Книга - Courting the Enemy

Courting the Enemy
Sherryl Woods


Foe…Or Fiancé?Karen Hanson's oldest friends, the Calamity Janes, urged her to sell her struggling ranch and pursue her lifelong dreams of travel. But the only bidder for her land was brooding, enigmatic Grady Blackhawk–her late husband's worst enemy. How could she sell the land to him? Then Grady set out to prove that he wasn't the scoundrel Karen thought him. Spending time with her drop-dead handsome adversary might cost Karen a lot more than her ranch. Because Grady was becoming less interested in claiming her land…and more intent on claiming Karen herself!









“This is my proof,” Karen murmured, still dazed.


“Proof of what?”

“That you’re a scoundrel and a thief. You stole that kiss,” she accused, managing to get the words out with a straight face.

Laughter filled the air.

“Maybe the first one, darlin’,” Grady conceded. “But the second one you gave me of your own free will. You can’t count that one against me. Once two people start to tango, so to speak, the blame pretty much falls by the wayside.”

She frowned at him. “You would say that, wouldn’t you? It serves your purpose.”

“And what is my purpose?” he asked, studying her with mild curiosity.

“To get my land,” she said at once, but she was no longer as certain as she had once been. A part of her was beginning to believe that he just might be after her, instead….




Courting the Enemy

Sherryl Woods







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




SHERRYL WOODS


has written more than seventy-five romances and mysteries in the past twenty years. And because she loves to talk to real people once in a while, she also operates her own bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, in Colonial Beach, VA, where readers from around the country stop by to discuss her favorite topic—books. If you can’t visit Sherryl at her store, then be sure to drop her a note at P.O. Box 490326, Key Biscayne, FL 33149.




Winding River High School


Class of ’91

Welcome Home—Ten Years Later Do You Remember the Way We Were?

Karen (Phipps) Hanson — Better known as The Dreamer. Elected most likely to see the world. Member of the 4-H club, the Spanish and French clubs, and first-place winner at the county fair in the greased pig contest.

Cassie Collins — Ringleader of the Calamity Janes. Elected most likely to land in jail. Best known for painting the town water tower a shocking pink and for making the entire faculty regret choosing teaching as a profession. Class record for detentions.

Gina Petrillo — Tastiest girl in the class. Elected most popular because nobody in town bakes a better double chocolate brownie. Member of the Future Homemakers of America. Winner of three blue ribbons in the pie-baking contest and four in the cake-baking contest at the county fair.

Emma Rogers — That girl can swing…a bat, that is. Elected most likely to be the first female on the New York Yankees team. Member of the Debate Club, the Honor Society and president of the senior class.

Lauren Winters — The girl with all the answers, otherwise known as the one you’d most like to be seated next to during an exam. Elected most likely to succeed. Class valedictorian. Member of the Honor Society, County Fair Junior Rodeo Queen and star of the junior and senior class plays.




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

Epilogue




Prologue


Soul-deep weary, Karen walked into the kitchen at midnight, made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to face the mail. She mentally weighed the usual stack of bills against the intriguing envelope with its fancy calligraphy.

Even if she hadn’t desperately needed a pick-me-up, she would have opted for setting the bills aside. There were always too many of them at the end of the month and not enough money in the bank. It seemed as if she and Caleb might never get their ranch in the black, might never be in a position to hire the extra help that would save them from doing all of the endless, backbreaking work themselves with only two seasonal men to pitch in.

As late as it was, she had just come in from the barn. Caleb was still out there, trying to save a sick calf. Always at the edge of bankruptcy, they couldn’t afford to lose a single animal. She had seen the stress in his face, heard it in the terse, angry words from a man who’d always been quietly thoughtful and even-tempered.

She pushed all of that aside as she opened the thick vellum envelope, and removed what turned out to be an invitation to her high school reunion in Winding River, Wyoming, a hundred miles away. Immediately the cares of the day slipped aside. She thought of her lifelong friends, the women who had called themselves the Calamity Janes, thanks to their penchant for heartbreak and mischief gone awry.

This was perfect. A few days with her best friends would give her marriage exactly the boost it needed. It would bring some fun back into their lives. Though Caleb was older and hadn’t gone to school with them, he had grown to enjoy their company as much as she did. And because he was the only husband who’d displayed staying power, they fussed over him in a way that both embarrassed and pleased him.

She was still thinking about catching up with Cassie, Gina, Lauren and Emma, when Caleb finally came in. She studied his face and tried to gauge his mood. Wordlessly he opened the refrigerator and took out a beer, slugging it back as if his throat were parched. Finally he glanced at her, then at the envelope she was holding.

“What’s that?”

“An invitation. My high school class is having its reunion in July.” She beamed at him. “Oh, Caleb, it’s going to be such fun. I’m sure Gina, Lauren and the others will come back. There are going to be all sorts of events, a picnic, a dance, plus the town’s annual fireworks on the Fourth.”

“And how much is all of this going to cost? An arm and a leg, I imagine.”

His tone dulled her enthusiasm. “Not so much. We can manage it.”

He gestured toward the stack of bills. “We can’t pay the electric bill. The feed and grain bill is two months overdue—and you want to go to a bunch of fool parties? And where exactly would we stay now that your parents have moved? You planning on driving a hundred miles each way every single day? Motels are expensive.”

“We need this,” she insisted stubbornly. “I’ll find us a place to stay.”

“We need to hang on to every single dollar we can get our hands on, or this time next year we’re going to be worrying about a place to live.”

It was a familiar refrain, and it was Caleb’s greatest fear. Karen knew that and she didn’t take it lightly. It wasn’t just a matter of holding on to the ranch he loved, the ranch that had been in his family for three generations. It wasn’t even a matter of pride. It was a matter of keeping the ranch out of the hands of the man he considered his family’s worst enemy.

Grady Blackhawk had been after the Hanson ranch for years, the entire time Karen had been with Caleb. She couldn’t recall a week that there hadn’t been some communication from him, some sense that he was circling like a vulture waiting for the ranch to collapse under Caleb’s ineptitude. She didn’t fully understand Grady’s motivation, because Caleb had flatly refused to discuss it. He’d just painted him as the devil incarnate and warned Karen time and again against him.

“Caleb, we’re not going to lose the ranch,” she said, clinging to her patience by a thread. “Not to Grady Blackhawk, not to anyone.”

“I wish to hell I were as sure of that as you are. You want to go to your reunion, go, but leave me out of it. I have more important things to do with my time—like keeping a roof over our heads.”

With that he had stormed out of the house, and she hadn’t seen him again until morning.

She let the subject of the reunion drop, and a few days later, looking sheepish, Caleb apologized and handed her a check to pay for all of the events.

“You’re right. We need this. We’ll see all of your friends, maybe dance a little,” he said, giving her a tired but suggestive wink that reminded her that they had fallen in love on a dance floor.

Karen pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s going to be wonderful. You’ll see.”

Instead, making up for time lost at the reunion turned out to be more than Caleb’s heart could take. Only days after it was over, he collapsed.

She should have seen it coming, Karen berated herself en route to the hospital, should have known that no man could survive under so much self-imposed pressure.

Maybe if she hadn’t been caught up with all of the Calamity Janes, she would have. Instead, though, she had stolen every spare minute to spend time with her best friends, time away from the ranch she could ill afford.

But with Emma working as a hotshot attorney in Denver at the time, Lauren lighting up the silver screen in Hollywood, with Gina running her exclusive Italian restaurant in Manhattan, and even Cassie living a few hundred miles away, Karen was determined to take advantage of every single second they were home. Seeing them rejuvenated her.

She was in Denver with Cassie, awaiting the results of her mother’s breast cancer surgery, when the call came that Caleb was being taken to the hospital. A million and one thoughts raced through her mind on the flight to Laramie. Nothing her friends did or said could distract or reassure her. Guilt crowded in.

She had pressed Caleb to attend the reunion. She had left him alone to keep up with all of the ranch chores even after the events ended. It was little wonder that he had broken under the stress, and it was her fault. All of it. She would live with that forever.

But he would be all right, she told herself over and over. And she would make it up to him, work twice as hard from now on.

At the hospital, the doctor greeted her, his expression grim. “It was too late, Mrs. Hanson. There was nothing we could do.”

Karen stared at him, not understanding, not wanting to believe what he seemed to be saying. “Too late?” she whispered as the Calamity Janes moved in close to offer support. “He’s…” She couldn’t even say the word.

Neither could the doctor, it seemed. He nodded, his tone conveying what his words merely hinted. “Yes. I’m sorry. The heart attack was massive.”

Sorry, she thought wildly. There was plenty of regret to go around. She was sorry, too. She would spend a lifetime being sorry.

But being sorry wouldn’t bring Caleb back. It wouldn’t save the ranch from Grady Blackhawk. It was up to her to do that.

And she would, too, no matter what it took, no matter what sacrifices she had to make. After all, her husband had paid for that damnable ranch with his life.




Chapter One


The kitchen table was littered with travel brochures, all provided by Karen’s well-meaning best friends. She sat at the table with her cup of tea and a homemade cranberry scone baked just that morning and dropped off by Gina, and studied the pictures without touching them. She was almost afraid to pick up the brochures, afraid to admit just how tempted she was to toss aside all of her responsibilities and run away.

The Calamity Janes had known just how to get to her, selecting all the places she had talked about back in high school. London, of course. Always her first choice since so much of her favorite literature had been written there. And Italy because of the art in Florence, because of the history in Rome and the canals of Venice. Paris for the sidewalk bistros on shady streets and for the Louvre and Notre Dame. They had thrown in a cruise through the Greek isles and a relaxing resort in Hawaii for good measure.

Once the images would have stirred her imagination, the prospect of actually being able to choose one would have filled her with excitement, but today all she felt was sadness. Finally, after all these years, she could make her dream come true, but only because her husband was dead, only if she turned her back on everything that had mattered to him…to them.

Caleb was dead. The words still had the power to shock her, even now, six months after his funeral. How could a man not yet forty be dead? He had always appeared so healthy, so strong. Though he’d been ten years older, she had been drawn to him from the moment they met because of his vitality, his zest for living. Who would have guessed that his heart was weak…a heart that had been capable of such love, such tenderness?

Tears welled up, spilled down her cheeks, splattered on the glossy brochures for places she had put off seeing to marry the man of her dreams.

Not a day went by that Karen didn’t blame the ranch for killing him. That and her stubborn determination to take time off for her high school reunion. Six months hadn’t changed her mind about where the blame lay.

Nor had it dulled her grief. Her friends were worried about her, which explained the arrival this morning of all the brochures. They had remembered how she had once talked of leaving Wyoming behind, of becoming a flight attendant or a travel agent or a cruise director, anything that would allow her to see the world. They were using all of those old dreams in an effort to tempt her into taking a break.

A break, she thought derisively. Her so-called break for that reunion was the reason Caleb was dead. Running a ranch didn’t allow for breaks, not a ranch the size of hers anyway. It was a full-time, never-ending, backbreaking job, with often pitiful rewards.

Once she and Caleb had envisioned taking trips together, traveling to all the exciting, faraway places she had dreamed about before she’d met him and fallen in love. He had understood her dreams even if he hadn’t shared them. This ranch had been his only obsession.

There had been other dreams, of course, ones they had shared. They had dreamed of filling the house with children, but they’d put it off. Just until finances took a turn for the better, he’d promised her.

Now there would be no children, she thought bitterly. No vacations to exotic locales. Not with Caleb, anyway. They’d never gone farther away from home than Cheyenne, where they’d spent their three-day honeymoon.

The Calamity Janes had obviously anticipated her protests that there was no money for a frivolous vacation, no time to indulge a fantasy. Her friends had prepaid a trip to anywhere in the world she wanted to go. It was Lauren’s extravagant gift, most likely, Karen surmised. Lauren’s and Emma’s. Of Karen’s high school classmates, the actress and lawyer were the only ones with any cash to spare right now.

Cassie had recently married a successful technology whiz, but their road was still rocky as Cole struggled to accept the fact that Cassie had kept his son a secret from him for years. Cassie wouldn’t ask Cole for money, though Karen didn’t doubt he would have offered if he’d known about the plan. Cole had been a rock since Caleb’s death, pitching in to handle a hundred little details, things she would never have thought of. He’d wanted to do more, offered to send over extra help, but she had turned him down. Taking on the burden of running the ranch was her penance.

As for Gina, she had been in some sort of financial scrape with her New York restaurant that she flatly refused to discuss, but it was serious enough to have driven her out of New York and back to Winding River to stay. She spent her days in a frenzy of baking and her nights working in the local Italian restaurant where she’d first developed the desire to become a chef. There had been a handsome man hovering around ever since the reunion, but Gina steadfastly refused to introduce him or to explain his presence.

Karen loved them all for their support and their generosity. Her friends’ hearts were in the right place, but she couldn’t see how she could go to Cheyenne for a day trip right now, much less on some dream vacation. The work on the ranch hadn’t died with her husband. Hank and Dooley were pitching in to take up the slack, but they were beginning to get nervous about how they’d be paid or whether the ranch would even survive. They were right to worry, too. Karen didn’t have any answers for them. She knew, though, that Dooley, who’d worked with the Hansons for three decades, had persuaded the younger, more impulsive Hank to give her time to figure things out.

It was January now. She could tell them to find other work and manage for a while, but when spring came, she would have to have help once more. Better to scrape by and re-hire these two, whose loyalty she was sure of, than risk finding no one she could trust come April.

She groaned even as the thought crossed her mind. She was beginning to think like Caleb, seeing betrayal and enemies around every corner. He had been totally paranoid about Grady Blackhawk’s designs on their ranch. It was true that Grady wanted it. He’d made no secret of the fact, especially since Caleb’s death, but it was unlikely that he’d try to get it by planting a spy on her payroll.

Apparently she needed this break more than she wanted to admit. She finally dared to reach for the brochure on London and studied the photos of Buckingham Palace, the Old Vic, Harrods, the cathedrals.

She tried to imagine what London would be like in winter, with snow dusting the streets. Currier and Ives–style images from her favorite authors came to mind. It would be magical. It would be everything she’d ever dreamed of.

It was impossible.

She sighed heavily and reluctantly put the brochure down again, just as someone knocked at the kitchen door.

When she opened it, her heart thumped unsteadily at the sight of Grady Blackhawk. He’d been at the funeral, too. And he’d called a half-dozen times in the weeks and months since. She’d tried her best to ignore him, but he’d clearly lost patience. Now here he was on her doorstep.

“Mrs. Hanson,” he said with a polite nod and a finger touched to the rim of his black Stetson.

She had the whimsical thought that he was deliberately dressing the part of the bad guy, all in black, but the idea fled at once. There was nothing the least bit whimsical about Grady. He was quiet and intense and mysterious.

The latter was a bit more of a problem than she’d anticipated when he first came to pay his respects after Caleb’s death. Karen had always liked unraveling puzzles, and Grady was the most complicated one she’d ever run across. Unfortunately, sifting through clues, ferreting out motives took time, time she didn’t dare spend with her husband’s longtime enemy.

She could just imagine the disapproval of Caleb’s parents, if they heard she was spending time with Grady Blackhawk. Word would reach them, too. She had no doubts about that. Most of the people in the area were far closer to the Hansons, who’d lived here for decades, than they were to Karen, who was still regarded as a newcomer even after ten years as Caleb’s wife. The phone lines between here and Tucson would be burning up as the gossip spread.

“I thought I had made it clear that I have nothing to say to you,” she told Grady stiffly, refusing to step aside to admit him. Better to allow the icy air into the house than this man who could disconcert her with a look.

This man, with his jet-black hair and fierce black eyes, was now her enemy, too. It was something she’d inherited, right along with a failing ranch.

She wished she understood why Grady was so desperate to get his hands on this particular ranch. He had land of his own in a neighboring county—plenty of it from what she’d heard. But there was something about Hanson land that obsessed him.

Over the years he—and his father before him—had done all he could to steal the Hanson land. Not that he wasn’t willing to pay. He was. But, bottom line, he wanted something that wasn’t rightfully his, and he intended to get it by fair means or foul.

According to Caleb, Grady had no scruples, just a single-minded determination. He’d tried to buy up their note at the bank, but fortunately, the bank president was an old family friend of Caleb’s father. He had seen the paperwork, foiled the attempt, then dutifully rushed to report everything to the Hansons. That much was fact.

In addition—and far more damning—Caleb had been all but certain Grady was behind a virus that had infected half their herd the previous year. He had also blamed Grady for a fire that had swept through pastureland the year before that, destroying feed and putting the entire herd at risk.

There had been no proof, of course, just suspicions, which Karen had never entirely bought. After all, Grady had been waiting in the wings, checkbook in hand, after each incident. Would he have been foolish enough to do that if he’d been behind the acts in the first place? Wouldn’t he know that he’d be the first person to fall under suspicion? Or hadn’t he cared, as long as he got his way?

“I think it would be in both our interests to talk,” he said, regarding her with the intense gaze that always disquieted her.

“I doubt that.”

He ignored her words and her pointed refusal to back away from the door. “I’ve made no secret over the years of the fact that I want this land.”

“That’s true enough.” She regarded him curiously. “Why this land? What is it about this particular ranch that made your father and now you hound the Hansons for years?”

“If you’ll allow me to come inside, I’ll explain. Perhaps then you won’t be so determined to fight me on this.”

Karen’s sense of fair play and curiosity warred with her ingrained animosity. Curiosity won. She stepped aside and let him enter. He removed his hat and hung it on a peg, then took a seat at the table. She took comfort in the fact that he didn’t remove his coat. He clearly wouldn’t be staying long.

His intense gaze swept the room, as if taking stock, then landed on the scattered brochures.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, studying her with surprise. “I didn’t think you had the money to be taking off for Europe.”

“I don’t,” she said tightly, wondering how he knew so much about her finances. Then again, just about everyone knew that she and Caleb had been struggling. “My friends do. They’re encouraging me to take a vacation.”

“Are you considering it?”

“Not with you circling around waiting for me to make a misstep that will cost me the ranch.”

He winced at that. “I know how your husband felt about me, but I’m not your enemy, Mrs. Hanson. I’m trying to make a fair deal. You have something I want. I have the cash to make your life a whole lot easier. It’s as simple as that.”

“There is nothing simple about this, Mr. Blackhawk. My husband loved this ranch. I don’t intend to lose it, especially not to the man he considered to be little better than a conniving thief.”

“A harsh assessment of a man you don’t know,” he said mildly.

“It was his assessment, not mine. Caleb was not prone to making quick judgments. If he distrusted you, he had his reasons.”

“Which you intend to accept blindly?”

It was her turn to wince. Loyalty was one thing, but her sense of fair play balked at blindly accepting anything.

“Persuade me otherwise,” she challenged. “Convince me you had nothing to do with the attempts to destroy our herd, that your intentions were honorable when you tried to buy up the note on the land.”

He didn’t seem surprised by the accusations. He merely asked, “And then you’ll sell?”

“I didn’t say that, but I will stop labeling you as a thief if you don’t deserve it.”

He grinned at that, and it changed him from somber menace to charming rogue in a heartbeat. Karen nearly gasped at the transformation, but she wouldn’t allow herself to fall prey to it. He hadn’t proved anything yet. She doubted he could.

“If I tell you that none of that is true, not even the part about the mortgage, would you believe me?” Grady asked.

“No.”

“What would it take?”

“Find the person responsible.”

He nodded. “Maybe I will. In the meantime, I’m going to tell you a story,” he said in a low, easy, seductive tone.

His voice washed over Karen, lulling her as if it were the start of a bedtime story. She was tired enough to fall asleep listening to it, but she sat up rigidly, determined not to display any sign of weakness in front of this man.

“Generations ago this land belonged to my ancestors,” Grady began. “It was stolen from them.”

“Not by me,” she said heatedly, responding not just to the accusation but to the fact that she’d dared to let down her guard for even a split second. “Nor my husband.”

He seemed amused by her quick retort. “Did I say it had been? No, this was years and years ago, before your time or mine. It was taken by the government, turned over to homesteaders. White homesteaders,” he said pointedly. “My ancestors were driven onto reservations, while people like the Hansons took over their land.”

Karen was aware that much had been done to the Native Americans that was both heartless and wrong. She sympathized with Grady Blackhawk’s desire to right an old wrong, but she and Caleb—or, for that matter, Caleb’s parents and grandparents—weren’t the ones to blame. They had bought the land from others, who, in turn, had simply taken advantage of a federal policy.

“You’re asking me to make amends for something I had no part in,” she told him.

“It’s not a matter of paying an old debt that isn’t yours. It’s a matter of doing what’s right because you’re in a position to do so. And I certainly don’t expect you just to give the land to me because I say it rightfully belongs to my family. I’ll pay you a fair price for it, same as anyone else would. I guarantee it will be far more than what was paid for it all those years ago.”

Before she could stop him, he named an amount that stunned her. It would be enough to pay off all their debts and leave plenty for her to start life over again back in Winding River, where she’d be with friends. It was tempting, more tempting than she’d imagined. Only an image of Caleb’s dismay steadied her resolve. Keeping this ranch was the debt she owed to him. She could never turn her back on that.

“I’m not interested in selling,” she said with finality.

“Not to me or not to anyone?” Grady asked with an edge to his voice.

“It hardly matters, does it? I won’t sell this ranch.”

“Because you love it so much?” he asked with a note of total disbelief in his voice.

“Because I can’t,” she responded quietly.

He seemed startled by the response. “It’s not yours to sell?”

“Technically, yes. But I owe it to my husband to stay here, to do what he would have done, if he hadn’t died so prematurely. This ranch will stay in Hanson hands as long as I have any control over it.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, but not for long. His gaze locked with hers, he said, “I’ll keep coming back, Mrs. Hanson, again and again, until you change your mind or until circumstances force your hand. This place is wearing you down. I can see it.” He gestured toward the brochures. “Obviously so can your friends. Make no mistake, I’ll own the land…no doubt before the year is out.”

His arrogant confidence stirred her temper. “Only if hell freezes over,” she said, snatching the back door open and allowing a blast of wintry air into the room as she waited pointedly for him to take the hint and leave.

His gaze never wavered as he plucked his hat off the hook and moved past her. He paused just outside and a smile tugged at his lips. “Keep a close eye on the weather, Mrs. Hanson. Anything’s possible.”




Chapter Two


Grady hadn’t expected Karen Hanson to be as stubborn or as foolish as her husband. After the funeral he’d made a few calls to test the waters, but he had deliberately waited six months before going to see her. He’d wanted to give her time to see just how difficult her life was going to be. He’d guessed that by now she would be eager to get rid of a ranch that was clearly draining whatever reserves of cash she had. Obviously he’d misjudged her. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

More disconcerting than the discovery that she wasn’t going to be a pushover was the realization that she got to him. Those big blue eyes of hers had been swimming with tears when she’d opened the door. Her flushed cheeks had been streaked with them. Her lips had looked soft…and disturbingly kissable. He’d had an almost irresistible urge to gather her in his arms and offer comfort. For a hard man with little sympathy for anyone, it had been an uncharacteristic reaction that made him uneasy.

He grinned as he imagined her reaction to that. If he’d even tried to touch her, no matter how innocently, she probably would have grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the door and clobbered him with it.

Even so, he hadn’t been able to shake that image of lost vulnerability. A lot of women who worked ranches side by side with their husbands grew hard, their muscles well formed, their skin burnished bronze by the sun. By contrast, Karen Hanson’s body was soft and feminine, her skin as pale as milk. The thought of that changing because she had to struggle to keep her ranch afloat bothered him for reasons that went beyond her refusal to give in and sell out to him.

He couldn’t help wondering what drove a woman like Karen Hanson. Well…loyalty to her husband, for one thing. There was no question about that. Pride. Stubbornness. He sighed. He was back to that again. It was hard to fight with someone who’d dug in her heels in defiance of logic.

But what did she long for beyond the travel that those brochures implied? In his experience most women wanted love, a family, the things he hadn’t had time for in his own life. Some wanted a meal ticket. Some had a mile-wide independent streak, needing little more than the occasional companionship of a man to make them content. Those were the ones who appealed to Grady. He had so many family obligations to the past, he didn’t have time to think about the future.

He tried to fit Karen Hanson into a tidy little niche, but she wouldn’t stay put. She was independent, no doubt about it, but her determination to fight her husband’s old battles said a lot about how she felt about family. Ironically, that very loyalty, every bit as strong as his own commitment to his ancestors, was likely to stand in his way.

He had derided himself on the trip home for trying to analyze the woman based on a half-hour meeting that had been rife with tension. He knew better. His grandfather—the single greatest influence in his life—believed in the necessity for walking a mile in another man’s moccasins before reaching conclusions about the choices they made. Thomas Blackhawk had tried to instill that same wisdom in Grady.

Unfortunately, Grady wasn’t usually capable of the patience required. He tended to make snap judgments. He asked straight questions, liked straight answers.

“And look where that got you today,” he muttered wryly. His grandfather would have been appalled, especially by the unveiled threat he had uttered on his way out the door.

He spent the evening taking stock, both of his own behavior and Karen Hanson’s responses to it. Unfortunately, there was little definitive information to go on. She was beautiful, stubborn, hardworking and loyal. He’d gotten that, but not much more, certainly nothing about the best way to handle her.

There was only one way to remedy that. He needed to spend more time with her. He had to discover what made the woman tick, what her hopes and dreams were now that her husband was gone.

And how he could use it to his own advantage, he reminded himself sharply, when the image of her in his bed stole over him. He was going to have to keep that image at bay, he warned himself.

He’d spent his whole life working toward a single goal—getting that land back for his family. His great-grandfather had instilled a desire for retribution in his son, Grady’s grandfather. The mission had been passed down to the next generation, and finally to Grady himself.

That land, part of his Native American heritage, part of a time when his ancestors had had no rights at all, was Blackhawk land. He couldn’t let anything—not even a woman as desirable as Karen Hanson—distract him from getting it back while his grandfather was still alive to savor the triumph.

He chuckled dryly as he imagined how she was going to react to any attempt on his part to get to know her. She’d probably shoot him on sight if he showed up at the ranch again, especially if she guessed that his mission was to find her weaknesses and exploit them.

For once he was going to have to follow his grandfather’s advice and rely on patience and maybe a little subterfuge to get what he wanted. There were a lot of chores around that ranch that needed doing. Karen struck him as a pragmatic woman. If he simply appeared one day and went to work, steering clear of her for the most part, would she run him off or accept the help because she knew she needed it? He was counting on the latter. Maybe over time, she would get used to his presence, come to accept it and allow him a little insight into her soul.

Grady lifted his beer in a silent toast to the ingenuity of his plan. By this time tomorrow he intended to have taken his first steps in Karen Hanson’s shoes.

Of course, he admitted ruefully, it remained to be seen if he’d live to tell about it.



“Why not sell to him?” Gina asked as the Calamity Janes sat in the ranch kitchen eating pasta that she had prepared. The room was filled with the rich scent of garlic and tomato and basil. A plate of garlic bread had been all but demolished and there were only a few strands of spaghetti left in the huge bowl she had prepared for the five old friends.

Karen had put out an urgent call for their help within minutes of Grady Blackhawk’s departure. She was counting on the Calamity Janes to give her advice and to keep her mind off the disconcerting effect his visit had had on her. Selling to Grady was not the advice she’d been expecting. She’d been hoping for some clever way to sidestep his determination permanently. That warning of his was still ringing in her ears.

“How can I sell to Grady?” Karen asked. “Caleb hated him. It would be the worst kind of a betrayal. And it would break his parents’ hearts. Even though they’ve moved, they still think of this ranch as home.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life struggling to keep the ranch afloat for two people who will never come back here? This place is a nostalgic memory for the Hansons. For you, it’s nothing but backbreaking work,” Cassie pointed out. “Don’t forget, you were relieved when your own parents sold out and moved to Arizona. You said you’d never set foot on a ranch again.” She grinned. “Of course, that was five minutes before you met Caleb, and from that moment on, all bets were off. You claimed to each and every one of us that you had always wanted to be a rancher’s wife.”

Karen frowned at the well-meant reminder. “No, to be perfectly honest, you’re right. I don’t want to be a rancher. I never did,” she admitted. “But—”

Cassie cut her off. “Then consider Grady’s offer if it’s a fair one. Caleb would understand.”

But Karen knew he wouldn’t. The kind of enmity he had felt for Grady Blackhawk was deep and eternal. It was an emotional, gut-deep hatred that couldn’t be abandoned in favor of practicality or sound business reasons or even sheer exhaustion, which was what she was beginning to feel as the endless days wore on.

“Okay, if the issue really comes down to keeping this place away from Grady Blackhawk, then I’ll buy the ranch,” Lauren said, drawing laughter.

“And what would you do with a ranch?” Karen asked, trying to imagine the big-screen superstar mucking out stalls or castrating bulls or any of the other backbreaking tasks required by ranching.

“You seem to forget that I grew up on a ranch, same as you,” Lauren replied with a touch of indignation. “In fact, nobody around here had a better way with horses than I did.”

“That was a long time ago. Somehow it’s hard to picture now. It doesn’t quite work with the glamorous image you’ve created in Hollywood,” Cassie said.

Lauren scowled. “It could work if I wanted to make it work. This glamour stuff is highly overrated.”

Karen thought she heard an increasingly familiar note of dissatisfaction in her friend’s voice. She’d heard it when Lauren was home for the reunion, and it had continued to pop out from time to time on her return visits.

The fact that those return visits, even under the guise of checking up on Karen, were happening more and more frequently was telling. Lauren had done only one film in the past six months and turned down half a dozen offers. Compared to the pace of her career in the past, that was darned close to retirement.

“Okay, Lauren, spill it,” Karen ordered. “What are you not telling us? Are you getting tired of being the multimillion-dollar superstar?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lauren said with a touch of defiance. “And you needn’t look so shocked. I never intended to be an actress. I certainly never thought I’d be famous for my looks. I was the brainy one, remember? I wore glasses and had freckles and hair that wouldn’t quite do what I wanted it to. I still do. Do you know that without my contacts and makeup and with my hair air-dried instead of styled, I can actually walk into a supermarket and no one looks twice at me?”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Karen asked. She had never been able to grasp how a woman as private and shy as Lauren had always been had learned to cope with fame.

“Yes, but it just proves how shallow the rest of my life is,” Lauren said. “It’s all built on lies. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining.”

“Yes, you are,” they all said in a chorus, followed by laughter.

“Okay, maybe a little. I just want something more.”

“A ranch?” Karen asked skeptically.

Lauren’s expression set stubbornly. “Maybe.”

Karen shook her head. “Let me know when you make up your mind for sure. Until then, I think I’ll just hang on to this place.”

“You know what I think?” Emma said, her too-perceptive gaze studying Karen intently. “I think Karen’s just holding out so she can keep this Grady Blackhawk coming around.” A grin spread across her face. “Have you seen this man? I remember him from the funeral. He is seriously gorgeous. All dark and brooding, with trouble brewing in his eyes.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Karen insisted, but she had. God help her, she had.

“Liar,” Emma accused. “You’d have to be blind not to notice.”

“It was my husband’s funeral,” Karen snapped. “I wasn’t taking note of the sex appeal of his worst enemy.”

“What about today?” Emma persisted. “Did you notice today?”

Since in typical attorney fashion, Emma wasn’t going to let up until she got the confession she was after, Karen conceded, “Okay, he’s a good-looking man. That doesn’t make him any less of a scoundrel.”

“Have you figured out just why Caleb hated the man so much?” Gina asked as she absentmindedly shredded the last piece of garlic bread into a little pile of crumbs.

“Because of the land, of course,” Karen said. “Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?”

Gina was already shaking her head before Karen finished speaking. “I don’t think so. There had to be more to it. I think this was personal.”

“It’s fairly personal when a man tries to buy up your mortgage so he has the leverage to take your land,” Karen said. “It’s even more personal when you suspect him of trying to sabotage your herd of cattle.”

“I think there’s more,” Gina said stubbornly. “Caleb was the nicest guy in the world. He loved everybody. He trusted everybody. He even liked Emma’s ex-husband well enough, though heaven knows why. He got along with everybody—except Grady Blackhawk.”

“The bad blood between the Hansons and Blackhawks went back a lot of years,” Karen reminded her. “It was always over the land.”

“Maybe that’s just what they said, maybe that was a cover for the real reason for the animosity,” Gina said.

Karen sighed at her persistence. “Okay, Gina, what do you think it was about?”

“I think there was a woman involved,” Gina said at once. “And a broken promise.”

The rest of them groaned.

“If you ever decide to give up the restaurant business, maybe you could write romance novels,” Emma said. “In this instance, it sounds to me as if you’re reaching a bit.”

“More than a bit,” Karen said. “Can we change the subject?”

“You got us over here to talk about Grady,” Emma reminded her. “You said you wanted advice. I could always have a restraining order drawn up to keep him out of your hair.”

“Typical lawyer,” Gina said with an undeniable trace of bitterness that ran awfully deep under the circumstances. “Turn a simple situation into a legal brawl. All Karen has to do is tell the man she’s not interested in his offer. Period.”

“Which I’ve done,” Karen said.

“And you think that’s the end of it?” Emma scoffed.

Karen thought of Grady’s taunt as he’d walked out. No, unfortunately, she didn’t believe it was over. He would be back. The only questions were when and what his tactics might be.

“He’s not through,” she admitted reluctantly. “He’s not the kind of man who will give up easily. He’s been after this land as long as I’ve known Caleb. And his father was after it before that. I doubt he took my refusal to sell all that seriously. In fact, it seemed to amuse him.”

“All the more reason to sell to me,” Lauren said. “I know how to deal with men like that. Hollywood is crawling with creeps who don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“I’d love to hear how you handle them,” Gina said, looking surprisingly despondent. “I’ve got one I’d like to shake.”

Emma’s gaze sharpened. “Care to explain that?”

“No,” Gina said flatly. “But if Lauren has any techniques that are both legal and effective, I’d like to hear them.”

“I can’t talk with a lawyer present,” Lauren joked. “She’d be duty-bound to turn me in.”

“Illegal, then,” Gina surmised. “I’ll keep that in mind, if it comes to that.”

Karen was about to jump all over the remark and demand answers, but a warning glance from Cassie silenced her. Maybe Cassie knew more of the story than the rest of them. She and Gina had always had a special bond, perhaps because they’d worked together so often when they were teens, both as waitresses, but with Gina always snooping around the kitchen, testing recipes of her own whenever she was given the chance.

“We’re getting pretty far afield, anyway,” Cassie said. “We need to help Karen decide what to do about Mr. Blackhawk if he comes around again. Since she won’t let Emma file for a restraining order, does anybody have any other ideas?”

“Like I said earlier, speaking personally, that man gives me plenty of ideas,” Emma said. “He’s a hottie.”

They all stared at her.

“A hottie?” Karen echoed incredulously.

“Are you denying it?” Emma asked.

“No, I’m trying to figure out how such a term became part of your Harvard-educated vernacular.”

“Lauren,” Emma said succinctly. “She spent all last night telling me which Hollywood leading men were really hotties and which ones weren’t. It was quite an illuminating conversation. It set my heart aflutter, I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh, really?” Karen said. “Do you think maybe you’ve been single and celibate a little too long now? Maybe it’s time to start looking for a replacement for your despicable ex-husband—or at least a hot date for Saturday night.”

“I’m a single mom,” Emma reminded her. “I don’t have ‘hot dates.”’

“Then look for something more serious,” Karen advised. “I’m sure Caitlyn would be delighted to have a stepdaddy around, especially one who actually pays some attention to her.”

“I think our friend here already found somebody,” Cassie said, giving Emma a sly look.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have not,” Emma protested.

“I don’t know,” Cassie countered. “I’ve seen you and the local newspaper editor with your heads together an awful lot lately. The two of you are in Stella’s almost as much as I am, and I work there.”

“And you know why that is,” Emma said tightly. “It’s about the case I’m working on. That’s it. There is nothing personal involved.”

“Protesting too much?” Cassie said, gazing around at the rest of them.

“Definitely,” they chorused.

“Well, get over it,” Emma snapped, gathering up her purse, her coat and her briefcase in a sudden rush. “I have to go.”

She took a few steps across the room, then came back for the cell phone that was never more than an arm’s length away. Then she swept out before any of them could react.

“Was it something we said?” Karen asked, staring after her.

“I think we hit the nail on the head,” Cassie said, her expression thoughtful. “Wouldn’t it be great if Emma did fall madly in love with Ford Hamilton or someone else in Winding River?”

“Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to jump into relationships,” Gina pointed out.

“This isn’t about having a relationship, though I think it would be great if she did,” Cassie said. “It’s just that I dread seeing Emma go back to Denver when this case here is over. She’s been more relaxed the last few months, despite all of the commuting back and forth to Denver and the pressure of the trial coming up.”

“That’s true,” Lauren agreed. “She almost forgot her cell phone tonight. For a while last summer I thought it was attached to her hand.”

They all fell silent as they considered Emma’s welfare. It would be nice if she stayed, Karen thought. In fact, about the only thing good to come out of their high school reunion was that the five of them were spending more time in Wyoming again. She had missed having a tight-knit circle of friends more than she’d realized. And now, with Caleb gone, she treasured the friendships more than ever.

“Thank you for coming all the way over here tonight,” she told them. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few months. Every time I’ve been ready to come unglued, you’ve been here.”

“And we’ll continue to be here whenever you need us,” Lauren said. “You can count on it.”

That made two things today she could count on, Karen thought—her friends, and Grady Blackhawk’s threat that he would be back time and again until she gave up and sold him the land he wanted.

Maybe it was all of Emma’s talk about Grady’s undeniable sex appeal, but that threat wasn’t striking fear into her the way it should have, not the way it had just this afternoon. In fact, to her very deep regret, she was beginning to feel just the slightest hint of anticipation.




Chapter Three


Without even setting foot out of bed in the morning, Karen knew she was going to get up on the wrong side of it. Thanks to Emma, she had spent the whole night trying unsuccessfully to chase Grady Blackhawk out of her dreams. She’d awakened hot and restless, amid a tangle of sheets. She’d been feeling guilty to boot, all over sins her subconscious had committed in her sleep.

“I can’t be blamed for that,” she muttered as she shivered in the icy air and hastily pulled on jeans and an old flannel shirt of Caleb’s. She hugged the shirt tighter around herself as a reminder of the man who’d really counted for something in her life.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, wearing shirts left hanging in Caleb’s closet. Not all of them still held his scent, but the feel of the soft, faded flannel comforted her. It reminded her of evenings spent snuggled in his lap in front of a fire. It was a secret she’d shared with no one, fearful that her friends would chastise her for not moving on, for not letting go. She knew she had to, and she would when the time was right.

Just not yet, she thought with a sigh.

Once she’d tugged on thick socks and her boots, she went downstairs and turned up the thermostat to take the chill out of the air while she made a pot of coffee. To save on fuel costs, she would turn it back down again when she went outside to do the chores. Maybe it would only save pennies, but pennies counted these days.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, then took a sip. She cupped the mug in her hands to savor the warmth, then gazed out the window over the sink, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunrise, rather than the more typical gray winter mornings they’d been having lately.

Instead, what she saw was Grady, unloading things from the back of his truck, looking perfectly at home. The sight of the man, after all those disturbing dreams, struck Karen as an omen. And not for anything good, either. No, indeed. His arrival definitely meant trouble. In fact, it looked almost as if he’d come to stay, as if he’d decided to claim this place whether she agreed to it or not.

She snatched a heavy jacket off the hook by the door and stormed outside, determined to put a stop to whatever he was up to. She was so infuriated by his presumption that he could just waltz in here and take over, she was surprised steam didn’t rise from her as she crossed the yard.

“Why are you here again?” she demanded, her tone deliberately unfriendly. The time for politeness and feigned hospitality was past. “I thought I’d made myself clear yesterday. You’re not welcome.”

He barely stopped what he was doing long enough to glance at her. His gaze skimmed her over from head to toe, his lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, then his attention went right back to a stack of lumber he was pulling from the back of the fancy new four-by-four.

That truck, parked next to her dilapidated pickup, which was in serious need of a paint job and a tune-up, grated on her nerves almost as much as his attitude. The man seemed to be mocking her in every way he knew.

“I asked you a question,” she snapped.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said without any real hint of regret. “Figured you’d be out checking on your stock by now. Saw a couple of fence posts down on my way in. I can get to those tomorrow.”

She bristled at the thinly veiled criticism, as well as the suggestion that he’d be back again. In fact, it sounded suspiciously as if he intended to pretty much take over.

“The hands will be fixing the fence today,” she said, wanting him to believe that she had all the help she required. “There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

He grinned. “It’s no trouble. In fact, I have some spare time. I thought I’d help out with a few things around here,” he said mildly. “I noticed your barn could use a little work.”

In her opinion, he noticed too blasted much. It was annoying. “My barn is my problem. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“The work needs doing, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I have the time.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Never throw a friendly offer back in a man’s face. He might think you don’t appreciate a neighborly gesture.”

Karen knew there was nothing friendly about Grady’s intentions. He was up to something. She could see it in his eyes. And it wasn’t as if he lived right down the road. He lived in the next county, too far away for there to be anything the least bit neighborly about this gesture.

Before she could respond to his taunt, he’d turned his back on her and headed for the barn, where paint she hadn’t bought and tools she’d never seen before waited. He stripped off his jacket as if the temperature were seventy, instead of thirty-seven, and went to work, leaving her to struggle with her indignation and her desire to touch those broad shoulders he’d put on display in her side yard. His flannel shirt was stretched taut over well-developed muscles, not hanging as Caleb’s was on her.

“I can’t afford to pay for all of this,” she hollered after him.

He heaved what sounded like a resigned sigh and faced her. “Did I ask for money?”

“No, but I feel obligated to pay for any fixing up that goes on around here.”

“Then you’ll pay me something when you have it,” he said as if it was of no concern to him when—or even if—she did. “This barn can’t take another winter in the state it’s in. It’ll cost you a lot more to replace it if it falls apart than it will if I take care of a few simple repairs now.”

His gaze locked with hers. “You know I’m right, Karen.”

Hearing him say her name startled her. The day before and in their one prior meeting, he’d been careful to be formally polite, referring to her as “Mrs. Hanson” when he used any name at all. Today, using her first name, he made it sound as if he’d forgotten all about her relationship with Caleb, as if they were about to become friends. She shuddered at the prospect. She didn’t need a friend who made her feel all quivery inside, a man who’d already stated quite clearly that he wanted things from her that she didn’t intend to give. Sure, it was land he was after, not her body, but her erratically beating pulse didn’t seem to know the difference.

“What I know is that you are presuming to intrude in my life, to take over and do things I haven’t asked you to do. Why? So I’ll be in your debt?”

“It’s a gesture, nothing more,” he insisted. “I just want you to see that I’m not the bad guy your husband made me out to be.”

“If you’re such a nice guy, then why won’t you listen when I tell you that I don’t want you here?”

“Because you don’t really mean it. That’s just your pride talking.”

She scowled, because he was at least partially right. Her pride—along with some very sensible suspicions about Grady’s motives—was forcing her to look a much-needed gift horse in the mouth.

“Oh, forget it,” she mumbled. She clearly wasn’t going to get rid of him, so she might as well let him do whatever he intended to do and get it over with. She’d just ignore him, pretend he wasn’t there. She certainly had plenty of her own chores to do.

She stalked past him into the barn, fed and watered the horses, mucked out stalls, then saddled up Ginger, the horse she’d owned since she was a teenager.

“We’re getting out of here, girl.”

“Running away?” Grady inquired from just behind her, amusement threading through his voice.

“No, I’m going out to see if Dooley and Hank need any help.”

“Lucky Dooley and Hank.”

She frowned at the teasing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I’d welcome your help, if you were to offer.”

“This is your project, Mr. Blackhawk. You’ll have to finish it on your own. If there’s something you can’t cope with, you can always leave.”

His gaze locked with hers. “It’s not a matter of coping. I’d just be glad of the company.”

Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chilly air rose on her skin. She turned away and concentrated on tightening the cinch on Ginger’s saddle.

“I seem to make you nervous, Karen. Why is that?”

She frowned as she faced him. “You don’t make me nervous, Mr. Blackhawk. You make me mad.”

He chuckled at that.

“You find that amusing?” she asked indignantly.

His gaze settled on her mouth. “No,” he said softly. “I find it promising. A woman with a temper is always more fascinating than one who’s docile.”

“I’m not doing any of this to provide you with entertainment,” she snapped, trying not to acknowledge that his words sent an unaccustomed thrill shivering down her spine and set her pulse to racing.

“I know,” he said, his grin spreading. “That’s what makes it so enjoyable.”

Karen bit back a retort that would only have escalated the ridiculous debate and mounted Ginger. Stepping back, Grady touched a finger to the brim of his hat in a polite salute.

“Enjoy your ride.”

“I intend to,” she lied. She doubted she would enjoy anything as long as this impossible man was underfoot.

An hour later, though, after riding hard, then meeting up with Hank and Dooley to check their progress on the fence repairs, she was feeling more at ease. She expected that to change the minute she reached the barn, but to her surprise Grady was nowhere in sight. His truck was gone, too. The sigh that eased through her was tinged with something she couldn’t identify. Surely not regret, she thought with exasperation. No, it was relief, nothing more.

Unfortunately, though, her relief didn’t last long. The evidence of Grady’s presence and of his anticipated return was everywhere. The tools, paint cans and lumber were right where he’d left them. The ladder was still propped against the side of the barn, and the paint had been scraped only from the highest boards, with plenty left untouched.

She had barely cooled Ginger down and started for the house when his truck appeared in the distance, an unmistakable splash of red against the dull winter landscape. Karen hurried inside to avoid another pointless confrontation.

But as the afternoon wore on and her gaze kept straying to the man who was diligently and methodically stripping the old paint off her barn, she sighed and accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to go away. She had to find some way to make peace with him.

In her experience, home-baked cookies were generally an excellent peace offering. With nobody around to appreciate the results, she hadn’t had the urge to bake for some time now. Still, as a gesture of loyalty to her late husband, she made a deliberate choice to bake oatmeal-raisin cookies, her father’s favorites, rather than the chocolate chip that Caleb had loved.

When the first batch was still warm from the oven, she put some of the cookies on a plate, poured a mug of coffee and carried it all across the yard. As she walked toward Grady, she could feel his speculative gaze burning into her.

The gesture had been a mistake, she concluded as she met his eyes. He was going to make too much of it, twist it somehow and use it as an opening. Impatient with herself for allowing room for him to jump to a conclusion that a truce was in the offing, she plunked coffee and plate down ungraciously and scurried back to the house.

She was all too aware that Grady’s intent gaze followed her every step.

“You are such a ninny, Karen Hanson,” she chided herself as she slammed the door behind her. “Taking the man a few cookies was polite. It wasn’t an overture that he could misinterpret.”

But despite the reassuring words, she was very much afraid that he had. And who knew where that would lead?



Grady was satisfied with the way the day had gone. He’d made progress. At least Karen hadn’t thrown him off the property. In fact, she’d baked him cookies, as if he were a schoolboy who deserved nourishment for doing a chore.

She’d regretted it, too. He’d seen that in her eyes and in the way she’d retreated to the house with such haste that he hadn’t even had time to thank her.

One of these days they might actually sit down and have a real conversation, he mused. After that, who knew what might be accomplished? Maybe she would listen to reason.

Of course, in his experience, women were emotional creatures. Reason didn’t matter half as much to them as it did to men. Which meant he would just have to appeal to Karen’s heart. How he was supposed to do that when it was her heart that was telling her to throw his offer back in his face was beyond him, but he would figure it out. He was too close to his goal now to let anything stand in his way.

Grady figured he had another week’s work on the barn. Then he’d move on to something else. And something else after that, if need be. He considered the time and money an investment. After all, the work needed to be done anyway and the property would be his someday soon.

Grady leaned against the rung of the ladder and munched on the last cookie. He hadn’t had a decent oatmeal-raisin cookie in years, not since one of his classmates had moved away in sixth grade. Luke’s mama had baked the best oatmeal-raisin cookies ever. None he’d tried in all the years since had lived up to them…until now.

He stared toward the house, saw a light come on in the kitchen and knew she was in there fixing supper. Did she cook for herself now that Caleb was gone? Or did she put together a careless snack, a sandwich maybe, or even nothing more than a bowl of cold cereal and milk? That’s what he found himself doing more nights than not. It didn’t seem worth the effort to fix a hearty meal. When his body demanded something substantial, he drove into town and ate out. He’d become a regular at Stella’s, ignoring the fact that Cassie Davis tended to regard him with suspicion much of the time. If she should consider the entrée he’d gained into Karen’s life an intrusion, he might have to check his supper for arsenic.

Staring over at the house, he felt nagged by curiosity until he convinced himself that going to the door to return his mug and give Karen a proper thanks for those cookies was the gentlemanly thing to do.

As he tapped on the glass, he could see her shadowy movements inside, saw her go still, hesitate, then finally move toward the door. He could imagine her sigh of resignation as she crossed the kitchen.

“Yes?” she said, her tone surly, her expression forbidding.

Grady saw past that, though, to the hint of loneliness in her eyes. Of course, her irritation was doing a mighty fine job of covering it up, but he’d caught a glimpse of it just the same. Or maybe that was just an excuse to prolong the encounter.

He held out the mug and the plate. “Just wanted to thank you for the coffee and the cookies.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, taking the dishes and already starting to shut the door in his face.

He blocked it with the toe of his boot. He was about to do something he was likely to regret, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“What are you doing for supper, Karen?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why? Are you inviting yourself?”

He grinned. “Not at all. My mama taught me better manners than that. I was going to invite you to join me over in Winding River. I’m partial to Stella’s meat loaf, and that’s the special tonight. I hate to eat alone.”

She was shaking her head before the words were out of his mouth. “I couldn’t.”

“Don’t want to be seen with me?” he challenged.

“That’s not it,” she said with a touch of impatience. “I’ve already started fixing my own supper. It would go to waste.”

“I don’t suppose there’s enough for two?” he asked hopefully.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Have you forgotten your manners so soon, Mr. Blackhawk?”

“Like I said, I hate to eat alone. I think my mama would forgive me just this once for being pushy. How about you? Can you forgive me? Maybe take pity on a poor bachelor who rarely gets a homecooked meal?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, come on in,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’re impossible, Mr. Blackhawk.”

Grady hid a grin as he entered. He hung his hat and jacket on a peg by the door, then sniffed the air. “Why, I do believe you’re making meat loaf.”

“Which I’m sure you knew before you made that outrageous claim about it being one of your favorites.”

Grady didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked around and asked, “What can I do? Want me to set the table, or are you afraid I’ll steal the silver?”

“No silver,” she said. “I think I can trust you with the stainless-steel utensils and the everyday dishes. You don’t strike me as a clumsy man.”

“I try not to be…especially when there’s a beautiful woman watching.”

She flushed at that, but in less than a heartbeat, her eyes flashed sparks. “Don’t try flattering me, Mr. Blackhawk.”

He frowned. “Can we get past the formalities? I’ve been calling you Karen all day long. Can’t you call me Grady?”

He saw her struggle reflected on her face, knew that she considered it one step closer to an intimacy she didn’t want. She was too polite to tell him that, though. She merely nodded curtly.

“Grady, then.”

“Thank you,” he said, keeping his expression and his tone deliberately solemn.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Not mocking,” he said. “Just teasing a little.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” she said sharply.

“Oh, really? When was the last time a man teased you, Karen?”

“I’m sure you know the answer to that.”

“When Caleb was still alive,” he suggested. “Tell me about him.”

She stared at him with surprise written all over her face. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to know how you saw him. I imagine it was quite a bit different from the way I viewed him.”

“Yes, I imagine it was,” she replied wryly. “He was my husband and I loved him.”

“Needless to say, I didn’t. He always struck me as an unreasonable man, one who twisted the facts to suit himself,” Grady said, deliberately baiting her just to see the flash of fire in her eyes, the color blooming in her cheeks. He liked seeing her come alive, instead of wearing the defeated air he’d seen on his arrival the day before.

“Caleb was the fairest men I ever knew,” she retorted, her voice as prickly as a desert cactus. “Which is why I owe it to him to think twice before I believe a word you say. You tell me you weren’t responsible for any of those incidents that almost cost us our herd, but words aren’t evidence. Where’s your proof?”

He leveled a look straight into her soft blue eyes. “Where’s yours?”

She swallowed hard at that and turned away, dishing up mashed potatoes, gravy and meat loaf with quick, impatient gestures that told him his barb had gotten to her.

Silently she slapped a fresh loaf of country sourdough bread on the table, along with home-churned butter, then took a seat opposite him.

“Shall we call a truce, Karen?” he suggested mildly. “Otherwise, we’re going to ruin a perfectly fine meal, and we’ll both end up with indigestion.”

“Calling a truce with you is a risk,” she said candidly. “You tend to take advantage every chance you get.”

“I’m highly motivated. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“I suppose that depends on your motivation and your goal.”

“You know mine. I’ve laid all my cards on the table. What about you? What motivates you?” He noticed that the travel brochures had been gathered up and tossed into a basket on the counter. “Dreams of faraway places?”

“Dreams can be a motivation,” she conceded, though it wasn’t a direct answer to his question. Her gaze met his. “Or merely a fantasy.”

“Which are they for you?”

“Fantasy at the moment, nothing more.”

She was fibbing, he decided, noting that the brochure for London was already dog-eared from handling.

“If you could go anywhere in the world you wanted, where would you choose?”

“London,” she said at once, then seemed to regret it. “Any particular reason?”

“Lots of them, but I’m sure you’d find then all boring.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

She hesitated, then shrugged as if to concede his point. “I studied literature the one year I went away to college. I love Jane Austen and Charles Dickens and Thackery. I love Shakespeare’s sonnets. And for me, London is permeated with the spirit of all the great British authors. Some of them are even buried in Westminster Abbey.”

“You’re a romantic,” Grady concluded.

“You say that as if it’s a crime.”

“No, just a surprise. Romantics don’t always do well in the real world. Ranching can be a hard life. There’s very little romantic about it.”

She gave him a pitying look. “Then you’ve been doing it with the wrong person. I found my share of romance right here.”

“Is that why you don’t want to leave? Nostalgia?”

“You already know why I won’t sell this ranch—at least not to you.”

Rather than heading down that particular dead-end road again right now, Grady concentrated on his meal for a moment. “You’re a fine cook,” he said as he ate the last bite of meat loaf on his plate.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to let me return the favor sometime. Not that I’ll cook, but I’d be happy to take you out for supper.”

“I don’t think so, but thank you for offering.”

That stiff, polite tone was back in her voice. Grady couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to see her defenses slip, to hear her laugh.

Whether that ever happened or not wasn’t important, he chided himself. He only needed her to trust him just a little, to persuade her that she wasn’t cut out for the life of a rancher. And then to coax her into selling this land to him and not someone else.

He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Thanks for the meal. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She seemed startled. “No angling for dessert?”

“Not tonight,” he said, then hesitated. “Unless you’ve got an apple pie warming in the oven.”

She shook her head, amusement brightening her eyes. “No, just more oatmeal cookies.”

He considered that but concluded, good as they were, he didn’t dare risk staying. Sitting here with lovely Karen Hanson in her kitchen was entirely too cozy.

“I wouldn’t mind taking one or two along for the drive,” he said.

“After my cookies, then, and not my company? Should I be insulted?” she asked, but she put a few into a bag for him.

“I’ll leave that to you,” he said, giving her a wink that clearly disconcerted her. “See you in the morning.”

“Yes,” she said with what sounded like resignation. “I imagine you will.”

Grady closed the door quietly, then stood on the other side feeling a bit disconcerted himself. He was already looking forward to morning, and that wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all, because he knew that this time it had less to do with the land and more to do with the woman who was keeping it from him. And that hadn’t been part of his plan at all.




Chapter Four


Karen woke before dawn, did the necessary chores, left a note in the barn for Pete and Dooley and hightailed it away from the ranch. She headed straight for Winding River, though she didn’t have a specific destination in mind.

Okay, so what if she was running away? She had a right to, didn’t she? Her home wasn’t her own anymore, not with Grady evidently intending to pop up like a stubborn weed every time she turned around.

Sitting across the kitchen table from him the night before had rattled her more than she liked. Other than inflicting his presence on her in the sneakiest way possible, he hadn’t been the least bit pushy. The subject of the ranch had hardly arisen at all.

Instead, he had been attentive and lighthearted. The conversation had been intelligent. All in all, he had been very good company. He’d flattered her some, reminding her that it was nice to receive a compliment from a man every now and again.

Just not from this man, she scolded herself. Nothing out of Grady’s mouth could be trusted. It was all a means to an end, and that end was taking the Hanson ranch away from her, whether he actually mentioned his desire to buy the place or not.

Funny, that was how she thought of the ranch, not so much as her own but as still belonging to the Hansons, with her merely its guardian. These days the duty was weighing heavily on her shoulders.

A pale, shimmery sun was trying to sneak over the horizon as she drove onto Main Street in Winding River and headed straight for Stella’s. Not only would the coffee be hot, but Cassie was likely to be working. Cole had chafed at her decision to stay on after the wedding, but Cassie had been insistent. In Karen’s opinion, even now, with things between Cassie and Cole improving and Jake thrilled to be living with his long-lost dad, her old friend didn’t trust that the marriage was going to last. Cassie wanted the security of her own money and a familiar job. Since Cole worked at home, he was there when nine-year-old Jake got home each day, but even if he hadn’t been, Cassie would have found a way to remain independent.

“My gracious, you must have been up with the birds,” Stella greeted her when Karen walked through the door.

“Before most of them,” Karen said.

“Something on your mind?” the woman asked as she poured coffee and set the cup in front of her. “Won’t be anybody else in here for a few minutes yet. I could listen.”

Karen hesitated, then nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Stella sat down across from her. She had known all five of the Calamity Janes since they were in grade school, which was when she’d first opened the restaurant. With her ready smile, huge heart and nonjudgmental demeanor, Stella had been mother and friend and mentor to all of them at one time or another. She was playing the same role for another generation now.

“Okay, what is it?” Stella probed. “You still grieving over Caleb?”

“Yes, of course,” Karen said a little too hastily, as if she had something to prove. “He’s only been gone a little over half a year.”

Stella’s gaze narrowed. “The way you said that, all defensive when I just asked a simple question…it’s another man, isn’t it? You’re attracted to someone and you’re feeling guilty?”

“No,” Karen denied heatedly, then flinched under Stella’s steady gaze. “Okay, maybe. It’s just that there’s this man who wants the ranch. He’s been pestering me.”

“Grady Blackhawk,” Stella said at once. “I’ve heard all about it.”

“From Cassie, I imagine.”

“From her and from Grady himself. He comes in here from time to time.”

Karen thought of their conversation the night before. “For the meat loaf?”

Stella grinned. “That man does love my meat loaf. Of course, he’s also partial to chicken-fried steak and pot roast. Any man who drives as far as he does for my food is either close to starving or he genuinely likes it.”

“You sound as if you approve of him.”

“I do,” Stella said, regarding Karen closely. “Why does that surprise you?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I know. It’s because there was bad blood between him and Caleb.”

“Can you think of a better reason?”

“Sure. One that you came up with on your own after giving the man a chance.” She studied Karen gravely. “I think maybe that’s what’s bothering you. You’re kind by nature. You give most people a fair chance to prove themselves. A second chance when it’s called for. You’re not doing that with Grady, and it doesn’t sit well with you.”

“Maybe that’s right,” Karen admitted. It was true that she liked to form her own opinions about people. And she’d never taken the view that a husband and wife had to have the exact same friends—so why was she so determined to make Caleb’s enemy into her own?

Because Caleb was dead, of course. Who would stand up to Grady if she didn’t do it? And it wasn’t about personalities, anyway. It was about the ranch.

“Are you going to sell the ranch to Grady?” Stella asked, getting to the point.

“No,” Karen said.

“Then what’s the problem? Sounds to me as if your decision is made and it’s final.”

“He…” She regarded Stella with the helpless feeling of a teenager admitting to a crush. After a minute, she gathered her courage and said it. “Grady bothers me.” It felt surprisingly good to get the words out, words she hadn’t been able to manage to her oldest friends, even when they’d given her ample opportunity to say them.

A grin tugged at Stella’s lips. She didn’t look the least bit shocked. “Is that so? Now, if you ask me, you’ve just admitted to being a full-fledged, red-blooded female. That man is something to look at. Ain’t a woman living who would deny feeling her senses go into overdrive when he walks into a room.”

“Really?” Karen asked hopefully. “Then I’m not being disloyal to Caleb’s memory?”

“Sweetie, I would tell you the same thing if Caleb were still alive and sitting right here across from you. There’s not a thing wrong with looking at a fine specimen of a man. Now doing something about it is a whole other story.” Her gaze narrowed. “You thinking of getting involved with Grady? Is that the way things are moving?”

“Absolutely not,” Karen said fiercely. She had never allowed her thoughts to stray beyond admitting to an attraction. And she wouldn’t permit herself to go any further.

Stella chuckled. “Then you might want to temper that protest just a little. Sounds a little too emphatic, if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Karen knew exactly what she meant. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Not yet, but you could be looking at it,” the older woman said. She reached across the table and patted Karen’s hand. “And to tell the truth, I don’t think that would be such a bad thing. There’s no set timetable for grieving, not like in the old days, when people were expected to put everything on hold for a full year of mourning. Life goes on, Karen. It’s meant for living. Caleb wouldn’t begrudge you happiness. Just be sure the timing is right for you, not Grady.”

“It’s wrong,” she said, as much to herself as to Stella. “Caleb hated him.”

Stella gave her a serious look. “Meaning no disrespect to your husband—he was a good boy and a fine man—but he held on to grudges that weren’t his. Don’t you do the same.”

Before Karen could ask what Stella had meant by grudges that weren’t Caleb’s, the door opened and the first rush of morning customers came in, bringing cold air and shouted pleas for hot coffee with them.

“Just think about what I’ve said,” Stella said as she stood up. “I’ll bring you your breakfast in a minute. Let me get these heathens settled down first.”

“I haven’t ordered,” Karen pointed out.

“No need. You have the same thing every time, the number three with the egg scrambled.”

As Stella walked away, Karen thought about that, thought about everything going on in her life. “I’m in a rut,” she muttered, just as Cassie slid into the booth opposite her.

“Talking to yourself is not a good sign,” she advised Karen. “I only have a second before it gets crazy in here. Are you okay? Need somebody to talk to?”

“I did, but Stella filled in.”

Cassie grinned. “She always has. Now sit tight. I imagine Emma will be in shortly to keep you company. Of course, Ford may be right behind her. The man’s been like her shadow lately. She still says it’s wearing on her nerves, but she hasn’t chased him off yet. What about you? Did you chase Grady Blackhawk off permanently the other day?”

“Afraid not,” Karen admitted ruefully. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. He was at the ranch all day yesterday and said he’d be back today.”





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