

“Thanks.”

“And even without a fire, the stonework is worth looking at.”

“My father-in-law was a talented man.” She turned to Michael. “I’m curious. What prompted you to ask for riding and roping lessons?”

Michael decided to give her the same answer he’d given Keri. It was the truth, so far as it went. “Like a lot of guys, I’ve always wanted to be a cowboy.”

She studied him for a moment. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks from the outside.”

“I’m sure it’s not, which is why I don’t plan to actually be one. But learning some of the skills will be…interesting.”

She smiled. “I notice you didn’t say it would be fun.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if it will be or not, but I have to try.”

“I think it will be fun for you. I hope so, because you’re obviously interested in giving it a shot. But Jack’s a taskmaster.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that.” Michael took another taste of his Scotch, which was excellent.

“I think we have some liniment upstairs, and probably Epsom salts, too. Have Keri find those for you.”

“Okay.” He decided that was as good an opening as any. “If I’m being too nosy, just say so, but why are you so sure Keri will leave? What is her background?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, just that she’s from Baltimore.”

Sarah hesitated. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that I think she’ll leave. I’ll blame being distracted by the wedding for letting that comment slip out. But since I did mention it, I can understand why you’d be curious. So I’ll just say that she comes from a very privileged background.” She glanced at him. “Probably much like yours, in fact.”

“Yet she’s working as a housekeeper.”

“Yes, and her reasons are hers to tell.”

“I don’t think she will tell me.”

Sarah met his gaze. “That’s up to her, then.”

Michael had no choice but to drop the subject. He asked about her grandchildren, a topic she clearly loved, and Keri wasn’t mentioned again. Later on, Sarah’s fiancé arrived, followed by Jack and his wife, Josie.

During their meal in the smaller dining room adjacent to the larger one used for lunch, Michael thought he did a pretty decent job of focusing on his four dinner partners. Pete Beckett, Sarah’s fiancé, was tall, lean and had a great sense of humor. Josie, an attractive blonde, dressed like a cowgirl and wore her long hair in a braid down her back. Jack obviously needed a strong woman to balance his tendency to take charge, and Josie seemed to fit the bill. Michael liked them all, but his thoughts stayed with Keri.

The ranch cook, a middle-aged woman named Mary Lou, served the meal. But Michael knew that Keri had helped prepare it, and he kept hoping she’d show up at some point. She didn’t, but he could hear the faint sounds of feminine laughter coming from the kitchen, along with a man’s voice.

Michael wondered who was in that kitchen with Mary Lou and Keri. For all he knew, Keri was involved with one of the ranch hands. It shouldn’t matter to him. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, it did.

THE DINERS HAD LEFT, the dining table had been cleared and Keri sat with Mary Lou in the kitchen. They’d been joined by Watkins, a ranch hand who was also Mary Lou’s husband as of the previous summer. All three of them were enjoying a leisurely moment over dessert and coffee.

“Mary Lou, nobody can make a chocolate cake like you can.” Keri pushed back her chair. “I’m having a second piece.”

“Believe I’ll have a second piece of that cake, myself.” Watkins rose from his chair.

“Hold on there, cowboy.” Mary Lou caught his arm and pulled him back down. “Your jeans are getting a might snug.”

Watkins sighed and resumed his seat. “That’s a fact, but it ain’t fair.” He used a napkin to wipe cake crumbs off his handlebar mustache. “Keri eats and eats, and she doesn’t gain a pound. I just look at a second piece of cake and I have to let out my belt another hole.”

“That’s because Keri is twenty-seven and you’re fifty-four,” Mary Lou said. “Your metabolism is slower.”

“That may be, Lou-Lou, but the rest of me hasn’t lost a step.” He winked at Mary Lou. Although they’d only been married a year, he’d been after her for a long time before that, and his delight at finally getting her was obvious.

Mary Lou rolled her eyes. “There you go again, bragging on yourself.” But she said it with a smile. Then she glanced at Keri. “I thought you were getting more cake?”

“I don’t really need it.”

“Don’t give it up just because Watkins will stare at you mournfully while you eat it. Be strong. Claim your cake.”

“I will stare at her mournfully, too,” Watkins said. “That is the best damn cake in the world.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Mary Lou picked up his plate and hers. “I’ll cut you a tiny slice, you whiny baby. You can eat it slow. And I’ll have some more, while I’m at it. Give me your plate, Keri. Might as well cut them all at once.”

Keri grinned and handed over her plate. “Thanks, Mary Lou. Make it this big.” She held her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart.

Watkins shook his head. “I don’t know where you put it all, girl.”

“It’s the grave digging,” Mary Lou said as she uncovered the cake and started slicing. “Keeps a person slim and trim.”

“I guess I’ll never live that down, will I?” Keri didn’t mind the teasing, though. Mary Lou only teased the people she liked.

“You not only buried him, you erected a monument.” Mary Lou set a good-size piece of cake in front of Keri, a medium-size one for herself and a sliver in front of Watkins, who made a face.

Keri picked up her fork. “Jack asked me to make sure the dogs couldn’t dig it up.”

Watkins laughed. “They sure as hell won’t after you piled about twenty-five rocks on it. You’d need a backhoe to get that varmint out of the ground, now.”

“But at least we know where She buried the little bugger,” Mary Lou said. “I won’t get a nasty surprise next summer when I plant my petunias.” She glanced over at the door that opened onto the large dining room and lowered her voice. “Don’t look now, but the greenhorn’s on his way.”

Keri’s pulse jumped. She’d been thinking about Michael as he’d sat eating his meal with the Chance family in the formal dining room. She wondered how he’d liked the mashed potatoes, which she’d beaten until there were absolutely zero lumps. She usually didn’t take such care with the potatoes.

Despite Mary Lou’s warning not to look, Keri turned in her chair and her gaze met Michael’s. She knew before he spoke that he’d come searching for her. Her pulse ratcheted up another notch. He was one good-looking man.

Mary Lou stood. “If you’re after another slice of cake, you’ve come to the right place. We’re all having seconds.”

Michael took in the scene and hesitated for a moment. He didn’t seem to have come there for cake. Then he smiled. “I’d love another piece. Thanks for asking.”

“Have a seat next to Keri. I’ll get it for you.” Mary Lou opened a cupboard and took down another dessert plate.

Michael’s presence next to Keri created a dramatic change in temperature. He also took up space, and she moved her knee so she wouldn’t brush against his. She became aware of his slow, measured breathing and the scent of his aftershave. Until this moment, she’d avoided being close enough to smell it.

“Coffee?” Mary Lou asked.

“Sure. That would be great.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just black.”

His voice stroked her nerve endings, putting them on alert. She felt tension coming from him, too. If she had to guess, she’d say he was as hyperaware of her as she was of him. This would be an interesting week.

“I’m Watkins, by the way.” The barrel-chested cowboy reached across the table to shake Michael’s hand. “Mary Lou’s husband.”

“I’m so sorry!” Keri was mortified. “I should have introduced you two. I forgot Michael doesn’t know everyone.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Michael glanced at her with a smile. “I barged in here uninvited. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“’Course not.” Mary Lou set a piece of cake in front of him, along with a fork and napkin. “My kitchen’s open to anyone on the ranch. Sooner or later, everybody comes through here.”

“After tonight’s meal, I can see why,” Michael said. “Dinner was great. The mashed potatoes were perfect.”

“Keri made those.” Mary Lou poured coffee into a ceramic mug and brought it to the table.

Michael turned toward Keri again. “Well, you did a terrific job on them.”

“Thanks.” Keri’s cheeks warmed. Men had given her compliments before, but never about her cooking. Until she’d moved here, she’d only known how to operate a coffeepot and a microwave. “Mary Lou’s a good teacher.”

“Apparently I am,” Mary Lou said with a laugh. “You knew squat about cooking when you came, and now you’re not half bad at it.” She reclaimed her seat at the table.

“Yep.” Watkins beamed at Keri. “You caught on real quick. Today you graduated to the mouse-burying business. Next thing I know, you’ll be shoveling out stalls.”

“Bring it on.” Keri felt Michael’s attention on her, and she tried to squash the squiggles of excitement that attention produced. “I’ve cleaned up after eight adolescent boys. Nothing scares me.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Michael picked up his fork and started eating his cake. “But Jack Chance scares the bejeezus out of me.”

Watkins chuckled. “He likes doing that with greenhorns. You’ll be okay.”

Michael swallowed a bite of cake and reached for his coffee. “That’s what I told myself, until Sarah mentioned the liniment and Epsom salts. Now I’m worried.” He turned toward Keri. “She said you’d find them for me. That’s why I came looking for you. I’m glad I did.”

Her breath caught at the unmistakable flicker of desire in his eyes. “Yeah, you got an extra piece of cake out of the deal.” She hoped Mary Lou and Watkins hadn’t noticed her tone was slightly strained.

“Exactly.” His gaze held hers for one more heartstopping moment. Then he broke eye contact and went back to eating his cake and asking questions about the ranch as if nothing of significance had passed between them.

But, oh, it had. She started to pick up her coffee mug and had to wait a moment until she stopped trembling. Good Lord. She wanted this man, and he wanted her right back. They’d be sleeping across the hall from each other for a week. Keeping a lid on this mutual attraction was going to be a real challenge.




4


AFTER A COZY half-hour spent eating cake and drinking coffee in Mary Lou’s kitchen with Keri sitting right next to him, Michael’s defenses were down. Circumstances had presented him with rich chocolate, a tempting woman and the prospect of going upstairs with her after they’d finished their dessert. A guy could only take so much before he cracked.

On top of that, he discovered that Mary Lou and Watkins had only been married a year, which explained the friskiness going on between them. Knowing that Mary Lou and Watkins would soon be getting it on didn’t help Michael’s state of mind. They shooed both Keri and Michael out of the kitchen once the dishes were cleared from the table.

That left them little choice but to walk through the silent house and climb the stairs together. The intimacy of it grew with each step they took. Michael made small talk along the way, and Keri responded as if she thought his conversation was brilliant.

She wasn’t fooling him, and he doubted that he was fooling her, either. They were on thin ice, but maybe if they didn’t acknowledge that, they’d get to their respective bedrooms without incident. What a damned inconvenient time to lust after a woman.

They kept up the inane chatter, but the winding staircase seemed endless. She was a step ahead of him, and her scent, a combination of sweet perfume and warm woman, drifted back to him, tugging at his resolve. He considered laying a hand on her shoulder. That might be all it would take.

She’d turn back to him, and then…then he would kiss her. But it wouldn’t stop with a kiss, and he knew that. He’d never made love to a woman on a staircase, and he wasn’t about to do it now. Still, that didn’t keep the images from bombarding him until he was hard and aching.

“Do you want me to dig out the liniment and Epsom salts tonight, so you’ll have them available when you come back from riding tomorrow?”

“Sure.” He shouldn’t have said that. Every extra minute they spent together increased the possibility that one of them might do something that would make them both lose control. He was willing to take that risk if he could be with her a little bit longer.

“I think they’re in your bathroom.” She walked down the hallway, lit only by a small wall sconce.

He followed, all the while lecturing himself to get a grip on his libido. This wasn’t like him. Then again, she wasn’t like any woman he’d met before. She had secrets, and he had to believe they were interesting secrets. Apparently curiosity was a powerful aphrodisiac for him. He hadn’t known that.

Well, then, that was the solution, wasn’t it? If he solved the mystery of Keri Fitzpatrick, he wouldn’t be so attracted to her. He’d planned on searching the internet to see what he could turn up, but asking her outright was really a more honest way to approach it. His questions might be considered intrusive, but if that would keep him from seducing his host’s housekeeper, he felt justified.

She stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the wall switch. “Let’s see what I can find.” Walking over to the sink set into a carved wooden vanity, she began pulling open drawers.

He leaned in the doorway. “It’s none of my business, but wondering why you left Baltimore to come out here and be a housekeeper is driving me crazy.”

“It is?” She glanced up and understanding passed between them without either of them saying a word. His curiosity wasn’t the only thing driving him crazy, and they both knew it. “The answer’s pretty simple,” she said. “I ran away from a scandal.”

“That’s not a simple answer.” And all it did was ratchet his curiosity up a notch.

She gave him a wry smile. “No, I guess not.” Folding her arms, she propped one hip against the vanity. “I was at a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s penthouse and the champagne was flowing. This cute guy and I were making out in a darkened corner when his fiancée showed up. I didn’t know he was engaged.”

“That was the scandal?” He had a hard time imagining that would create enough gossip to make her leave town.

“No. She threw a drink in my face, so I threw one in hers. She came at me, claws out, wailing like a banshee. My temper got the best of me, and…well, there was smashed crystal, imported caviar ground into the antique rug, a crack in a priceless statue…in other words, an unholy mess.”

Michael tried not to grin, but she’d conjured up quite a picture. He’d only known her a short while, but he sensed the fire in her. She wouldn’t take kindly to being falsely accused. “And here I was impressed that you didn’t faint over a mouse.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m Irish.”

He’d thought learning her secrets would make her less intriguing. Instead, he was more fascinated than ever. “Did you win?”

Triumph shone briefly in her green eyes. Then she sighed. “I did. But in the end, I lost, because I became notorious as the New Year’s Eve Brawler. I couldn’t do my job without the subject coming up. That fight began to define who I was.”

“What’s your profession?”

“PR.”

It figured that she’d be trained in the area that was currently the scourge of his existence.

She pushed away from the vanity. “There you have it, the reason I came out here.” Moving to the other side of the vanity, she opened the top drawer.

“But why be a housekeeper? Why not get another PR job?”

“I just wanted to hide out for a while, do something completely different. The cliché for it is finding yourself. I hadn’t been all that happy with my life in Baltimore, anyway, so this was a chance to explore other options.”

“You came out here without knowing a soul?”

“Yep. That was exciting, in a way. I interviewed for the job here on a whim. I had no experience, but luckily Sarah and Jack took pity on me.” She rummaged in the drawer. “There’s a box wedged in the back of this drawer. It could be the liniment.”

“For the record, Sarah’s thrilled with the job you’re doing.”

“She said that?” Keri reached deep into the drawer and tugged at the box. It was more square than rectangular, which didn’t make sense for a tube of ointment, but she might as well haul it out, anyway.

“She did. She’s very happy with your work, but she also expects you to leave.”

“Which I will, but I’ll give them plenty of time to hire someone else before the boys descend on them next summer.” She yanked at the box. “Got it!” Holding it aloft, she looked at the label.

Michael looked, too, and began to laugh. “That’s not liniment.”

Without meeting his eyes, she tossed the box back in the drawer. “Nope, not liniment.” Her cheeks had turned a becoming shade of rose.

Michael longed to walk over there and kiss her blushing cheeks, her full mouth and her delicate throat. Hell, he’d like to work his way through every tempting spot on her sweet body. Each piece of the puzzle that was Keri Fitzpatrick only made him want to find more so he could complete the picture.

“I’ll keep looking.” She opened the door under the sink and crouched down to peer inside.

“That’s okay.” God, he was a noble SOB. “I may not even need any. We should probably just forget about it and go to bed.”

She gave him a startled glance. “What?”

Oh, Keri. Lust slammed into him. He pushed it back. “Separately.”

“Oh.” She blushed again. “Right.”

“See you in the morning.” He walked out of the bathroom before he changed his mind and closed the short gap between them. Yes, he was nobler than he ever thought he could be.

But once he was inside his room with the door closed, he reflected on what had been in that drawer. Fate had not only thrown the luscious Keri into his path, it had provided him with condoms.

KERI TURNED OFF the bathroom light and retreated to her room. Once there, she flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until her head stopped buzzing and her heartbeat returned to normal. She’d given herself away. How embarrassing was that?

A woman who wasn’t thinking about sex would never have reacted the way she had when Michael had suggested they go to bed. People said that kind of thing all the time—we should go to bed—and they only meant it was time to turn in. That’s all Michael had been saying, for God’s sake. She was the one who’d made it into something else.

Sure, there was a sexual attraction between them. For the benefit of all concerned, they would ignore that attraction. No good would come of indulging themselves.

Not true, a devilish voice taunted her. Lots of good would come. And you would, too, most likely.

Her groan was spiced with laughter. She’d behaved like a nun ever since taking the job at the Last Chance. A woman living in her employer’s house couldn’t exactly invite guys up to her room. To be honest, she hadn’t met anyone she’d wanted to invite in. Until now.

The whole setup was ridiculous. If she’d met Michael while on some business trip to New York and they’d hit it off this well, she would have considered a sexual relationship. Maybe not tonight, because that was a bit fast. Tomorrow night wouldn’t have been out of the question.

But they weren’t in New York. They were across the hall from each other in the Chance family’s ranch house, where she was an employee and Michael was a guest. No matter which way she sliced it, that put him off-limits.

So she should be patient. He would leave at the end of the week, and she would leave in a couple of months. She’d get his contact information and give him hers. If the chemistry between them was more than a passing fancy they could get together later, once the barriers had been removed.

Since they were from similar backgrounds, and apparently had both yearned for a more unfettered lifestyle out West, they’d probably have many traits in common. She admired him for throwing himself into this setting with no experience. That took guts, and she appreciated a man with courage. Yes, he’d be worth tracking down later on.

Figuring out that a possible hookup was being postponed, not abandoned, should have made her feel less frustrated, but it didn’t. Blowing out a breath, she levered herself off the bed and changed into her pajamas. Then she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

Unfortunately, she spent all that time straining to hear Michael moving around in his room. At one point she caught the sound of footsteps in the hall. Like a teenager with a crush, she pressed her ear to the door.

He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Calling herself crazy, she listened until he came out and started back down the hall. He paused, and she held her breath. What would she do if he knocked on her door?

She had two choices—to answer it, which might lead to the forbidden pleasures she dreamed of, or to ignore it, which was the wisest course of action and sounded dismal and sad. But he took the choice away from her by continuing into his room and closing the door. Damn.

With nothing exciting on the horizon, she climbed into bed and picked up the paperback by Jim Ford lying on her nightstand. One of the ranch hands she’d dated last fall had loaned her a Jim Ford Western to help teach her about ranch life.

She’d never read that kind of book before, and it had helped her feel more at home here. She’d liked the story, too. She’d ordered all of the Jim Ford books online, which had given her a stack of more than twenty.

Her nightly reading habit was her little secret, her stealth method of taking a crash course in all things Western. After going through them once, she’d started over, which probably qualified her as a fan.

She’d nearly finished this one, Showdown at the Wildcat Saloon, for the second time. Within twenty minutes she’d arrived at the last page. The good guys won, the bad guys lost and the cowboy hero ended up with the girl. The plot was more complicated than that, but the structure was similar in all the books.

That worked for Keri. She liked knowing the stories would turn out well, and the details about cowboys and ranch life had taught her many things she might not have learned otherwise. The hands at the Last Chance were too busy being cowboys to stop and explain the process to a transplant from Baltimore, but Jim Ford did a fine job.

Her only complaint was that the love scenes weren’t hot enough to suit her. Maybe Western writers weren’t expected to have spicy romance in their books, but she would have liked more sizzle. She’d considered writing to tell him so, but hadn’t taken the time.

After finishing the current book, she glanced at the author photo on the inside back cover of the paperback. In it, Jim Ford leaned against the weathered side of a barn. She knew the photo well after seeing it in twentysome books.

But tonight it reminded her of someone else. When she’d stared at the picture for a few minutes and couldn’t place where she’d seen the guy, she turned out the light and slid down under the covers.

Lying there quietly, she could hear noises from Michael’s room—the sound of his booted feet on the wooden floor, followed by the clump of the boots as he pulled them off and dropped them. She imagined him undressing, and then stopped imagining it. A sexual buzz right now wasn’t going to help matters any.

Surely he was exhausted by now. He’d flown eastto-west, so his body clock was probably out of whack. It was much later for him than for everyone else on the ranch.

But he wasn’t going to bed. Instead, he turned on his laptop. That chime was unmistakable. If Jack had given him the ranch’s Wi-Fi password, he could be checking his email. Or his portfolio.

Though she’d told him a lot about her life tonight, she was woefully ignorant of his, other than Jack mentioning that he was loaded. He could have inherited his money or earned it himself. She had no idea which.

Usually a person gave some indication if they had a job. They’d reference it somehow, but Michael had been curiously mum on the subject. So maybe he lived off his investments, or his parents’ investments. She’d known plenty of people who did that.

She could choose that route herself, but she wouldn’t. Now that she knew what hard work was, she’d discovered that she liked it. She enjoyed ending the day feeling pleasantly tired and satisfied with what she’d accomplished.

When she left this job, she’d continue to cook and clean for herself, at least most of the time. She didn’t want to lose her newly acquired skills. The life she used to have, with minions handling every routine maintenance task, had lost its appeal.

Sleep began to pull her under, but in that hazy moment before she drifted off, she realized who Jim Ford reminded her of. Michael. The two men looked very much alike, except Michael was clean-shaven and Jim Ford had a mustache. Talk about a crazy coincidence. Michael Hartford knew nothing about being a cowboy, and Jim Ford was an expert on the subject.

Maybe she should loan Michael a few of her Jim Ford books. They might help him the way they’d helped her. Jack’s lessons were all well and good, but Jim Ford provided the lingo. Michael also might get a kick out of knowing that if he grew a mustache, he could impersonate a well-known Western writer.

Tomorrow she’d leave a book in his room, along with a note to check out the author photo on the inside back cover. That should make him laugh.




5


BY LATE MORNING on the following day, Michael was hating life, and he hadn’t even made it out of the corral. If he’d had some image of galloping across a meadow on Day One, he could kiss that fantasy goodbye. He’d spent at least an hour, probably longer, learning to saddle and unsaddle his assigned horse, Destiny.

Destiny had stood patiently while Michael practiced over and over under Jack’s supervision. Mastering the bridle application had taken another big chunk of time. Jack had insisted, and legitimately so, that a rider needed to know these basics before climbing aboard. Jack was also a perfectionist in this regard. No student of his would get away with sloppy habits. No, sir.

Michael couldn’t very well bitch about Jack’s exacting attitude, either. The guy was offering his house and his services for free, out of the goodness of his heart. If Michael had been paying him, the dynamics would have been different, but under this program Michael kept his mouth shut.

Lack of sleep hadn’t helped his concentration any, either. He’d planned to work on his current manuscript for an hour or so the previous night because his deadline loomed. Usually, working helped him wind down, except the chapter he’d faced had included—of course—a love scene.

He’d thought about Keri while he wrote the blasted thing, so by the end of the writing session the scene had been hotter than he usually made them. And he’d been equally hot. At least he’d finished the chapter and could move on to some action sequences tonight.

That was assuming he could sit long enough to type. The first portion of the actual riding part hadn’t been bad—getting the horse to walk and then putting on the brakes. But then had come the torturous gait called the trot.

Michael had circled the corral endlessly while Destiny jolted every bone in his body. How naively Michael had written trotting into his manuscripts over the years. His characters were constantly trotting their horses here, there and everywhere.

His characters were also experienced riders who had somehow learned how to sit in the saddle without bouncing like a teenager on a trampoline. Michael wondered how in hell they’d accomplished that feat. Jack kept telling him to sit back and just move with the horse. Yeah, right. He wondered if a construction worker just moved with his jackhammer.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being tempted by the lovely housekeeper. After today, his privates would be out of commission. He might not be in shape to have sex for a month.

“Okay, slow him down,” Jack called out from his perch on the corral fence. “Walk him around a couple of times and we’ll call it quits for now and head in to lunch.”

Lunchtime meant seeing Keri again. Despite feeling achy and chafed, he brightened at that prospect. As he walked Destiny through the gate Jack held open, he thought about Keri’s expression last night when she’d reached into the vanity drawer and pulled out a box of condoms. She’d been flustered and cute as the dickens.




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