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The Forbidden Brother
Joanne Rock
A night of passion and mistaken identity means unmistakable consequences…A close encounter with playboy Wyoming McNeills causes havoc with Jillian Ross – since it’s actually his reclusive twin, Cody, she’s fallen for! Could this turn into the adventure of a lifetime?


One night of passion, mistaken identity...
and unmistakable consequences!
Jillian Ross craves adventure. And she gets it when her new career as a film scout leads her to the ranch owned by the wealthy Wyoming McNeills. Giving in to temptation with the playboy McNeill causes havoc—since it’s actually his reclusive twin, Cody, she’s fallen for! Now she’s pregnant—and still can’t get enough of her reluctant rancher. Is this adventure just beginning?
Four-time RITA® Award nominee JOANNE ROCK has penned over seventy stories for Mills & Boon. An opti-mist by nature and a perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her life outlook perfectly—love is worth fighting for. A former Golden Heart® Award recipient, she has won numerous awards for her stories. Learn more about Joanne’s imaginative muse by visiting her website, www.joannerock.com (http://www.joannerock.com), or following @joannerock6 (https://twitter.com/joannerock6) on Twitter.
Also by Joanne Rock (#udc41c013-50ec-5a72-8019-28d379bcba15)
The Magnate’s Mail-Order Bride
The Magnate’s Marriage Merger
His Accidental Heir
Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary
Claiming His Secret Heir
For the Sake of His Heir
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Forbidden Brother
Joanne Rock


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07657-9
THE FORBIDDEN BROTHER
© 2018 Joanne Rock
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Lisa Rivard for the friendship,
the party-bus rides and all the fun texts
that make me smile.
So glad we met!
Contents
Cover (#u11356ac8-4738-5bf2-8159-a63157eae481)
Back Cover Text (#u7b9c8bd5-fa89-59f3-b822-1e9a8c363f2d)
About the Author (#ucd1e5ef0-ac5f-58da-8895-630c71a2576c)
Booklist (#u5f1d2468-cf31-5f2c-9e08-36d31cbbdde5)
Title Page (#u0f774839-36b5-5997-8a13-f9abd53b6eb4)
Copyright (#u5ae5e631-4327-5d7a-855e-3b7732aa84cb)
Dedication (#uab440c7f-cd39-5508-9197-750d123c9ca2)
One (#uee881e20-aec2-5902-94da-f422314f56aa)
Two (#u9039950f-3cd1-5949-a012-01ac839463ab)
Three (#uafda73a2-ddea-5806-a478-014538e9dd2a)
Four (#u0d98c908-801e-50ae-854a-614c86f2caa1)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#udc41c013-50ec-5a72-8019-28d379bcba15)
Jillian Ross ordered a bottle of the house’s best wine and tipped back in her chair at her table near the window. Considering that the bar, centrally located in downtown Cheyenne, Wyoming, was called the Thirsty Cow, and the best vintage available was a cabernet she could have picked up at her local grocery store, she was pleasantly surprised by how good the first sip tasted.
Maybe that was because Ordering the Best Wine Off the Menu was a line item on her list of One Hundred Life Adventures—a set of goals she’d composed during radiation treatments for breast cancer two years ago. She was determined to accomplish every single objective, and then some, now that she had a second chance at living. It felt incredibly satisfying to cross off another ambition, even if she wasn’t in a five-star establishment. Just being in Cheyenne fulfilled another goal, since Seeing the Western States had also made the list.
Actually, the travel category accounted for almost a third of her line items, now that she thought about it. She’d hoped her new job as a film location scout would put her in the perfect position to see the world—or at least the United States. Too bad she was already at risk of losing this gig.
“Can I get you anything else, miss?” asked a tall, harried waiter in a T-shirt printed with the name of a local college. Balancing a trayful of beers, he set her bottle on the table.
Country music blared through the Thirsty Cow, the Friday night crush a mix of local ranchers and tourists, peppered with military personnel from the air force base. Jillian had driven in from Pasadena three days before to meet with a wealthy ranch owner—the reclusive and powerful Cody McNeill—to try to change his mind about allowing a film crew on his land. Her mission was hampered by the man’s complete lack of presence online. How could she make a personal pitch if she couldn’t get a direct line to him?
The formal written request she’d sent to his business manager had generated a tersely worded refusal. But Jillian’s boss had fallen in love with the photos she’d taken of the Black Creek Ranch—photos she’d snapped before she’d known the land was so carefully guarded. She hadn’t seen any posted signs. But now that she needed formal permissions to move ahead, the higher-ups in her organization wouldn’t consider any of Jillian’s plan B spots, pushing her to sign the deal and book the Black Creek Ranch. Now, she was in town to convince ranching magnate Cody McNeill to change his mind.
“I’m all set, thank you.” Jillian lifted her glass to toast her retreating waiter. “This is perfect.”
She would never drink the whole bottle on her own, especially since she’d carefully avoided alcohol following her initial diagnosis. But she was at the two-year mark, damn it, and she liked the idea of having it on the table to top off the glass. Besides, who was she to question the wisdom of her One Hundred Life Adventures list, since it had been dreamed up under extreme duress?
She turned her attention to the notes on her tablet, studying who owned the lands abutting the Black Creek Ranch. Cody McNeill’s father, Donovan, had divvied up some parcels for his three daughters and three sons, giving the McNeill family expansive holdings in all directions. Those adjacent properties had some similar features to the Black Creek, but none possessed the iconic old barn that Jillian’s boss had fallen in love with. Still, there had to be something Jillian could do. Carson McNeill, one of Cody’s brothers, owned a ranch next door. She typed his name into her tablet. And...bingo.
Carson, in direct contrast to his phantom sibling, had current social media profiles like the rest of the world. His posts were mostly updates about the ranching industry, but every now and then there was a photo of the man himself. These seemed to be posted mostly by other people, female people, but in light of the man’s rugged good looks that was no surprise.
In a word? Yum.
In Jillian’s brief time working in the film industry this past year, she’d run across all manner of handsome men. Carson McNeill was every bit as attractive as any A-list star she’d spotted, but his dusty boots, perpetual five o’clock shadow and generally mussed appearance lacked Hollywood polish. Which was a plus in her book. His dark hair, strikingly blue eyes and charming grin drew attention, no question.
One photo showed him lugging a keg off the back of a pickup truck in the middle of a golden hay field, a hay baler behind him, a handful of workers surrounding him. Another image pictured Carson at a local bar, long legs sprawled out, booted feet crossed, while he slouched in his chair and grinned at the women, plural, seated beside him. There was a photo posted by the local newspaper—a throwback shot—that showed a younger Carson riding a bucking bull in a competition ring, a crowd of cheering cowboys in the background. Jillian could swear the man was grinning even then, his body arced backward, poised to slam hard on the ground.
Surely this seemingly good-natured rancher could be persuaded to help her win over his brother? Pleased with the new discovery, she took another sip of her wine and leaned back in her seat again, allowing herself a moment to daydream while the music switched to a slow country ballad. As two-stepping couples took the floor and a blue neon moon dropped from the ceiling, Jillian thought through the possibilities. If she could secure Cody McNeill’s permission to film on his ranch, she would ensure future work from her boss. And since this film location manager was well-connected in the industry, she might pass along Jillian’s name to her friends as someone who could find key locations and had the cinematography sensibilities to know what a director was looking for.
That meant more work. New travel. Additional items crossed off her list. Even better, that meant more ways Jillian was kicking cancer’s ass. And that was what she wanted more than anything. Triumph over the thing that had scared her—almost—to death.
She stared out the window overlooking the street, preferring not to dwell on romance and two-stepping couples while remembering a period in her life that had been frighteningly loveless. Her boyfriend at the time had bailed right after her surgery to remove a tumor. He couldn’t deal with chemo, he’d said. Let alone the radiation.
That still got to her. He couldn’t deal with it. Like he was the one having to slog through that hell and not her.
Closing her eyes to banish the old demons, Jillian took a bracing breath. When she opened them again, she had to look twice.
Because she could have sworn that out there on the street, in the rainy Cheyenne night, she saw Carson McNeill. Instantly alert, she craned her neck to follow his progress up the sidewalk. Decidedly handsome from the rear, the guy looked to be the correct height and build. His worn-in jeans were a feast for the feminine eye. His boots and his Stetson were the wrong colors from what she’d seen online, but a man could own more than one hat, couldn’t he?
Jillian gathered up her tablet and maps and shoved them into her homemade cloth satchel. Finding a couple bills in her wallet, she tossed them on the table beside her barely touched wine. The server was getting one heck of a tip, since she couldn’t wait around for change.
After darting and weaving through the crowd toward the exit, she levered open the door and stepped out into the rain. Just in time to see the fawn-colored Stetson disappear into a building a block up the street. She hugged her bag to her chest, wishing she’d taken the time to slip into her sweater. Cheyenne was windy on a good day, and during a rainy night, the gusts took on a brutal chill. Especially for a woman who still chilled easily. Sometimes she thought the chemo drugs would never fully leave her body.
She reached the building where Carson McNeill had disappeared and saw it was another bar. Wrangler’s wasn’t nearly as busy as the Thirsty Cow, so when she stumbled inside, in a rush to escape the weather, the patrons seemed to notice.
All five of them.
Hank Williams was playing on the jukebox and the dude behind the bar, with a grizzled beard halfway down his chest, was no college student. The wiry old guy gave Jillian a nod and went back to pouring a beer for the only other woman in the place—a middle-aged lady dressed like a biker in a leather vest over her long-sleeved T-shirt.
Wrangler’s definitely wasn’t the sort of joint where Jillian envisioned smiley, social Carson McNeill hanging out. But there could be no mistaking a man that good-looking. He was seated in a corner booth, and he’d just laid his phone on the table, flicking on the screen with his thumb before scrolling.
Jillian didn’t realize she was staring until the bartender called over to her, “Have a seat anywhere you like.” He gestured with a sweep of his arm to the empty tables.
Feeling silly for having been caught gawking, Jillian scooted into a booth across from her quarry. He hadn’t glanced up at her since she’d first walked in and she wondered now how it would feel to have those intensely blue eyes on her. Which was peculiar, given that she’d lost all her mojo where men were concerned.
Part of that was her former boyfriend’s fault, since he gave men a bad name. But the majority of the blame belonged to her disease and the treatment that had left her feeling like a dried-out husk of a woman. She’d read the brochures on what to expect after dealing with her chemo and radiation, so she knew that feeling was normal enough, and as side effects went, it wasn’t the worst of them. After all, what did it matter if sex and men held no appeal when she was focused on her career and her recovery?
But right now, stealing glances at the tall, well-built cowboy two booths away, Jillian could almost forget she hadn’t experienced deep physical arousal in two years. Because the man was intriguing. He wore a blue T-shirt under his gray-and-white work flannel, and she found herself fascinated by the play of muscle beneath the cotton. The edge of his jaw, shadowed with bristle, made her wonder about the texture and feel of him.
Then, to cap off a night full of surprises, Carson McNeill glanced up from his phone and stared back at her. His blue eyes narrowed. A fierce, intensely male energy vibrated all around him. She felt the electric jolt from that single look on her skin, tingling its way over her arms beneath the featherweight sleeves of her blouse. Her breath hitched in her throat with a soft, startled gasp. She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away.
A shiver traced its way down to the base of her spine. But this wasn’t the kind of shiver that came with a chill. This one brought an undeniable flare of heat.
Her throat suddenly parched, she couldn’t speak. Only this time, it wasn’t because she felt like a dried-out husk of a woman. As she stared at a man who could hold the key to her professional future in his hands, she realized that her long slumbering libido had finally made a comeback.
* * *
For a moment, Cody McNeill wondered whether the lovely redhead seated in the booth across the way had mistaken him for his twin.
His whole life, he’d witnessed women stare at Carson in just that manner—like he was the answer to all their fantasies. It was strange, really, since he and Carson were supposedly identical. To people who knew them, they couldn’t be more different. Even strangers could usually tell at a glance that Carson was the charmer and Cody was...not. It was in the way they carried themselves. The propensity to laugh. Carson’s easygoing, leave-it-to-tomorrow approach was a far cry from Cody’s belief that the buck stopped at his desk.
But somehow the redhead hadn’t quite figured it out yet. She had been watching him since she stepped through the door of Wrangler’s. The local dive suited him, since the food was good, the beer didn’t require a dedicated menu and he’d bought the building a month ago to remodel for a more centrally located ranch office. Tonight, Cody needed a retreat from his family—mostly his twin. They’d been at odds for weeks over the sudden appearance of their paternal grandfather, a rich-as-Croesus hotel magnate from New York who’d disinherited their father over twenty years ago. Carson wanted to make peace with the guy, while Cody had no use for someone who’d betrayed their dad. The arrival of Malcolm McNeill in Cheyenne was tearing their already fractured family apart, and Carson had to make things worse by inviting the old man to dinner at the main house on Creek Spill Ranch. Technically, the property belonged to their father, Donovan, even though Carson oversaw the daily operations.
That latest bit of disloyalty made Cody mad as hell. His twin was too busy having fun all the time to ever think about the consequences of his actions. Which, of course, was why Carson attracted the kind of wide-eyed attention the woman in the opposite booth was currently exhibiting. Carson said yes to every entertaining opportunity that came his way, whether or not it was the right thing to do. Normally, that ticked off Cody. But at this moment, with the vivid hazel eyes of an attractive female following Cody’s every move, he had to ask himself why he played it straight all the time instead of taking a page from his twin’s book. If Carson was here, he’d have the decidedly sexy stranger under his arm in no time.
Between the dark mood hovering over Cody and the realization that he wouldn’t mind stealing away one of his brother’s admirers, he did something he hadn’t done since he was a schoolkid.
He pretended to be his twin.
“Would you like some tips on what’s edible around here?” He tested out the words with a smile. The expression was as fake as the pickup line, but he’d seen similar patter work for his brother a hundred times.
Hell, he ended up sounding just like him.
The grin gave the words the right amount of easy irreverence.
But the petite beauty in the booth nearby appeared to be stunned silent. Although slight in stature, she had a powerful presence. From her warm, henna-colored hair to the vivid blues and greens of her butterfly-printed blouse, and turquoise cowboy boots that had never seen a day’s work, the woman stood out. She shone like a light in the darkened bar.
“Edible?” The word was a dry croak from her lips, a belated response to his question. Her cheeks flushed pink with hectic color.
“On the menu,” he clarified, withdrawing his own laminated copy of Wrangler’s entree choices from the metal napkin holder. “There are some good options if you’d like input.”
The way she blushed, he had to wonder what she’d thought he meant.
And damned if that intriguing notion didn’t distract him from his dark mood. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a woman blush, and the telltale heat in her cheeks sent an answering warmth through his limbs.
“I, um...” She bit her lip uncertainly before seeming to collect her thoughts. “I’m not hungry, but thank you. I actually followed you in here to speak to you.”
Ah, hell. He wasn’t ready to end the game that had taken a turn for the interesting. But it was one thing to ride the wave of the woman’s mistaken assumption. It was another to lie, and Cody’s ethics weren’t going to allow him to sink that low.
The smile his brother normally wore slid from Cody’s face. Disappointment cooled the heat in his veins.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” It was a shot in the dark, and he was surprised to hear the words fall out of his mouth.
“Do what?” She frowned, confused.
The music in the bar switched to an old George Jones tune, a surprise choice from the jukebox, which was as ancient as the rest of the place. But the slow tempo gave him an idea to put off a conversation he didn’t care to have.
“Are you sure you want to talk?” Shoving himself to his feet, he extended a hand to her. “We could dance instead.”
He stared down into those green-gold eyes, willing her to say yes. He needed three more minutes to let the remnants of this hellish day slide away. Wanted an excuse to touch this pretty stranger who blushed for no reason. She took so long deciding he thought she must be debating a good way to refuse him. But then, surprise of all surprises, the sweetest smile curved her lips, transforming her face from pretty to...
Wow.
It was like someone flipped a switch inside her, making her come more fully alive.
“That sounds great,” she agreed with a breathless laugh. “Thank you.”
Sliding her cool fingers into his palm, she rose and let him lead her to the dance floor. It was small and a little warped on one side, but then, they were the only couple out there. Cody turned her to face him before drawing her into the circle of his arms. She fitted there perfectly, even if she was a head shorter than him. It put her at the perfect height where he could have buried his face in her hair. The glossy red curls smelled like honeysuckle.
She tipped her head up to look at him as they began an easy two-step, moving together well enough. She let him lead, her feet mirroring his as he spun them in slow circles around the floor. The full sleeves of her blouse grazed his arms, gently clinging to him.
Sensual hunger stirred with new restlessness, reminding him of every single month he’d spent alone since his last relationship. All twelve of them, in fact. And he hadn’t been remotely tempted by anyone after discovering his ex-girlfriend’s faithlessness, a treachery she defended by saying he was “too cold” for a woman to love.
Tonight he was anything but cold.
“I like this idea,” the redhead in his arms confided, her fingers flexing ever so slightly against his shoulder where she touched him. “I can’t remember the last time I danced with a stranger.”
Stranger?
Cody assumed she’d mistaken him for Carson. Did she not know his twin, either? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. At first, he’d been just as glad to undermine his disloyal brother. But as his temper cooled, and the longer he held this vibrant woman in his arms, the more he appreciated the idea that Carson didn’t have any kind of prior claim.
“You’ve improved my Friday night a whole lot, too.” He liked the feel of her, his hand warming the cool skin through the thin blouse she wore. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about anything outside of work.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Leading me to wonder what you could be thinking about right now.” Her lips curved. “Admiring the Wrangler’s decor? Or maybe remembering how much you like a good George Jones tune?”
He laughed appreciatively. “I do respect a bar that still plays a classic. But the vinyl upholstery in the booths isn’t doing much for me in the decor department.” His gaze skated over her features; he was looking forward to making her blush again. “And I was thinking about you more than anything else.”
His directness might have caught her off guard. She nibbled her lower lip briefly before meeting his eyes. “I haven’t been the center of anyone’s attention in...a long time.”
There was a story there. He heard it in her voice. Saw it in her eyes.
“You aren’t involved with someone else?” He needed to be sure before he let this go on any longer. But his pulse was already thrumming. “I don’t see a ring, but I have to ask.”
“I am very much unattached.” She shook her head, red curls catching the overhead light as she moved. “What about you? No one waiting at home?”
“The only ones who might be missing my presence right now are a couple of rowdy shepherds back at my ranch who would have preferred the night off.” He swayed with her. Her knee brushed his now and again in a way that fired right through him. “But no girlfriend. No wife.”
He respected that she asked, even though she was clearly feeling the same spark as him. And now that those formalities had been cleared away, he could simply enjoy the moment. The completely unexpected pleasure of having a beautiful stranger in his arms. He didn’t want to let go of her now. He wanted to take her outside into the fresh, rain-cleaned night and kiss her. See if she tasted as good as he imagined.
“The stars are aligning for us so far, aren’t they?” She peered up at him with something like wonder in her eyes.
He couldn’t remember a woman ever looking at him quite like that. As if he was the answer to a question. An answer that pleased her.
“It feels that way.” He didn’t want to scare her off with empty pickup lines, or come across as some lowlife playing games with a woman in a bar. But as the music shifted again—this time to an even slower, modern country love song—Cody wondered if he could convince her to let the spark between them run wild. To follow the heat wherever it led. “And since the stars aligning would be a first for me, I wonder if can ask you just one thing.”
He halted them in the middle of the floor, now that the two-step was done. Bringing her fractionally closer, he swayed to the slower tempo in a barely moving lovers’ dance.
She followed him seamlessly, her gaze never straying from his. She was fully focused on him. Framed by dusky brown lashes, those green-gold eyes reminded him of new grass and spring.
“Sure. Ask away.” Her voice had a sweet-sultry quality that made him want to listen to her speak more.
“Don’t you ever wish you could forget about the expectations of the world around you and just...choose your own adventure?” He remembered books like that when he’d been a kid, where you could test out different endings to a story.
For someone who’d always taken the safe route in real life, he had liked the option of seeing how another choice played out. At least in a book. Cody couldn’t do that with ranching. Or his family. But he could take a chance here. Tonight.
Her lashes swept down for a long moment, hiding her expression. But when she tilted a glance up at him again, there was a new curiosity there.
“Are you asking to share an adventure with me?” She sounded disbelieving. But maybe a little intrigued.
“I suppose I am.” He would never have made such an outrageous suggestion to a local—a woman who knew him or his family. But she had tourist and temporary written all over her. Surely there couldn’t be any harm in drawing out the flirtation? “What would you say to throwing away the rule book for a little longer?”
He let go of her hand for a moment to tip her chin higher, to see her face in the dim overhead light of the dance floor. Feminine interest flickered in her eyes. He inhaled as she released a pent-up breath. He could almost taste her in the space of silence between them.
Then he leaned closer to press his cause. “Choose me tonight.”
Two (#udc41c013-50ec-5a72-8019-28d379bcba15)
It was kismet.
Normally, Jillian wasn’t the kind of woman who jumped on the fairy-tale bandwagon. Cancer had shredded every last romantic notion she had about the world and her place in it. These days, she was a realist. A pragmatist.
But how else could she view this man’s suggestion that she choose a new adventure with him, at a time in her life when she was desperately rewriting her personal script to embrace new challenges? She owed her sanity and maybe even her physical health to that list of life adventures she’d written.
So for Carson McNeill to somehow tap into the deepest hunger of her soul and suggest they throw out the rule book, Jillian knew there had to be some kind of cosmic destiny at work. Call it providence, or maybe luck. Surely she could table her business agenda—just for a little while—to pursue this off-the-charts attraction? Once he’d rolled out the idea of an adventure, her personal mantra this year, Jillian saw it as a gauntlet thrown down by the hand of fate.
She was powerless to refuse.
To say nothing of how deeply attracted she felt to the man. She hadn’t experienced the shimmering warmth of desire coating her skin this way since...ever. There was no precedent for the wobbly feeling in her knees. The light-headedness and the tingle over her scalp. The rest of the barroom faded away.
Her business with the McNeills would have to wait.
And if this turned out to be a mistake, she’d have to find another way to get to Cody McNeill that didn’t involve this very charismatic brother.
Simply put, if she didn’t say yes to this moment, she would regret it forever.
“Yes,” she answered him. Smoothing her hands over his flannel shirt, Jillian let herself inch a fraction closer. “I’m game.”
It would be an adventure, but a safe one. She had her own car parked outside. She would text a friend her whereabouts. Besides, she had the reassurance that Carson McNeill was a respected member of the ranching community. A well-known, well-liked local. She’d scanned his entire social media profile just moments ago.
His masculine smile of triumph made her toes curl, sending an answering heat smoking through her.
“I can’t wait to kiss you,” he whispered in her ear. The brush of his mouth so close to her neck was tantalizing.
“I like where this is going.” She swayed to the music there in the corner of the bar, the scents of beer and wings distracting her from the occasional hint of his aftershave when she got close enough to him. She thought about tucking her head against his chest and breathing him in, but she was already pushing the envelope. “Even though this would be the first time I’ve ever kissed a total stranger.”
“I’m going to be heartbroken if you’re backing out of this adventure already.” The deep tone of his voice vibrated in her chest, making her tremble.
Another couple joined them; the woman who’d been sitting at the bar earlier tugged a rough-looking cowboy onto the floor with her. Their weaving, unsteady dance made Jillian’s partner tighten his grip protectively, his hand splayed low on her spine.
Her heart rate quickened, her breasts brushing against his chest, sending an ache through her.
“Not a chance. Besides, I already know some things about you,” she reasoned, recognizing that she couldn’t get much nearer to this man without appearing positively indecent. Their thighs grazed together now and again, the contact reminding her how long it had been since her legs had tangled with a man’s.
Too. Damn. Long.
“Is that so?”
“You like dive bars.” She wondered why he’d come here alone. All his photos online showed him surrounded by friends—men, women, employees, coworkers.
“And redheads.” Gently, he tugged one of her newly grown spiral curls, a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his lips. “Actually, I never knew how much I liked this fiery color of hair until tonight.”
His gaze seemed to follow his fingers as he toyed with the ringlet for another moment, and her heart faltered at the sweetness of the gesture. Or maybe it was simply the affirmation that he enjoyed the crazy curls she didn’t dare tame with hair product, fearful she would somehow lose the fragile regrowth.
Her throat dried up again. This night and this man were was making her feel things. Arousal. Romance. A giant dose of normal. She blinked fast to banish the sudden rush of emotion, unwilling to ruin things with an attack of weepiness. She would enjoy every second, damn it. Except the wellspring of feelings was already bubbling.
Gratitude for her new lease on life.
Joy in the simple warmth of a man’s caress.
And yes, the return of physical longing, a keen hunger for more.
Unsure what to do with all that, and worried she would do something mortifying—like burst into tears on the side of the dance floor—Jillian rose on her toes and channeled all the sentimental burn into a kiss.
She could tell she’d surprised him. For a split second, he went absolutely still. Was he thinking she was crazy? Sex-starved? She closed her eyes to shut out those fears and simply let herself concentrate on the feel of his mouth on hers. The bristle of his jaw against her skin. The contrasting softness of his lips, which were full and sensual. He smelled like cedar and pine, woodsy and earthy, as if he’d been outdoors all day.
Just when she would have pulled back, however, the kiss changed. He became fully engaged, taking over her tentative efforts, which had been more about hiding her emotions. He pulled her into him, anchoring her body with his while he let his hands and tongue roam.
An onslaught of sudden, acute physical awareness put a stop to all her distracting emotions. His new command of the kiss allowed her to follow his lead, just like when they’d danced. Her head tipped back, her knees gave way. She wound her arms around his neck to hold herself steady, and to feel the full impact of his hard, muscular body.
Lost in the moment, she arched into him. Hip to hip, breast to chest. She needed full contact and she needed it now. Maybe he could tell as much, because he broke away from her suddenly, staring down at her while expelling his breath in a rush. With his hands on her shoulders, he steadied them both, since he seemed as surprised by the moment as she was.
The music had changed. A more modern country rock tune blared from the speakers and they were alone on the dance floor again. A waitress sidled past with a trayful of food; the scents of tabasco and beer were heavy in the air.
All that was secondary to the desire coursing through Jillian’s body like wildfire, the red-hot sensation that was totally foreign, since her libido had been on ice for over a year.
“You see that door over there?” he asked, tipping his forehead so close to hers they almost touched.
She followed his gaze to the exit marked Private.
“Mmm.” She nodded, since her voice wasn’t working. Her lips were more inclined to kiss than speak.
“My offices are just through there and up a staircase.”
“You work in the bar?” She didn’t think that could be true. Wasn’t he a successful rancher with considerable acreage?
“I bought the building and rent the space to Wrangler’s. I’m remodeling the upper floors for...my business.” He hedged about his line of work.
But of course, she already knew what he did for a living.
“How convenient to work close to a bar you like,” she observed, not sure what else to say. Her thoughts were muddled from the kiss.
She wanted another one.
“It is,” he agreed. “But right now, I’m thinking about how much privacy we could have for another kiss, on the other side of that door.”
“Oh.” That was logic she could follow. “Yes. Just let me grab my purse.”
He scanned the bar, his gaze halting on the table where she’d left her bag, while she reached into her pocket for her phone. She texted a quick message to a friend to let her know where she was, taking basic safety precautions.
But if there was another kiss on the table, Jillian was taking it. And if that meant entering the backroom of a dive bar in a building Carson McNeill owned, that didn’t deter her in the slightest. Her whole body hummed from his touch. She felt vitally alive, and that was a gift that neither her recovery nor the group counseling sessions she’d attended afterward had given her.
“Are you sure?” He paused and frowned down at her before they reached her table.
Perhaps he’d seen her text.
“I’m positive.” She craved the adrenaline high his touch inspired. Thirsted for the physical contact that ignited sensations all over her body. Even before her chemo days, she hadn’t experienced the kind of tantalizing thrill that contact with him provided.
Darting toward the booth, she retrieved her satchel. “Okay.” She tried to restrain herself from leaping into his arms. Plastering herself to him. “I’m ready.”
She didn’t want to worry about work or filming on Cody McNeill’s ranch anymore tonight. She just wanted to follow this adventurous path Carson had proposed, and hope it led her back toward joy and health. Well-being and wholeness.
Taking her by the hand, he drew her with him across the bar, past the dance floor and through the exit marked Private. He flipped a switch and an overhead lamp threw the space into view. As he closed the door behind them, Jillian’s gaze immediately went to the vast office, which was still under construction.
The exposed brick walls and bamboo floors had been cleaned and restored. A staircase with dark slats and a thick, Craftsman-style handrail led upward, the mirror on the landing reflecting the dull light of silver pendant lamps. The beautifully detailed hammered-tin ceiling tiles looked original.
But she didn’t have a chance to compliment him on the remodeling project in progress. He stalked toward her, his intent gaze rising from her mouth to her eyes. Her pulse quickened as she remembered why they were here.
The music from the jukebox drifted in through the open door. The rest of the world was close, but not close enough to see what was happening in here. He paused near her, took off his Stetson and settled it on a wrought-iron hook beside the door. She could see his eyes better now that the brim wasn’t casting a shadow. Jillian let her satchel fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes remained on Carson. The stranger she knew.
Then his hand was cupping her face, tilting her chin. Her eyelids fell, the sensations coming so fast and fierce she needed to focus simply on what she was feeling.
His kiss chased off any reservations she might have had, providing instant clarity about what she wanted. Desire shot through her; it felt like going up too fast in an elevator. Her knees almost buckled, and her whole body was seized with dizzying sensations. She reached to steady herself against him and ended up molded to the hard expanse of his muscles, from her hips to her breasts.
Her instincts took over. Winding her arms around his neck, she sought a closer connection.
For a moment, he kissed her harder. Deeper. She sucked air into her lungs in hard pants when he finally angled back, breaking the kiss to study her.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking lazy circles on her shoulders through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She wanted more than a kiss, she knew now. Much, much more.
“Better than okay.” She laid her palm on his cheek. Willed him to understand what she needed.
Connection. Affirmation. Him.
His jaw flexed; his breathing was as labored as hers. Then he backed her into the wall and she vaguely registered the rough brick against her spine for a moment before he hooked an arm under her hips and hefted her higher. The action slid her along the rigid length of—
Oh. My.
She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, clearing a path to his ear so she could whisper, “Don’t stop.”
* * *
Her soft plea undid him.
Up until that moment, Cody had been doing his damnedest to keep the explosive attraction in check. He’d made sure she was on board with what was happening between them. Helped her to feel safe and in control at all times. There was a bar full of people—well, a few people—just on the other side of the door.
But now?
She was like an out-of-control blaze in his arms. The chemistry was blistering. And her quiet, insistent “Don’t stop” torched the last shreds of his restraint.
Cupping her sweet curves in his hands, he brought the juncture of her thighs against his rock-hard erection, feeling the heat of her right through her long skirt. With the flip of his belt buckle, he could be inside her in no time.
“Please,” she murmured against his neck, kissing her way down his throat as she tugged at his T-shirt. “I have a clean bill of health. No partners since my last checkup.” She stopped kissing him long enough to glance up at him.
His short bark of laughter surprised him. Hell, she surprised him with the glimpses of an efficient woman beneath the passionate kisses.
“Me, too.” He set her back on her feet. “And thank you for that. I have protection somewhere. A bathroom upstairs, I think.” He’d stocked the basics, since he’d spent a few nights here overseeing the construction work when it had run late into the night.
“I have one,” she blurted, scrambling to retrieve the patchwork bag she’d dropped on the floor. “I bought it when I—well, in a fit of optimism.” She combed through the papers and electronics in her satchel. A bright pink pair of earbuds and a lipstick tube spilled out. “Here.”
She stood back up and stuffed a foil packet into his right hand, then launched herself into his arms. He wanted to move them upstairs where there was a sofa, but her fingers made quick work of his belt and the button fly, scrambling the last of his good intentions as she stroked him lightly.
“Hold on to me.” The words were a brusque command as he lifted her against him, a thigh in each hand as he helped her to wrap his legs around him. With her secured that way, he stepped close enough to the door to lock it.
She took the forgotten condom from him while he backed her against the door, a smoother surface than the brick wall. With her pinned there, he used a hand to tug her skirt higher. Out of the way.
She was in the process of tearing open the packet when he touched her through the silk of her panties, finding her hot and ready for him. He withdrew the condom from her, rolling it into place. His pulse pounded in his temples, the need for her an undeniable urge. A fierce ache. He wanted to take more time, touch her until an orgasm simmered through her. But her restless hands roved over him, peeling away his shirt and undershirt, tracing down his spine, spearing through his hair. Her hips bucked, and the slide of her soft, feminine center against his rigid length threatened to take his knees right out from under him.
Being inside her was his only option.
Slipping her panties aside, he entered her, slowly. Her fingers flexed against his arms, her nails gently biting into his skin as she held herself still. Head thrown back, she parted her lips on a sigh of pleasure. Her cheeks flushed deep pink, her lashes fluttering as she started to move with him.
The feel of her all around him was the sexiest high he could remember. From her boots hooked around his waist to her blouse sliding off one shoulder, she was all in. Her honeysuckle scent called to him, and he licked her tender skin while he buried himself deep inside her. Over and over again.
He held back when he could tell she was close. Her cheeks went from pink to small spots of red, her breath hitched and her hips went still. He slipped a hand down to touch her intimately, caressing tender circles right...there.
She came apart in his arms with a cry of pleasure that brought his release surging right afterward. Heat blasted his shoulders as sweat popped along his spine. The sensation went on and on, pummeling him, wringing everything from him. She clung to him, shifting against him as the aftershocks rocked her.
“Carson.” She breathed the word with a sigh, her eyes closed and her head thrown back.
His brother’s name on his lover’s lips brought everything inside Cody grinding to a halt. His heart rate slowed. His brain ceased working, too. Nothing made sense.
“What did you just say?” His mouth formed the words even as a chill rushed over his skin. He shifted his hold on her, barely able to think.
She peered up at him through eyelids at half-mast.
Whatever she saw in his expression must have given her pause, because she tipped her head sideways and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“Carson,” she repeated, loud and clear, even though she looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I knew who you were when I walked into the bar. I was looking for you.”
“Not me, sweetheart.” With an effort, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m Cody McNeill. You’ve got the wrong twin.”
Three (#udc41c013-50ec-5a72-8019-28d379bcba15)
“You’re Cody?” The color drained from the woman’s face, as if that was extraordinarily unpleasant news.
Not that he was surprised. Cody did just fine with women when he chose to, but Carson had always been the ladies’ man. Clearly, Carson was the guy she’d been hoping for. So yeah...he wasn’t surprised, but definitely a bit disappointed given the incredible encounter they’d just shared. After his last go-round with a faithless female, Cody wasn’t in the market for a woman who had her eyes on another man.
“In the flesh.” He disentangled himself with an effort, setting her on her feet.
Only to realize, as he tidied up, that the condom she’d given him was now in shreds. The realization—coming hard on the heels of her mistaking him from Carson—sent him stalking to the other side of the work space and slumping down in a chair.
“Oh, no.” The woman held her head in her hands. And she didn’t even know the worst of it yet.
“Maybe you’d better have a seat.” He used his boot to shove a second chair out from under the long, makeshift conference table that was a holdover from the retail store that had occupied the building long ago. “And tell me your name, for starters.”
He’d had unprotected sex with a total stranger.
And while, yes, he’d started out wanting an adventure, he hadn’t expected things to go so far. Especially not with a woman who had mistaken him for his twin.
“I’m Jillian.” She lifted her chin and picked up her bag before joining him at the table. She dropped into the utilitarian chair he’d offered her, her red curls drooping as much as her shoulders. “Jillian Ross.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“Well, Jillian Ross, we’ve got bigger problems on our hands than you mistaking me for my younger twin brother.”
“A twin.” She repeated the word, shaking her head like she’d never heard of such a thing.
Cody steeled himself against the surprise kick to his ego and shared his more pressing concern.
“Correct.” He heard his clipped tone and couldn’t help it. “But right now, I’d like to direct your attention to the fact that the condom broke.”
Her head snapped up, green eyes flashing even in the dim light.
“Excuse me?”
“Equipment malfunction,” he explained, trying to keep frustration out of his voice. “Maybe the condom was past the expiration date?”
“No.” She shook her head and then straightened her spine, seeming to recover herself a little bit. “I’m sure that’s not the case, but it doesn’t matter, since I’m disease-free, like I told you.” She pulled in a quick breath and tipped her chin up. “And as for the other concern, there’s a high percent chance that I’m...” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. Or patience. When she opened them again, there was a glitter in her gaze. A hint of emotion he couldn’t fathom. “I’m most likely infertile.”
He hadn’t expected that. He ran a hand through his hair, his brain buzzing with unanswered questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.
Then again, they’d taken a big risk tonight. He needed to know.
“How high a percentage?” He leaned on the conference table, only just now realizing he wore no shirt. He’d been so distracted he forgot to retrieve the only clothing they’d discarded before having sex. He spotted his T-shirt in a heap on the floor. “And how can you be sure?”
“I’m not comfortable divulging all my unhappy health history.” Her words were clipped, possibly angry. “But I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry for that. But you have to admit there’s a lot at stake here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “There probably isn’t.”
Her shoulders were ramrod straight. It was a defensive posture. He told himself not to pursue the subject now. Not to push when emotions were already running high.
But then some of the tension seemed to seep back out of her. A sigh slipped from her lips.
“I’ve had extensive chemo and radiation, okay?” She held herself differently when she said it, arms crossed protectively over her midsection. “My doctors warned me before we started that it was unlikely I’d be able to carry my own children. And not that it’s any of your business, but I went so far as to freeze my eggs.” Her jaw flexed. “So don’t worry about it.”
A stab of empathy had him reaching across the table. Touching her forearm. He hadn’t meant to unearth something so personal—so huge.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She swallowed with visible effort. “I’m fine now.” Blinking fast, she shrugged and pulled away from his touch. “I’m alive.”
The quiet fierceness in her voice told him that fight had been hard-won. He wanted to know more about her—what she’d battled, how long she’d been in remission—but he didn’t want to pry on a night when they’d already gotten under one another’s skin in surprising ways.
“Very much so,” he agreed, humbled by the small glimpse of herself she’d given him. “I didn’t mean to encroach on something so private.”
A wry smile quirked her lips. “You have a right to know, given the circumstances.”
“Thank you.” He appreciated her honesty and hoped it would continue now that he had another sticky question to ask. “So tell me, Jillian Ross, what exactly did you want with my twin when you followed me in here tonight?”
* * *
For the sake of great sex, she’d set fire to her career.
How could she have missed the fact that Cody and Carson McNeill were twins when she’d been researching their ranches? Jillian couldn’t believe her bad luck as she stared across the table at the incredibly handsome shirtless rancher. Who’d be very angry with her when she revealed what she’d been trying to accomplish. She shouldn’t have been plotting to gain access to one brother through the other, and she surely should have come clean before she committed to the sensual adventure.
Then again, why had Cody refused her request to film on location without any explanation or opportunity to plead her case?
“I thought Carson might lead me to you,” she told him honestly. If she was going to lose the opportunity to film on the McNeill ranch altogether—and lose her job in the process—she would go out fighting.
“You wanted to find me?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, his brooding, skeptical expression not intimidating her so much now that he was shirtless.
She still couldn’t believe she’d had sex with him. He held her professional future in his hands.
“Yes.” Lifting her satchel, she laid it on the table and drew out the county land map. “I’ve been trying to contact you about this piece of property.”
She pointed to the location where she’d taken photographs a few weeks ago.
“Black Creek Ranch.” He spun the map to face him, smoothing the edges where it curled. “What do you want with—” He glanced up at her, recognition dawning on his face. “You’re the location scout.”
The tone of his voice made it sound like her job was in the same category as a tax collector’s. His eyes lingered on her.
“One and the same.” She smiled tightly. “I sent a letter to your business manager—”
“More than one,” he reminded her, shoving himself to his feet. He prowled along the perimeter of the room until he reached his discarded shirts, and punched his fists through the armholes. “You asked repeatedly. But I don’t want any film crews on my property.”
“So you said in your two-line refusal.” She knew she should be nice. Professional. But she’d burned that bridge when she entered the door marked Private.
“You didn’t leave me any opportunity to explain how quickly we could finish the shoot, or the options we have for sending as few people as possible onto your land—”
“Because I’m not interested in having anyone on my land. That’s the whole point of private property, isn’t it? It’s private. I don’t have to let strangers trample all over it.”
“But we’re hardly strangers now, are we?” She hadn’t been able to resist saying it. Her body was still tingling from incredible feelings—feelings she probably wouldn’t get to experience again with him. She also thought about her list and all the adventures she wouldn’t be able to accomplish if she lost her job. Real fear for her future rattled her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to have this conversation with you tonight. I—”
“You hoped to sweet-talk my brother into convincing me on your behalf?” Cody McNeill had put all his clothes back on, and the forbidding expression on his face made it difficult to believe he’d teased the best orgasm of her life from her just moments ago.
She remained in her seat at the conference table, unwilling to get too close to him when her fingers still ached to touch him. “I looked up who owned the property neighboring yours, since you’re an extremely difficult man to reach.”
“My work keeps me busy.”
“Since Carson McNeill was easy enough to find online—”
“No surprise there,” he muttered, reaching for his Stetson and planting it on his head.
“—I thought fate must be smiling on me when he walked past the Thirsty Cow tonight.” She could really use the rest of that wine she’d left behind. Her head throbbed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration that Cody didn’t seem willing to give an inch.
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, a blond wood that looked out of place in this very Western-style remodeled space.
“Except it wasn’t Carson.” His smile was a poor facsimile of the one he’d given her earlier.
Because, she realized, that hadn’t been his real smile.
An idea took hold. A dawning comprehension.
“You were pretending to be him, weren’t you?” She realized that initial exchange—when she’d first arrived in Wrangler’s—was the only time she’d seen a genuine smile from him.
Except it hadn’t been genuine at all. He had been imitating his brother. She could tell she had guessed correctly when a fleeting defensive expression crossed his face.
Indignation rose in her as she got to her feet and grabbed the map and her bag. She wouldn’t be a fool for any man again after the way her ex-boyfriend had walked out on her after surgery. She was smarter than that.
“You know, I can take some of the blame for not telling you who I was tonight.” She charged toward the door, ready to put this night—this obstinate man—behind her. “But it seems like you also played a role in this...misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” He stood between her and the door. He didn’t seem to be blocking it on purpose, he just hadn’t stepped aside yet. “Is that what you’re calling it? You came into town looking for a way to circumvent me.”
She gestured at his imposing form with a flourish. “Sort of like I am right now, since you’re still standing in my way. Apparently you take pride in being immovable.”
His jaw worked silently; maybe he was chewing over the idea.
“That’s not true,” he said finally. “But I don’t want you to storm out of here until I know you have a safe way home. And I’d also like to know where I can reach you tomorrow.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way back to the hotel. And I can’t see why you’d need to reach me when you’ve made it clear you don’t want a single soul on your private land.”
He caught her off guard by reaching toward her and smoothing aside a curl that fell over her eyes. His touch, unexpectedly tender, reminded her of all the heat he’d roused in her before. What they’d shared had taken her breath away.
Even if he was being difficult and unreasonable now.
“First of all, I kept you out late and I want to at least walk you to your car, because that’s what a gentleman does.” His voice stirred memories of everything they’d shared, from a dance to so much more. “Second, I want to speak to you once the dust settles from tonight, because I owe you an explanation.”
He had a point. She was dealing with too much sensory overload to wade through it all now.
“And third,” he continued, opening the door that led back out to the bar, “we need to stay in touch because no matter what the doctors say about your fertility there could still be repercussions.” He spoke in a low voice, his hand splayed across her back as they made their way across the dance floor toward the exit. “And I can assure you, if there are, I won’t be a difficult man to reach.”
Four (#udc41c013-50ec-5a72-8019-28d379bcba15)
Cody knew he needed to head back home. He didn’t usually grant himself perks like a midafternoon horse ride to clear his head—even on a mild, sunny Sunday like this one. But he didn’t know how else to fix his state of mind.
His bad mood could be traced back to Friday night and the arrival of Jillian Ross in town. Then he’d spent an unproductive Saturday arguing with the company fixing the ranch’s irrigation system. He’d handled it with so little diplomacy his contractor had walked off the job. Afterward, Cody had argued with Carson when his twin called to invite him to a Sunday noontime meal where Malcolm McNeill was going to be present.
As if he wanted anything to do with that branch of the family.
Giving Buxby, a retired stallion from the family’s quarter horse breeding program, a nudge to the flank, Cody steered the animal through a thicket of cottonwood trees toward the stables at the Black Creek Ranch. He had done his damnedest to put the sexy and deceitful location scout out of his mind after he’d walked her to her car on Friday. But she’d shown up in his dreams both nights since then, and she’d barged into his waking thoughts, too.
He found himself remembering her laugh during a meeting with his ranch manager on Saturday morning. And recalling the way she’d murmured his twin’s name at the peak of passion while Cody was directing the excavation for the irrigation system. He had been ornery and angry all weekend, and he blamed her.
He’d warned Carson about her presence in town when they’d spoken briefly on the phone this morning, skipping over the personal details of their encounter. Cody had thought it was important to let the family know that a Hollywood film company was angling to use McNeill land in a movie. He needed them to thwart her efforts, too. There was enough strife in the family over land rights and inheritance now that their estranged grandfather had entered the picture. Cody’s dad hated Malcolm and wouldn’t appreciate any of his sons or daughters breaking bread with their grandfather. But apparently, Cody was the lone holdout on that score. His half sisters had all decided Malcolm was a nice enough guy. Even Carson and their other brother, Brock, were coming around to recognize Malcolm McNeill as family.
That was fine for them.
But Cody’s allegiance was to his dad, a man who’d built a ranching empire on his own, without any help from the billionaire who’d raised him. Cody not only respected that, he admired it. And if that meant missing out on a Sunday meal with his siblings, so be it.
As he cleared the cottonwood trees and came within sight of the stables, Cody recognized the familiar silhouette of one of those siblings now. Scarlett, the youngest of his three half sisters, paced circles behind the stable, her red boots kicking up dust. Her long, dark hair spilled over the shoulders of a fluttery yellow blouse tucked into a denim skirt that was too damned short. She was talking nonstop on her cell phone.
When she noticed Cody, she quit pacing and ended the call, tucking her phone in her back pocket. Her dark bangs fell in her eyes as she peered up at him. She patted Buxby’s haunch when he slowed the horse to a stop near the paddock.
“Is it true?” she blurted without preamble. “Is there a film scout in town who wants to do a movie at Black Creek?”
“Hello to you, too, sis.” Hauling a leg over the stallion’s back, Cody swung down to stand beside Scarlett.
He took an extra moment to plant a kiss on her forehead, stalling just because she was clearly beside herself and eager for details. The least he could do was wrest a small amount of fun from tormenting his sister. His other half sisters, Maisie and Madeline, wouldn’t much care about a film crew in Cheyenne. But Scarlett had been born with stars in her eyes. While she could ride and rope as well as any woman he’d ever seen, she’d made it clear from the time she could talk that ranch life wasn’t for her.
“Hello.” Sighing, she arched up on her toes and landed a haphazard return kiss on his jaw. “Now, spill it. Carson said you met a location scout at Wrangler’s on Friday night. Is she still in town? Did you find out what movie they want to make? Or when?”
Cody passed off Buxby’s reins to one of the ranch hands’ kids. Thirteen-year-old Nate was as excited about working with the animals as Scarlett was about moviemaking, and Cody had given the okay for him to help out in the barns as long as his dad was overseeing him.
“Make sure you brush him down thoroughly, and water him, too.” Nate nodded as Cody kept talking. “Hang all the tack back where it belongs, and put the brush away afterward.”
While the kid took over the care of the horse, Cody headed toward the main house. Scarlett kept pace beside him.
“Cody? I don’t respond well to silence,” she said as they passed her sporty silver Jag in the driveway. “And I drove all the way over here—”
“You live here,” he reminded her.
They’d all been raised on the Black Creek Ranch. Carson had moved out long ago to run another of their father’s holdings, the Creek Spill Ranch. And Madeline lived on site at the White Canyon, a small guest ranch. But all their places were within a dozen miles of each other.
Scarlett had remodeled an old bunkhouse after college when their father hired her to help the farm-operations side of the business. Technically, she was an assistant to the foreman. But lately she spent more of her time at the White Canyon with Madeline now that the guest ranch enterprise had expanded.
“But I hadn’t been planning to come back here, since I’m leading a fly-fishing outing for Maddy’s guests later,” she argued, following him into the equipment shed.
Halting beside an old International Harvester tractor he was restoring in his spare time, Cody turned on her. “That’s some outfit for fly-fishing.”
She grinned. “I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still in there somewhere.” She poked him on the shoulder. “Now spill it. What’s the deal with the movie?”
Leaning against the wheel of the tractor, she folded her arms and waited.
Cody entered the small space that served as an office and reached for a set of truck keys. There was a weather-beaten desk and a file cabinet they used to keep records on the vehicles. He took a seat on the desk. The shed was open to the elements on one side; the big overhead door was raised. They were alone, though, since most of the staff had Sundays off.
“I can’t tell you anything about the film.” He’d been far more interested in flirting with the stranger than asking her name, let alone asking about her job. Truth be told, he was mad at himself for thinking he could get away with some kind of anonymous encounter with a woman.
One-night stands were for other guys. He’d never been that person.
“Why not?” Scarlett asked, hitching the heel of her boot on the chair rung. “Didn’t you meet the location scout in person?”
“I did.” Which was an understatement. What he’d shared with Jillian Ross would be filed away in his memory banks for the rest of his days. “When she asked about filming, I told her absolutely not. End of story.”
Scarlett pursed her lips. She had a big, expressive personality. Most of the time she was a sweetheart. Kind and thoughtful. Still, she definitely had a steely side that he’d rather not tangle with.
“You’re not the only member of this family. I’m not sure that’s your call to make.” She straightened, putting both feet on the floor.
“Honey, I know you have stars in your eyes—”
“No.” She cut him off with a fierceness he had never heard from her. “Do not patronize me. Being feminine and having ambitions outside of this ranch doesn’t mean I have stars in my eyes.”
He drew a breath, wanting to apologize. To backtrack.
But she lit right into him again.
“Furthermore, did you ever consider how the exposure would help the White Canyon?” She planted her fists on her hips, warming up to her argument. “Madeline deserves that kind of spotlight, Cody. She’s worked hard to make the guest ranch a success, and she’s not the only one who would benefit from a film crew up here.”
Cody cursed his twin for sharing the news with the rest of the family before he’d had the chance to. And yes, he cursed himself, too, for not making his stance clearer when he’d written to Jillian.
Although then he never would have met her. Never would have tasted her or touched her. And that he would have regretted. Even if he resented the hell out of her deceit.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said the necessary words before his sister started in again. “I was only thinking about how Dad likes the privacy up here. You know how resistant he was to the guest ranch from the start.”
Their father’s fight against commercial development in the area had deep roots in his feud with his own father. When Donovan McNeill had first come to Wyoming and married Kara Calderon, they had soon run into financial trouble with her ranch, and had asked for his billionaire father’s help, only to have Malcolm McNeill attempt to build a hotel on it. When Kara’s father, Colt, protested, Donovan had nearly bankrupted himself hiring attorneys to untangle the mess and keep the peace. But the incident had created as many hard feelings between Donovan and his father-in-law as it had between Donovan and Malcolm.
When Kara died just a few years later, leaving behind three orphaned sons, Donovan had soon remarried, this time taking Scarlett’s mother, Paige, as his bride.
And the land around the Creek Spill Ranch—land that extended all the way to the White Canyon—was still zoned to allow hospitality development, thanks to Malcolm McNeill’s thwarted project. But to this day, Donovan didn’t want anything to do with resort hotels. The guest ranch had come about only because he’d bought a failing bed-and-breakfast from a couple who were looking to retire and Madeline had wanted a shot at making it work.
“Dad doesn’t make all the decisions for this family any more than you do,” Scarlett reminded Cody. “We’ve diversified. Brock has the horse breeding business. Maddy has the guest ranch. Carson and you still work the cattle. But your business isn’t more important than anyone else’s in the family.”
“Cattle brings in the bulk of the income.” To an extent, each sibling’s financial prospects were tied to the herd production, since all six of them owned a share. Their father had put some of his money in a trust for them, but the land and the businesses had been divvied up when the youngest—Scarlett—turned twenty-one.
“Yes, but since we each still have a stake in the Black Creek Ranch operations, we all have a voice in how it’s run.” Scarlett gave him an even stare.
“You’ve gone along with every decision I’ve made about purchasing bulls or negotiating prices on our calves, but now you’re going to assert your authority over some film project you know nothing about?” Resentment stirred. He tightened his fist around the truck keys. He needed to move on with his day.
To put all thoughts of Jillian and her movie in the past.
“If I think the publicity could help us in the long run, you’re damn right I’ll assert my authority.” She withdrew her phone from her pocket and passed it to him. “Now, would you like to write down the name and contact information for this location scout? Or did you want to give me the original letter she sent you and I’ll track her down from that?”
If his sister were digging in her heels about anything else, he would have applauded her fierce defense of family and business. But Cody didn’t appreciate her efforts when they flew in the face of what he wanted for the Black Creek Ranch.
“I don’t know what I did with her letter.” But he took the phone and typed Jillian’s name on the notes screen. “This is her name, though. She was staying at the Cheyenne Suites last I heard.”
He’d asked Jillian that when he walked her to her car, wanting to make sure she didn’t have far to drive in the rain.
Scarlett raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment as she took back the phone and jammed it in her pocket.
“Thank you. I’ll get out of your way now.” Turning on her heel, she flounced toward the open door and out into the afternoon sun, the wind ruffling her dark hair.
He wanted to tell her that there was no way in hell he was letting a production company onto the family land, no matter what she said. Yet sometimes these disagreements fizzled out before he had to draw a line in the sand. With five siblings, he’d learned a few things about dealing with conflict over the years.
Still, seeing the determined set to his sister’s chin as they’d argued told him it might not be that easy. He could only hope Jillian wanted to get out of town—and away from him—as much as he needed her gone. Their sizzling chemistry sure didn’t pave the way for a smooth working relationship. Her deceit had only made it worse.

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