Книга - Almost Perfect

Almost Perfect
Judy Duarte


HELP!Footloose cowboy Jake Meredith was perfect at rabble-rousing and rodeo riding. But when instant parenthood befell him, he was scared spitless of failing as a father for his tiny orphaned niece and nephew. Where to turn for help?YOU'VE GOT A FRIENDWhere else but to Maggie Templeton, the gangly, freckled best friend of his youth? Now a city pediatrician, his long-distance pal came to his temporary rescue, working wonders with his little wards. Unfortunately, Maggie's unexpected womanliness stoked Jake's senses, jeopardizing their precious friendship. Still, Jake ached to make Maggie a permanent part of his family–to touch her, to taste her…to turn her every which way but loose.








Be sure to look up the reading group discussion questions at the end of the book!




Jake edged closer and cupped her cheek.


His callused thumb made a small, circular motion on her skin that set Maggie’s senses swirling. His gaze snagged hers and threatened never to let go.

“You’re my best friend, Maggie,” he murmured.

His hand slowly lowered, and Maggie fought the compulsion to reach for his wrist and hold it in place. Instead, she took a step back.

“You’re the best friend I have, too,” she said. And she meant it.

But best friends didn’t make each other go weak in the knees. Didn’t make them contemplate things best left alone.

Did they?

What was a best friend to do?


Dear Reader,

Not only does Special Edition bring you the joys of life, love and family—but we also capitalize on our authors’ many talents in storytelling. In our spotlight, Christine Rimmer’s exciting new miniseries, VIKING BRIDES, is the epitome of innovative reading. The first book, The Reluctant Princess, details the transformation of an everyday woman to glorious royal—with a Viking lover to match! Christine tells us, “For several years, I’ve dreamed of creating a modern-day country where the ways of the legendary Norsemen would still hold sway. I imagined what fun it would be to match up the most macho of men, the Vikings, with contemporary American heroines. Oh, the culture clash—oh, the lovely potential for lots of romantic fireworks! This dream became VIKING BRIDES.” Don’t miss this fabulous series!

Our Readers’ Ring selection is Judy Duarte’s Almost Perfect, a darling tale of how good friends fall in love as they join forces to raise two orphaned kids. This one will get you talking! Next, Gina Wilkins delights us with Faith, Hope and Family, in which a tormented heroine returns to save her family and faces the man she’s always loved. You’ll love Elizabeth Harbison’s Midnight Cravings, in which a sassy publicist and a small-town police chief fall hard for each other and give in to a sizzling attraction.

The Unexpected Wedding Guest, by Patricia McLinn, brings together an unlikely couple who share an unexpected kiss. Newcomer to Special Edition Kate Welsh is no stranger to fresh plot twists, in Substitute Daddy, in which a heroine carries her deceased twin’s baby and has feelings for the last man on earth she should love—her snooty brother-in-law.

As you can see, we have a story for every reader’s taste. Stay tuned next month for six more top picks from Special Edition!

Sincerely,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor




Almost Perfect

Judy Duarte





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


To my editor, Stacy Boyd. Your support and keen

editorial eye make me want to reach higher and dig

deeper. A simple thank-you doesn’t seem to be enough.




JUDY DUARTE,


an avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, always wanted to write books of her own. One day, she decided to make that dream come true. Five years and six manuscripts later, she sold her first book to Silhouette Special Edition.

Her unpublished stories have won the Emily and the Orange Rose awards, and in 2001, she became a double Golden Heart finalist. Judy credits her success to Romance Writers of America and two wonderful critique partners, Sheri WhiteFeather and Crystal Green, both of whom write for Silhouette.

At times, when a stubborn hero and a headstrong heroine claim her undivided attention, she and her family are thankful for fast food, pizza delivery and video games. When she’s not at the keyboard or in a Walter Mitty–type world, she enjoys traveling, romantic evenings with her personal hero and playing board games with her kids.

Judy lives in Southern California and loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at: P.O. Box 498, San Luis Rey, CA 92068-0498. You can also visit her Web site at: www.judyduarte.com.


Dear Reader,

I’m honored to have Almost Perfect chosen as the May Readers’ Ring release. For those of us who love reading books and enjoy discussing them, the Readers’ Ring is a great way to further our pleasure and understanding of stories with emotionally compelling plots and characters.

Almost Perfect holds a special place in my heart, in part because Maggie and Jake became so real in the writing process. And, yes, maybe because there’s a little bit of Maggie in me.

As teenage friends, Maggie and Jake had similar backgrounds, yet different ways of coping with their past. Isn’t that the way it is for all of us? We make choices, sometimes conscious and sometimes not, based upon our personal histories and experiences. And as humans, we hate to make changes in our lives unless forced by circumstances oftentimes out of our control.

No matter how difficult the problem, I want my characters to learn that when a door closes they should look for an open window. There is always a way out of even the worst place, but sometimes a person has to work to get there. I hope Maggie and Jake’s story inspires you to remember that, too!

Happy reading,









Contents


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

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue




Chapter One


Way back in third grade, Jake Meredith decided that only a complete fool would set himself up for failure. Thank God he’d learned that lesson early on.

It was a game plan that had served him well over the years.

Until fate threw him a curve.

Surveying the barn and corrals, Jake stood at the kitchen sink of the main ranch house and shook his head. Buckaroo Ranch. What a waste of good land and stock.

He’d had his fill of this place years ago and left home on his eighteenth birthday. But now, in spite of his distaste for city slickers and dude ranches, the whole kit and caboodle was his.

And since his sister had taken deposits for reservations a year in advance, and he didn’t have a clue what she’d done with the money, he was stuck running the place until the guests had a chance to play cowboy for a week.

But that wasn’t the bulk of his problems.

He glanced across the kitchen at the eighteen-month-old boy who was making a godawful mess with his bowl of spaghetti. When their eyes met, the toddler flashed a big grin, oozing with red-tinged slobber. Jake wasn’t sure whether Sam was pleased with the taste of marinara or just plain happy to smear sauce and noodles in his hair and all over the high chair.

Rosa was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up, but she wouldn’t complain. She never did. He supposed the nanny loved Kayla and Sam like her own children, which was lucky for them.

Not that Jake didn’t love his niece and nephew, he did. They were the neatest kids he’d ever known, and he had always indulged them like a good uncle should. But one day, the girl and boy who adored him would learn he was a fraud—something they were bound to find out soon, now that he was their full-time guardian.

He took one last look at the court documents that had just arrived, the legal ruling that sealed the fates of his sister’s kids, as well as his own. He shoved the papers back into the manila envelope and tossed the whole legal package on top of the fridge—out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

Jake combed a hand through his hair. He wasn’t any good at family stuff. Never had been. Hell, everyone he’d ever loved had failed him, one way or another. Even Sharon, his sister, who’d died and left him in a lurch.

When he and Sharon were kids, she’d tried to look out for him, to keep him on the straight and narrow. He’d grumbled and complained about her nagging, of course, but it had been comforting to know she loved him in spite of his rebellious nature. And that she’d always be there for him.

Times like today, when things were really piling up on him, he would always touch base with his sister. Dying wasn’t her fault, but he’d felt deserted, just the same.

Of course, he’d come up pretty damn short on the dependability scale himself. He’d never been one to check in with his sister on a regular basis, so by the time Rosa finally tracked him down at a rodeo in Wyoming and relayed the grim news of the car accident, it was too late to attend the funeral services for Sharon or her husband.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He snatched the receiver from the wall. “Hello.”

A woman’s voice on the other end seemed to stutter and falter. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s me, Maggie.”

Thoughts of Maggie Templeton brought a slow smile to his lips. In his mind, she was still seventeen, tall and awkward, with hair the color of corn silk and a splatter of freckles across her nose. As a teenager, she’d been the best friend he’d ever had. His only friend, he supposed.

They hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years, but they talked on the telephone periodically, catching up on major life events like marriage, divorce and death.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

Jake looked at five-year-old Kayla, then at Sam. What was he going to say in front of the kids? That he was struggling to be the kind of father his sister would want him to be? That he was scared spitless he wouldn’t measure up? “I’m doing okay.”

“Is Rosa still working for you?”

Jake didn’t know what he’d do without the woman who’d taken care of Sharon’s kids since birth. Rosa wasn’t just his baby-sitter, housekeeper, office manager and reader of bedtime stories; she was a blessed saint. “I doubled her salary, just to make sure she wouldn’t quit.”

“That’s great,” Maggie said. “I…uh…” She seemed to hesitate over the words, so he waited for her to speak. For a moment he thought the line had disconnected.

“You what?”

She blew out a sigh. “I need a date on Saturday night. And I thought that, if I purchased your airline ticket, you might come help me out.”

“Be your date?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Yes. As a favor to me.”

It wasn’t like Maggie to ask for help, and he figured this phone call hadn’t been easy to make. “Are you still living in Boston?”

“For the time being. I’m going to be moving to California in a couple of months.”

Something didn’t add up. He’d never been one to pry, although he did wonder about the details. “Don’t they have any eligible men in Boston? Why are you asking me?”

“Because I want a friend to escort me to a benefit dance, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather go with.”

Jake glanced at the Spaghetti Kid, just as Sam chucked a Melmac plate across the kitchen, littering the floor with noodles and splatters of sauce. Several strands of pasta dangled from his downy-fine hair, and Jake couldn’t help shaking his head and smiling at the happy little boy.

At the kitchen table, five-year-old Kayla slowly sucked a long string of spaghetti into her mouth while concentrating on a picture book illustration of a bunch of roller-skating bugs parading through a strawberry patch. She’d been grumpy when he wouldn’t read to her and Sam while they ate, something Rosa often did.

But Jake refused to read out loud. It put too damn much pressure on him to perform, and it brought back too many memories of childhood.

He looked at the spaghetti-riddled floor. Escaping Texas and going to Boston for a day or two suddenly sounded very appealing. “Okay.”

“Are you sure? What about the kids?” she asked.

“Rosa’s good with them, and they love her. Shoot, she’s already raised three boys and a girl.” Sam and Kayla were far better off with Rosa than a bachelor uncle who didn’t know squat about kids.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

Mind getting away? Mind seeing Maggie again? “Not at all. I’ll line things up around here, then let you know what time my flight arrives.”



Dr. Maggie Templeton paced in front of the walkway that led to the terminal gate. What made her think she could call a man out of the blue and ask him to do a favor like this?

Desperation, that’s what. And a hospital benefit she didn’t want to attend.

Maybe she should have feigned an attack of appendicitis. Or put a cast on her leg. She could have called the dentist and scheduled an unnecessary root canal. How was that for desperation?

She blew out a ragged breath. No matter how plausible the excuse, it didn’t matter. Dr. Margaret Templeton would arrive on time, dressed to the hilt, looking comfortable on the outside, while childish insecurities ran amok on the inside. At least she’d have Jake at her side. But Maggie wasn’t sure that seeing him again would make her feel any more secure.

A voice over the intercom announced his plane had arrived from Houston, and her steps faltered.

He was here. Would she recognize him after all these years?

Maggie stood transfixed, searching the steady stream of disembarking passengers for someone who resembled the gangly teenager who’d once been her best friend.

Did he still wear his hair long and slightly unkempt? Had he finally grown taller than her? Did he still prefer Wrangler jeans, a worn Stetson and scuffed boots?

As a tall, lean cowboy, dressed in black, sauntered through the door, her breath caught. Jake?

Bright blue eyes, the color of a Texas summer sky, crinkled in amusement, and he flashed her a reckless smile. “Hot damn, Maggie. You grew up good.”

“So did you,” she managed to say.

Jake Meredith now stood six-two or more, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. Sporting a black suede jacket and Stetson, the man caused more than one head to turn for a double take.

He hadn’t shaved this morning, she noticed, but the dark stubble looked good, giving him an intriguing, rugged appearance—a look even her most conservative side found appealing.

A small, jagged scar marred his left brow. The physician in her wondered how it had happened.

The woman in her wanted to trace it with her finger.

Whoa, she told herself, pulling out of the awkward trance. Jake was her friend, her escort. She had no intention of stretching their relationship beyond that. Sharon, his sister, had said he was a charmer, a real ladies’ man, and Maggie wasn’t about to become another notch on his bedpost.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, trying to remember her manners as well as hide her surprise.

“I’m glad I could help out.” He brushed a soft kiss on her cheek and gave her a hug. The scent of peppermint, leather and musk lingered long after he released her.

“How much do I owe you for the airline ticket?” Maggie asked.

“Don’t worry about it.” He placed a hand on her back and ushered her through the terminal. “This wing-ding must be a big deal.”

“It is,” she told him. But she doubted he really understood.

She’d worked hard to see the new pediatric ICU become a reality, as had Rhonda Martin, another pediatrician in her office. Tonight’s formal event, El Baile Elegante, was a gala intended to thank donors and secure their ongoing financial support. Even though Maggie could no longer stand being in the same room with Rhonda, professionalism demanded she attend.

“There’s got to be a hundred guys in this city who’d love to take you to that shindig. I still don’t understand why you asked me.”

“Because I want a real friend to accompany me, and there don’t seem to be too many friendly faces in Boston anymore.”

His expression sobered, and he paused before responding. “I’m not like the people you usually hobnob with, Maggie. And I hope you don’t expect me to be.”

She didn’t. When they’d first become friends at Buckaroo Ranch, Jake had been a rebel, a James Dean on horseback. And Maggie had been a young Marian the Librarian. She doubted he’d changed much, if at all, which was all right with her. Jake had a way of making life seem simple and uncomplicated. And he’d had a way of making her smile when life seemed unbearable.

She slid him a quick glance. The skinny kid had sure filled out. And grown up.

They continued toward the exit, walking along with other travelers who’d made Boston their destination.

“I’m sorry about your divorce,” he said, his soft Southern drawl washing over her like a warm summer rain. “Are you doing okay?”

Not really, but she was making progress. “My pride took a bigger hit than my heart, but I’ll be all right.”

Jake didn’t comment, and she was grateful. Lord knew she’d psychoanalyzed herself enough in the past six months.

Learning that her husband Tom and Rhonda had conceived a baby had hurt, particularly since they hadn’t waited until Maggie and Tom had officially separated to do so. Still, the split had been somewhat clean and amicable, but only because Maggie refused to make a scene or act as though Tom’s affair had bothered her more than a broken nail.

She’d fought long and hard to become a professional, and that’s the only behavior she expected from herself.

The voices from the past that sometimes nagged at her, jeered at her now, pointing out her shortcomings and hanging them out to dry.

What’s wrong with you, Maggie? Stupid girl. Can’t you do anything right?

She’d grown up with insufferable criticism. Her mother’s third husband had been a drunk. An alcoholic, her clinical side corrected, although either diagnosis seemed to fit.

Oftentimes he’d said things that were cruel and untrue, but Maggie had proven him wrong. The valedictorian at Valley View High had gone on to receive a full academic scholarship at Radcliffe, then transferred to Harvard Medical School, where she’d graduated number two in her class. Dr. Margaret Templeton wasn’t stupid.

Or a failure.

And she hoped appearing at El Baile Elegante with Jake would show her colleagues that the failed marriage was merely a joint decision to end what wasn’t working. Maggie Templeton, they would realize, was doing just fine without a husband.

She glanced to her side and found the handsome cowboy perusing her with a crooked grin and a glimmer in his eyes.

Jake couldn’t help but admire the pretty doctor—in more ways than one. She’d achieved everything she’d set her mind to. And what’s more, the quiet teenage girl he’d once called Magpie had grown up to be a real head-turner, the kind of lady a man couldn’t help but notice.

Her hair, no longer the color of corn silk, had darkened to a golden blonde. And those caramel-colored eyes still held a tender heart, as well as a sadness few people could see.

Fifteen years ago, she’d been all knees and elbows, but she’d become womanly, with the kind of gentle curves a man liked to run his hands along all through the night.

“How are you, Magpie? Or should I call you doctor?”

“Just Maggie will do.” She adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse. “I sure appreciate your coming out here like this.”

For three long-ago summers, her grandma had shipped her off to Buckaroo Ranch, where Jake lived with his sister and tough-as-rawhide uncle. The sad-eyed bookworm had become the only friend he’d had growing up.

He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “I owe you one, remember?”

She’d protected him from a beating when he was sixteen by saying a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniel’s had belonged to her. It hadn’t, of course. Maggie had always been a moral crusader when it came to alcohol, unlike Jake who’d thought drinking and smoking made him more manly and grown-up.

Because she was a paying guest at the ranch, his uncle had merely poured the whiskey onto the dirt, then threatened to send her packing if it ever happened again. Uncle Dave wouldn’t have been that easy on Jake.

And Jake hadn’t had any other place to go home to.

“Are you talking about that bottle of Jack Daniel’s?” she asked.

“My uncle would have given me the boot. He never did appreciate having to raise his brother’s ornery son.” Nor did he ever let Jake forget what a disappointment he was.

“You did have a rebellious streak, Jake.”

“Still do.”

She laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But your uncle wasn’t that bad. He never gave your sister a hard time.”

“Sharon was a straight-A student. Like you, Magpie.”

“Maybe you should have tried harder.”

“Maybe so, but I never liked school.” Any of them. He’d lost count of all the schools he’d attended in the early years. So by the time he was old enough to ride a bike, he began playing hooky every chance he got. Folks just thought he was a truant and a troublemaker, but Jake saw it as a means of self-preservation.

Chasing away the painful memories, he focused on Maggie. At one time, he’d actually had a crush on her, a sort of younger guy-older woman thing. He doubted that she’d ever picked up on it, though, since he’d been shy around girls back then.

He wasn’t shy anymore.

Of course, he didn’t allow women to get close enough to figure out what a good actor he was, or how he skated around the truth and kept them at a safe distance.

“You know,” Maggie said, “I was really sorry to hear about Sharon’s death.”

“Me, too.” Jake had loved his sister and would miss her. She’d been the only family he had left, and her death had been a senseless blow.

But in addition to grief, Sharon’s death had also saddled Jake with the dude ranch he’d always hated and thrust him into instant parenthood, something he knew nothing about. As much as he loved Kayla and Sam, he was still uneasy around his niece and nephew, still worried that he’d screw up something important in their lives.

Maggie stepped onto the escalator and turned to face him, as he got in line behind her. Their eyes met, and he caught a whiff of her floral scent. Something purple. Lilacs, he guessed. “Let’s talk about California.”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. After this weekend, I’m going to tie up some loose ends, then move my practice.”

He’d always been the kind to skip out on problems, not Maggie. But Jake was the last one in the world to say anything about leaving old memories behind. “How much time do we have before this hoopla?”

“Just enough time to go home and change clothes.”

Twenty minutes later, Maggie unlocked the door and let Jake into her home—a small, renovated apartment she’d temporarily moved into. The place was clean, with white walls and shell-colored carpet.

Another woman might have hung a brightly colored, artsy print on the wall, put a vase of flowers on the barren fireplace mantel, but Maggie hadn’t gone to the trouble.

What did it matter? She’d be moving to the West Coast soon and had no reason to decorate or entertain anyone.

Jake glanced at the stark white walls. “Nice place you have.”

“I suppose it needs a bit of color,” she said, wishing she’d put a little more effort into decorating.

“I’m used to motels. If the place is clean, all I need is a soft bed and somewhere to hang my hat.”

A bed. And a place to hang his hat.

Maggie’s senses tingled, and she struggled to recognize a bit of the teenage boy she used to know. She saw only brief glimpses.

Who was this man who would spend the weekend with her?

This is Jake, she reminded herself. Some things didn’t change. “Come on in. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Boots clicked upon the hardwood floors, chasing an odd sense of masculine presence over her like angel fingers strumming across harp strings.

She led him to the spare room down the hall, and as he dropped his bag on the guest bed, a flood of sexual awareness washed over her. Where had the short, gangly teenager gone?

“I’m wearing what I have on,” he said.

Her eyes swept over him again. Cowboy boots, denim pants and a suede jacket were a far cry from what the other men would be wearing, but on Jake they looked great.

He reached into his tote bag and removed a black bolo. “This is as black-tie as I get.”

She didn’t doubt that for a minute. If he didn’t mind walking into a formal affair dressed like a rebellious cowboy, she wouldn’t complain. She actually fancied herself on his arm. “You look fine to me.”

“I’m glad.” He slid her a lazy smile, one that made her pulse zip and skip like the stones he’d taught her how to skim across the surface of the old swimming hole.

“Well,” she said, “I’d better get dressed. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be long.”

But getting dressed took much longer than she’d anticipated.

She’d wanted to look her best because El Baile Elegante was a big event, one all of her colleagues would be attending. An event at which she believed they would be watching her, checking to see if her professional demeanor would falter when Tom and Rhonda entered the banquet hall. Of course, she was nervous.

But for some reason, knowing that Jake was in the living room, waiting to escort her to the gala, had her nerves even more on edge. Jumpy. The butterflies in her stomach had grown to an angry swarm.

She fidgeted with her hair for ten minutes, trying to sweep it up in an elegant coiffure, but the silky strands wouldn’t stay put. She finally gave up and let it fall naturally to her shoulders. And even though she’d been putting on lipstick for years, her hands trembled and she had to reapply the lip liner three times before she was reasonably satisfied.

Maggie stood before the bathroom mirror and sighed. She’d done the best she could, under the circumstances. Now, if she could just hurry the evening along, get it over with and go back home, she’d be okay.

She entered the living room wearing a formal-length, black gown, with a scooped neckline in front. The other side plunged, revealing a V-shaped glimpse of her back. She had a strange urge to run down the hall and grab a wrap, something with which to cover herself, but it had been an unseasonably hot September day, and the evening promised to be humid and warm.

“Definitely worth the wait,” Jake said. His appreciative grin complimented her in a way Tom never had. It both pleased and unnerved her further.

“Thank you.”

As she fingered the strapless purse in her hands, his gaze locked on to hers. “What kind of fool would leave you?”

A part of her desperately needed to believe her ex had been a fool. “Tom Bradley, stockbroker extraordinaire.”

“Remind me never to let him invest any of my money.”

She smiled, grateful for the support, but too rational to believe she hadn’t erred, that she hadn’t somehow been at fault. She should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent it. “I’m sure part of the blame was mine.”

“What part?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “My mom couldn’t seem to make a marriage work. I didn’t have much of an example.”

“What about TV reruns?” he asked, stepping closer. “Ward and June had a heck of a marriage.”

Maggie laughed. That’s what she liked about Jake. He had a way of making her troubles vanish, like he had all those years ago when they’d slipped away from the ranch and gone fishing in the creek. Or when they’d sneaked out late at night and gone for a hike.

She’d missed him, his fun-loving spirit and easy smile. “You’re right. The Cleavers had a perfect relationship. Now I realize what I did wrong.”

He grinned in that cocky way of his, only this time more grown-up, more provocative. “What did you do wrong?”

“I didn’t do the dishes while wearing pearls, a dress and heels.”

“Maybe you should have skipped the dress and just worn the heels and pearls. It would have made me come home.”

She swatted his arm and countered with a playful smile. “There’s more to a relationship than sex.”

“My best relationships have been based on great sex. What else is there?”

“Kids and picket fences.”

Jake slowly shook his head. “Babies are scary.”

“Not to Tom. About two years ago he started asking me about having a child. I wasn’t ready then. Children have very important needs, and a doctor who’s still paying off student loans doesn’t have time to spend stay-at-home, quality time with them.” She blew out a ragged breath. “Now, Rhonda Martin, another pediatrician in my office, is expecting his child.”

“So,” Jake said, settling into a more serious tone. “What are you going to do when this evening is over? Rhonda will still be expecting a baby, and you and Tom will still be divorced.”

Maggie unsnapped her purse and withdrew the car keys. “I’m going to start packing boxes for my move to California. A friend from medical school referred me to a respected pediatrician in Los Angeles who is retiring. I’m going to take over his practice.”

“Atta girl.” Jake chuckled. “Moving on has always worked for me.”

“That’s the way I see it, too,” she said, heading toward the front door. “I’ll be leaving day after tomorrow, even though I don’t start work for two more months.”

“Why so soon?”

“Because Rhonda and I work together and maintain a cordial business relationship at the office. For some reason, people feel inclined to invite me to share in the celebrations, parties and good wishes. And the truth is, I can’t stand the thought of receiving another invitation to a baby shower, even though I politely decline each one.”

He cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “You’re being treated as a lifelong friend of the bride and groom?”

“I guess it’s my own fault for acting as though I didn’t care.” She sighed heavily. “It seemed like the professionally correct thing to do, when what I really wanted to do was jerk her by the stethoscope around her neck and give her a piece of my mind.”

“So you pretended it didn’t bother you?” He took her hand and gave it a slow, gentle squeeze. Her fingers warmed at his touch, her heart at his compassion. “You still have to be perfect, don’t you, Magpie?”

“I try to be the best I can be,” she said. “I don’t consider it a personal flaw or shortcoming.”

Jake grinned and shook his head. “Honey, I doubt a word or two from me is going to change anything.”

She appreciated the fact that he didn’t preach or patronize her. “Hard work and dedication are important to me.”

“I know.” Jake ran the knuckles of his hand along her cheek, sending a swirl of heat to her face, and no doubt, causing a blush to surface. “So what’s my role tonight?”

“Your role?” She didn’t mean to throw the question back in his lap, but she wasn’t sure what she expected, other than a friend to hold her hand. Maybe ask her to dance. “I don’t really know.”

“You want me to be an old friend? A new friend? A guy you’ve been dating?” He slid her a cocky, James Dean smile. “Your lover?”

She shook her head and laughed. “At first I’d just wanted an escort, a friend. Someone to lean on for my last hurrah.”

“And now?” he asked, blue eyes studying her intently. His musky scent closed in on her, sharpening her senses, making her keenly aware of his masculinity. A lot had happened to them in fifteen years. And at this very moment, she realized Jake had developed a sensuality he’d never had as a lanky teenager.

“You could act as though we’re dating, I suppose.”

“Have we made love?” His question startled her, excited her.

She gazed at him, unable to prevent her thoughts from drifting to Jake, lying in her bed, sheets draped low across his hips. Oh, for Pete’s sake. Her imagination had never taken sexual turns before tonight. “Of course not.”

“But we want to, right?”

Her heart zinged and pinged, and a heat settled low in her stomach. Make love to Jake? The vision of a naked cowboy in her bed hit her full force, and she struggled to regain control of her thoughts. He was role-playing and getting his act straight, and she was allowing her libido to interfere. “Well…”

“Okay,” he said. “I get it. We’ve kissed a time or two. And I want to kiss you again and see what flavor of breath mints you use. I want to hold you in my arms again, sway to a slow love song, feel your breasts against my chest. And I have a hankering to see how far things will go tonight. After the gala.”

For some reason, she felt as if she were in the midst of phone sex. His slow, Southern drawl poured over her, making her want to take an active role in his game. “I’d like people to think I’m happy and glad to be single.”

“We’ll make them wonder what we’ve got planned for later on.”

“I didn’t mean for this to be a chore,” she said, having second thoughts about role-playing with a man who made her mind drift to the bedroom. She’d been sleeping single in a king-size bed for too darn long, not that she had any inclination to change that. “If you just want to be my escort for the evening, it’s okay. In fact, that’s probably best.”

“Hey, I don’t mind helping out. That’s what friends are for.”

She clutched her purse against her heart and offered the handsome cowboy a shy smile. “I’ve never been too good at acting.”

He stepped behind her and placed a calloused hand on her lower back. The touch of his work-roughened palm and splayed fingers against her skin sent a jolt of heat to her core, and she had the strangest desire to feel those hands on her entire body.

“Let me do the acting,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”

“I’m not sure I can pull this off, Jake. Maybe we should just be friends.”

He opened the door for her. “Trust me, Magpie. It’ll be easy. You’ll see.”

She hoped his words rang true, but something told her this was going to be a wild, unpredictable evening.

And she didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.




Chapter Two


Crystal chandeliers cast an elegant glow inside the New England Garden Towers, as Jake ushered Maggie down the carpeted hallway to the Grand Ballroom. He would make it through the evening without a scratch, but he wasn’t so sure about Maggie.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“I know.” He took her trembling hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, his fingers covering hers, offering his support, his strength.

He wanted to chase her fears away, be some kind of superhero who would make everything be all right. He’d tried to do the same thing when they were kids, but it had been easier when Maggie had been a shy, studious sixteen-year-old, and he’d been a surly teen who resented the life fate had dealt him.

During those three summers they’d spent together, he’d taken her hand more times than he could remember. And he’d taught her how to loosen up and have fun, at least for a few months out of the year.

One afternoon, he’d come across her reading, alone in her room, and dragged her out to the pond. She’d been afraid to take the rope and swing across the lake the first time, but he’d wrapped his arms around her and swung with her, coaxing her to let go, to trust him.

“It’s just like swinging over the swimming hole,” he told her. “It wasn’t nearly as scary as you thought.”

“Well, this feels like I’m dangling over an alligator-infested swamp, rather than a small, secluded lake.”

He didn’t understand her nervousness. Maggie was a hell of a woman, and a man would be proud to have her as a friend or a lover.

In fact, if she weren’t such a good friend and so vulnerable, he’d suggest that they continue the lover charade when he took her home, just for tonight. But Maggie deserved more than that. More than a one-night stand with a footloose cowboy who wasn’t what he seemed.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m with you, darlin’, and we’ll make it through the evening without a hitch.”

Just ahead, Jake spotted a table where a matronly woman wearing a black, beaded gown sat with gold lettered name tags and a guest list.

Maggie cleared her throat to speak. Jake sensed her nerves had settled in her voice, so he took the lead. “Dr. Margaret Templeton and Jake Meredith.”

She glanced up at him, appreciation peeking from those soulful, brown eyes.

Maggie might have become a respected physician, but on the inside, she was still the same shy girl. He tilted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “You look beautiful, honey.”

She whispered a “thank you,” but he figured her appreciation went far beyond his compliment.

After slapping on his name tag, Jake placed a hand on the sway of Maggie’s bare back and ushered her to the open doorway.

“I can hardly take my eyes off you,” he said, letting his hand slip low on her hip in an intimate, possessive gesture.

She tilted her head, and honey-brown eyes sought his, looking, it seemed, for an indication of honesty. She would find it. Maggie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever had on his arm and certainly the most elegant. He wanted her to know it. Feel it.

Before they could step away from the doorway, a heavyset gentleman with gray at the temples strode toward them and gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek. She introduced Jake to Dr. George Walters, and the men shared the customary handshakes and greetings.

The doctor scanned Jake’s formal Western wear. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope. Texas, born and bred.”

A waiter, balancing a full tray of flutes on his arm, cautiously approached. “Excuse me. Can I offer you some champagne?”

“Yes.” Jake took a glass from the waiter, handed it to Maggie and snagged one for himself. A drink would take the edge off her nervousness, even if she hadn’t changed her mind about the evils of alcohol. When they were teenagers, he’d been hell-bent to acquire a taste for whiskey, and she’d tried her best to reform him. To an extent, he supposed, she’d made her point.

He didn’t drink for the heck of it, like his old man had done, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the taste of good bourbon or an ice-cold beer. He just kept a close count of how many he enjoyed.

Rather than taking a sip, Maggie held on to the long-stemmed flute as though needing something to keep her hands busy.

He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. “Drink up, Magpie.”

Dr. Walter lifted a gray peppery brow at either the suggestion or the nickname. “Have you two known each other long?”

“Fifteen years,” Jake said. “And now that’s she’s free of Tom Bradley, I’m staking my claim.”

His claim? Maggie nearly choked on the champagne, sending a shot of fizz up her nose.

Jake’s blue eyes caught hers, and he gently touched her shoulder like a concerned suitor. “Are you all right, honey?”

She nodded. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Would she be able to pull off this silly act? Jake seemed so natural, so good at playing his part, but she felt like a ballerina in combat boots.

“What line of work are you in?” George asked Jake.

Maggie hoped he was just trying to make polite, cocktail-hour small talk, but she had a feeling he was digging for more information about the man who was staking his claim on Tom Bradley’s ex-wife.

“I’m a horse trainer.”

“Thoroughbreds?”

“Nope. Rodeo horses.”

“Jake owns a ranch and is one of the best horseman around,” Maggie added. Sharon had raved about his ability to connect with animals, especially horses, once referring to him as Cowboy Doolittle. And Maggie had seen it herself, years ago. “He has an uncanny way with animals.”

Dr. Walters nodded judiciously, and Maggie decided it was best they move on. “If you’ll excuse us, George, I need to speak to someone.”

“Certainly.” The doctor extended a hand to Jake. “Perhaps, later you can tell me about your ranch.”

“Maybe so.” Jake placed an empty champagne glass upon a small table by the door, then slipped his hand low upon Maggie’s back. His thumb caressed her skin, sending a swirl of heat to her spinal cord and then throughout her body.

Her reaction to his touch made it easier to play along and pretend they shared an intimacy known to lovers, which was a good thing, she supposed. But she didn’t need to lose her head. She and Jake were friends, and that’s all they would ever be. He was a Texan, through and through. And she was a dedicated physician, with a new practice waiting for her in California, a prosperous practice that would enable her to pay off the remainder of her student loans.

They mingled among the well-dressed crowd, greeted people and made polite conversation. All the while, Jake was charming and attentive. More than one woman cast a lingering gaze his way and smiled when she thought no one was looking. Jake, it seemed, caught every glance, every flirtatious smile, and sent them right back, all the while remaining attentive to Maggie. His gift, she realized, wasn’t limited to animals.

Jake was an attractive man, not just in his rugged good looks, but in his manner, his demeanor. Maggie felt as though she’d snagged the gold ring on the dating merry-go-round, and she found herself proud to be with him, at least as long as the short ride lasted.

Several times, he took her half-empty champagne flute and replaced it with a full glass. A warmth had settled into her bones, and the entire evening became much easier to bear.

Until Tom and Rhonda walked into the room.

Maggie glanced toward the doorway and stiffened. “They’re here,” she whispered.

“I was just beginning to think the evening was going to be a slam dunk.” Jake glanced at the doorway. “Let’s go say hello, then we can put it behind us, Magpie.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He flashed her a crooked smile and cupped her cheek. “You’re in good hands, darlin’. We’ll make it nice and sweet, then the worst will be over.”

Just like he’d been able to do years before, Jake had a way of cutting to the chase, of helping her face her demons. Of being the kind of friend she needed at any given time. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

She took a step forward, but he pulled her back, accosting her with a woodsy scent of musk and something else. Something she could only describe as essence of cowboy. She breathed deep, relishing his presence, his strength.

Tilting her chin with the tip of his finger, he bent his head to brush his lips upon her partially opened mouth. Once, twice. It was just a whisper of a kiss, soft and sweet, but so sensually delightful, that she closed her eyes and was swept away from the crowd and onto some hidden stage far from the reality of the gala. She doubted whether she could have been more moved by an openmouthed prelude to foreplay.

In fact, she wanted to grab him by the suede lapels and pull him closer, deepen the kiss, see where it might take them both. But she didn’t. Her staunch professionalism wouldn’t allow it.

When she opened her eyes, he flashed her a cocky, bad-boy smile. “How was that for suggesting we’re more than friends?”

Suggesting? Friends didn’t kiss like that, and even though she knew better, that slow, sensuous contact had nearly convinced her that they’d always been more than friends. Which, of course, they hadn’t. So why had his kiss nearly sent her to the moon? She tried to regain her footing. “That was some kiss.”

“You have a mouth made for kissing. All kinds of kisses, short and sweet, long and deep.”

At the thought of kissing Jake thoroughly, her knees nearly buckled, and heat pooled low in her belly. She quickly struggled to recover.

Jake had been a bachelor for years, and from what his sister had said, women clamored around him. He had kissing down to a science and was, undoubtedly, a master at the fine art of seduction. So he’d been able to pack something powerful into that whisper of a kiss, all for the sake of the roles they were playing.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” she said, leading him toward the middle of the room where Tom and Rhonda conversed with a waiter bearing a tray of champagne.

She assessed her ex-husband in a way she never had before and found him lacking in more ways than one. He stood several inches shorter than Jake and appeared pale and wan next to the Texan’s sun-bronzed complexion. Funny, but she’d never noticed what the indoor lighting had done to his skin. “Hello, Tom. Rhonda. It’s good to see you.”

Tom smiled, and for the very first time, she noticed his thin lips. Like a turkey’s beak. No wonder his kisses had never sent her heart spinning. He’d been shortchanged in the lip-and-mouth department, so it seemed. “How have you been, Maggie?”

“Great.” She tried to muster a sense of pride, then turned to Jake, whose full lips curled in that James Dean grin. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Jake Meredith.”

The men greeted each other, and when Tom introduced Rhonda, Jake flashed her a charming smile, working his magic, it seemed, on the pregnant pediatrician. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Rhonda smiled and cast an admiring gaze on the sexy cowboy.

“Rhonda isn’t feeling well,” Tom said, slipping an arm around his wife. “So we’ll probably only stay for dinner.”

“That’s too bad.” Maggie couldn’t conjure the least bit of sympathy. She actually hoped the woman’s feet swelled to the size of a full-grown elephant’s, and that her back ached like crazy. “The ninth month can be unpleasant.”

“Yes, but it’s also exciting,” Rhonda said. “We have the nursery all ready. You’ll have to come by and see it.”

Oh gosh, not again. Did Rhonda’s whole world revolve around Tom and the baby? Or was she purposely waving a victory flag in Maggie’s face?

Well, she could have Turkey-lips. And his baby. A man who cheated on his wife wasn’t a prize, as far as Maggie was concerned.

“Better you, Rhonda, than me,” Maggie said, referring to Rhonda’s husband, not her pregnancy.

“Some women aren’t meant to be mothers,” Rhonda said.

Maggie wished the pediatrician was wearing a stethoscope so Maggie could wrap it tight around the woman’s throat and choke her until she turned blue. The pregnant glow was hard enough to tolerate; the pregnant gloat was pushing Maggie’s professional resolve to the limit.

“Hey,” Jake said, taking Maggie’s hand and tilting his head toward the waiters bringing in trays laden with dinner plates. “I think they want us to take our seats.”

Maggie quickly nodded, ready to escape the upcoming discussion of cribs and wallpaper.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she whispered to Jake. “And quite the charmer. I think Rhonda found you attractive.”

“Maybe so,” he said, sliding her a slow smile. “There’s something women love about cowboys.”

Yes, Maggie supposed there was. Particularly, a cowboy like Jake.

“But I’ve got a hell of a lot better cull shoot than Tom Bradley,” he said, pulling her close to his side. “I know which fillies to keep and which to let go. Come on, Magpie. Let’s find us a quiet place to sit.”



They stayed only for dinner and a dance, long enough to make a gracious showing, then Maggie and Jake left and drove home.

As they strode across her parking garage toward the elevator, Maggie winced. She should have opted for the expensive black heels, rather than the fashionable strappy sandals she’d purchased to go with her evening dress. While they waited for the door to open, she curled her toes, trying to eliminate the pain her new shoes had caused.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked.

The fact that he’d picked up on her discomfort surprised her, but in the past, he’d always been in tune with her feelings. Apparently, he was just as discerning now. How was that possible?

Tom had always been too wrapped up in himself to give much notice to Maggie. In the evenings, he’d always asked for a head-and-neck rub, stating how stressful his day had been. Maggie’d had plenty of stressful days, but she’d never asked for any special attention.

“Just an uncomfortable pair of shoes,” she said, not wanting to complain. “It’s no big deal.”

They rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, and she led the way to the little apartment she called a temporary home.

Jake took the key from her hand and unlocked the door. “Go inside and make yourself comfortable.”

She’d intended to, but his suggestion took her aback. It had a slight, seductive sound to it. Or maybe he was just being nice, and her imagination had read seduction into his words.

This was Jake, her old friend, she again reminded herself. But the ex-rodeo star had, according to his sister, acquired more than his share of gold buckles along with a host of female fans eager to join his fan club.

Loyal childhood friend or sexy ladies’ man? She tried to reconcile the two images, but found it difficult.

“Take off your shoes,” he said, his voice intoxicatingly smooth, like a velvety shot of whiskey.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m going to give you a foot massage.” He bolted the door, which gave her an odd, anticipatory sensation, one that was sexually charged, at least on her part. Surely, he didn’t mean to seduce her, because she wasn’t sure how much of a struggle she’d put up. And a one-night stand with an old friend would certainly complicate her life.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be all right, once I get out of these shoes.” She dropped her purse onto one of the barstools that faced the mirrored bar in the living room, then removed the sandals that had blistered her feet and placed them in the seat, next to her evening bag. “I’ll be fine as soon as I can run around barefoot.”

Jake slipped off his suede jacket and draped it over the sofa. Then he removed his bolo tie and undid the top buttons on his shirt, revealing a dark patch of chest hair. She really shouldn’t stand there and stare at him, but she couldn’t remember when she’d last watched a man undress and found it so interesting, so arousing. So tempting.

He strode toward the living-room window and gazed out at the brightly lit Boston skyline. Her interest followed his. Stars glittered in the sky, offering a magical ambiance that she’d never known the plain apartment had.

“It’s a pretty view,” he said, “if you like big city sights.”

“You’re right.” Maggie studied the evening panorama, amazed that she hadn’t noticed it before.

He turned slowly, then his gaze swept over her, lingering, it seemed, upon her face. She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. What did he see? What was so interesting?

She cleared her throat. “Would you like to have something to drink? Coffee? An after-dinner liqueur?”

He studied her as though the offer had surprised him. She wasn’t sure why. It seemed a friendly thing to suggest, even though she’d already drank more this evening than she had the past year.

“I guess you finally acquired a taste for alcohol,” he said.

“Not really. I enjoy an occasional glass of wine.”

“And champagne,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Only when someone fills my glass.” She nodded toward the mirrored bar that graced the sunken living room. “The liquor belonged to Tom, but he left it behind when he moved out. He and Rhonda are on a health kick, so he says. I’ll probably pour it all out rather than pack it all up and move it again.”

He nodded sagely, as though he understood much more than she’d told him. He’d always had an amazing ability to read a person, to reach under the surface. She wondered what he saw in her.

“How about a glass of wine?” he asked. “I’ve never been partial to fancy liqueurs.”

“Sure. I hope you like a dry white. It’s all I have.”

She started toward the kitchen, but he strode forward and placed a hand upon her shoulder to still her steps. “Don’t bother, Maggie. I’ll get it. Just take a seat in the easy chair.”

He’d already reached the kitchen and had begun opening the cupboards before she could argue.

“Wineglasses are in the dining-room hutch,” she said. “And a bottle is chilling in the fridge.”

In no time at all, he’d prepared two drinks, then brought one to her. He nodded toward the chintz-covered easy chair and matching ottoman. “Now, sit down and put your feet up.”

She should have declined, but for some reason, a foot massage sounded incredibly nice. And luxurious. She padded across the room and took a seat, sinking into the softness of the chair Tom hadn’t liked.

Jake handed her a glass of wine, then straddled the ottoman. His knees corralled her feet. “Do you have any lotion?”

Kama Sutra oil came to mind, but she quickly whisked the naughty thought away. If she wasn’t careful, she’d embarrass them both with some crazy suggestion that would screw up a perfectly good friendship. No pun intended.

Good grief, she’d thought about sex more this evening than she had in the past year. What was it about Jake that made her mind stray in a sexual direction? Was it because the sensual cowboy knew how to treat a lady? Or was it her own fascination and curiosity?

“You have pretty feet. They’re soft and smooth. I like the polish.”

“I just had a pedicure,” she said, as though needing an explanation. “Because of the strappy sandals.”

“I hope you tipped her well. She did a great job.”

As he kneaded her foot, she found herself slipping back into the softness of the chair. She closed her eyes, relishing each deft movement of his fingers, his thumbs. And suddenly she wanted his hands to continue up her leg. The massage, at least in her mind, had turned into a sensual rub. And if it hadn’t felt so darn good, she would have told him to stop.

Jake watched Maggie slowly unwind and relax; the foot rub had helped. He’d given his share of massages in the past, with other women and usually as an act of foreplay. He’d offered one to Maggie as a token of friendship, not as a means to get her into bed. But it had a strange effect on him. He wanted to stroke her calf, work his way to her knee, along the inside of her thigh. Coax her into a state of arousal.

Her eyes opened, and she grazed him with a heated glance, one that told him she, too, was finding the massage far more stimulating than either of them had intended. Had she been any other woman, Jake would have known exactly what to do, what to say. But with Maggie, the words stuck in his throat.

He placed her foot on the ottoman, then picked up the other and continued to work. He’d hoped changing feet, and not progressing up her leg would ease the powerful urge he had to take her in his arms, to carry her to bed. But it hadn’t.

“You’re incredible,” she said.

He thought she meant his hands, but her eyes told another story, one he wasn’t prepared to pursue. Not if he wanted to wake up in the morning without any regrets.

Shoot, not that he’d regret making love to Maggie. But she was the one he was worried about, the one who’d been hurt, the one who needed time to mend. And Jake was the last guy in the world who could help her. She deserved more than a one-night stand, and that’s about all he could offer her.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

She lifted a brow, as though his experience bothered her. “Sharon said you had a slew of women chasing after you.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never made any promises about love and forever, but that doesn’t seem to keep women from wanting to change my attitude and my lifestyle.”

“And you have no intention of doing that?”

“I’m honest with the women I date. I’m not the marrying kind, but I do believe in one-on-one relationships until they don’t work anymore.”

“I guess having a family has curtailed your love life.”

Talking to Maggie about sex, or the lack of it, seemed strange. “I intend to provide those kids with the best home and family I can, even if it means hiring the right people to give it to them. And I’m not about to drag a ‘slew of women’ through their life. If that means a steady diet of celibacy, then I guess that’s what’ll happen.”

“You’ll be a good dad for them.”

“I don’t think so, but I’m going to try.”

Jake’s cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation he hadn’t wanted to continue. As he pulled the phone from the clip on his belt, apprehension dropped like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it wasn’t Rosa calling. His biggest fear was that something would happen to the kids he was supposed to protect.

Glancing at the lit display, he recognized the number and swallowed hard. It was Rosa, and she wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

Had Sam taken another tumble and cracked his noggin? The last one had blackened his little eye and required stitches.

Did Kayla have another fever? About a month ago, she ran a high temperature and lay around the house like a rag doll. Just a virus, the doctor had said, but the whole experience had scared Jake senseless.

He couldn’t eat or sleep when the kids were hurt or sick. Things like that hit him hard. He just wanted them to stay happy and healthy.

“Hello, Rosa.”

“It’s not Rosa, Jake. It’s her daughter, Sara.”

Panic backhanded him. Why couldn’t Rosa talk? Were Sam and Kayla okay? “What’s wrong?”

“The kids are fine,” Sara said. “But my mother is in the hospital and in a great deal of pain. The doctor said it’s her gall bladder and that she needs surgery. When can you come home?”

“I’ll try to fly standby first thing in the morning.” Jake glanced at Maggie, who sat attentively, her eyes intensely watching him. “Can you stay with the kids until I get home?”

Sara agreed, but asked him to hurry since she had to return to school on Monday morning.

When he hung up the phone, Maggie squeezed his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“Rosa needs to have surgery. I’ve got to get home.”

“Are the kids okay?”

“Yeah, Sara, her college-aged daughter, is with them.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Was it? That’s not the way he saw it. As long as Kayla and Sam were with someone other than Jake, they were fine. But what would happen when the poor kids had to depend on him to look after them? The thought of being more than a visiting uncle scared the devil out of him. What did he know about being a father? It’s not like he’d ever had a decent role model.

“Jake,” Maggie said. “You’re pale. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He looked at her, unsure of how much he wanted to admit and deciding not too much. “I don’t know anything about kids. How am I going to take care of them without Rosa?”

“Hire someone.”

“Who?” he asked, unsure of who he could trust or depend on to do right by the kids.

“How about Rosa’s daughter?”

“Sara has to go back to Rice University on Monday morning. She’s got a test or something.”

“I could come and help with the kids,” she said, “at least for a month or so.”

“I’ll be okay,” he said, hoping he could convince her, even if he couldn’t convince himself. He glanced at the phone in the kitchen. Maybe he should call the airline and find an early-morning flight back to Texas.

“Why don’t you let me come help?”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why not? You need help. I’m available for about six weeks, just long enough for Rosa to recover from her surgery.”

Her offer was appealing, even though he was hesitant to risk having her find out he wasn’t good at dealing with kids, that Kayla was angry at him most of the time. Still, he needed help. And he wasn’t sure where to find someone he could trust.

Shoot, having a doctor to watch over Kayla and Sam would be a godsend. They’d never get hurt or sick. Or if they did, she’d cure them in a heartbeat. Pride battled his desire to see the kids in good hands.

His reluctance to accept her help still hovered around him. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I owe you one, now.” A smile dimpled her cheeks, and her caramel-brown eyes glimmered. “I was dreading this evening more than you’ll ever know, and you helped me through it.” She stood. “I can’t fly to Texas with you, because I have some things to take care of first. I’ll have to get the moving and storage people to come earlier than I’d planned.”

“And you’ll need to pour out all that liquor,” he said.

She smiled. “That, too. And besides, I’m going to drive. I’ll need my car in California.”

He swallowed hard. How long would he be alone with the kids? An hour sometimes seemed like forever. Could he manage without help for a day or two? “When do you think you’ll arrive?”

“By Thursday or Friday. Will that be all right?”

“Sure.” It would have to be. “No problem.”

Had he really agreed to have her come and help? To move in with him and the kids for a month or so? To be in such close proximity that she’d see how useless he was as a father? To have her learn that his cavalier attitude masked his shortcomings? He’d always made it a point not to let women get close enough to see his flaws, to find him lacking.

She pulled her foot from his hand, offering him a glimpse of her bare inner leg, the inside of her thigh that he’d wanted to touch, to stroke. Desire stirred, and he shifted his legs so she wouldn’t know.

But he knew, and it brought about a whole new worry.

He hadn’t had sex since he’d moved in with the kids. How was he going to handle the sexual attraction he felt, if she came to stay for a month or so?

Keeping a woman at a distance was hard to do once she’d shared a man’s bed. There was no way he could let himself get involved with Dr. Maggie Templeton. Not sexually.

She stood. “Why don’t I show you to the guest room. Since you need to wake up early, you’ll probably want to get some sleep.”

He nodded, although he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.

Or any of the nights to follow.




Chapter Three


Maggie turned off the highway at Winchester, the small Texas town that neighbored Buckaroo Ranch.

Winchester hadn’t changed much in fifteen years. A streetlight had been erected on the corner of Main and Second, and Roy’s Grocery was now the Main Street Market. Other than that, everything looked much the same.

She turned right at Avery’s Feed Store and followed the old county road south, passing cattle grazing in green pastures. She and her stepfather had driven along this same road many times, and he never failed to complain about the money her paternal grandmother had paid for Maggie’s summers at Buckaroo Ranch.

Why doesn’t that old lady just give us the cash? You’d rather stay cooped up in your bedroom reading, anyway. Sending a lazy kid like you to a fancy camp is a waste of money.

Maggie had never responded to her stepdad’s tirades, mostly because he wouldn’t have put up with her arguments, but also because there was more to her grandmother’s offer than he knew.

Crippling arthritis had confined Gram to a convalescent home at the age of sixty-three, so the only escape from a dysfunctional home she could offer her granddaughter was three summers at Buckaroo Ranch.

The last, five-mile stretch passed quickly, and Maggie soon drove under the Ponderosa-style signpost that bore the name of the posh dude ranch Jake now owned.

Since this wasn’t Sunday, the beginning of a Buckaroo week, there was no sign of the buckboards that carried guests and luggage from the parking lot to the plush cabins in which they would reside.

In the past, Rascal, the one-eyed cattle dog, had run beside the wagons, greeting those arriving with a bark and a wag of his stumpy tail, but he’d been an old dog then. With Sharon gone and Jake undoubtedly busy with the responsibilities that were now his, there wouldn’t be a familiar face to welcome her to Buckaroo Ranch.

A pang of disappointment struck. As much as Maggie hated to admit it, she’d thought a lot about Jake in the past few days. Too much, in fact. She’d close her eyes and see the flirtatious glimmer in those intense blue eyes, feel the heat of his touch, relive the knee-weakening kiss.

She blew out a heavy sigh. She’d had enough psychology to know that her ex-husband’s rejection had triggered a need to feel loved and worthy again. The attraction she felt for the grown-up Jake was entirely out of line, and the sooner she got the sexually charged thoughts under control, the better.

Instead of freshening up after six hours on the road, she gave only a cursory glance in the rearview mirror. She and Jake were old friends, for goodness’ sake. There was no reason to primp.

Maggie grabbed her suitcase from the back seat, slipped the strap of her tote bag over a shoulder and shut the car door. She followed the shadow-dappled pathway that led to the house. Several of the outbuildings lay ahead—the hair salon and spa for those wanting more of a luxury vacation, the dining room where guests ate gourmet food while seated family style at long, wooden tables.

Nearing the house, she spotted an older man dressed in cowboy garb leading a mounted group along the riding trail that bordered the indoor arena. He looked a bit like Earl Iverson, the man who’d managed the ranch fifteen years ago, although grayer and much heavier.

She climbed the steps to the rustic front porch of Buckaroo Ranch, feeling as though she’d stepped into a time warp of Twilight Zone proportions. Everything seemed the same, yet eerily different.

For a moment, some of the old childhood insecurities crept back into the forefront of her mind.

Get a grip, she told herself. The gangly teen who had once perched awkwardly between woman and child no longer existed.

She lifted her hand to knock, but before her knuckles could rap on the carved-oak entry, the door swung open.

“Thank God, you’re here.” Jake took her bags, dropped them onto the floor and quickly swept her into his arms, accosting her with his scent of leather and musk.

Her heart did a swan dive, and her knees nearly gave out. But before she could react or speak, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the house.

They crossed the Spanish-tiled entry, the leather soles of his boots clicking, her tennis shoes squeaking. Maggie briefly scanned the spacious living room, where the adult guests of old had always gathered for the cocktail hour. Other than a new cream-colored sectional in the corner and a few toys scattered on the floor, the room looked the same.

When Jake led her into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but gasp.

A cyclone, it appeared, had swept through, causing major damage to the kitchen. Dirty dishes lined the counters and filled the sink, and splatters of food littered the walls and floor.

A towheaded toddler sat in a high chair, chocolate ice cream smeared across the tray like finger paint. The boy smiled in greeting, screeching and raising his spoon in a sticky fist.

“That’s Sam,” Jake said, nodding toward the messy little boy.

Sam offered a chocolaty smile, and Maggie couldn’t help but grin. Had she ever enjoyed ice cream with such barbaric abandon?

“And this is Kayla,” he added.

A little redheaded girl sat at the kitchen table, an open coloring book before her. She wore her curly hair loose and parted at the side, a red-and-black ladybug hair clip holding a large lock away from her face. Kermit-green eyes gazed at Maggie with wisdom beyond the little girl’s years. All signs of the mild to moderate cerebral palsy that plagued Kayla appeared to lay dormant.

Five years ago, shortly after Kayla’s birth, the pediatrician’s diagnosis had rattled Sharon. Maggie had offered as much long-distance counseling as she could, before referring her friend to national support groups and online resources.

Extending a hand to Sharon’s daughter, Maggie smiled warmly. “I’m glad to meet you, Kayla.”

The little girl accepted the greeting, but continued to peruse the adult she’d been introduced to.

Such a solemn expression for a pretty little girl. Maggie wanted to put the child at ease. “Kayla, you look a lot like your mother.”

Mentioning Sharon worked. The little girl smiled. “Thank you. Did you know my mommy?”

“I sure did. We were friends when we were kids.”

“Kayla,” Jake said. “This is Dr. Templeton. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

The girl, a pink crayon held in one hand like a scepter, furrowed an auburn brow. “You’re a doctor?”

Maggie, who’d worked hard to earn the distinguished title, didn’t expect friends to refer to her as such. “Why don’t you just call me Maggie?”

“Do you give shots?” Crayon still raised and brow still furrowed, the little girl nibbled on her bottom lip while awaiting Maggie’s reply.

“Only when absolutely necessary, but remember, I came to visit as a friend, not as a doctor.”

“Maggie’s going to help us until Rosa gets better,” Jake explained.

The task suddenly looked a bit overwhelming, and Maggie couldn’t help but scan the room again. Hadn’t he been cleaning up after each meal?

Her eyes settled on the chocolate-covered toddler in the high chair. She’d always encouraged parents to let children feed themselves, but she now wondered whether chocolate ice cream should be an exception.

Jake leaned against the counter, next to the sinkful of dirty dishes, and crossed his arms. He looked windblown, tussled. And too damn sexy for his own good. Her heart did a little flip-flop, and she had to remind herself of her resolve to keep things on a platonic keel.

“Boy, am I glad you came,” he said.

“I’ll bet you are. You definitely need reinforcements.” Maggie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and surveyed the kitchen again. “Should we draw straws to decide who’s going to tackle the cleanup?”

“We don’t have to decide that yet. I’ve still got some dishes left in the cupboard.” He laughed, then blew out a deep breath and nodded toward Sam. “I’m more concerned about cleaning up the little piglet. Would you mind helping?”

The poor kid was covered from the tips of his downy fine hair to the mismatched socks he wore. Apparently, Uncle Jake hadn’t taken time to put on his shoes. Or maybe they’d been lost in the clutter.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t arrived?” she asked.

He shot her one of those bad-boy grins. “Taken him out back and hosed him off, I guess.”

Maggie lifted a brow and scrutinized her handsome cowboy friend. “Are you kidding? You haven’t been hosing him down in the yard, have you?”

“No.” He laughed again. “I was joking, Maggie. Actually, I’ve been filling the tub with warm, soapy water and swishing him around.”

Uncle Jake was undoubtedly out of his element. The past few days must have been comical, and Maggie wished she could have witnessed them firsthand.

“Doctor,” Kayla said, her voice far more serious than that of her uncle. “Do you read stories to kids?”

Maggie smiled at the girl. “I haven’t had too many opportunities, but if you have some storybooks, I’d be happy to read to you.”

“Goodie,” Kayla said. “Because uncles don’t like to read.” Kayla shot an exasperated look at Jake, and Maggie realized it had been a bone of contention between the two.

She could certainly understand Kayla’s frustration. Kids loved to listen to stories. Parents who didn’t read to their children did them a huge disservice. Maybe she would have to work on Jake. Some people didn’t believe an old dog could learn new tricks, but she disagreed.

“I’ll just have to talk your uncle into reading you a story once in a while.” She slid him a sly smile.

And Jake did his damnedest to return a grin, even though he wanted to scoff and stomp outside. Kayla was always grumpy when he refused to read aloud.

“Reading to children is good for them,” Maggie added. “It helps them develop learning skills, not to mention a love of books.”

Jake didn’t doubt that for a minute. Heck, he felt like a real jerk whenever he told Kayla he didn’t have time to read or just plain didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was illiterate. He read just fine—quietly and to himself. But he still remembered the humiliation of stuttering over simple words when forced to perform in front of an audience: the snickers of kids who could read better than him, the way Mrs. Bridger cleared her throat and told him to start all over at the beginning of the passage.

His refusal to speak out loud in class served his pride well, but it also resulted in regular visits to the principal and hours of detention.

“Guess what,” Kayla said to Maggie. “I already know my letters and sounds. And I’m not even in kindergarten yet.”

His niece was smart; that was for darn sure. Rosa had tried to talk Jake into letting her start kindergarten this year, but he’d said no.

He’d told Rosa that Kayla needed time to get used to the other changes in her life, which was true. But he worried about sending her off to school, especially with her disability, and wanted to protect her for as long as he could. Next year, when she was six, would be soon enough.

“After I get your brother cleaned up and the kitchen scrubbed down,” Maggie said, “we can take time for a story or two.”

Kayla clapped her hands. “I’m glad you came to help us.”

Maggie slid Jake another teasing smile, one that suggested she intended to prod him until he took Sam and Kayla on his lap and read them a story each night before bedtime.

Before he could come up with a retort or change the subject, a shrill voice called from the entry.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Victoria Winston. Jake blew out a heavy breath. Not her. Not now.

“Jake, are you in the kitchen?” Victoria called.

Maggie raised her brows, asking, it seemed, for some kind of explanation, if not an introduction. But she’d figure it out soon enough.

“Yeah, Vickie. I’m in here.”

Maggie watched, as an attractive woman dressed in designer Western wear sauntered into the kitchen, filling the room with a heavy dose of Chanel No. 5. Expensive denim hugged her hips, and a low-cut blouse flaunted perky breasts no bra could contain.

The tall, leggy brunette must be one of the wealthy guests of the ranch, Maggie suspected. But the sexually charged smile she slipped Jake indicated she was more than a guest.

Maggie crossed her arms. The faded jeans and old sweatshirt she wore suddenly seemed blousy and oversized, and she wished she would have taken time to at least put on some lipstick.

The woman scrunched a makeup laden face at the mess, but when she spotted Maggie, her smile lit up like a Macy’s department store on Christmas Eve. “Oh! Looks like the baby-sitter finally arrived.”

The baby-sitter? Had Jake told the woman that Maggie was coming to look after the children? Had he implied she was hired help and not just a friend offering a favor?

Vickie scanned the length of Maggie, smiling as though she’d passed some kind of inspection. She winked at Jake, in a sly, foxy way. “You should have a lot more free time now.”

Maggie had a sudden urge to clobber them both, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Vickie, this is Dr. Templeton. She’s a pediatrician and an old friend.” Jake turned to Maggie. “This is one of our guests, Victoria Winston.”

Vickie didn’t seem to be the outdoor, dude ranch type. A high-class spa would seem to be her style. But her obvious attraction to Jake indicated she’d planned her vacation well.

It seemed this sly, female fox had a plan to capture a prize hound dog. It was an age-old game, and Maggie wondered whether Jake would take the bait.

Years ago, back when Maggie used to be a guest herself, one of the lady guests had made an obvious play for Jake’s uncle. Maggie had always figured the lonely woman had set her sights on sleeping with a real live cowboy and signed up for a stint at the dude ranch with that sole purpose in mind.

Back then, she’d thought it kind of funny. But there didn’t seem to be anything humorous about Vickie the vixen and her obvious attraction to the cowboy with his share of female conquests.

“Well, now,” Vickie said. “A nanny with a medical degree is just the kind of sitter I’d hire, if I were inclined to have a few rugrats of my own.”

Maggie doubted the woman would risk marring her body with stretch marks, let alone any of the other subtle differences brought on by childbirth. She seemed too showy, too self-absorbed, too groomed to perfection.

Vickie extended her arm, gold bangles clanging upon a sparkling tennis bracelet. “How do you do?”

Maggie took the proffered hand, noting the cool, silky texture and polished nails that boasted of regular manicures. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Jake, honey,” Vickie said, batting mascara-thickened lashes. “Now you can take me on one of those late-night rides that was advertised in the brochure. Last time I asked, you mentioned not having someone to look after the kids.” Tinted lips curled into a sly, take-me-to-bed smile.

The vixen turned to Maggie. “You work full-time, right? And the kiddies will be sleeping….”

Maggie shot a glance at Jake, wondering what he’d tell the busty, can’t-wait-to-get-naked-in-the-moonlight brunette.

“Rosa’s hospitalization has set me back. I’ve got a lot of things I need to do. I’m afraid the late-night ride is out of the question. Maybe next time.”

A cherry-red bottom lip pooched out in a little-rich-girl pout.

What would Jake have told the vixen had Rosa not been out on disability? Had Maggie not been witness to the woman’s blatant attempt to spend some late-night hours with the good-looking cowboy?

Sam squealed, then began to grunt and squirm out of the high chair.

“Would you mind watching the kids, Maggie?” Jake asked. “I need to talk to Vickie outside.”

“By all means.” Maggie feigned a smile as Jake and the vixen stepped out the back door.

Of all the… She’d meant to help Jake with the kids, make things easier on him, not so that he could find time to fraternize with the guests.

She grumbled while pulling out drawers until she found a dishcloth she could use to wash off at least some of the chocolate Sam wore like body paint, all the while mumbling under her breath.

At least she hadn’t thought she’d spoken aloud.

“Did you say something about reindeer?” Kayla asked.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder at the girl. “Reindeer? No.”

“But you said, ‘Vixen,’ and that’s one of Santa’s reindeer.”

Maggie couldn’t quell a wry grin from forming. “Yes, I suppose I did. That lady reminds me of a reindeer, the way she prances and dances around your uncle.”

Kayla laughed. “Does Uncle Jake remind you of Santa Claus?”

“Not really,” Maggie said. But she thought Victoria Winston was hoping to sit on Cowboy Claus’s lap and get her name on his naughty-girl list. “Kayla, it was rude of me to think about that, let alone say it out loud. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” the little girl said. “I don’t like her, either. She just walks in the house all the time, even when the other people are doing fun stuff like riding and swimming.”

That didn’t surprise Maggie. Victoria Winston had set her sights on good old Uncle Jake.

She wondered whether the hound dog would succumb to temptation.



Vickie sidled up to Jake as he escorted her outside and down the walk toward the barn.

He sidestepped her. “I’ve made it a point not to date or become involved with any of the guests at Buckaroo Ranch.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, closing the space he’d tried to put between them. “I’m not asking for any kind of commitment. Maybe just a visit or two to my cabin late at night, when the others are sound asleep. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

It was hard not to think about sex in front of Vickie. She all but wore a sign around her neck saying Ready, Willing and More Than Able. But shoot, he was a family man now. A role model, albeit a tarnished one.

“Oh,” she said, noticing something on Jake’s face and licking her finger. “What’s this? Looks like chocolate. I’ll get it off for you.” She rubbed the skin above his brow, then slipped an index finger into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around it and slowly pulling it out. “Mmm. Good.”

Her eyes told him she wanted to taste more than chocolate.

Was everything a sexual innuendo with the woman? Part of the fun of having sex was in the chase. Vickie didn’t let a guy get out of the starting blocks.

She gave him a kiss upon the forehead, right where the chocolate had supposedly been. “Think about it, honey. You won’t be sorry.”

He was sorry already. High-maintenance women like Vickie were a dime a dozen. He’d become adept at kindly brushing off their propositions, but he wasn’t used to dealing with them in front of his niece and Maggie.

Vickie was pushing his patience to the limit.

“What about the party on Friday? Surely you can find time for a dance.”

The hayride and barn dance were the highlight of a Buckaroo week. As long as Jake had committed to fulfilling the reservations his sister had made over a year ago, the weekly event would go on as planned.

“All right,” he told her. “One dance.”

But something told him that wouldn’t be enough for Victoria Winston.

Now if he could just get the woman to go back to her cabin or encourage her to have a facial. Maybe catch one of the sunset rides into the canyon. But he doubted that any of his suggestions would work and opted to bow out gracefully. “You’ll have to excuse me, Vickie. I’ve got to get things lined up inside. Then I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“Sure, Jake, I’ll excuse you. But don’t forget about the dance on Friday night.”

“No, I won’t forget.” Jake tipped his hat, then headed back to the house.

When he stepped inside the kitchen, Maggie was busy wiping Sam’s face and hands. She had her back to him and didn’t speak when he entered. Something told him that wasn’t a good thing.

Kayla, on the other hand, giggled out loud.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You got a big, red, reindeer kiss on your face.”




Chapter Four


A reindeer kiss?

Jake didn’t know where Kayla had come up with that, but he knew what she was talking about and quickly wiped where Vickie had left her mark.

Maggie, who had turned at Kayla’s reindeer comment, wore a weird smile, one that poked a teasing accusation at his conscience.

But what did he have to feel guilty about? It wasn’t his fault that Vickie was doing her best to stake an unwelcome claim on him. He couldn’t think of anything to say in his defense, so he didn’t utter a word and continued to wipe at the damn lipstick.

Maggie handed him a paper towel. “Don’t let us keep you from joining in the reindeer games.”

Kayla giggled, although he still wasn’t sure where the reindeer came in, since Christmas was three months away. But Kayla had a vivid imagination and was always several steps ahead of him. Apparently, Maggie was sharp enough to keep up with her.

“If you’re talking about the red-lipped reindeer,” he said, “I’m not interested in her games.”

Kayla and Maggie shot each other a conspiratorial glance, and Jake wondered whether he’d be able to keep up with either of them. “I’ve got chores to do. Are you two going to be okay?”

“Sure.” Maggie tossed Kayla a gentle smile. “We’ll be just fine without you.”

Jake had no doubt about that.

He studied Maggie as she stood near the high chair. She wore a yellow sweatshirt with a college logo and a pair of faded jeans. Caramel eyes that could lure a man to their depths glimmered, and hair the color of golden corn silk brushed her shoulders. She smiled in a playful way that made a guy want to step closer, to fill the gap between them. Full, unpainted lips begged to be kissed and promised not to leave lipstick smears all over a man’s face. Or anywhere else they might choose to touch.

His mind drifted to the kiss they’d shared in Boston. It hadn’t been much, as far as kisses went, just a sensual hint that blazed with passion. It had been a ploy, an act meant to imply he and Maggie were lovers. Jake had figured the kiss would surprise the sophisticated, scholarly types who had attended the hospital benefit. But it had surprised him more than anyone.

He hadn’t expected it to turn him every which way but loose, but it had. And he’d laughed it off, rather than allow himself to take it further, to see how Maggie would respond to a real kiss, one meant to entice her.

One meant to entice them both.

Jake shook off the urge to kiss her again, to take their attraction to a deeper level. Dr. Maggie Templeton, he reminded himself, was definitely off-limits, no matter how wholesome and kissable she looked. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“Sure,” Maggie said.

He had the strangest urge to grab her in his arms and kiss her, just to let her know that he found her far more attractive than the sex-starved ranch guest.

Instead, Jake left the house before he did something really stupid.



A full moon hovered over the darkened Texas countryside, as Maggie stood on the porch and leaned against the polished oak railing.

Kayla and Sam had finally drifted off to sleep, their tummies full of chicken noodle soup, sliced apples and grilled cheese sandwiches.

A light from the dining room, an outbuilding that also held a state-of-the-art kitchen, burned bright, indicating the guests were still in the throes of after-dinner conversation. She supposed she could have joined them for the evening meal, like Jake had suggested when he came in to check on the kids, but it was his place to be with the guests. And besides, she preferred to eat with the children.





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