Книга - Wanted: Christmas Mummy

Wanted: Christmas Mummy
Judy Christenberry


Single dad Doug Graybow has his hands full trying to run a ranch while raising two spunky twin boys. But he doesn' t expect his ad for a housekeeper to turn into a search for a wife! Nor does he realize there are so many desperate women in Wyoming!Late one night, Leslie shows up at Doug' s door to answer his ad, and before he can properly throw her out, she' s won his boys over with grilled cheese and cookies. He soon finds out she' s not just another pretty face looking for a husband. No matter how hard he resists, Doug can' t help being drawn to her. Could Leslie be exactly what this family needs?









“Do you think Daddy’s ever going to find us a mommy?”


Justin sighed. “He didn’t even like that picture.” His voice sank to a whisper. “Was she really naked?”

“Naw,” Gareth assured his twin. “She was wearing a swimsuit or something. But girls sure are different from us.”

“If Daddy doesn’t like looking at girls, how will he ever find us a mommy?”

With the wisdom of a five-year-old, Gareth explained, “He’s trying to find a housekeeper and nanny instead.”

“But Moss said no one answered that ad. But when Moss changed the ad to one for a wife, then ‘every bloomin’ female in the county wrote a letter.’” He mimicked the man’s drawl.

“But if Daddy doesn’t like ’em, it doesn’t matter. We need someone to help us, someone who’ll give us what we ask for.”

“Hey!” Justin beamed, excitement filling his voice. “We can ask Santa…. He’ll give us a mama for Christmas!”




Wanted: Christmas Mommy

Judy Christenberry





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




JUDY CHRISTENBERRY


Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for more than eighteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun with her stories as she does.

She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy lives in Texas. You can find out more about Judy and her books at www.judychristenberry.com.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue




Prologue


“Any luck?”

Doug Graybow had been scowling into his beer when one of his neighbors settled into the chair across from him. “Nope,” he admitted. “I’ve been running the ad for three or four weeks now, and I haven’t had a single applicant.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ben Anderson asked.

“About what?” another neighbor, Will Jacks, asked as he joined them. They’d all just left the Ranchers’ Association monthly meeting in the back room of the Riverside Café and, as was custom, were settling in for a few beers with their neighbors.

“Doug, here, has been advertising for a housekeeper to replace Agnes. She and Rocky retired to Arizona, you know.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard that. And you haven’t had any luck?” Will asked.

“Nope,” Doug repeated, weariness in his tone as well as his posture.

“Man, those holy terrors of yours must be driving you crazy,” Will said with a grin.

Doug didn’t bother to defend his progeny. No one would believe him. The five-year-old twins had been bad enough with Agnes to corral them. Since she’d packed her bags and headed south, they’d been impossible.

Ben smacked his hand down on the table, startling both his companions. “Damn it, man, you’re advertising for the wrong thing!”

“What are you talking about?” Doug wondered if his friend had already imbibed several beers before joining him.

“You should be advertising for a wife. That’s what you need. Not a housekeeper. Housekeepers leave, but a wife will put up with anything if you cuddle her a little and buy her something pretty every once in a while.”

Ben grinned as if he’d just made a major discovery, and Will nodded in agreement.

Doug frowned at him, irritation in his every bone. “First of all, if that’s the way you’re treating Meggy, I hope she throws you out on your ear. And I’m not about to advertise for a wife. Any woman desperate enough to answer that kind of ad wouldn’t be the woman for me.”

Besides, he’d tried marriage once. He wasn’t sure he would ever be that desperate—in spite of the disasters his sons could create. He’d find a housekeeper somehow. Somewhere.

Unable to stand any more conversation on the subject, he stood, grabbed his cowboy hat and sheepskin jacket from the back of the chair, muttered a good-night and stalked out into the cold November air.

“Man, he’s a touchy son of a gun tonight,” Will protested.

“I bet it’s those kids of his. Meggy has ’em in Sunday school and she comes home all worn-out. They need a mama real bad.”

“Well, he oughta consider a ad. I heard tell of a man up in Wind River got a wife that way.”

“He’d be more likely to find a woman that way than just waitin’ for one to come along. Wyoming may have lots of things goin’ for it, but available women isn’t one of ’em.”

“You’re right about that,” Will agreed. “Too bad we can’t put in a ad for him. Once he met a few of those ‘desperate’ women, he might change his mind.”

“Yeah, too bad—” Ben stopped and stared at his friend. “Why not? You got a piece of paper?”




Chapter One


“Damn!”

The five-year-old twins stared at each other before one whispered, “Ooh! Daddy said a bad word.”

“I heard that.” The deep voice sounded from above the desk.

“Well, you did,” Justin asserted.

“Yeah, we heard you,” his twin, Gareth, agreed.

They watched as their father sighed and ran his hand through blond hair only slightly darker than theirs. He looked down at them and muttered, “Sorry, guys, I shouldn’t have said a bad word, but I’m a little upset.”

“How come? We didn’t even do anything today,” Gareth protested.

“I know. It’s not you. It’s these blasted letters.” He shoved at a pile of papers and envelopes and several fluttered to the floor.

The boys started gathering them up for their father when Gareth found a picture. “Wow! She don’t hardly have any clothes on!”

Justin leaned over to see the picture, but their father snatched it from Gareth first.

“Give that to me! Uh, thanks for trying to help, boys, but I, uh, need you to go play or watch TV or…or something.”

There was a tone in his voice the boys had heard before. A tone that said their father had reached his limit.

“Yes, Daddy,” they chorused, their angelic smiles matching the blond innocence on their faces. They tiptoed from the room, pausing only to look once more at their father’s flushed face as he stared at yet another letter.

Once they were in the living room with the TV turned on, Justin said, “Do you think Daddy’s going to find us a mommy?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too happy.”

“He didn’t even like that picture.” He paused before asking his brother in a whisper, though no one could hear them, “Was she really naked?”

“Naw,” Gareth assured him. “She was wearing a swimsuit or something. But girls sure are different from us.” He glanced down at his flat, narrow chest with a frown.

“Yeah. Curly looks at pictures like that sometimes,” Justin added, naming one of their father’s cowboys.

“Yeah.”

Justin thought a littler longer, a mighty frown on his face. “If Daddy doesn’t even like to look at pictures of girls, how will he find us a mommy?”

“He’s trying to find someone to take care of us instead of a mommy. He said.”

“I know. But no one answered that ad. I heard Moss and Curly talking,” Justin explained. Moss, their father’s foreman, was a great favorite with the twins. “They said Daddy didn’t get no answer to his ad. But when Mrs. Meggy’s husband changed the ad to one for a wife, then ‘every bloomin’ female in the country wrote a letter,’” Justin finished triumphantly, having produced a semblance of Moss’s drawl as he quoted him.

“But if Daddy doesn’t like ’em, it doesn’t matter,” Gareth reasoned.

“Yeah.” Justin slumped against the back of the sofa. “But I want a mommy. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. One who makes cookies…and tucks us in at night.”

The two boys sat in silence, contemplating the idea of having a mother. They were a little fuzzy on the details, but they knew they wanted one.

“But if Daddy won’t pick one, how will we find a mommy?” Justin finally asked.

“We could send a letter to the paper, like Mrs. Meggy’s husband did.”

“We don’t know how to write.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“We need someone to help us,” Justin said, frowning again. “Someone who will give us what we ask for.”

“That sounds like Santa Claus,” Gareth said before he straightened, excitement filling his voice. “Hey! We can ask Santa for a mommy for Christmas. She can be our present this year!”



THE INCESSANT RINGING of the phone had Doug muttering a few more of those forbidden words beneath his breath. He trudged down the hall and into the kitchen to grab the receiver.

“Yeah?”

“Doug Graybow? Ooh! You sound hot! Wait till you see just how hot I can be, too. We’ll be perfect for each other.”

“Look, if this is about the ad, it was a mistake.”

“But, Dougie, I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I have to offer. I’m 38-22-34, have long blond hair and—”

Doug interrupted the sultry voice. “Sorry, not interested.” He slammed down the phone and started back to his office. That was the fifth call this evening, interrupting his paperwork. Fed up, he paused by the living room door. Sticking his head in, he said to his sons, “If the phone rings anymore, just tell them I’m busy and hang up. Okay?”

“You mean we get to answer the phone?” Gareth demanded, excited about the new responsibility.

“That’s right. But do exactly like I tell you. If they ask to speak to me, tell them I’m busy and hang up.”

“Okay,” the twins chorused.

He turned away from his grinning sons, a little uneasy about what he’d done, but he couldn’t take care of everything and continue to answer those ridiculous calls.

Life was screwy. Four weeks advertising for a housekeeper and not a single call or letter. One week of that stupid ad for a wife, and he was being driven crazy by the calls and, even worse, the letters. The picture Gareth had found was mild in comparison to some he’d received. He blushed just thinking about them.

When he’d come in this evening, his answering machine had been full of suggestive messages, asking him to call. Most left their home numbers. One particularly sexy voice had suggested he call her at a motel in Dodge City, Kansas, so they could discuss fulfilling their mutual needs. Maybe she expected him to drive to meet her so they could “try out” married life.

He settled back in at his desk and, in disgust, swept the letters into the trash. He’d wasted enough time on such foolishness!



LESLIE HIBBETS SWITCHED the TV channel again. The tired, out-of-date motel room in Dodge City, Kansas, didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment. But she couldn’t leave unless she wanted to risk missing her return call.

Last night, she’d gone to the diner next door for a late meal, discouraged and unsure of her next move. She’d spent the past four years nursing her mother after an accident had killed her father and left her mother crippled. Six months ago her mother had died.

Feeling her life had been put on hold, albeit for a good reason, Leslie wanted to experience life, to find excitement. Instead, all she’d found was loneliness.

Eventually, she wanted to have a family, much like the life she’d experienced as a child. Her parents had provided a loving home for her, a home where she knew her parents loved each other as well as her. In the meantime, she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.

While waiting for her food, she’d glanced at the weekly newspaper someone had left on the counter. Out of boredom, she’d turned to the want ads. The only one that caught her eye was for that of a housekeeper for a rancher with five-year-old twins.

If there was one thing she could do, it was keep house. She didn’t know much about children, but she could cook. Of course, she had no intention of being tied down, she reminded herself. She was free now to discover the world.

A rueful laugh had escaped at such grandiose thoughts. All she’d discovered had been highways with traffic whizzing by and lonely motel rooms. She looked at the ad again. If she took something like this job, on a temporary basis, just until the children started school, it would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do. And she wouldn’t feel so…so unconnected.

Money wasn’t a problem, but she couldn’t go forever without a job. Why not earn her keep while she was determining her future?

She’d decided to sleep on her decision. When she awoke this morning, she’d made the phone call to Mr. D. Graybow in Wyoming and gotten the answering machine. His gruff, sexy growl had startled her and she’d hung up. Before she lost her courage, she redialed the number and this time, she left a message, suggesting he call her to discuss fulfilling their mutual needs.

“There!” she’d exclaimed as she’d hung up. She’d sounded cool and professional—she hoped. Now all she had to do was wait for him to call.

By nine o’clock that evening, her patience was wearing thin. The least the man could do was return her call. Impatiently, she picked up the phone and dialed the number in the ad.

“Hello?”

She realized a child had answered the phone, probably one of the twins. “May I speak to Mr. Graybow, please?”

“He’s busy.”

Before she could respond, the line went dead. She held the receiver from her ear and stared at it as if it had insulted her.

Irritated, she dialed the number again. The same little voice answered and she hurriedly asked, “Mr. Graybow, please.”

“He’s busy.” Again the line went dead.

With steely determination, she dialed again. “Don’t hang up!” she immediately said when the child answered again. “I’m calling about the ad. Has Mr. Graybow hired anyone yet?”

There was no response to her question but she could hear hurried whispering in the background. “Hello?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Well, uh, if he won’t interview me over the phone, should I come there? Is he only interviewing in person?”

More whispering.

“Can you bake cookies?”

Leslie smiled at the question. “Yes, I can bake cookies.”

“Do you like little boys?”

“Yes, I believe I do.” Not exactly a lie. She just hadn’t been around little boys that much, except for her neighbor’s grandchildren.

“Then you should come.”

“I should come? When?”

“Now.”

“But I can’t get there until tomorrow. Shall I come tomorrow evening?” How strange to allow a five-year-old to conduct his business. Mr. D. Graybow certainly seemed in need of some help. She ignored the sudden memory of that husky voice on the answering machine.

“Yeah. Tomorrow night. Bye!” Again the conversation ended abruptly.

But this time she had an answer to her question. She was to go to Wyoming to interview for a temporary job as housekeeper.

Of course, it might all come to nothing, but she’d wanted adventure. She wasn’t going to retreat at the first offer just because the future wasn’t guaranteed.

Twenty-four hours later, her opinion changed. “You are crazy!” she told herself. Leslie gnawed on her bottom lip as she stared down the narrow, deserted road. When it got dark in Wyoming, it really got dark.

Back home in Kansas City, there always seemed to be another house, a store, something around the bend. People passing you on the road.

Out here, there was nothing. She hadn’t seen another car in the past half hour. Glancing down at the piece of paper on the other seat, she wondered if she was lost. No, she hadn’t passed another road like the one shown on the sketchy map the motel clerk had given her. After she’d gotten a room, she’d headed out to the Bar-G Ranch, as per the child’s instructions last night.

She shuddered as a strong wind rocked the car and wet flakes of snow began spitting on her windshield. “Yes, you’re absolutely crazy,” she reaffirmed. Otherwise she wouldn’t have taken a child’s word that she should come. But at least she’d had a purpose to her drive today.

A break in the fence on her right that she could barely see in the dark had her easing off the gas pedal. Yes, there it was, just as the clerk had said. She flicked on her blinker and then laughed. Who cared if she signaled? She seemed to be the only driver for miles around.

Not that being alone bothered her. She’d spent a lot of time alone or with her mother for the past four years.

She drove over a cattle guard, but if she’d expected to find a ranch house nearby, she was disappointed. No habitation was within the range of her headlights.

With a sigh, she pressed back down on the gas pedal. She might as well get this over with. If this job didn’t work out, she’d have to try to make a rational decision about her future. She couldn’t continue to wander around.

Two miles later, she found D. Graybow’s house, surrounded by several other buildings. There were lights burning, she noted with a sigh of relief. She guessed they really were expecting her.

She parked the car close to a long porch that ran the length of the house. Warily she climbed the steps and rapped on the door.

No one answered at first. She rapped again. This time she heard voices, children’s voices, and then a deeper voice, accompanied by a heavy tread. She recognized that growl.

The door swung open and she stared at a handsome cowboy—tight jeans, boots and all. Of course, his shirt was wrinkled and had stains, his hair looked as if he’d just shoved one of his big hands through it and the scowl on his face was unwelcoming. But he was handsome.

“Mr. Graybow?”

“Yeah?”

Definitely unwelcoming.

“I’ve come about your ad.”



HE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. The letters had been bad enough. The letters and the pictures, he amended. He couldn’t believe women would go so far to find a husband. Some of those things had been downright embarrassing. But to appear on his doorstep with no warning?

Something about the voice sparked a memory in him. The sexy voice on the answering machine wanting to discuss fulfilling their mutual needs! He’d had dreams about that voice.

“I realize it’s late, but he said to come tonight,” she went on, since he didn’t speak. “And I just got here from Kansas.”

“The ad was a mistake,” he snapped. And one his idiotic friends would pay for when he got his hands on them.

“Oh.”

The single syllable was full of disappointment. He looked at her, wondering why she would be so interested in marrying a stranger. It didn’t make sense to him. She wasn’t ugly. In fact, in his book she’d rate a second look with her wide blue eyes, chestnut hair pulled back in a braid and slender figure. If he were interested in marrying again, he hurriedly reminded himself.

A tug on his leg got his attention.

“Daddy?”

“Not now, Gareth,” he muttered. Somehow it bothered him that his children meet a woman desperate enough to answer that crazy ad.

“But, Daddy—”

“I said not now!”

The woman was turning away from the door when Justin, Gareth’s twin brother, called from the kitchen, “Hurry, it’s getting bigger.”

The woman stopped and stared at them, a puzzled frown on her face. He nodded at her and started closing the door, anxious to send her on her way. But a look in her eyes stopped him. She was staring in horror over his shoulder.

Uneasiness filled him as he turned to follow her gaze.

With good reason. Black smoke was trailing out the kitchen door.




Chapter Two


“Justin!” Doug yelled even as he charged down the hall. The appearance of his towheaded son at the door was a relief, but he didn’t have time to appreciate it then.

Racing into the kitchen, he grabbed the handle of the skillet on the burner, the flames in it higher than the ones underneath. As he swung it to the sink, the searing iron of the skillet burned into his hand, and he let loose a bloodcurdling yell.

A slim hand reached around him and turned on the cold water, directing the flow into the skillet. The smoke tripled as cold met hot. Before he could think how to relieve the pain that was shooting through him, that same hand grabbed his and, redirecting the water to the other sink, put his palm under the flow of water.

“Don’t move,” she ordered.

Vaguely he was aware she’d extinguished the flames on the stove. But he didn’t know where she went until she dumped a handful of ice cubes into the deepening water. But he wasn’t going to complain. He was in agony.

“Aren’t you supposed to use butter or something?” he asked, his voice gritty as he tried to hide his pain.

“No. That’s the worst thing to use.” She made another trip to the refrigerator for more ice.

He had forgotten his children until he heard a giggle and then watched as they dropped ice cubes into the water.

“We never made icewater in the sink before. Is Daddy gonna drink it?” Justin asked.

“No, he’s not,” the woman answered, smiling at the boy. “We’re trying to stop his hand from burning.”

“Like the skillet? Is he gonna have fire in his hand?” Gareth asked as he rose on tiptoe to peer over the side of the sink.

“No,” she said again. “But his hand is going to hurt a lot.”

Justin and Gareth frowned.

“Does it, Daddy?” Gareth finally asked.

“What?” Doug muttered, his mind intent on the woman’s actions rather than his sons.

“Does it hurt really bad?”

“Yeah.” His gaze met the woman’s and he realized he owed her his thanks. “Uh, I appreciate your help.”

A half smile and a shrug was her only response.

“How long do I have to keep my hand in the water?”

“You can take it out whenever you want, but it’s best to keep it in until the burning stops.” She had that sexy voice he remembered from the answering machine—soothing at the moment, warm.

“I’m gonna look pretty funny on a horse with a sink attached,” he muttered.

Another smile. Suddenly he wondered if she ever laughed. If her blue eyes lit up and her lips— What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman.

“I think a half hour will be long enough.”

She didn’t even seem put out by his ill humor. His eyebrows rose slightly as he stared at her.

“Daddy?” Justin asked, jerking on his jeans.

“What, son?”

“What are we gonna eat for dinner? We’re hungry.”

Leslie looked down at the identical pairs of brown eyes. The boys were cute, but something in the looks they were giving her made her wonder about their guilelessness.

After an awkward silence, she said, “I could fix you something if your father doesn’t mind.” She allowed her gaze to only glance off the man still standing by the sink. He was even sexier than his voice had promised.

“That’s not necessary—”

The children drowned him out with their excited questions.

“Can you make cookies?” one of the twins demanded, a smile on his face, as if he already knew the answer.

“I told you I could,” she said, raising one brow.

“That was you?” the boys asked, excited looks on their faces.

“What do you mean?” the man growled. “What is she talking about, Gareth?”

“Didn’t you tell your father about my phone call?” Leslie asked, looking from one twin to the other. Their brown eyes widened to give them a look of innocence, but Leslie wasn’t fooled. She turned to their father. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graybow. I thought you were expecting me.”

“What are you talking about? What phone call? Boys, what have you done this time?”

“But, Daddy, she can make cookies.”

“And she said she likes little boys,” Justin added.

The frustration and anger in the man’s brown eyes, quite like his sons’, gave Leslie the answer to whatever question she might ask. The man wasn’t interested in hiring her, even on a temporary basis.

“Sorry, guys. I guess this was a bad idea.” She smiled at the little boys and turned to go.

“But what are we going to eat for dinner? Daddy gots his hand in the sink, and we’re hungry,” one of the twins repeated.

Leslie hesitated. Though she recognized their plea as one of manipulation, she wouldn’t mind a little dinner herself. It was a long drive back to town. “I make a very good grilled-cheese sandwich. If your father doesn’t mind, I could fix some.”

Though seemingly reluctant, the man at the sink gave an abrupt nod and the boys cheered.

For the next few minutes, they were her guides around the large kitchen. Leslie didn’t find it as well stocked as she would have expected, but she opened a can of soup and heated it on the stove as she made the sandwiches.

The entire time she worked—efficiently, she hoped—the head of the household stood by the sink, his hand under the cold water, glaring at her.

What was his problem? Was he afraid she intended to charge him for her efforts? Maybe they couldn’t afford a housekeeper now. She didn’t know much about ranching, but she supposed a rancher, just like any other businessman, could have sudden catastrophes that affected his cash flow. That would explain the reason for the lack of supplies, too.

That thought sent her sharp glance to him. She noticed his shirt was missing a button, his hair was a little shaggy and his boots well-worn.

Leslie’s irritation melted at once. How terrible not to be able to provide adequately for his family. Since money wasn’t one of the difficulties she faced, she could afford to be generous. But tactful. She’d be very tactful.

After the boys had each received their dinner, she fixed two more sandwiches, one for her and one for the angry man staring at her.

“It’s been about half an hour, Mr. Graybow. I think you can safely take your hand out of the water.”

“The damn thing’s frozen,” he muttered.

Leslie was waiting with a towel and reached out to wrap the chilled skin in it. With a growl, Doug snatched it from her.

“I can do it.”

The sympathetic tolerance she’d been silently extending to him the past half hour almost completely disappeared. She stepped back and gestured to the table.

“Your dinner is ready. I hope you don’t object to my eating also. I didn’t eat supper before I came out here.” But she took nothing for granted, standing stiff and proper until he offered her a seat.

Doug almost groaned aloud. He knew he’d been a bear. Standing there in pain, watching her prance around his kitchen, charming the hell out of his kids, when he’d already told her to get lost, was almost more than he could stand. Now, after fixing a meal, she expected him to kick her out? He must’ve been worse than he’d thought.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he muttered and warily circled her and the table until it was between them.

As they both sat down, the boys, having already begun eating and taken the edge off their hunger, looked up.

“What’s your name?” Gareth asked, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Leslie Hibbets,” she replied as she laid the napkin in her lap.

Doug, having reached for his sandwich, instead picked up his napkin. “Boys, put your napkins in your laps.”

He wasn’t going to have Miss Prim and Proper thinking they had no manners.

“But, Daddy, we don’t—” Gareth began.

“And, Gareth, don’t talk with your mouth full,” he hurriedly added. Both boys muttered apologies and he stared at the woman in triumph. She ignored him and smiled warmly at his children.

“Leslie,” Justin said, staring at her in return.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say your name. It’s pretty, like you.”

“Why, thank you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Justin and that’s Gareth. But mostly people can’t tell us apart.”

Gareth giggled. “Our Sunday school teacher hates that. She makes us wear name tags.” He giggled again. “But sometimes we switch and she doesn’t know.”

“Some people just call us ‘the twins’ ‘cause they don’t know which is which,” Justin supplied.

“Yeah, and some people call us ‘the twins from hell,’” Gareth added with another giggle.

She flashed a look, one eyebrow lifted, at their father. He glared back at her.

Hell, what was he supposed to do about the trouble the twins got into while he was trying to run a ranch? He never abandoned them. But cowboys who could handle the toughest bull seemed to disintegrate when left with these two.

“Gareth, eat your dinner,” he snapped and stared at the woman, silently daring her to complain.

Though she met his look with all the coldness of a Wyoming blizzard, she said nothing.

With a sigh, he picked up the sandwich. He didn’t much feel like defending his parental performance. Not when it had been seven hours since lunch. And those hours had been spent on horseback, rounding up the herd to draw them closer to the barns.

Before he even realized it, the soft golden cheese and toasted bread had melted into his mouth. He finished off the soup just as quickly, still hungry. The boys, too, had had a busy day and they had also cleaned their plates.

“Why don’t I make some more sandwiches?” Miss Hibbets offered the boys with a smile. Their eager nods reflected his own thoughts. He only hoped she intended to include him as a recipient of those additional sandwiches.

He had his answer almost at once. She rose from the table, but before moving away she held out her plate to him. “I haven’t touched the other half of my sandwich. Would you like to eat it while I fix more? There’s no need for it to get cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, reaching for the food. He wasn’t one to cut off his nose to spite his face.

With such generosity on her part, Doug let go of some of his animosity. The woman was a lot better than he’d expected. Besides being attractive, she knew her way around the kitchen and seemed to like his children. She would’ve been a perfect housekeeper. Too bad she didn’t answer that ad. He would’ve hired her in a minute.

When he realized his gaze was fastened on how rounded and smooth her hips filled out the jeans she was wearing, he changed his mind. Nope, he couldn’t even hire her as a housekeeper. He might not be able to keep his hands out of the cookie jar. And then he’d find himself facing marriage again.

She turned toward the table, carrying a plate of sandwiches, and his gaze moved up her body, watching the thrust of her breasts through the blue sweater she wore. He’d been without a woman too long, he assured himself hastily as he looked back down at his empty plate.

It was a good thing this woman would be leaving in a few minutes.

After they’d eaten their fill, with Doug keeping his gaze trained on his plate, Leslie insisted on cleaning the kitchen. Since that was one of Doug’s least favorite chores, he agreed to her offer and chased the twins upstairs for their baths.

“Leslie, don’t leave without coming to tell us bye, please?” Justin pleaded as he climbed the steps.

“Yeah! You can read us a story. Daddy’s always too tired,” Gareth chimed in.

“Only if it’s a short story. I have a long drive back to the motel,” she promised with that warm smile she reserved for his sons.

Not that he cared. He wasn’t looking for that kind of tenderness.

Fifteen minutes later, she joined them in the boys’ bedroom, read one of their stories and then told the boys good-night, adding how much she’d enjoyed meeting them.

Doug was irritated when Justin’s eyes watered and he asked the woman if she couldn’t stay. He felt guilty, as if he didn’t love his sons enough to provide them with a mother. But, damn it, he just couldn’t!

He hurried down the stairs, anxious to rid the place of the curvaceous brunette who lured his sons with her smile and tempted him with her body.

“Mr. Graybow?” she said in a low voice, just behind him. “Before I leave, could we talk?”

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he turned to watch her reach his side. “If it’s about a phone call, I gather the boys led you to think you should come here. I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience, but, believe me, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I think there is,” she replied, tilting her chin up at him.

If they’d been lovers, it would’ve been a challenge he wouldn’t refuse. His lips would cover hers and he’d wrap his arms around—

“Look, Miss Hibbets, I told you the ad was a mistake.”

“I know. But I think I’ve figured out why you placed the ad and now say it’s a mistake. And I believe I have a solution to the difficulty.”

Doug stared at the woman as if she had two heads. She knew about the responses he’d had to that ridiculous ad? About his aversion to those desperate women? To any woman who intended to lock him into marriage just for security?

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said in a soothing manner, as if she were calming him.

“You know about the pictures?” he finally had to ask in a strangled voice.

“What pictures?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and frowning in puzzlement.

“The—the other applicants sent pictures.”

“You want a picture from me?”

“No!” he gasped even as his mind flashed some possibilities.

He turned his back to her, unable to face her if she thought those pictures of women in incredibly suggestive, revealing poses weren’t something to be embarrassed about. Or intended to offer some of her own.

“Mr. Graybow,” she began again when he remained silent, “I like your little boys and this is what I really want. I promise I won’t be too demanding about—”

“Leave my children out of this discussion! I won’t have them a part of it. In fact, I don’t want to talk about any of this.” He chanced one look at her creamy complexion, her full lips, trembling with some undefined emotion. How could she look like such an angel and approve of those pictures?

“I’m trying to explain to you—”

He whirled back around. “What does it take to get through to you, lady? We don’t want you here.”

“But you haven’t even asked about my qualifications,” she protested, her cheeks flushed.

Her fingers moved to the first button on her sweater and Doug panicked. She hadn’t sent pictures. She meant to reveal herself right here, right now! He grabbed her raised hand and captured the other one that had remained by her side. “Don’t even think about it!” His voice was husky, a mixture of horror and undeniable interest.

Now almost nose to nose, he watched as shock filled her eyes.

“Turn loose of me!” She twisted in his hold, foolishly trying to escape his strong grip.

His fingers burned as they touched her soft skin, and he jerked away from her before he gave in to temptation. “Gladly. All I want you to do is go.”

She backed away from him, her blue eyes still wide. “You’ve convinced me, Mr. Graybow. Just—just let me get my jacket and purse and I’ll leave.”

He frowned as he realized he’d actually scared her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She didn’t answer but kept her gaze pinned on him, as if she expected him to attack at any moment. Picking up her coat and purse, she edged toward the door.

Doug felt like a first-class heel. He would never hurt a woman. But he couldn’t stand there and let her strip. Moving toward the door to open it for her, he came to an abrupt halt when she stepped back.

“I’m just opening the door, I promise.”

“I can do that,” she assured him breathlessly, her gaze still glued to him.

“This is ridiculous, Miss Hibbets. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Fine. I’m leaving now, Mr. Graybow. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your distance.” When he remained in place, she continued moving to the door.

With one hand behind her back, she turned the doorknob and started outside.

Over her shoulder, Doug stared at the illuminated circle made by the porch light and knew he couldn’t let her leave. “Damn!”



LESLIE WAS ON THE VERGE of turning her back on the demented man and racing for her car when she heard his expletive. Shocked, she looked at his face and then turned away. She had no time to spare.

“Stop! You can’t leave, Miss Hibbets. It’s too dangerous!” he called.

She assumed he was referring to the snow falling thickly. It had started snowing shortly after she started for the ranch, but she’d forgotten about it because of all that had happened. Now, there was already almost half a foot on her car. But she would choose snow over the man behind her any day.

Though she slowed to maintain her footing, she never stopped. She’d be all right once she got into her car and locked the door.

She was down the steps, with her car parked only a few feet away, when one of those strong hands grabbed her arm, preventing her departure.

“Stop, Miss Hibbets. It isn’t safe!”

Automatically she wrenched her arm from his hold. When, only seconds later, she touched the door handle, she knew she’d won.

As she did, she heard a large crash. Keeping her hand on the door, she looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Graybow lying in the snow at the bottom of the steps. He wasn’t moving. Holding her breath, she leaned slightly toward him. “Are you okay?”

His only answer was a groan.

“Mr. Graybow, I’m not going to fall for any of your tricks. You might as well get up.”

He muttered something and tried to stand up, then fell back again with an even louder moan.

“Mr. Graybow?” Was the man a total klutz? First he burned his hand and now he fell down the stairs. And what was she supposed to do about it?

“I can’t— I might’ve broken something,” the man gasped.

That she could believe. It hurt to even look at his lean, muscular leg bent at an odd angle.

“Is there anyone I can call for help?”

“B-bunkhouse,” he muttered, his voice shaking, either from pain or the wet snow beginning to cover him.

Though she could dimly make out another building with a light burning, she decided the easiest way to summon help would be to use her car horn. Opening the door, she slid beneath the wheel, ignoring the temptation to drive away from this nightmare. Grateful for the Girl Scouts of her youth, she tapped out SOS.

Though it only took a couple of minutes for a response, they were the longest two minutes of her life. A distant door was slammed open and she finally heard the welcome sound of voices and footsteps.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” one of the men shouted as he reached the area lit by the porch light.

Leslie was standing by her car door. She stepped forward. “Mr. Graybow fell. I think he’s broken his leg.”

“Ma’am,” the man said, tipping his hat even as he went down on one knee by his employer.

“Boss? You break a leg?”

“I don’t—damn,” Graybow said and then gasped. “The thing hurts like hell.”

“Curly, go get the four-wheeler,” the man said to one of the cowboys. “It’s about all that will get through tonight.”

A man, supposedly Curly, ran away, and the other man turned his attention to Leslie. “Ma’am, would you go get some blankets from the house? Maybe a sleepin’ bag, too, and a pillow.”

She started to explain that she wouldn’t know where to look, but the man bent back toward his boss, assuming she would follow his orders. With a shrug, she stepped carefully over the injured man and climbed the steps to open the front door.

Two pairs of brown eyes stared at her from the bottom of the stairs. “Leslie!” Justin cried, leaping up and running to wrap his arms around her legs. “You didn’t go.”

Gareth followed his brother and Leslie found it impossible to move. “Boys, I need your help. Your father fell, and I need to find some blankets to keep him warm.”

Gareth ran off to find the items she’d mentioned, but Justin stayed by her side.

“Is Daddy hurt bad?”

She knelt down beside him. “The ranch hands have come to help him. I’m sure he’ll be all right as soon as we get him warm.”

Justin took her hand and led her after Gareth. With the boys’ expert guidance, it only took a couple of minutes to round up the items. The boys followed her to the door, but she made them stay inside in spite of their protests.

The Jeep pulled up just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Here. I found everything.”

The cowboy ignored her as he gestured for the other men to help him lift Graybow.

“Shouldn’t you splint the leg before you move him?” she asked, concerned in spite of herself.

“Lady, we got to get him out of this blizzard!”

She covered her ears when Doug Graybow gave a mangled cry of pain as he was moved. Fortunately for him, he passed out before they got him into the vehicle.

His cry brought both boys tumbling down the steps, their footed pajamas immediately wet from the snow. “Daddy?” they cried, terror in their voices.

Leslie turned and scooped both of them into her arms and lifted them back to the porch. “Your dad is going to be fine. It just hurt when they moved him.”

“Daddy don’t never complain when he’s hurt,” Gareth assured her.

Leslie could believe that statement. He seemed like the kind of male who could never admit a weakness. Look at how he had refused to listen to her offer because he was embarrassed at not having money for a housekeeper.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but who are you?” the cowboy who seemed to be in charge asked.

“Leslie cooked us dinner,” Justin assured him.

“I—” Leslie began, sure he would demand more of an explanation.

“Oh, a friend. Well, could you stay with the boys? It’ll take two of us to get him to town, and the other two will have to carry on in the morning, so if you don’t mind—” He turned as another moan came from the truck. “Okay?”

Without waiting for her agreement, he leapt down several steps and slid behind the wheel of the truck.

“Wait! I—”

But in seconds the Jeep had completely disappeared in the falling snow, abandoning her to care for two little boys she scarcely knew.




Chapter Three


“You’ll stay with us, won’t you, Leslie?” Justin’s eyes as well as his voice pleaded with her. But it was the look on his face that decided her.

“Yes, of course I will,” she said, “and the first thing we have to do is get the two of you out of those wet pajamas. Inside, at once.”

Her mind was filled with all kinds of questions, but they were never asked. Instead, she put the boys in a steaming tub of water and went downstairs to make hot chocolate.

An hour later, she finally tucked the boys in their beds, sitting with them until they drifted off to sleep. Though they’d tried to show their bravery, she’d seen through their pretense and had wanted to reassure them. In spite of their mischief about the phone call, they were still little children.

Then she gathered the wet pajamas and found the laundry room downstairs. Rather than just wash those two items, she did a full load from the big pile of laundry that almost covered the entire floor.

And the man didn’t need a housekeeper? Ha!

Next, she returned to the kitchen and tidied up the dirty dishes from their late snack. She put the last clean cup on the shelf and closed the cabinet.

Now what? A wave of exhaustion hit her and she realized it was almost eleven o’clock. Well, eleven o’clock Kansas City time. The time her body was used to. Obviously Mr. Graybow was not going to return tonight, so she might as well make herself comfortable.

The only other room with sheets on the bed was the master bedroom. She supposed she could locate some linen and make up one of the other beds, but she was too tired. After all, she’d driven all the way from Kansas early that morning. Not to mention she’d met the charming Mr. D. Graybow, cooked his dinner, argued and been left in charge of his twins.

She stared at the big bed. It would serve him right if she slept in his bed! Visions of Goldilocks danced through her mind. But Mr. Graybow wasn’t going to get home until tomorrow sometime. So what harm could there be?

She was going to make herself comfortable and he could just lump it if he didn’t like it. Filled with righteous indignation, she marched toward the big bed.

She even went so far as to wear one of his T-shirts to sleep. She’d have it washed and put back before he ever returned.

With a sigh, she slid into his big bed and pulled the covers up to her nose. Well, Leslie Hibbets, she said to herself, you wanted to be connected to someone, to find some excitement. She smiled. Mission accomplished.



“GOOD MORNING, Mr. Graybow,” a cheery voice said, piercing the fog that surrounded him.

Doug slowly moved his head toward the sound, but he had difficulty lifting his eyelids.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

He struggled to hold on to his temper. Since he felt as though he’d been hit by a truck, he thought the sunshiny voice was highly inappropriate. “Terrible,” he muttered.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please try. The doctor will be here soon.”

What little patience he had suddenly disappeared. “You can tell the doctor—”

“Careful, Doug,” a male voice interrupted. “You’ll embarrass my nurse.”

Some of his tension disappeared as Doug recognized an old friend’s voice. “Jim, what happened?”

“Open your eyes and I’ll tell you.”

With monumental effort, Doug managed that task and then quickly shut them again as the bright lights brought pain surging through his head.

“The lights,” he protested faintly.

“Madge, turn off the overhead lights until his eyes adjust a little.”

Doug heard the click of a light switch and he tried again. This time he gradually got his eyes open and focused on Jim Kelsey, the doctor in Riverside. “What happened?”

“I’m not real clear. Moss and Curly brought you in a little before midnight, said you fell down your front steps and broke your leg. There’s also the matter of a slight concussion.”

“Damn. I remember now. That blasted woman!”

“Woman? Is your social life picking up?”

“Yeah, thanks to Ben and Will.”

“What do they have to do with it?”

“They put an ad in the paper to get me a wife. I’ve been advertising for a housekeeper for a month with no response. They thought they’d improve on my offer.”

The doctor laughed. “Get any responses?”

Doug could feel his face reddening. “Some you wouldn’t believe. Then, last night, this woman turns up on my doorstep. Came all the way from Kansas, expecting me to marry her, I guess.” A sudden thought made him frown and increased the pain in his head. “Did she come into town with me last night?”

“I only saw Moss and Curly. They slept here at the hospital ‘cause of the storm.”

“Damn! I bet she’s still at the ranch with the boys. Where’s Moss?” he demanded, rising as if to get out of the bed.

“Hold it, Doug. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll find Moss and Curly for you, but you need to stay here until tomorrow.”

“Jim, if that woman is out there with my kids, I’m going back this morning, if I have to crawl to get there. You don’t understand what these women are like. They’re desperate!”

The doctor frowned and reached for Doug’s wrist to take his pulse. Then he pushed the button to summon the nurse. “Madge,” he ordered when she appeared, “go find Curly and Moss and have them come here.”

Again Doug struggled to get up.

“Doug, you can’t get out of bed. We haven’t set your leg because of the swelling.”

Doug gave his physician a pained smile. “Well, Doc, I reckon I’d better find a way of getting around because there are some things that just can’t wait.”

The doctor smiled, as if enjoying himself. “That’s why Madge left that bedpan handy. If you hurry, you can take care of business before company arrives.”

Doug glared at him.



“BOSS, I STILL THINK this is crazy. The lady seemed nice last night. I’m sure the boys are fine.” Moss was following in the tracks of the snowplow down the snowy road to the ranch.

“One of the boys said she cooked dinner last night,” Curly added helpfully.

“Just hurry,” Doug ordered through gritted teeth. He didn’t feel like making conversation. His leg was in a temporary brace and he’d had to be carried to the truck. Jim had thrown in a pair of crutches at the last minute but had warned him to use them only for trips to the bathroom. At least he hadn’t offered a bedpan again.

In four or five days, Doug would have to return so they could put his leg in a cast. Until then he had to stay in bed. Great! Now, one of his cowboys would have to play nurse-maid, and they’d be two men shorter than they already were.

It was all that woman’s fault. Things had been going along just fine until she arrived. Honesty forced him to rephrase that statement. They’d been surviving until she arrived. They could’ve used a housekeeper, of course, but he’d just about given up on that plan.

“Who was that lady? The one you’re so worried about,” Moss asked, checking in the rearview mirror for his boss’s response.

“Uh, she’s a visitor.”

“Mighty pretty,” Curly said, turning to grin over his shoulder.

“She’s okay,” Doug muttered. He didn’t want to discuss her, or think about her, or remember her warmth, her curves, her cooking.

“Hey! Maybe she came in response to that ad!” Moss suddenly exclaimed, a big grin on his weathered face. “You know, the one Ben and Will—” His glance met Doug’s in the rearview mirror and he suddenly stopped talking. He’d known Doug long enough to recognize the danger signals.

Curly, too, looked at Doug and said nothing.

Moss cleared his throat. “Uh, want us to move the herd closer in, since the snow’s let up? It’d make it easier to feed them.”

Doug concurred with his suggestion, and any other conversation for the rest of the ride dealt with work. The drive seemed interminable to Doug, every jolt shooting pain through his entire body. Jim had given him pain pills, but he refused to take any until he made sure he had that woman out of his home.

He’d need his wits about him to get rid of her. Especially if she’d spent the past few hours charming his boys as she had done last night.

He’d checked himself out of the hospital long before he should’ve, according to Jim, who protested his decision, but Doug wasn’t going to let a little red tape interfere with protecting his children. When they reached the ranch house, Moss pulled the Jeep as close to the steps as possible behind the woman’s car. She was still here.

The two ranch hands both came to his door, opened it and began to ease him forward on the seat. He gritted his teeth at the pain.

“Easy, boss, we got you,” Moss muttered.

They carried him up the steps, his broken leg stuck straight out in front of him. Curly managed to get the front door open and they backed into the warmth of the hall. Silence greeted them.

“Where is everyone?” Curly asked, but Doug had just about reached the end of his patience. His leg was aching big-time.

“Just take me up to bed. Then we’ll sort everything out.”

They made their way up the stairs and Moss shoved open the door to his room. The two cowboys stopped in their tracks, and Doug, clinging to their broad shoulders, looked up to see what the holdup was.

What he saw was a rather shapely female posterior. Leslie Hibbets snapped to attention and whirled around. Before she could sputter anything, the boys came racing around the bed.

“Daddy!” Leslie stepped in their path before they could crash into the cowboys holding their father.

“You can see your dad in a minute. I think we’d better finish his bed first so he can lie down. You’ve been such super helpers, your dad will be so proud.”

Instead of the frightened faces he expected, his sons beamed at him and then scurried back to the other side of the bed. They never obeyed him like that! Stunned, he watched the lady also turn away. That was when he realized she’d been bent over his bed, making it up.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, all the frustration he felt evident in his voice.

She turned around again and stared at him. All warmth was gone from her blue eyes. “I used your bed last night. So I washed the sheets this morning and now we’re putting them back on.” There was a challenge in there, as if daring him to complain.

“Wow! You must’ve been up early,” Moss said before Doug could speak. His voice fairly dripped with admiration, but Doug suspected it had nothing to do with her early rise. She looked just as sexy this morning in her tight jeans as she had last night.

Her smile didn’t lessen her sexiness.

“Not too early. The boys said they always get up at six.” As if just now remembering the two cowboys were still holding him, she hurried back to her bedmaking.

“You lucky devil,” Moss muttered in Doug’s ear. Doug glared at him.

“Each of you get a pillow,” Leslie ordered his children, and they hurried to follow her orders.

What had she done—hypnotized them?

“Now you can put Mr. Graybow in bed,” she suggested to Moss and Curly, stepping back out of the way.

As eager as his body was to make the acquaintance of something soft and stationary, Doug wasn’t a happy camper. For some reason, he grew less so as the fresh smell of clean sheets hit him. He hadn’t bothered with such niceties since Agnes left. He hadn’t had time, he defended himself, as he closed his eyes and relaxed for just a moment.

“Does he have any medicine he’s supposed to take?” that lilting voice asked, and his eyes popped open.

“Yeah, some pain pills,” Moss answered before he could stop him.

“I don’t need them.”

All three adults gave him a derisive look.

“Do you hurt, Daddy?” Gareth asked, leaning toward him.

He’d never lied to his children. Well, almost never. Only for their own good. “A little, son.”

“Then you should take your medicine or you won’t get better. ‘Member? You told us.”

Leslie walked into his bathroom and he heard the water run.

“I’m going to be fine,” he told his son, trying to inject a heartiness into his voice to convince him. The headache pounding at his temples made it difficult, though.

“Here’s some water, sweetie. Maybe if you help your dad, he’ll take his medicine. I’m sure he’s not afraid since he’s so big and strong.”

Even though there wasn’t a hint of laughter in her voice, the snickers from his men told him he was right on target when he thought she was making fun of him.

“Here’s the medicine, Justin. You hand it to him and then Gareth can give him the water,” Moss said helpfully.

Doug had no choice but to follow orders.

“Have you two already had breakfast? We were going to have pancakes and you’re welcome to join us,” Leslie offered the cowboys, that warm smile on her lips.

His gut clinched as he watched his men explain that they’d been dragged away from the hospital before eating. Without even a glance in his direction, Leslie led the drooling men from his room.

“Do you want some pancakes, Daddy? We’ll bring you some,” Justin said, patting his father’s cheek.

At least someone hadn’t forgotten him. Not that he wanted Leslie Hibbets to think about him. Of course not. But Moss and Curly could at least remember he was alive.

“No, son, but thanks for offering. I believe I’ll just sleep. You two will be all right, won’t you? You won’t get into trouble?”

“’Course not, Daddy,” Gareth said. “Leslie’s here.”

His mind was growing cloudy and his lips didn’t seem to work too well, but there was something he needed to say. Something about Leslie. Laughter floated up the stairs as he slid into unconsciousness. Yes. There was definitely something about Leslie.



LESLIE POURED MOSS a second cup of coffee and returned to her chair. They’d enjoyed a big breakfast. In between bites, the two men had filled Leslie in on the doctor’s diagnosis.

“So Mr. Graybow is going to have to remain in bed for four or five days? Who will take care of him?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll have to take turns, though we were already short a hand before the boss got hurt. That will make us twice as short.”

Moss glared at his friend, Leslie noticed, when Curly started to speak.

“Maybe you can hire someone to take care of him.” She thought again about the man upstairs refusing to hire her because he was short of money. The hospital bills wouldn’t help.

“Well, it’s kind of difficult…” Moss began and then trailed off, looking as if he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal.

“Look, I’d volunteer,” she began, but before Moss’s grin could spread too wide, she added, “but it wouldn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Curly asked. “It’d be perfect.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Mr. Graybow doesn’t want me here.”

“He hasn’t tasted your pancakes,” Moss said, his smile still in place.

She chuckled but shook her head no. “Thanks for the compliment, but he made his wishes clear last night.”

“Last night, he thought he could manage. It’s pretty obvious now that he can’t.” Moss watched her reaction.

“We can’t cook for Daddy, Leslie. How will he get something to eat if you don’t stay?” Gareth asked.

“And us, too. You promised to bake cookies,” Justin reminded her.

Leslie knew the boys were trying to manipulate her into feeling sorry for them. They’d already suggested several times that she should stay.

Not that she disagreed with them. She hadn’t been sure what she’d been looking for when she set out on her travels, but a home and family were definitely on the list. This job would be perfect for a few months. She could try out being a mom, see if she really wanted children. The cowboys seemed nice, too. She might even meet that special man she had dreamed of. There certainly seemed to be enough men around to choose from. Immediate thoughts of the one upstairs were hurriedly dismissed.

“I thought we’d have time…” she began in response to the child’s reminder.

Justin’s mouth sagged and Leslie hesitated. “Maybe…maybe I could just stay until tomorrow. That would give you time to find someone, wouldn’t it?” she asked Moss.

“And we could make cookies?” Justin asked.

She nodded to the child, bringing a smile back to his face.

“I’ll sure try to find someone,” Moss promised, his look as eager as the other three males in the room.

“I can do some extra cooking, too, to help out. Things that can be frozen,” she added, her mind racing with the possibilities. “You do have someone to cook for you, don’t you?” she asked Moss.

“Blackie cooks. But lately he’s been having to be in the saddle most of the time. What with the shortage, you know. We’re all mostly living off sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches? After working outside in the cold all day?” she asked, horrified. She’d been cooking for her invalid mother, but she understood the appetites hardworking men could have. “I’ll try to help out while I’m here.”

“That’d be great,” Moss said as he stood.

“But there’s not a lot of supplies here,” she hurriedly added, knowing once the two men left the kitchen she wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions. They’d be out in the cold, working.

“Blackie just got a full order in three days ago. I bet the boss didn’t get around to taking his share of it. You go on down to the bunkhouse and get whatever you need. The boys will show you.”

“All right. I’ll try to have something fixed for dinner when you get in.”

They grinned at her and stepped out onto the snowy porch. As they walked down the steps, Curly said to his friend, “Man, how did we get so lucky?”

Leslie shook her head. The grouch upstairs wasn’t going to think her staying was luck. Unless it was the bad kind. But what could she do? He certainly couldn’t take care of anything since he had to stay in bed. And she was just staying until they found someone else.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself as she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Somehow she didn’t think Moss thought it would be that easy, in spite of the smile he’d given her. If it were, why hadn’t Doug Graybow already filled the position he’d advertised for?

She told the boys to clear the table while she checked on their father. With a few grumbles, they started carrying the dishes to the dishwasher. After several minutes of working in silence, Justin whispered, “Do you think she’ll stay?”

“Maybe. But how come we have to work? I thought a mommy was supposed to take care of us,” Gareth complained.

“I know, but…but I kind of like her. I think she’d make a good mommy. She smells better’n Agnes.”

“Yeah, but she hasn’t made any cookies yet. If she doesn’t make cookies, she can’t be my mommy,” Gareth declared, his jaw squared in determination just like his father’s.

“Okay. She has to make cookies,” Justin agreed. “But do you think Daddy will let her stay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we just won’t tell him.”

“I think he’ll find out. He always does. And then we get in trouble. How about we let him have some of the cookies? I bet he likes ’em, too.”

“Okay, but not too many. I’m this hungry for cookies,” Gareth exclaimed, flinging his arms wide. Unfortunately, he forgot about the glass in his hand, and it went flying across the kitchen to shatter against the cabinet.

“Uh-oh.”



LESLIE EASED OPEN the bedroom door and looked in. Doug Graybow lay sprawled out on the big bed, his eyes closed.

“Mr. Graybow?” she whispered.

When there was no response, she crept over to the bed. He was a big man, his hard, muscled body covering much of the mattress. Even in sleep he looked powerful.

A shiver ran over her, and she took an involuntary step backward. As if recognizing her presence, he stirred and groaned. Afraid she’d wakened him, she froze, not relaxing until his breathing evened out again. Then she frowned.

The doctor had obviously split the seam on his jeans since the material flapped around the temporary brace. But he couldn’t be comfortable with those tight jeans around his waist. She should have had him remove them before taking his medicine.

She looked around the room, as if seeking help. If he were a woman, she wouldn’t hesitate to make him more comfortable. Maybe she could get the twins… No, they weren’t strong enough.

The cowboys wouldn’t be back until dark.

That left only her.

If only she could just think of the man as her patient, not as a hunk of masculinity that would make many a female heart swoon. She remembered the way he’d looked when he’d first opened the door to her. Even then, with that ferocious frown, she’d registered his sex appeal.

“Stop that!” she whispered to herself. When he didn’t stir, she stepped closer to the bed. Leaning over him, she inched his T-shirt up from his waist, her fingers brushing against warm flesh.

Just below his belly button, centered on a flat, hard stomach, were the buttons to his jeans. She licked her dry lips and then reached to unfasten them. The jeans were tight and she had to struggle to push each button through its hole. A sigh of relief escaped when she felt his cotton briefs beneath her fingers. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done had he been one of those men who didn’t bother with underwear.

Standing up, Leslie stretched her neck, stiff with the tension of the past few minutes. Now all she had to do was slide the jeans down those long, lean legs. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

As if in relief that the tight jeans were loosened, Doug shifted on the bed. Leslie jumped as if he’d opened his eyes. “Oh!’

She waited until he settled again before moving to the end of the bed. With the covers pulled back, she thought she could pull the pant legs and the jeans would slip off.

A minute later she realized her theory wasn’t working. After studying the situation, she eased onto the bed. With a cautious look at his smooth, relaxed features, she straddled him and lifted his hips, pulling the jeans at the same time.

Just as she was congratulating herself on the success of the operation, large hands spanned her waist and pulled her forward. With her heart thumping like mad, unable to breathe, she found herself wrapped in Doug Graybow’s arms, pressed against his lean length.

He muttered something in her ear, but she couldn’t distinguish his words over her own heart beating. As she was about to protest loudly and shove against her captor’s hold, she realized his eyes were closed.

Could he still be asleep?

She waited on tenterhooks for him to move again. When he didn’t, she eased back from his embrace. With a sigh of relief, she decided he had no idea what had happened. Apparently, her rather intimate position over him had awakened some memory.

Her cheeks burned but at least the man wouldn’t remember.

She slipped off the bed and returned to the foot of it. Now that the jeans were below his hips, she was able to pull them off without any difficulty. She tried to keep her eyes firmly fastened to the denim material, but the stark white briefs and the warm skin drew her gaze.

She might have lingered if it hadn’t been for the shattering of glass in the kitchen below.

Hurriedly, she whisked the cover over his now-bare legs and ran from the room.




Chapter Four


After a trip to the bunkhouse where Leslie started a pot of stew for the cowboys’ dinner and gathered supplies to bring back, she and the twins returned to the house.

“Are we going to make the cookies now, Leslie?” Justin asked anxiously as they entered the house.

“In just a minute. We should check on your dad first.” Before she could say anything else, the boys set down their sacks and ran for the stairs. “Quietly,” she called. “He may still be sleeping.”

She checked her watch as she followed the boys. Probably he wouldn’t stir for another couple of hours. At least she hoped so. That would give her time to fix lunch and make cookies with the boys—and recover from the embarrassment of undressing their father.

When she reached the bedroom door, the boys were standing by the bed, whispering. Doug Graybow didn’t even flicker an eyelash at the noise. He was obviously still in a deep sleep. Probably the best thing for him since Moss had told her he had a mild concussion.

“Okay, boys. Go hang up your coats and wash your hands and we’ll make cookies,” she whispered. Like twin tornadoes, the two moved past her and out of sight.

She stood there in the relative quiet, staring at the unconscious man. The urge to smooth his brow, to adjust his covers, grew stronger the longer she watched. With an abrupt nod to no one in particular, she pulled the door to, then drew a deep breath.

She was only going to be here a day or two. Moss would find someone. Of course he would. And then she’d be on her way back to Kansas to get on with her life—whatever that might be.

In spite of everything, Mr. D. Graybow had made it clear he didn’t want her working for him. So she wouldn’t. She’d find a place for herself, somewhere she’d be happy. It just wouldn’t be here.

And that was just as well. The man was as sexy as sin, even with a concussion and a broken leg. Another deep breath helped her clear her head of such ridiculous thoughts. Which was a good thing, because the boys’ room door opened and the two whirlwinds were beaming up at her, extending their hands for approval.



DOUG SLOWLY BECAME conscious of his surroundings. His room. Not the hospital. Why had he thought— The pain that shot up his leg when he tried to move it answered that question.

Along with that bit of information came the rest of it. The woman, his chasing her, then his fall. The hospital with Jim Kelsey fussing over him. Then his arrival back home to find the woman making his bed with clean sheets, charming his boys into instant obedience and shaming him into taking his medicine.

At least she was long gone. Moss knew what he wanted, and he could rely on Moss to carry out his orders. He looked at the window and figured he had an hour or two before his workers would return to the bunkhouse. Probably the boys were down there with Blackie.

He looked around him for the crutches Jim had given him. As much as he’d hated that damn bedpan, he kind of wished he had it here now. Getting to the crutches leaning against the wall by the door wasn’t going to be easy.

But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t wait a couple of hours.

Throwing back the covers, he slid to the side of the bed. Since he couldn’t bend his leg because of the brace, he was debating whether he should slide on the floor to the crutches, or hop on his good leg, when the door opened.

“You’re awake!” that woman exclaimed.

Red suffused his cheeks as he grabbed the covers. He suddenly realized he was only wearing his briefs and a T-shirt.

“Yes, I’m awake. Where are my jeans?” He could’ve sworn he’d had them on when he got home. Looking at his visitor, he surprised a bright blush on her cheeks.

“I—I removed them. You couldn’t get comfortable, they were so tight.”

Now he was as embarrassed as she looked. Particularly as a lingering scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. He felt a vague stirring of some memory but it eluded him. Upset with both himself and her, he said suddenly, “What are you still doing here?”

He hadn’t meant his question to sound so abrupt, so angry, but it had. He knew it by the way she stiffened.

“Taking care of you and your children until Moss can find someone else.”

Doug grimaced. Moss knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of finding someone to come take care of them. So what was he pulling?

“You agreed to do that?”

“Yes. I don’t have to return home at once, and it seemed cruel to abandon the three of you.”

“Yeah. Especially since it’s your fault,” he growled.

Her shoulders went rigid, drawing his attention to her full breasts. His mouth was suddenly dry.

“I don’t quite see how your broken leg could be my fault.”

“I’ve lived here thirty-two years, all my life, and never fallen down those stairs. I wouldn’t have this time except you jerked away from me.”

“Oh? So I should have let you paw me to keep you from breaking your leg?” She stood with her hands on her shapely hips, righteous anger on her face.

He stared back at her, trying to keep his gaze above her neck. “Paw you? I was trying to stop you from getting lost in a snowstorm!”

“It wasn’t that bad and you know it! That’s just an excuse!”

He gaped, unable to believe what she was saying. Finally he pushed himself as erect as he could manage. “Listen, lady, if I wanted to ‘paw’ someone, as you put it, there are plenty of women who would volunteer. I wouldn’t have to settle for a—” He couldn’t think how to finish his insult.

“Then call one of those numerous women to take care of you now. Because I’m not going to!” With a slam of the door, she disappeared from view, leaving him tense and upset. And stranded a long way from the bathroom.

“Wait!” he called and listened anxiously for returning footsteps. Nothing. Damn. His temper had gotten him in trouble again.

He leaned back against the pillow, drained by their argument, his headache returning.

“Hi, Daddy,” the twins chorused as they opened the door.

“Boys.” He sighed in relief. “Thanks for coming. Could you hand me my crutches?”

His children looked at each other. Then they shook their heads and started toward the bed, Gareth carefully carrying a glass.

“Boys! The crutches. You forgot the crutches. They’re by the door,” he said, his situation getting more desperate by the moment.

“Leslie said for you to take your medicine. She didn’t say anything about you getting out of bed.” Justin held out his hand, showing his father the pills he was carrying.

“Leslie is not the boss around here! I am!” he shouted before clutching his head. The stubborn looks on his children’s faces told him he’d made a mistake. With a sigh, he quickly informed them why he needed his crutches and Justin laid down the pills on the bedside table and brought the crutches to his bed.

“Why didn’t you ask Leslie?” he asked as he held them for his father.

“It was kind of embarrassing,” Doug muttered, not bothering to explain that he’d insulted her before he thought to do so. And then it was too late.

After the difficult excursion to the bathroom, Doug was glad to settle back against the pillows. “Thanks, guys. How’s everything going?”

After listening to their complaints the entire month since Agnes had departed, Doug expected more of the same. Instead, his children happily recounted their activities, with Leslie’s name playing a large role in the recital.

“And we made the bestest cookies, Daddy,” Justin assured him, a heavenly smile on his little face, as if he were munching on his favorite treat right then.

“And you didn’t bring me one?” Doug teased, unable to resist the happiness his sons were showing.

“I’ll go get you one,” Justin promised fervently and rushed to the door.

“Bring him one I made, too,” Gareth called, and then patted him on the shoulder. “Leslie showed us how to do it.”

“That was nice of Leslie,” he assured his son. The woman seemed to be a master at enslaving his children. Didn’t she have them complaining about being bored? Getting into mischief? Begging her to read them a story?

Or maybe she had mesmerized them with the heavenly scents coming up the stairway. The house smelled better than it had when his mom was downstairs cooking.

“And you know what, Daddy?”

“No, Gareth. What?”

“Leslie can tell us apart. She don’t never have to ask.”

Doug could always tell them apart, but he and Moss were about the only ones. Somehow it seemed intrusive for Leslie to be able to. “How does she do that?”

“She said ‘cause we’re not the same person. And ‘cause I have a freckle right here,” Gareth said, pointing to his nose and chuckling.

Doug admired her perception, but he wasn’t about to say so. His boys already seemed to adore the blasted woman.

Justin appeared in the doorway, but he wasn’t alone. Standing behind him was Leslie, a tray in her hand. Her lips were tightened in a firm line and her gaze didn’t meet his. “Justin wanted you to have a cookie, but I think you should eat something solid before you do.”

He suddenly realized his stomach was empty. His last meal had been the sandwiches and soup she’d prepared last night. On his best behavior, he said, “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“If you’ll sit up, the boys will fix the pillows behind your back,” she instructed, still keeping her gaze on the tray.

Once more, he watched as his boys rushed to fulfill her every command. He frowned but tried to hide his irritation. After all, she was being nice to him. He leaned back against the pillows and thanked his children.

“Leslie says we’re her best helpers,” Justin announced proudly, leaning against his father’s shoulder. “She doesn’t know where anything is.”

“Anything what?” Doug asked sharply, a sudden vision filling him of Leslie going through his belongings, trying to assess his net worth.

“All your hidden valuables, of course,” the woman said coldly as she plopped the tray into his lap.

He flinched and grabbed the wobbling tray. Obviously she had understood his meaning even if his children hadn’t.

“Boys, why don’t you stay and keep your dad company while he eats, and I’ll go down and put the vegetables in the stew.”

“I thought you were leaving?” Doug couldn’t help asking.

She halted on her way out of the room, but she kept her back to him. “I am. Just as soon as the cowboys get back. It would be irresponsible to leave the children alone.”

“You’re leaving?” Justin asked anxiously, taking a step toward her.

“Yes, sweetie. Remember, I told you earlier I couldn’t stay. Now, take care of your daddy until I get back.”

Both boys turned to glare at their father as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Daddy, we don’t want her to leave! She makes great cookies!” Gareth complained.

Doug, on the other hand, wanted that woman gone, not mixing in his business, or worming her way into the hearts of his employees, like she had his children.

Yeah, he was glad to get rid of her. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll find someone else to take care of us. We don’t need Leslie. Bring me the phone.”



“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? She’ll make a perfect mommy,” Justin whispered. The twins were sitting on the stairs, waiting for Leslie’s return.

“I don’t know. Daddy doesn’t like her. Don’t daddies have to like the mommy?”

“Mrs. Meggy’s husband likes her. He’s always hugging on her. I saw him kiss her once.”

“Daddy and Leslie was fightin’. She don’t want to stay.” Gareth rested his drooping chin in his hand. “And she didn’t even fuss when I broke that glass.”

“Yeah. Agnes would’a spanked you.”

Both boys sighed in unison.

“There must be something we can do,” Justin finally said.

“I don’t know what,” Gareth admitted and sighed again.

“Me neither…unless—” Justin broke off and stared at his brother.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Break her car. Then she couldn’t leave.”

“Hey, yeah! But how do we do it?”



“MRS. WILLIAMS? This is Doug Graybow at the Bar-G. I had an accident last night and—no, it’s nothing serious, just a broken leg. Yes, thank you. The reason I’m calling is I need someone to take care of me and the twins for a— Mrs. Williams, I promise— Mrs. Williams?”

He hung up the receiver. Mrs. Williams made her feelings clear. And who could blame her after the fiasco the last time that she baby-sat? The twins had almost flooded the house.

Who else could he call? He’d talked to Ben, but he said Meggy wasn’t feeling well.

The widow Hicks had gone to stay with her daughter in Chicago.

Mrs. White had told him she’d sprained her wrist, but Doug didn’t believe her. She prided herself on keeping everything in its place, and his twins wouldn’t cooperate.

He’d even called the pastor of his church, but the man had had no idea of anyone who could help. When Doug had admitted that Leslie had stayed overnight to help, the pastor had suggested he plead with her to stay.

Damn. Instead, he’d done the opposite.

Well, they’d just have to manage. There were some things he couldn’t do, even for his sons, and marrying was one of them.



“DO YOU LIKE COOKING, Leslie?” Justin asked. Once she had returned from the bunkhouse, the boys had attached themselves to her side.

“Why, yes, sweetie, I do. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause you was humming a song. Agnes wouldn’t even let us stay in the kitchen with her, and she was always frowning.”

“Maybe she was tired,” Leslie suggested diplomatically. The more she heard about Agnes, however, the less she thought she’d been good for the boys.

“Leslie, do you have any kids?” Gareth asked, resting his chin in one palm as he watched her.

“No,” she told him as she lifted the piecrust she’d been rolling out onto a pie plate. She shot a quick glance at the boys and then looked away. She sure was enjoying her time with these two kids.

“Don’t you want any?” Justin chimed in, moving to get on his knees in the chair with his brother and lean against the cabinet.

“Well, someday. I have to find a husband first.”

“Why?”

That question stopped Leslie. She shot a quick look at the concentration on the boys’ faces and hid her smile. “Because that’s how you do it. First you get married and then you have kids.” At least that was the way people should do it.

Before they could ask any more questions, she gathered the scraps of leftover piecrust. “Now it’s your turn to cook.”

She taught them to butter the dough, sprinkle it with sugar and cinnamon and put it in the oven.

“Does it taste good?” Gareth asked, his gaze glued to the pan.

“Sure does. My mother used to help me make them when I was your age.”

“She sounds like a great mama,” Justin said with a sigh.

“Yes, she was.”

“Isn’t she your mama anymore?”

Leslie smiled at his serious little face. “She’ll always be my mama, Justin, but she’s dead now.”

“Oh. So’s our mama.”

“Do you remember her?” Leslie asked, even though she felt guilty about doing so. She knew their father wouldn’t like her asking questions.

Both boys shook their heads no.

“We was little babies.”

The buzzer on the oven halted their conversation and for the next few minutes both boys were more interested in eating the pie dough treats with a glass of milk.

“There’s only three left, Leslie. Do you want one?” Justin asked.

“No, thanks.”

“What are you making now?”

“A chicken casserole that can be frozen for dinner tomorrow night.” Concentrating on her cooking, Leslie didn’t notice the silence for several minutes. When she did, she turned to observe her audience, only to find the two of them whispering.

“Is anything wrong?”

“We was wonderin’, Leslie, if we could take these three pieces to Daddy?” Justin asked. “He would like them.”

She checked her watch. It was a little after three. He might be waking up from the last dose of medication. “That’s very thoughtful of you, boys. If you’ll be careful, you can take some milk up, too.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No. I’m sure you can manage on your own.” Truth was, she had no intention of going to that man’s bedroom ever again. Every time she did, all she could think about was how it felt to be pressed against his long body.

The boys climbed the stairs carefully. When they pushed open the door, they discovered their father lying in bed, his eyes open.





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