Книга - Terms of a Texas Marriage

Terms of a Texas Marriage
Lauren Canan


When Shea Hardin weds Alec Morreston to save her family’s ranch, she swears the marriage will be in name only. But the suave billionaire wants her in his bed… and his proposition is dangerously tempting.Because of a two-hundred-year-old deed, modern Texas rancher Shea Hardin must wed wealthy landowner Alec Morreston to save her family home. She says yes—and swears this marriage will be in name only.But she underestimates him. One look at this suave billionaire and Shea knows staying out of Alec’s bed will be the toughest challenge of her life. His hungry lips and skilled touch may seal the deal—and her fate. Will he take her heart and her land? Or, on the brink of losing it all, will Shea gain everything…?







Shea sat on the edge of the bed as reality came slamming back.

Willing her pulse to steady, she took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to clear her head. Still giddy and a bit light-headed, her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through her hair. It had been close. Too close. His touch left her feeling badly in need of something more.

He hadn’t made love to her. She should be monumentally happy. Why, then, did she feel ridiculously disappointed?

She’d almost had sex with Alec Morreston.

Even worse, he hadn’t forced her. He hadn’t held her down or tied her to the bedposts. He’d kissed her. That was all. Apparently, that had been enough. She knew it. And worse, so did he.

The full impact of that realization flooded her mind. Alec Morreston was here to take away her ranch, her home, everything she held dear. She would do well to remember that. He was, inarguably, a very potent package with obvious experience to back that up.

She had to be strong.


Terms of a Texas Marriage

Lauren Canan




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


LAUREN CANAN, born and raised amid the cattle ranches of Texas, climbed a fence and jumped onto the back of her first horse at age three. She still maintains the punishment was worth the experience. She grew up listening to her dad tell stories of make-believe and was always encouraged to let her imagination soar. The multi-award-winning author and recipient of the 2014 Golden Heart


Award happily spends her days penning her favorite kind of stories: those of two people who, against all odds, meet, fall in love and live happily ever after—which is the way it should be. In her spare time she enjoys playing guitar, piano and dulcimer in acoustic club jams and getting lots of kisses and wags from her four-legged fuzzy babies. Visit Lauren’s website at laurencanan.com (http://laurencanan.com). She would love to hear from you!


I owe my love of telling stories to my dad.

Without his inspiration and encouragement, my journey to become an author would never have begun. This story was possible because of the love and support of my critique siblings, Angi, Jan, Jen and Kathleen, who were always there with a shoulder to cry on when I needed one. To the best literary agent in the world, Jill Marsal, who has the patience of a saint. To my dearest friend, Laurel, whose belief in me never wavered. And to Terry, my own real-life hero. He taught me the true meaning of love and happily ever after.


Contents

Cover (#u4f1053f0-7889-50a4-9492-ec28ac23b695)

Introduction (#ub2bd1f20-4b30-5a26-a181-11c2ad5f730a)

Title Page (#u8827eec5-bded-5ee8-930f-4338e44727f3)

About the Author (#uec7561b6-1649-51db-b877-b89290e8317f)

Dedication (#u0f107c28-b1cc-5e4a-9a22-886b5a98ae66)

One (#u9c78b242-b1ad-5d91-bcfb-3affdcfdc0d5)

Two (#u85e71771-45f6-5729-a9c2-96615bc28d89)

Three (#u4a4f6779-f86d-59a3-9c76-ec70873c4223)

Four (#u6299d834-7fdb-502f-8c3c-2eb0210517f8)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_97392404-cab9-5f33-a7cd-ac58824ca3fb)

Shea Hardin had to admit the man didn’t look like the devil. No horns sprouted up through Alec Morreston’s thick, expertly styled, mahogany-brown hair, although a few defiant tendrils fell lazily over his forehead. The wide mouth and well-defined lips, while appearing unrelenting, didn’t make it to a complete snarl. The near-perfect white teeth, seen briefly in the forced smile as introductions were made, didn’t include fangs. In fact, the sculpted features of his face had the potential to be exceedingly handsome, but the lack of any emotion other than cold indifference reduced that potential to tolerable. Just.

She’d sensed his glance several times since entering the conference room adjacent to her attorney’s office. She didn’t need to look in his direction to know he watched her, silently, recording his first impressions, probably sizing up her abilities, weighing her strengths, discreetly alert to any hint of weakness.

Feminine instinct told her his assessment wasn’t limited to her ability to handle this situation. He was also taking in every curve of her body, noting every breath she took, watching every move she made. It was a frank and candid assessment of her female attributes without any effort to conceal his interest. Intuition told her here was a man who knew what a woman needed and exactly how to provide it. His subtle arrogance was at once insulting and alluring.

She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry. Endeavoring not to appear affected by this man, she crossed her legs, shook the hair back from her face and fixed her eyes on the old pendulum wall clock. But in spite of her determination to ignore him, there was no denying the heat radiating throughout her body, inflaming her senses, fueling the unwanted need pooling in her lower belly.

Picking up a pencil, she scribbled furiously on the open notepad. She was reacting like a besotted teenager. How could she possibly feel any attraction whatsoever to this man? His chosen path in life was destroying the past; tearing down the treasured remains of bygone eras, replacing them with cold glass and steel fabrications. And this man wanted her ranch. The awareness of her body’s traitorous response both stunned and angered her.

She was not going to be intimidated—or enticed—by him or his attorney. The very reason they sat across from her should be enough to dispel any thoughts that Alec Morreston would ever be someone she’d want to know better.

“If everyone is ready, I suggest we begin,” said Ben Rucker, her attorney and longtime family friend. He switched on a small tape recorder sitting on the polished conference table amid the varying papers, notepads and legal documents.

“Today is April twenty-sixth. The purpose of this meeting is to address the issue of tenancy concerning the home and land currently occupied by Shea Hardin. In attendance are Alec Morreston, owner of the property, his attorney, Thomas Long, Shea Hardin and myself, Ben Rucker, legal counsel for Ms. Hardin.”

Shea smiled at Ben. His tired but astute gray eyes reflected his concern over the situation. He’d practiced law for almost forty years, and she had complete confidence in his abilities, as her father had before her.

“At the turn of the nineteenth century, five thousand one hundred and twenty acres of land running along the western boundary and into what is now the National Forest and Grassland Reserve in Calico County, Texas, were acquired by William Alec Morreston. Later that year, he transferred the entire parcel to a widow, Mary Josephine Hardin. Since that time, descendants of Mary Hardin have continued to live on the land, today licensed as the Bar H Ranch.”

Ben reached for his glasses, placed them on his nose and picked up his copy of the original paperwork.

“Rather than a purchase, this transfer of land was handled in a manner similar to what we today call a lease.” He glanced over the top of his glasses. “I believe you each have a copy of the original paperwork?” When everyone nodded, he continued. “You’ll note the duration was ninety-nine years with a renewal option.

“The first lease term was renewed by Cyrus Hardin, Shea’s great-grandfather. The second term, currently in effect, is due to expire at the end of this month—in five days, to be precise. Ms. Hardin would like to retain possession of the property. Mr. Morreston has indicated a desire to reclaim it for his own use. This can be achieved only if Ms. Hardin has not, or does not meet all of the renewal requirements by the end of the month.”

Shea glanced at Alec Morreston and once again encountered the full intensity of his gaze. A powerful energy emanated from him, the full force of it focused directly on her. She swallowed hard and looked away, ignoring the increasing tempo of her pulse.

“We didn’t inspect the house and outbuildings,” Mr. Long advised without preamble. “But we are satisfied that everything appears in satisfactory condition. We concede all stipulations relating to the condition of the property have been met.”

Shea closed her eyes as relief washed over her. Reaching out to Ben, she squeezed his arm and then looked at Mr. Long and Alec Morreston. So grateful they’d been honest in their findings, she even managed to send a stiff smile of thanks in his direction. He hesitantly tipped his head as if to say you’re welcome, but she couldn’t help but notice the raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk in the hard lines of his face, almost as if he knew something she didn’t.

Shea returned her attention to Ben. He wasn’t smiling, and didn’t appear to share in her feeling of relief. No one switched off the tape recorder. No one stood up. It was as though a silent warning had begun to flash in a quickly ascending elevator, indicating the bottom was about to drop out.

“In addition to the condition of the property,” Ben said, still not meeting her glance. “Apparently the ancestors of Ms. Hardin and Mr. Morreston believed it necessary to add what I would describe as a personal clause.”

“Personal clause?” Frowning, Shea began to page through her copy of the old, handwritten document.

“On page four, about two-thirds down the page.” Ben removed his glasses and put down the paper as if he could recall the words from memory. His voice was quiet, his manner unusually gentle. “It states in addition to the actual upkeep, if the renewal of the lease is awarded to a woman, she must be legally wed by or before the expiration of the lease.”

Her head snapped up, staring at Ben’s face.

“What?” Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She frowned, not understanding or wanting to believe the implications of what she’d just heard.

“It further states—” Ben again donned the thick glasses and raised his chin, a motion that enabled him to use the lower, bi-focal portion of the lenses. “‘If the female lessee has no husband or betrothed, the oldest adult male, unmarried, in the Morreston family will be joined to her in matrimony, legally and spiritually, and they shall live as husband and wife for a period of not less than one year to ensure her protection against any and all perils, assist her with all ranching endeavors and ensure she is given fair and equal consideration.

“‘The failure of either party to meet these terms will result in the forfeiture of the property to the other. If a marriage does occur between the principal parties, such marriage can be terminated at the end of one year, and at such time the land will go to the Hardin family for another ninety-nine-year duration.’”

He sat back in his chair and tossed the documents onto the tabletop. “You gotta love the Morreston family chivalry.”

Silence momentarily filled the small room.

“For what it’s worth, Shea,” Ben said, “I’d guess the families were very close, and this was their way of ensuring the safety of any woman who might be single and head of household when the lease expired. As you know, it used to be a man’s world and a woman by herself didn’t have much of a chance. The one year marriage provision was probably intended to ensure she had full support with the ranch. If either didn’t want to stay married after that, they wouldn’t be required to do so. Ironically—” his eyes narrowed as he looked at Alec Morreston “—the clause was probably intended to protect any female of the Hardin family from the crooks who might try and take advantage of her.”

The only reaction from Alec Morreston was a deepening of the tiny lines around his eyes, a silent indication he found amusement in Ben’s assessment.

“But...” Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on the table for support and rubbed her fingers against her temple, willing her brain to click back into gear. “You’re saying...You’re telling me the lease can’t be renewed because I’m a single woman?”

“If I may,” Thomas Long interjected. “What it means, Ms. Hardin, in the simplest terms, is that in order for you to renew the lease you must currently be married or you must agree to marry Alec within the next five days and remain married for at least one year. If you don’t agree, the lease cancels. If Alec does not agree to such a marriage, should you choose that option, the lease will be renewed.”

For a few moments, speech was impossible. Her eyes remained fixed on Mr. Long as her mind tried to make some sense out of his words. She was stupefied.

“You’ve got to be kidding. This is a sick joke. It’s archaic.” Although attempting to remain calm, her resolve was quickly slipping away. “This kind of thing isn’t legal.” She looked at Ben, who sat quietly, tapping his pencil on the tabletop. “Is it?”

Ben hesitated for a few seconds as if trying to formulate his answer. “As far as I’ve been able to determine, the owner of the property could place any clause, requirement or restriction in the lease that he wished within the existing laws of the time. If the lessee agreed, it became a binding agreement. As to the question of whether it’s binding by today’s laws, it may very well not be.”

Hope flared within her.

“But the problem is, if we sue to have that clause stricken, the courts could declare the entire contract null and void, in which case Mr. Morreston is under absolutely no obligation to renew the lease. And, if the courts didn’t find the clause unlawful, by the time they handed down their decision, the deadline would be past. Either way...” Ben made a small gesture with his hands, his palms turned upward, indicating the hopelessness of the situation.

Shea sat back in her chair and stared out the large picture window. How could such a beautiful spring day suddenly turn so bleak and ugly? She trained her eyes squarely on Alec Morreston.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice deep and throaty. “Thomas caught it and advised me a couple of months ago. You might want to ask your attorney why he didn’t see fit to inform you. Since he was obviously aware of your single marital status, it might have saved all of us a lot of time.”

Her glance swung to Ben, who shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I thought Mr. Morreston would view the outlandish clause for what it is. It never occurred to me he’d use it to his advantage to try and reclaim possession of the land.”

“I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “I don’t believe any of this. Are you all trying to tell me I’ve got to take this...insanity seriously? That I’m going to lose my home, my ranch, everything my father and his father before that worked for, because I’m not married and won’t marry him?”

The tone in her voice clearly painted the “him” as something disgusting and vile—which, at that moment, was spot-on. In spite of his sexual charisma, her conscious mind told her Alec Morreston was nothing more than a cold-blooded opportunist. And as far as this...lease...how could anyone in his right mind possibly make up such a stipulation?

“Your loss was taken into consideration, Ms. Hardin.” Alec pointedly ignored her outburst. His composed voice resonated through the thick silence that had temporarily blanketed the small room. “I’m willing to provide reimbursement for the structures on the property, including the house, as well as compensate for one year’s ranch income. And, of course, the proceeds from the sale of your livestock and equipment will be yours, provided you choose to sell rather than relocate.”

Shea glared at him, afraid to speak for fear it would release the torrent of fury welling up inside her. Comparing this man to the devil had been much too kind.

“In addition,” Morreston continued, “I’m willing to provide adequate time for you to find another residence. We understand the relocation process will take longer than the standard sixty days.”

“Alec is making a most generous offer, Ms. Hardin,” added Thomas Long, as though he felt compelled to point that out.

Ignoring the attorney, she focused directly on the source of this insanity, on the devil incarnate. Sitting casually back in his chair, he appeared relaxed and completely indifferent to what amounted to the end of life as she knew it. Her basic principles, her education, her future dreams, pride in her family—all of it rested within the boundaries of the ranch. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be without it.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was firm and unwavering, but her heart pounded and her stomach tied itself into knots.

“It’s nothing personal, Ms. Hardin.” He tipped his head to one side as his eyes roamed over her face. “It’s just business.”

“Oh, really?” she challenged. “That’s what you call it? Destroying a person’s life is ‘just business?’” She shook her head in amazement. “You must think you’ll make a small fortune on this deal.”

“That’s always a possibility,” he admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“I’m curious. What’s it going to be? A dude ranch for your city friends or cheap housing that will fall apart in ten years?”

“I don’t think Alec’s future plans for the land need discussion at this—”

“It’s good land in a prime location,” Alec answered her, interrupting his attorney. “And the time for its development has come.” His eyes never left her face, his tone hard and unemotional.

She couldn’t help but speculate if they would have been having this meeting if her dad were still alive. But common sense told her Morreston wanted the land and would have found other reasons to decline the renewal. This little “personal clause” was convenient and tailor-made to suit his purposes.

“You could omit the clause and renew the lease.”

“I could,” he admitted openly. “But I won’t.”

Silently she studied the hard, chiseled features of his face.

“Then there is no more to say, is there?” Standing, she gathered her papers and slipped them into the manila folder. She wouldn’t grovel before any man, especially some arrogant stranger from New York, particularly when she knew it would do no good. Her hands were trembling due to shock, but she refused to let these contemptuous strangers see any weakness.

“Ben.” She pressed her lips together to cover the trembling. “I assume you’ll be in touch about what needs to be done?”

On seeing his nod, she gave a tight smile and walked out of the room. Somehow, she cleared the outside door without slamming it. Only when she reached the sidewalk did her vision blur with unshed tears of anger and frustration. Seven months ago, she’d buried her father. And now, in the space of less than an hour, she’d learned she was losing her home.

She swallowed back the overwhelming sense of panic. The ranch was her haven, her security. It was her past as well as her future. Her father had entrusted it to her care and she’d promised him in his final moments that his efforts—and the efforts of all the Hardins before them—would not be in vain.

She was the last, the only one remaining, who could carry the Hardin legacy into tomorrow. Two hundred years of struggle and sacrifice, of unwavering strength, bravery and determination by her forefathers to fashion a better life from this small piece of earth, and now, the future rested squarely on her shoulders. The weight of it was staggering.

Slipping behind the wheel of her old Chevy pickup, Shea tried recalling elements of the discussion. Even though Ben had conducted the meeting, she knew Alec Morreston had carefully orchestrated and controlled the entire presentation. Right down to her walking out of the room. The deliberate downplay of some factors of the contract, the strong focus on others. He was good. She had to give him that.

But there was one thing she’d bet Morreston hadn’t taken into account. Her father had always said she was an obstinate, hardheaded female who never knew when to admit defeat. She had no intention of admitting failure so easily and giving in to that arrogant, money-grubbing son-of-a-bitch.

Maybe she would lose her home. But maybe she wouldn’t.

Ben had said she must be married before the contract expired. He hadn’t said she must be married to Alec Morreston, as his attorney had implied. Somewhere out there was a man who would agree to marry her for one year as a strictly business arrangement. She was going to find him.

She squared her shoulders with renewed conviction and started the truck. There was a lot to do and a very short time in which to do it.

* * *

Alec and Thomas gathered their respective documents and prepared to leave Ben Rucker’s office. Ms. Hardin’s abrupt exit from the meeting, while anticipated, had ended any further need for discussion.

Alec had to admit, he was impressed with Shea Hardin. She was not at all what he’d expected. In her midtwenties, she presented herself as having the maturity of someone much older. Even though this must have been devastating to her, she hadn’t shouted or cried or otherwise made a scene as so many others in her position might have done. She’d been upset, but that was understandable. Her parting words, quietly spoken to her attorney just before she’d left the room, indicated acceptance of the situation and what was to come.

But had she really given up? His success in business was due in large part to following his gut instincts. Rarely in his thirty-six years had those instincts let him down. Right now they were screaming that Shea Hardin had done anything but admit defeat.

From the top of the silky blond hair that fell in tousled disarray around her head to the tight jeans hugging her slim waist, then molding her sexy, feminine curves and long, slender legs, she was trouble with a capital T. If you added the delicate, almost angelic features of her face and the wide-eyed innocence of those amazing blue eyes, you had the makings of one hell of a problem. Shea Hardin would have no difficulty finding and persuading some spineless, misguided male to marry her for a year. She had five days to do it. And if she succeeded, he could kiss this project goodbye.

Alec regretted it had to be this way: that this young woman had to be forced out of her home. He’d experienced an uncomfortable twinge of regret even before her attorney had informed her of the hopelessness of her situation.

With a grimace, he tossed the last manila folder into his briefcase and closed it. Regret hadn’t been the only thing he’d felt. He couldn’t remember his libido ever reacting with the speed and intensity it had to Shea Hardin. A flash of insight told him sex with her would be hot and intense, mind-blowing in its fervor. Illogical anger flared at the idea of her marrying another man, lying in his bed. He shook his head to dispel the irrational notion. Under the circumstances, he’d be the last person on earth she’d ever let come near her.

As he snapped the locks on his briefcase closed, the idea ran through his mind that he should find her, apologize for this seizure of the land and...what?

He wasn’t backing away from this venture. He couldn’t. Too much time and money already had been invested. So, what good would it do to apologize? She would soon be out of a home, and no apology would change that fact.

As they walked out of the building and toward the parking lot, Alec couldn’t shake the idea that he shouldn’t be leaving just yet. And if he was honest, he didn’t know if it was concern about the land issue or a ridiculously illogical reluctance to walk away from Shea Hardin.

“Thomas,” he said as they reached the car, “drop me off at the local car-rental agency, then drive back into Dallas, to Dallas-Fort Worth International, and go on to Boston. Meet with Rolston in the morning and finalize the plans for construction of his new hotel. You know what we need. Get the contracts signed, and I’ll see you back in New York in a couple of days.”

“You’re staying here?” Thomas’s brows rose in surprise. “You really think that’s necessary?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling Ms. Hardin is not going to give in this easily.”

“Well, keep me posted.” Thomas opened the car door and tossed his suit coat inside. “Alec, don’t start feeling bad about this woman’s situation. You’ve offered her a lot of money that you didn’t have to and you’ve given her virtually all the time she needs to relocate. Hell, it’s your land.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Alec nodded his head. “We’re on the same page. I should be here only a couple of days. I’ll call tonight and check on Scotty. Mom had the zoo scheduled for today. I have a feeling by now she should be about ready to go home.”

“Your mother is keeping your son?”

Alec nodded. “Ms. Bishop quit. And after just two weeks, her replacement was already looking a bit frazzled.” Alec shrugged. “Mother offered to come and stay with him. I flew her in from St. Petersburg just before we left to come here.”

Thomas chuckled. “That boy is four going on twenty-four.”

Alec smiled. “Don’t I know it.”

After arranging for a car, Alec eased the large sedan into the lane of traffic heading north. He should be on his way to Boston or back to New York. Instead, he was stuck in a rural north Texas town full of coyotes and cowboys, boots and brawls, dirt roads and bumper stickers proclaiming the South would rise again. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t want to be here. But he had to protect his right to this land. If it hadn’t been mentioned in the reading of his grandfather’s will, he wouldn’t have known of its existence. Now that he knew, he wasn’t about to let it slip through his hands.

The logical thing to do was to bring in a couple of his staff to keep an eye on things. But before the idea could begin to formulate, Shea Hardin’s face drifted into his mind, and he squelched the plan before it had a chance to develop.

* * *

“Thanks for coming over, Leona.” Shea pushed the screen door farther open, welcoming her neighbor onto the wide enclosed porch at the rear of the house. “I really do need your help.”

Three days had passed since the meeting in Ben’s office and Shea still hadn’t come up with a solid plan to save the ranch.

“Are you all right?” Leona squinted and gave Shea a cursory inspection. “You sounded terrible on the phone. Kinda scared me. I was afraid you’d gotten kicked by that damn stallion again.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled at the older woman. “At least physically. Come on in and I’ll fix us both a glass of tea.”

Leona Finch was the closest thing to a mother figure Shea had since her own mom died when she was five. Shea loved Leona dearly. In her midsixties, the sun-browned features of her face bore the wrinkles of a lifetime spent on a working ranch. Her speech was as rough as her skin. But she was sensitive, perceptive and in spite of her limited education, profoundly wise.

“So, if you’re not hurt, what’s the deal?” Leona walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table as Shea filled two glasses with ice.

She poured the freshly brewed tea and added a sprig of mint. Setting the glasses on the table, she took a seat across from Leona.

“I’ve...I’ve got a problem,” she began. “A big one.”

“Well, hell.” Leona took a sip of the tea and sat back in the chair. “There ain’t a problem that can’t be fixed. You tell me what’s got you so upset, and then we’ll figure out how to put it right.”

Shea gave her friend a strained smile. She was glad to have Leona on her side. She needed to hear a few of her unceasingly positive assurances that things would work out.

“I’m not sure exactly where to begin. Three days ago I was called to a meeting in Ben’s office. It’s so bizarre...” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Shea looked into her friend’s face.

“It seems I’ve got to find a husband,” she told Leona straight out. “And I have less than two days left to do it.”


Two (#ulink_907021af-8c32-5377-8457-4e227ec31854)

“You’ve got to do what?” Leona leaned forward and Shea saw her eyes narrow as she searched for any sign of a joke.

Shea took a steadying sip of tea. “If I don’t get married by the last day of this month, I’ll lose the ranch.”

“Says who?” Leona’s tone was guarded.

Shea recounted the highlights of the meeting in Ben Rucker’s office three days earlier. She still had a hard time believing it herself.

“I have no intention of just walking away from everything I love and everything Dad worked so hard to accomplish.” Her finger made circles in the condensation forming on the frosted glass. “I’ve spent the last three days on the phone trying to track down some of my friends from college. The ones I did manage to locate are married or involved with someone. Between the years I was away at school and then Dad’s illness, I’ve lost touch with most of the people I knew in high school.”

There had been two loves in her life. The first had been a high school crush who was now married with two kids. She’d met the other, David Rollins, her second year in college. For a while, they had been inseparable and even had talked about marriage. But eventually they both had realized they wanted different things in life. David’s plans hadn’t included living on a ranch in north Texas. Shea hadn’t been able to see herself living anywhere else. She’d tried desperately to reach David, but without any luck. A few of her friends had heard he was living back East, but no one knew exactly where. Some had offered to make calls to try to reach him, but so far he hadn’t called.

She pulled a legal pad from under some WesternHorsemen magazines that lay on the table. “I’ve made a list of a few possibilities, but—” she shook her head in frustration as she passed the pad to Leona “—it’s been a long time.”

Leona took the list and set it aside, her eyes locked on Shea’s face. “You’re not seriously thinking about asking some man to marry you.” It was more a statement than a question.

She shrugged. “What else can I do?”

“Do you have even the slightest idea what you’d be letting yourself in for?”

“It will be a business agreement, strictly platonic.”

“Yeah, sure it will,” Leona muttered, rubbing her hand over her face. “God Almighty. This is the damnedest situation I’ve ever heard of.”

Leona picked up the list, gave her a weary look and began to scan the names. “Tommy Hall. Are his parents John and Grace?”

“Yeah.” Shea nodded.

“He got married two weeks ago. One of our hands was his best man.” Leona picked up a pen and crossed off his name.

“Duncan Adams. Drinks,” she recalled. “A lot. You don’t need that grief. Cecil Taylor? I hear he loses more than he makes on the horses over in Bossier City. Unless you’re willing to bankroll his gambling, you can scratch him off the list.”

One by one, Leona crossed off each man until, of the fourteen names, only one remained.

“What about Tim Schultz?” Shea asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Leona looked at the last name on the list. “Maybe. Isn’t his father the preacher over at that little church east of town?” She frowned in contemplation. “I’ve never heard nothing bad about him. Kinda quiet. ’Bout your age, right?”

“Yeah,” Shea confirmed. “His family only moved to this area a few years ago, but I had some classes with him in college. He’s nice enough, I guess.”

“So, how do you plan to approach him with this little plan of yours?” Leona laid the pen and pad on the table. “You gonna just walk up to him and say, ‘Howdy. Will you marry me for a year? Oh, and by the way, it’s strictly business.’ I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall when you throw that little tidbit in his direction.”

“I’ll explain the circumstances, of course.” She hadn’t rationalized this part of the plan, but obviously it would be necessary. “I’ll have to.”

“Girl, use your head. Maybe if you talked to that Morreston fellow again—”

“No.” Sitting back in her chair, Shea crossed her arms in front of her. Alec Morreston. The mere mention of his name caused a hot blush to spread over her neck and face. The look of male want in his eyes was still vivid in her mind. She’d never experienced anything like it, but even after three days, she knew she hadn’t imagined it. And neither had she imagined his cold insensitivity to the havoc he’d caused in her life. She resolutely shook her head. “I can promise you, it would do no good. He’s a developer. He lives in New York, probably in some posh penthouse. He doesn’t care about the land. He doesn’t care about anything but making more money. Probably never got his hands dirty in his life.”

“What if you turned the tables on him?” Leona asked, taking another long drink of her tea.

Shea frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, Ben told you, according to that contract, if you weren’t married by the end of the month, Morreston had to marry you or agree to renew the lease. Right?”

Shea nodded, suddenly afraid of where this was going.

“So tell him you want to marry him.”

Shea could only gape in horror.

“Put the problem back on his plate,” Leona reasoned. “Think about it. He’s a city fellow. He’s not going to agree to marry you and live on this ranch. He thinks he’s got you bluffed into doing just exactly what you’re doing—refusing to use him as a way out.”

Shea stubbornly shook her head. “No way, Leona.” The idea was beyond bizarre. “Absolutely no way.” She still had forty-eight hours.

“I sure wish your father was still alive,” Leona muttered.

“So do I, Leona,” Shea whispered as she stood and walked to the phone to call Tim Schultz. “So do I.”

* * *

Shea sipped from the glass of ice water and tried to remain calm. Tonight, before midnight, she had to be married. Tim had finally returned her call this morning. No doubt sensing the urgency in her tone, he’d agreed to meet her at Barstall’s City Diner at one o’clock. He was late.

What was she going to say? All the rehearsing in the world couldn’t prepare her for what she had to discuss with him. How would he respond? Would he laugh? Would he just walk out? Or, most important, would he agree to do it?

Before leaving yesterday, Leona once more had encouraged her to call Morreston’s bluff. But Shea had held firm in her conviction that nothing on earth would make her so desperate to even contemplate such a thing. Heaven help the poor female coerced into marriage with that man.

Instinctively she knew Alec Morreston would be demanding, in bed as well as out. Even if the situation were different, a brief affair with a man like Morreston would take more from her than she could give. She suspected such a liaison would turn into an emotional roller coaster, and that was the last thing she needed in her life.

But it was a moot point. Morreston was long gone. It had taken him fewer than two hours to invade her world and turn it completely upside down. Then he had left, not even bothering to look back as she desperately tried to pick up the pieces from the devastation he’d caused. No doubt, he assumed she would just relinquish her home and quietly disappear. Well, he was in for a surprise—

“Hello, Ms. Hardin.” Shea jumped at the sound of the deep voice directly to her left. Her head snapped around and her eyes immediately grew wide in astonishment. She could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared into the amber eyes of Alec Morreston.

“May I join you?”

Before she could respond, he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. As his eyes scanned her face, his lips twitched with unrepressed humor at her stunned look. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak.

“What...what are you doing here?” she stammered, finally finding her voice.

“I’m about to have lunch,” he said innocently, as though misunderstanding the true meaning of her question.

Shea glared at him.

Alec shrugged. “I decided to take a few days and see some of the area. Thought it might be...beneficial...to the future development of the project.” He responded as if choosing his words carefully. “Have you ordered yet?”

“Have I...? No.” She shook her head. “No. I’m meeting someone.” She looked toward the front entrance, no longer sure she’d be glad to see Tim walk through it.

Alec regarded her silently for a moment. “I see. Well, then I’ll certainly move to another table as soon as she—or he?—arrives.”

If Shea had been nervous before Morreston’s unexpected arrival, that feeling was mild compared to what she was experiencing now. Suddenly, she could relate to every mouse ever caught in a trap that had looked up to find the cat walking in its direction. How on earth was she ever going to present her problem to Tim with Morreston hanging over her shoulder?

“The roasted chicken sounds good,” he commented, scanning the lunch specials. “What do you recommend?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that.”

He glanced at her face over the top of the menu and feigned surprise. But the deepening of the tiny lines around his eyes told her he found her remark amusing.

Before she could deliberate on this newest chapter of the nightmare, another voice beckoned her.

“Um...excuse me. Shea?” Tim Schultz smiled his apology. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Tim!” She smiled nervously. “That’s okay.”

She looked back to Morreston, hoping against hope he would just silently disappear. Apparently, that was not going to be the case. Politeness demanded she make introductions.

“Tim, this is Alec Morreston...Tim Schultz.”

Alec stood as the two men shook hands. Over six feet in height, he easily towered over the younger man by several inches while his broad shoulders and lean waist hinted at a muscular, athletic build that made Tim appear almost adolescent in comparison. His reddish-blond hair and fair complexion seemed pale, almost sickly, as opposed to Morreston’s dark features.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Alec said, a grin tugging at the corners of his well-defined mouth, “I’m sure you two have a great deal to discuss. I certainly don’t want to interrupt.”

“Would you care to join us?” Tim asked, unaware of the situation.

“No!” Shea almost shrieked. Both men looked at her—one with curiosity, the other with increasing amusement.

“Thanks, Tim,” Alec said, and Shea’s heart all but stopped. “But I think Shea wants to speak privately with you. Maybe another time?”

He knows. He knows exactly why I’m having lunch with Tim Schultz. And apparently, he found the situation extremely amusing. That infamous smirk was firmly in place.

“You knew I was here, didn’t you?” It was no coincidence Alec Morreston just happened to show up at the exact time she was meeting with Tim, even if it was the lunch hour and this was the only decent restaurant in town. When he didn’t immediately respond, she added, “How?”

“I believe his name is Hank. Your ranch foreman? He said you might be having lunch here today.”

Alec moved away from their table, giving her a quick wink as if to seal the private joke between them. She immediately turned away, biting back the angry retort that sprang to her lips. Ignore him, she told herself. Just be thankful to be rid of him.

But before she could enjoy a second of relief, to her utter dismay, Morreston pulled out a chair at a table next to them. In that location he’d be able to hear every word they said. Something akin to panic formed in her stomach.

“So,” Tim began as he took the seat Alec had occupied. “How are you, Shea? Haven’t seen you in what—three years? I was surprised to get your call. What’s going on?”

She forced a smile and reached for the glass of ice water, needing something to steady her nerves. Her hand shook slightly, and a small amount of water spilled onto the table. As she fought to find the right words, her gaze wavered, and she found herself looking directly into the mocking face of Alec Morreston.

“Shea?”

She heard Tim’s voice, but her gaze was captured by amber eyes.

“Shea? Is something wrong?”

* * *

She couldn’t suppress the overwhelming desire to slam something as she stomped out of the restaurant. She was furious. No, she mentally corrected herself. She was beyond furious. She wanted to kill something. She wanted to kill Alec Morreston.

Each time she’d broached the subject of her meeting with Tim, Morreston had cleared his throat or apologetically interrupted to ask Tim a question or made some asinine comment. Between his little interruptions, he’d sat back in his chair and stared, never taking his eyes off her, exactly as he’d done that first day in Ben’s office. That knowing smirk had remained etched on his lips, his tawny eyes alert to every movement she’d made, every breath she’d taken. For almost an hour, he’d made her feel like a bug under a microscope.

About the time she’d started to ask Tim if he would walk her to the truck, Morreston had folded his napkin, placed it on the table and leaned toward her lunch date to strike up a conversation. If they’d tried to leave, she’d known Morreston would have followed. Pleading a headache, she’d excused herself and asked Tim if she could call him later.

Now apprehension increased with each step as she made her way to her vehicle. Her time was almost up. It was down to a few short hours before she would lose the home she loved forever. She’d almost been tempted to stand in the center of the restaurant, loudly declare her problem and ask if there were any takers. If she didn’t come up with a plan very soon, it just might come to that.

As she drove toward the parking lot exit, the front doors of the restaurant swung open and out walked Morreston—with Tim at his side. Seemingly engaged in light banter, only Morreston noticed her as she passed. He tipped his head to her in silent acknowledgment. She clutched the steering wheel in a death grip. Her hands itched to slap that arrogant smirk from his face once and for all. In the rearview mirror, she saw him turn to Tim, nod and laugh.

In that moment, she knew she never would have a second chance to speak with Tim. Morreston would see to it. That was why he was here. He knew what she was attempting to do, and he was determined to see her fail. The devil had just sprouted horns.

In the same instant, she also knew she’d reached the limit of her patience with the man and this bizarre situation. She slammed on the brakes and, without pausing to give her actions a second consideration, threw the truck into Reverse. It quickly roared backward before grinding to a halt directly in front of the two men. Their conversation immediately stopped and they both peered at her with curiosity.

She rolled down the window, a phony smile pasted to her lips. Alec watched her with guarded interest.

“Sorry to interrupt you gentlemen. But, Alec—?” She used his given name, implying a familiarity that was not there and never would be if she had anything to say about it. She gave him a look of pure innocence.

“You know, I’ve had a chance to think about our meeting earlier in the week. About the little problem we discussed?”

She had his attention.

“And, well, I think your attorney was right when he pointed out your family’s unwavering concern that a single, unmarried woman can’t possibly run a ranch...all by herself.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice. Her tone was venomous.

Tim looked from one of them to the other, as if struggling to understand any part of their conversation.

“Since Mr. Long was so kind as to explain my alternatives and well...since you’ve gone to all the trouble to stay here in case I needed you, and in light of all the care and understanding you’ve shown, I think you’re absolutely right.” She looked directly into the golden depths of his eyes, an effort that challenged her sanity. “I will marry you, Alec. Under the circumstances, how can I possibly refuse?”

Only Alec comprehended the true meaning of her words. His head drew back, his eyes narrowed and her phony smile almost became genuine as she saw the flare of annoyance in those chiseled features.

“If you’ll meet me at Ben Rucker’s office in, oh, about an hour? I’m sure he can help us sort out any little details we need to address prior to the ceremony.”

Before she switched her attention to Tim, she noted with satisfaction that the smirk was finally, effectively wiped from Morreston’s face.

“Tim, I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to discuss this with you inside,” she apologized. “But my reason for asking you here was to solicit your help in convincing your father to perform the ceremony on such short notice. Would you mind speaking to him for me?” She surprised herself at how quickly and convincingly the lie rolled off her tongue.

“No,” Tim shrugged. If he believed this conversation to be as bizarre as it sounded, he managed to hide it well. “I’ll see him this afternoon. When is the wedding? And where?”

“This evening. At my house.” Her eyes returned to Alec’s face and she noted, with immense gratification, he clearly showed signs of irritation. His jaw worked convulsively as he made a futile attempt to remain calm.

“Will eight o’clock be all right?” she asked.

For a long moment, Alec didn’t answer. His eyes searched her face as if attempting to discern what she was up to, as though he couldn’t believe what she had just said.

“Eight will be fine,” he said finally.

If he’d refused, she’d have been surprised. She knew instinctively that Morreston was not the type of person to back down after the first stone was cast.

She put the truck in Drive and smiled at Alec. His amber eyes narrowed in a silent declaration of war. While she suspected her triumph would be short lived, it would certainly feel good while it lasted.

* * *

“I can’t let you do this,” Ben Rucker stated for the third time. “Suppose the man doesn’t refuse to marry you? What then?”

“Then we’ll get married,” she said firmly. “At eight this evening. Don’t worry, Ben, you’re invited.”

“This is not a joke!” Ben pulled the glasses off his face and stood up from the desk. “For God’s sake, don’t do this, Shea. Take the money he’s offered and buy land elsewhere. I’ll help you. You can—”

“No, Ben. This is my home, my family home, for six generations. I can’t just pack up two hundred years of memories and close that door behind me saying, ‘Oh well.’ If Morreston wants this land, my land, he’ll have to fight for it.”

Ben’s eyes, full of concern, silently beseeched her to reconsider. “Is there no way I can talk you out of this?”

“Not unless Alec Morreston will renew my lease.”

“Which he is not willing to do.” The deep voice responded from the open doorway just behind her. Both Shea and Ben looked around in time to see the subject of their conversation walk casually into the room.

He had shed the sports jacket and tie, leaving his shirt open at the neck but still tucked into the navy slacks. They hugged his slim waist, hinting at muscular thighs beneath the fabric. Somehow, his shoulders seemed broader than they had only an hour ago. The strong line of his jaw was set in determination.

“Don’t do this, Morreston,” Ben pleaded.

“It’s not completely my doing,” he answered. His eyes focused on Shea. “Ms. Hardin had a choice, and apparently she decided on this option.”

“You gave her no choice at all and you know it,” Ben argued. “What kind of man are you to take advantage of her like this?”

Alec pointedly ignored the question. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Hardin in private.” His eyes never left her face.

“You can discuss anything that needs saying in front of—”

“No, Ben. It’s all right,” Shea interrupted. This was her battle now. If she had any hope of making Morreston back down, she couldn’t do it hiding behind her attorney. “Shall we step into the next room, Mr. Morreston?”

Alec followed her into the small, adjacent conference room and closed the door behind them with a resounding click. For a few moments they faced each other in silence.

“Are you really serious about this?”

“Yes,” Shea replied without hesitation. “I am.”

“You would marry a complete stranger in order to keep the land?”

“Yes.”

“There is other land.”

“Then perhaps you should go and find it.”

Alec stared at her. “How much more do you want?” he asked quietly.

Had this man never loved anything in his life that didn’t have a price tag attached to it? Could he not understand the legacy she was fighting to save?

“Two million,” she said flippantly, and immediately saw a knowing look cross his face. The slight nod of his head indicated his initial acceptance of her outlandish but bogus demand. She was tempted to see how far he would go to buy her off but common sense came rushing forward.

“I don’t want your money, Mr. Morreston. This is not about money. It’s about my home. My life. Family values and tradition. Things you, apparently, don’t know anything about.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and walked past her to stand gazing out the large window on the opposite wall. For long moments, he stood there, saying nothing. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he rubbed the back of his neck. His shirt did little to hide the muscular tone of his arms and back. The silky texture of his dark hair caught the subtle light coming through the window, accentuating deep auburn highlights. As he turned toward her, she quickly looked away.

“It won’t work, you know.” His voice had a slight raspy quality, which, under different circumstances, she might have found extremely sensual. “Even if I agree to this, no marriage can survive for a year under these circumstances. Eventually you’ll concede defeat and the land will revert to me. It’s inevitable. Why put yourself through it?”

“That’s a very chauvinistic attitude, Mr. Morreston. What makes you so sure I’ll be the one to call it quits?”

He didn’t immediately answer as a look of indulgent amusement crossed his features. Then all traces of humor disappeared. Slowly, he closed in until barely a foot separated them. Without any warning, he reached out and stroked the side of her face.

She inhaled sharply and adjusted her stance at the unexpected contact but determinedly held her ground. His hand slid from her face to cup the back of her neck and, applying the slightest pressure, drew her even closer to him. She watched his gaze roam over each detail of her face before coming to rest on her mouth. She noted the faint shadow that darkened his face as he bent his head toward her. His lips, wide and defined, parted slightly as if intending to kiss her, but stopped a mere breath away, and only his thumb touched her mouth, tracing the curving fullness in an incredibly intimate gesture.

Time stood still. The close physical contact brought her challenge into clear focus. The pulse hammered in her throat. She swallowed back the overwhelming sensation of panic that rose within her and tried to look away.

Alec gently tilted her chin upward, forcing her to look into the golden depths of his eyes. The bittersweet fragrance of his cologne teased her senses. She could sense the disciplined power and virility of his body as he stood mere inches away from her. There was no doubt he was all male. Her stomach muscles involuntarily contracted as a shaft of sexual awareness shot through her. An intense heat seemed to envelop her as her breath became shallow, almost nonexistent. A little voice inside screamed to run while she could.


Three (#ulink_b404f003-c0ad-5e64-b674-6443cd3fb872)

“All right, Ms. Hardin.” His throaty voice penetrated the silence of the room. “We’ll play this one your way and see what happens. I’ll honor the conditions as set forth by our ancestors and we will be married. And there will be no development on any of the land as long as the marriage continues or if this...union...should exceed one year.”

He paused, tilting his head slightly as though studying her reaction. “But know this—” the tone of his voice reflected the seriousness of his words “—you will be my wife as stipulated in the original lease. Legally and spiritually, body and soul. You’ll share my life, as well as my bed, for the duration. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

It was time to bail out. She knew it but couldn’t seem to move. He was telling her exactly what she would have to agree to, up front. He was giving her every opportunity to walk away. She took a deep breath and hoped her strength was as unfailing as her stubbornness.

“I understand.” Her voice was firm although barely above a whisper.

“Do you?” A sparkle glistened in Alec Morreston’s amber eyes. “I guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?”

He released her and stepped toward the door but hesitated before pulling it open. “One more thing. I’ll require a prenuptial agreement. Thomas should have time to fax one to your attorney’s office before—”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed, pinning her to the spot. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said no.”

“Ms. Hardin, do you really expect me to marry a woman I don’t know and risk losing half of everything I have?”

“I’d say, after your earlier statement, you expect me to give up more than that. No prenup, Mr. Morreston. I want no part of anything you own, other than my ranch. You can trust me on that—” Shea eyed him coolly “—or you can book your flight home.”

She could see the muscles in his jaw working overtime as he apparently strove to keep his temper from exploding.

“My personal holdings have nothing to do with this land issue. If, as you say, you want nothing but the land, then signing a prenup should not be asking too much.”

“Neither is wanting to keep my home,” she countered. “Nothing in the contract said anything about a prenuptial agreement. I refuse to sign one. If you refuse to marry me because of that, then I guess the land is mine. Your call.”

Her heart beat so solidly against the wall of her chest she felt sure he could hear it from three feet away. She hoped she looked calmer on the outside than she felt on the inside.

Silence dominated the room. A barely perceivable change in his stance, from tense to an almost exaggerated casualness, conveyed the control he maintained on his emotions. His tawny eyes drifted over her as if trying to discover how much determination lay underneath. The burning strength of his gaze wandered insolently from her face to her breasts, down to her belly, to her hands—held tightly clenched at her sides—then down the legs of her jeans all the way to her feet. Shea could feel the blush spread across her face as he rudely inspected and silently weighed the feminine merchandise standing in front of him.

“All right, Ms. Hardin,” he said finally, his tone suddenly menacing. “We’ll play hardball if that’s what you want. You just upped the stakes and I’d be a fool not to call your bluff. Be ready tonight, honey. Be ready for me.”

He stepped back and opened the door. Shea shakily, but resolutely, walked through it. While temporarily disconcerted by his unexpected and candid proclamation, she knew the marriage would never be consummated. He was trying to intimidate her. That’s all it was. He would do well to remember that two could play this game.

She had no intention of letting herself become physically ensnared and used by an egotistical maniac. She may have been forced into making a pact with the devil, but he would quickly find she was anything but a sacrificial lamb. Alec Morreston was city bred and raised. He had no concept of the sometimes harsh realities of ranch life, and she’d bet he wouldn’t last a month.

In fact, she had just bet the ranch on it.

* * *

“Alec...” The heavy concern in Thomas’s voice was clearly evident through the telephone line. Alec could picture him gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He was almost sorry he couldn’t be there in person to deliver the news of the pending wedding. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

Because their client-attorney relationship had grown into a solid friendship over the years, Alec wasn’t insulted when Thomas questioned his sanity. Hell, in the past five hours, he’d begun to question it himself.

“I mean, what do we really know about this woman?”

“I think she’s okay, Thomas.”

“But what if she’s not? What if this is all a setup? Do you have to marry her, for God’s sake?” His tone was incredulous. “Maybe if you offered her more money?”

“She wouldn’t take two million.”

“She—” Alec heard Thomas Long swallow hard on that one. “My God! How much more does she want?”

“She says she doesn’t want money. She wants the land. I believe, in her mind, she’s telling the truth. She honestly thinks she can pull this off and make me back down. Unfortunately for her, I’ve committed to building this entertainment complex. The investors are already on board. I’m down several million and we haven’t yet poured the first foundation. There is no turning back at this point.”

“How about we try to find other land alternatives. I could put out some feelers...”

“A friend who specializes in real estate spent almost a year doing just that. I originally wanted to build in the East. He checked land possibilities within a hundred-mile radius of every major city near a natural waterway from New York to Florida. We encountered zoning restrictions, municipal politics, arbitrary city codes, small town gluttony. He found a two-thousand-acre tract just outside Cincinnati, but the deed was in probate. There was a five-thousand-acre tract in Virginia, but it was so far removed from civilization I didn’t want to take the chance it might be too far.

“This location is perfect. A little farther west than I initially wanted, but it’s actually working out even better than the original plan. It’s centrally located in the US, only fifty miles from the Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport and it borders the Red River.”

Alec had already purchased land directly across the state line in Oklahoma and had most of the permits for that side of the river. “I’ve spent weeks restructuring blueprints to meet local building codes, obtaining land surveys for two states and finally have received a clearance from the EPA over some near-extinct bird they thought nested nearby. I refuse to spend any more time or money trying to find equivalent land just so Ms. Hardin can continue to raise her cows. Give me a few days, a couple of weeks at best, and I’ll have her out of here.”

“Okay.” There was a moment of silence while Thomas, no doubt, regrouped. “What about a prenup? You’re potentially handing this woman a key to a very large door. Your bank accounts alone...” Thomas paused. “I’ll have a basic agreement drawn up and sent to you in—”

“No thanks, Thomas.”

“No? Alec—”

“We’ve already had this discussion. She refused.”

Another stunned silence. “Then don’t marry her. Let her have the damn land. Even considering how much you’ve sunk into the project, it isn’t worth a fraction of your other holdings. Alec—”

“Thomas, look, I appreciate your concern. But I honestly feel if it should come down to a divorce petition for any of my current assets, the bizarre reason for the marriage—my being forced to take this route in order to regain the use of my own land—would supersede any claim.”

“But we can’t know that for sure.”

How could he explain to Thomas his gut instinct said this would not be a problem? There was something about Shea Hardin, some glimmer of truth deep in those blue eyes. Nothing he’d seen gave him any reason to suspect she wanted any more than her ranch.

“I don’t intend to remain married for one millisecond longer than absolutely necessary. In less time than it would take to battle this out, I intend to have her bags packed and be helping little Miss Tradition out the door. Then a simple annulment, give her something for her trouble, and it’s done.”

He’d been challenged by opponents a lot tougher than Shea Hardin and had come out on top. He grimaced at his own expression. Hell, in truth, on top of her was exactly where he wanted to be. He sensed the blood congregate in his loins at the mental picture and cursed his weakness. He had to keep his focus on the reason he was here and stop letting his imagination run wild.

Alec intentionally changed the subject. “I need you to call Valturego. See if he’s ready to sign the contract for the construction of his casino. I’ll contact him when I get back in the office.”

“I’ll call as soon as we’re finished,” Thomas promised. “But, Alec, back to the prenup thing—”

“Did Rolston sign the revised contract?”

Thomas grudgingly took the hint and began explaining the outcome of his meeting with the banker.

When their business concluded, Alec tossed his cell on the bed in the small motel room and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. After six. He probably should start getting ready.

The last time he’d taken vows, there had been more than fifteen hundred invited guests—some he’d known, most he hadn’t. The planning had gone on for months. The fragrance from thousands of flowers had permeated the air, almost overwhelming the guests who’d gathered in the enormous church. He could remember the aura of hushed excitement that had filled the large sanctuary in anticipation of the spectacle to come.

Sondra had wanted it all and she had been relentless in making her desires come true. In hindsight, he should have seen what was coming. He should have picked up on the clues. She’d loved to party and her actions had made him suspect she’d crossed the line as far as using drugs. But he hadn’t been able to prove it, had never found any evidence, and he’d never known about the other man until the day he came home and found the note. No excuses. No apologies. A strange woman waiting outside his door handed him a baby and said it was his. Suddenly he was alone with an infant son. A month later, Alec learned she’d died of an overdose. The man she’d left him to be with supposedly had provided the pills.

In the years since, the anger over her betrayal had diminished, but the lesson she’d taught him about trust had reshaped his character and would always be foremost in his mind. He’d sworn he would never again make the mistake of marrying. Anyone. For any reason. For almost five years, he’d kept that resolution. But in less than an hour, he would once again stand in front of a minister and make a pledge to love, honor and obey, and this time to a woman he knew nothing about.

Shea Hardin was a total perplexity. She didn’t fit into any mold he’d ever come across. At first, he’d believed she was one of the members of Gold Diggers Anonymous he frequently encountered. But if those initial suspicions were correct, she was better than average at setting a trap, because he’d certainly taken the bait. She came across as completely sincere, candid and unwavering in her determination to keep the land.

She was a walking contradiction—intelligent yet naive, beautiful but unsophisticated, sexy as hell yet seemingly innocent. She looked fragile, sensitive, as though her poise and conviction could easily be shattered. But after today, he had the solid impression she was about as fragile as an oak tree, her temper as controlled as a glass vile of nitroglycerin.

She challenged him. She fascinated him.

And she had the most amazing blue eyes he’d ever seen.

Then there was her mouth—full lips that could give a man all kinds of grief, all kinds of pleasure. He’d almost kissed her in the attorney’s office, drawing back at the last minute as he realized he wouldn’t have wanted to stop with a single kiss.

No, his problem would not be intimidating Shea Hardin. It would be keeping himself from taking her while he did so.

* * *

Shea stood in front of her closet later that afternoon, staring at the few dresses hanging inside. Rarely was there any need for her to wear anything other than casual ranch attire and therefore her options were severely limited. She removed a simple paisley dress from the closet and held it in front of her as she viewed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Somehow, it didn’t seem right.

She replaced it and reached for another. Wrong style. She bit her lip as she removed a dark green suit from the closet. Not right either. Red? Nope. Black? An impish grin crossed her face at the picture that would create. Quelling the urge, she hung the dress back in the closet and shook her head in frustration. There was no time to go shopping. Under the circumstances she should probably just pull on a clean pair of jeans and be done with it.

Thinking back on her day, she couldn’t believe how fast everything had fallen into place for this wedding. Old Doc Hardy had done the blood work on the spot and Jane Simmons at the courthouse had gotten Judge Lamb to push the license through without the three-day wait. It was as unbelievable as her reason for being there.

Suddenly the mirror’s reflection caught the motion of a large ball of orange fur as Pumpkin, the old tomcat, jumped onto the cedar chest that sat at the foot of her bed. She spun around and looked at the chest in speculation. Instantly memories of her childhood came rushing back. Memories of her as a little girl standing on top of the chest, trying to be tall enough so she could wear the long silky white dress her mother kept inside. It had been years since she’d reflected on the chest and its contents. On a whim, she set a disgruntled Pumpkin on the floor and then moved the miscellaneous items on top of the chest. A mild scent of cedar permeated the air around her as she raised the lid.

On top were pillowcases, handkerchiefs and small hand towels, their borders bearing floral designs embroidered by her mother. With a regretful smile, Shea set the linens aside. Underneath were two handmade quilts, their colors still amazingly crisp. She noted a date sewn into the corner of one: “A.H.—1812”. Her great-grandmother must have made them. Maybe even her grandmother before that. She placed them on the floor next to the linens.

Kneeling over the now half-empty chest, she removed several more layers of tissue paper. Suddenly, there it was, and just as she remembered. Her mother’s wedding gown. She rose to her feet as she lifted it out of the chest.

The material was an off-white satin. The years had slightly darkened the creamy color, but time couldn’t diminish its simple elegance. The high, Victorian-style neckline, enhanced by delicate lace, covered the bodice and shoulders. Tiny pearl buttons ran down the full length of the gown with a matching row of buttons on each sleeve from the wrist to the elbow.

Tears stung her eyes as she was suddenly overcome with longing for the mother she’d never really known. She gently touched the delicate lace. Should she dare risk tarnishing the memory of her mother’s wedding day by wearing it to the marital atrocity about to take place? But the thought of putting it back in the trunk and closing the lid didn’t feel right. Something urged her to try it on.

Some ten minutes later, she stepped in front of the mirror and almost didn’t recognize her reflection. The gown fit perfectly. Its simple style subtly created an aura of poise and sophistication as it gracefully cascaded to the floor.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Sadly, she wished hers would be a genuine marriage, one based on love and respect with hopes for a future. Not a contractual stipulation with an arrogant stranger.

Alec Morreston would no doubt have a good laugh if she appeared in a wedding gown. He’d be convinced she was every kind of crazy. She chewed her bottom lip. When she walked into the room for the ceremony would she feel like a total and complete fool? Circumstances being what they were, it probably was an idiotic idea. Still, a woman got married for the first time only once in her life. Right or wrong, this was it.

There was also the chance Morreston might think she was trying to play him and raise his guard, which could make getting rid of him more difficult. She let out a frustrated sigh. Wearing her mother’s gown was fulfilling a dream she’d carried since childhood. If he laughed, why should she care? Let him scoff all he wanted, the hateful man.

“You know what, Pumpkin? Bizarre or not, this is my wedding day. I’m going to do it.” As soon as she uttered the words, she knew she was making the right decision. There would be just enough time to freshen the dress before Morreston and the Reverend Shultz arrived.

But first, she needed to have a talk with Hank Minton, the ranch foreman. Quickly, she undressed, placed the gown on the bed and then pulled on a pair of jeans before heading for the main barn.


Four (#ulink_b5630299-1a5f-514c-98e1-e1c7cc04eb3e)

“Do you, William Alec Morreston, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health?”

Shea’s head swam. This couldn’t be happening. Perhaps if she blinked her eyes fast enough she would awaken from the nightmare.

Standing next to her in the old-fashioned parlor, Alec responded to the Reverend Schultz’s questions with the reverence and sincerity of a man who was marrying the woman of his dreams. Raising her hand to his lips, he briefly kissed her fingers after slipping the diamond-encrusted wedding ring he’d purchased that afternoon onto the third finger of her left hand.

After the license had been issued at City Hall, Alec had insisted she accompany him to the town jewelry store to pick out rings. He’d ignored her suggestion that they use Band-Aids. In the shop she’d refused to voice any opinion whatsoever, seeing the sparkling gold-and-diamond jewelry as miniature handcuffs intended only as a psychological reminder that she would be shackled to the obstinate man for a year. Less, if she had her way about it, but even one day would be too much.

To the few well-wishers Leona had invited, his gesture probably appeared to be genuine. What would her friends say if they knew the truth? That this man planned not only to destroy her ranch land, but possibly bring about such catastrophic change it would send a tidal wave well beyond her borders and affect the lives of everyone standing in this room. She felt like a traitor hiding it from them. But Leona had agreed that to tell anyone the truth would only create unnecessary worry and add pressure on Shea she didn’t need. Her sole focus had to be on the war against this man. And when she won, no one would ever be the wiser.

Consequently, Alec Morreston had been introduced as the long lost love she’d met while at college. Family concerns had taken him away but now he was back in her life and neither wanted to wait a second longer to marry. Shea could tell Alec had fought not to laugh when she’d told him the plan, but he’d agreed to it. And why not? He wouldn’t be around to explain if this whole thing blew up in her face. She hoped she’d make it through this night without being sick.

“Do you, Shea Elizabeth Hardin, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband...?”

As she reluctantly, obligingly recited her promise to love, honor and obey the irritating man, she glanced once in his direction and couldn’t mistake the pursing of his lips as he fought to suppress a wicked smile from spreading across his face. She gritted her teeth as she shoved the gold wedding band onto his finger, not daring to look at him again. She wasn’t near the actress she needed to be to pull off a convincing smile.

“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The Reverend Schultz smiled at her before turning to Alec. “You may kiss your bride.”

Reality became surreal as she looked at Alec, this stranger, who was now legally her husband. She had only seconds to comprehend the full impact of what she’d done before he pulled her into his arms and raised her face to meet his.

“Too late for any regrets, Mrs. Morreston,” he whispered, as if reading her mind. He lowered his head and his mouth covered hers.

Like a bolt of electric current, something exploded within, causing her senses to whirl and the room to spin. She grabbed the lapels of his suit in an effort to steady herself.

With practiced skill, he parted her lips and his tongue entered the deeper recesses of her mouth. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her to him, as he filled her mouth with his raw, male flavor. Despite her resolve to remain impervious to this man and unaffected by his touch, she found herself responding to the sensuous temptations he offered.

Her hand left his shoulder to touch the texture of his face, letting her fingertips glide along the strong line of his jaw until finally coming to rest at the point where his mouth joined with hers.

Then he withdrew from her and she couldn’t deny a slight feeling of disappointment. With his thumb, he gently wiped the moisture from her lips as he studied her expression. A frown drew his dark brows together and he searched her face as if seeking an answer to a silent question. Had he been as affected by the kiss as she had?

Then a slow, sexy grin spread across his features and a knowing gleam flashed in the golden depths of his eyes before he stepped to her side to receive the offers of congratulations from the small group of people who stood smiling around them. She inhaled deeply, frustrated at her own momentary weakness.

Somehow, she managed to be pleasant as she introduced her new husband to her closest friends and neighbors, all the while praying they would never find out what was at stake beneath the façade of this marriage. The last thing she needed was concerned neighbors who feared for their own livelihood distracting her from her primary objective of getting rid of the man.

The photographer Leona had arranged through the local newspaper began to position them for their wedding photos. Someone made an off-color comment about the wedding night. Everyone joined in the banter and laughter abounded, but it only served to drive home the depravity of her situation.

A chill settled over her. What kind of man was Alec Morreston? Would he be understanding of her feelings or completely insensitive? She couldn’t stop her eyes from straying to this man who potentially held the future of the ranch, as well as her own well-being, in his hands.

* * *

Alec glanced at his new bride. Immediately he noted the anxiety that was obvious in every delicate feature of her face, and he didn’t have to be hit over the head to know the cause. His laughter faded as he recognized the depth of her apprehension. She was frightened.

Of him.

The fact should have made him happy. It was the first step toward making her leave. Such quick success should be sweet. So why did he feel sickened by her fear?

Their eyes met. The glistening blue of hers held him transfixed. Somewhere a light flashed, the brilliance challenging the intensity of the moment, capturing it forever.

Then, she seemed to gather her reserves and in a barely perceived movement, she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. The near panic and vulnerability he’d caught a glimpse of moments before were now replaced with a look of pride and stubborn determination. With sudden insight, Alec knew that while he’d often admired beauty in other women, never had he appreciated their character or inner strength.





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