Книга - The Rancher’s Request

The Rancher's Request
Stella Bagwell


TROUBLE IN TEXASJournalist Juliet Madsen had been burned by men before, but she certainly hadn' t left Dallas for small-town Texas looking for love–or a family. Until she met single father and wealthy rancher Matt Sanchez, and the two began a steamy affair. Matt was everything she' d ever wanted: smart, sexy, loyal to his family and extremely dedicated to his teenage daughter. But he didn' t know that Juliet was on assignment to expose his family' s secrets–and she feared that if he found out, she just might lose the family she' d always wanted….MEN OF THE WESTWhether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot–and drive a woman crazy…









Juliet had to obey his command.


She had no other choice as his lips quickly covered hers and his hands drew her even closer to his hard body. She had not expected him to be touching her like this or kissing her again, and the shock of it momentarily stunned her with questions. But as his mouth began to move hungrily over hers, the whys quickly fled her mind. She couldn’t wonder what was going on in his head. All she could do was experience the exquisite taste of his lips.

Jerking his head up, Matt quickly glanced over his shoulder.

“Some of the guests are leaving. We’d better get back.”

His voice was thick and husky, telling Juliet he’d been just as lost in the moment as she.


Dear Reader,

Have you ever felt as though everything in your life has gone wrong? That even if you tried to make things better, you figure it would only make them worse? I’m fairly certain we’ve all fallen into that hopeless pit at one time or another and my hero, Matt Sanchez, is no exception.

When Neil Rankin first traveled from New Mexico down to south Texas and discovered a family of Ketchum cousins, I was intrigued with the whole bunch. In spite of their wealth, life hadn’t necessarily been easy for any of them. But it was Matt Sanchez, the manager of the Sandbur Ranch, who particularly touched my heart. He was a tortured soul and needed help in the worst kind of way. I figured it was going to take a miracle to pull him up from that dark place where he’d been living.

What kind of miracle did Matt need? I asked myself. Maybe a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky to open his eyes? Or perhaps a near death escape would make him see the preciousness of life? Maybe he needed to lose everything he had in order to shock him back to the living? Fortunately, nothing that drastic was required. Love was all it took to put the light of hope back in Matt’s heart. I hope you enjoy reading how he found it!

God bless, and may you never ride lonesome!









The Rancher’s Request

Stella Bagwell







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




STELLA BAGWELL


began writing romance novels over twenty years ago. Now, more than sixty books later, she likens her job to childbirth. The pain is great, but the rewards are too sweet to measure.

Over thirty-five years ago Stella married her high school sweetheart, and now the two live on the south Texas coast where the climate is tropical and the lifestyle blessedly slow. When Stella isn’t at her desk, spinning out tales of love, she’s usually working outdoors on their little ranch, 6 Pines, helping her husband care for a herd of very spoiled horses.

They have a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach.


To my husband, Harrell, who has been

my own cowboy for nearly thirty-six years.

We’ll ride the trail together and always.




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

Epilogue




Chapter One


Matt Sanchez hated weddings. In his opinion, the sentimental ceremonies were only a reminder of everything that could go wrong in a person’s life and normally he made a point to steer clear of any social function with a white dress, tossed rice and weeping women. But the wedding of Raine Ketchum and Neil Rankin was one he couldn’t avoid. The bride was his cousin and he loved her. Even if he would have preferred to saddle up his favorite horse and ride to the far end of the Sandbur Ranch, he couldn’t miss the most important day of her life.

Thankfully, the exchange of vows had taken place more than an hour ago and now the Saddler house, the original ranch house on the Sandbur, was brimming with guests and relatives, some of whom had traveled all the way from New Mexico. Wedding cake was still being served and champagne, beer and punch were flowing like the San Antonio River after a spring flood.

In the great room, the rugs had been rolled back and the wooden floor sprinkled with cornmeal to make boots slide gracefully as couples danced to a four-piece band. Music, laughter and loud conversations collided, then ricocheted off the wood-beamed ceilings before they filled every nook and corner of the house.

At any other time, the reception would have been held outside, beneath the live oaks that graced the backyard. But February weather in South Texas could be fickle. Normally it was splendid with bright sunshine and temperatures just mild enough to make a person forget the long, blistering heat of the past seven months. Even so, there were occasions that northerners blew through and Matt’s Aunt Geraldine, who’d helped Raine with all the wedding plans, hadn’t wanted to brave the chance of having cold or wet guests.

As for Matt, he’d be happy just to find some quiet, out-of-the-way space to park his boots until all the whooping and hollering died down and he could go back to being the general manager of the Sandbur.

“What’s the matter, Matt? You look like you’re ready to bolt for higher ground!”

The question came from his cousin Lex who’d just strolled off the dance floor after a fast twirl with an energetic redhead. Of all his family members, Lex was probably the most sociable. With his tall blond looks, women flocked to him like snow geese flocked to South Texas in winter.

“It’s getting too loud in here,” Matt replied in a raised voice so that Lex could hear. “Our new cousins from New Mexico are going to think we’re a raucous bunch.”

The other man laughed. “We are a bunch of loud Texans, cuz. And from what I can see, our new family members are thoroughly enjoying themselves.”

Not more than a month had passed since he’d learned that Raine’s mother, Darla, had actually been married to a member of the Ketchum family from New Mexico. Everyone here on the ranch had been shocked to learn they had a boatload of cousins they’d never known about, and for the past few days they had all been getting acquainted. Matt was happy about his new relatives, yet he’d be even happier, he realized, once this shindig was over and quiet returned to the Sandbur.

With a short snort, Matt dug at the tie knotted at his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit and if he had his way it was going to be a hell of a lot longer before he wore another one. He felt like a green horse that was cinched tight and left to paw with frustration at the saddling post.

“Well, I must be getting old,” he commented gruffly. “All this merrymaking is getting on my nerves.”

The other man rolled his eyes. “Hell’s bells, you’re only thirty-nine, Matt. You should be dancing with some of these beautiful women here this afternoon. Who knows, you might get lucky and one of them will seduce you. God knows you’d never take the initiative.”

If anyone else had said such a thing to him, he’d give him a mouthful of knuckles. But Lex was like a brother, so he simply glowered at the other man.

“I don’t need a woman to dance with—or anything else.”

Lex shot him a disgusted look. “Yeah. How many times have I heard that before?”

Fortunately for Matt, another woman, a brunette this time, approached the two of them and wrapped an arm around Lex’s. “C’mon, good lookin’,” she said to him with a cheeky grin. “You two can talk cattle tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for a dance!”

Matt watched the pair glide off into a quick two-step, then decided he’d had enough. It wasn’t that he was antisocial. He liked people in general. But he’d never been comfortable with merrymaking. Now that his sweet Erica was gone, he wouldn’t know how to take another woman into his arms and waltz her around the dance floor. It just wasn’t in him.

If he could make it to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, then slip outside without anyone noticing, he could wait out this reception in peace, Matt thought, as he left the loud din in the great room.

Even the hallways and connecting rooms were packed with people gathered together in loose groups while others were simply wandering around with drinks in their hands. He worked his way through the human jumble until he reached the kitchen, only to find it was just as chaotic as the rest of the house.

Scores of servants, most of them hired only for the occasion, were dealing with beverages, food and dirty dishes. He stopped just inside the room and looked around for the familiar face of Cook, the old woman who’d been the ramrod of the Sandbur kitchen for more years than he’d been alive. She was in her seventies now, but she could work rings around a woman half her age. Matt expected to find her slinging hash during this hectic celebration, so it was a surprise to see her seated at a worktable, a cup of coffee clutched in her bony hands.

Well, the old woman must finally be feeling her age, Matt thought, as he made his way over to the cabinet. The idea bothered him. She was like a grandmother to him and all his cousins. He didn’t want to imagine the ranch without her.

As he gathered up a cup and filled it from a huge silver coffee urn, he could hear her saying to someone, “Well now, I never was interested in money. That’s not to say I don’t like the stuff. Just never had much use for it. I got everything I need right here on the ranch. I don’t need to go around digging for treasure. The Saddler and Sanchez families already treat me like a queen.”

“I’m sure they do,” a younger female voice replied. “But it would be exciting, wouldn’t it, if a person did happen to find money buried on the ranch? I’ve heard the amount might be as high as a million dollars.”

His ears wide-open now, Matt slowly stirred a dollop of cream into his coffee while he waited for Cook’s response. It came with a snort and he turned around to see she was leaning across the table, her head tilted toward a young woman he’d never seen before. She had light blond hair that was twisted atop her head into a mass of cascading curls. Rhinestones adorned her slender neck and the skinny straps of her dark blue velvet dress. Her skin was shell-pink, her features perfectly etched. Without question, she was a very beautiful woman. Except for her nose, he thought. It appeared to Matt that she was trying to stick it in places where she had no right.

“Bah!” Cook exclaimed with a wave of her hand. “Miss Sara had more money than that before Nate died. But I don’t believe she buried any of it. Why would she? It’s a silly notion if you ask me.”

“Do you know anything about her husband’s death?” the blonde asked. “There’ve been rumors for years—”

“And that’s all they are,” Matt quickly interrupted as he stepped forward to where the two women were sitting. “Just rumors.”

The blonde looked up at him, her pretty rose-colored lips forming a perfect O. Across from her, Cook said, “Matt, this is Miss Juliet Madsen. She works for the newspaper in Goliad. Isn’t that somethin’?”

It was something all right, he thought grimly. His eyes narrowed skeptically on the woman’s face. “I’m Matt Sanchez, Miss Juliet. And I think you and I need to have a talk. Would you excuse us, Cook?”

“Sure. I need to get back to work anyway,” the old cook said.

His eyes still on the nosy guest, Matt placed his hand on Cook’s shoulder. “No. You stay put. Finish your coffee and rest. This won’t take long anyway.”

Juliet warily rose to her feet and followed the man through the busy kitchen and out the back door. Along the way, her heart was pounding as she eyed the man’s long legs, wide expanse of shoulders, and black hair inching over the back of his collar. She’d noticed him before, during the wedding ceremony. Actually, she’d more than noticed. Once she’d spotted him among the groomsmen, she’d hardly been able to observe anything else about the wedding. His hard looks were striking; so much so that just looking at him sent electrical shivers down her spine. Later, she’d learned he was a part of the wedding family, the eldest son of Elizabeth and Mingo Sanchez.

Matt shut the door behind them and Juliet looked around to see they were on a backyard patio that was partially covered with an arbor. Far above the slatted wood and drooping honeysuckle vine, a weak afternoon sun was trying to shove its way through the overcast skies.

Chilly air brushed her exposed skin and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself as she waited for him to speak.

“First of all, I don’t know who invited you here,” he began, “but that’s really beside the point. You—”

“What is the point, Mr. Sanchez?” she quickly interrupted, thinking it would be better to go on the offensive before he took the upper hand. “Geraldine Saddler kindly invited me to the wedding so that I could cover the event for the Fannin Review. You find something wrong with that?”

He jammed his hands in his trouser pockets as he stepped toward her and Juliet was glad. He had big hands; the kind that wouldn’t let you forget that you’d been touched. Not that he would ever do such a thing to her, but from the furious look on his face, she wasn’t sure what might be going through his mind.

“No,” he said in a low, smooth voice. “I don’t find anything wrong with you taking down wedding details. But that’s not what I overheard you discussing with Cook.”

Hot color stung her cheeks. So she’d been caught. What could she say that wouldn’t make her appear like an indifferent, nosy reporter?

She drew in a bracing breath and let it out. “I was only chatting with the woman and the rumor as you call it—about the buried treasure on this ranch—just happened to come up.”

His nostrils flared like a winded horse and his green eyes narrowed dangerously on Juliet’s face. In all her twenty-five years, she had never faced such a man before. She had to fight the urge to race back into the house and run for cover.

“I’m sure the subject just came up out of the blue,” he quipped with sarcasm.

She licked her lips and tried not to let her shivers turn violent. “Well, not exactly, but I was just speaking to her about the ranch—off the record, of course.”

He took another step toward her and Juliet found her eyes frozen to his hard features: the square jaw, strong, dented chin and chiseled lips that were presently pressed into a tough, menacing line. This man wasn’t exactly handsome, she decided, but he was damned sexy. Dangerously so.

“Of course,” he said mockingly.

He might as well be touching her, she thought, as she felt his eyes sweep up and down her body. He’d certainly already undressed her with his visual assault.

“Is there anything wrong with talking about the legend of Sara Ketchum’s money?”

“Sara Ketchum just happened to be my grandmother. I don’t want her memory sullied by some tawdry story in the pages of the Fannin Review.”

She tried to look as innocent as possible. After all, she’d not gotten any sort of information out of Cook, and even if she had, Juliet wasn’t so sure she would use it. She’d already warned her editor that she didn’t like prying into people’s personal lives. For one thing, it caused incidents just like this.

“So you think that’s what I was doing?” she asked carefully. “Trying to dig up information for the newspaper?”

“What else?”

The woman didn’t answer, but there was really no need, Matt decided. She looked guilty as hell. Beautiful, but guilty.

She shrugged one bare, elegant shoulder and he realized with all the skin she was showing in that skimpy dress, she was probably freezing. His eyes skittered once again over the plunging neckline and exposed cleavage of her breasts, then purposely zeroed back on her face. She wasn’t dressed all that differently than many of the other female guests roaming around the ranch house, but she damned sure looked different, he thought. Her tall, voluptuous figure was enough to send a man’s blood pressure skyrocketing.

“Maybe I was just personally interested,” she suggested coolly.

Matt snorted. From the sound of her voice, she was from North Texas. She had that certain twang that separated her from the Southern folks of the state. And she wasn’t interested in his family; she was interested in her job.

“Where are you from?” he asked bluntly.

Her brows lifted. “Why, I live in Goliad.”

Goliad was only about twenty minutes to the east of the Sandbur. He slowly shook his head. “You’re not a native around here.”

“No. Actually, I’m from Dallas. I moved from there a few months ago when I came to work for the Fannin Review.”

“Then someone should have told you that the folks down here don’t appreciate anyone taking advantage of their hospitality.”

She sucked in an outraged breath. “That’s not—”

“Don’t bother to deny it, Miss Madsen. We both know what you were trying to do and I’m telling you flatly, right now, that there is no story here. And even if there were, I wouldn’t let you get anywhere near it. Understand?”

Her nostrils pinched together as she stared angrily at him. “I don’t really know what your position is on this ranch, but I’ve had just about enough of your pious attitude. I haven’t committed any crime here. According to a lot of folks in Goliad, it’s common knowledge that Nate and Sara Ketchum, the former owners of this ranch had a—well, let’s just call it a colorful relationship. And since Nate’s murder was never solved, it’s still of local interest.”

“That’s what you think,” he quipped.

“No, that’s what my editor thinks. He believes the whole issue would make a good story for the paper. I tried to deter him from the idea, but he insisted I ask as many questions as possible.” She shook her head in a regretful way. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to hang on to my job.”

He glanced away from her pained expression. “Hell of a way to do it.”

Juliet bristled all over again. Maybe in his eyes she had been in the wrong, but he could be a little more understanding. Somehow she figured this hard man didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“What would you know about needing a job?” she asked. “Looks to me like you were born into riches.”

Why was it so easy for outsiders to look around the Sandbur and think that the ranch simply made itself, he wondered. Outsiders could never imagine the long, back-breaking labor that was put into this estate to keep it one of the top cattle ranches in Texas. But then, he couldn’t expect this woman to understand. She’d probably spent most of her young life being educated in a private school in Dallas. He seriously doubted she’d ever had those manicured hands in a sink of dirty dishwater.

“You don’t exactly look like you’ve just stepped out of the ghetto, Miss Madsen. But as for me, I’ve worked for everything I own.”

Her chin lifted as she stared at him with angry disbelief. “And you think I haven’t?”

His expression turned mocking as his eyes roamed up and down her curvy figure. “I really couldn’t say.”

Anger propelled her closer and she jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. “You don’t know anything about me. And being some sort of big chief around here doesn’t give you the right to be insulting!”

He caught the finger pressing into his chest, then clamped his hand tightly around hers. “Let’s not worry about what I am. Let’s concentrate on what you are,” he growled in a low voice. “You’ve come to my home under false pretenses—”

“That’s not true!” she interrupted hotly, her cheeks burning. “And you have to be the most—hateful bastard I’ve ever met!”

One corner of his lips sneered upward. “You think so? You think I’m hateful for trying to protect my family from vultures like you?”

“Vul-tt-ture!” she sputtered in outrage. Instant retaliation was the only thing on her mind as she lifted her free hand to slap his jaw.

Matt caught her wrist in midair and then he was gripping both her hands, making it impossible for her to pull away as she stared at him in mute fury.

“You shouldn’t have tried that, Miss Madsen,” he said in a cunningly smooth voice.

The glitter in his dark green eyes electrified Juliet. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe or move the slightest muscle, even when she saw his head descending toward hers.

“Let me go.”

The three words were breathed out in a voice so tiny he could barely hear it.

“Why? So you can try to slap me again?” he goaded.

The urge to kick his shin shot through her head, but she didn’t have time to carry through with the strike. Before she knew what was happening, he jerked her forward and the front of her body slammed into his.

The contact felt like running straight into a stone wall. The force snapped her head back and made the curls atop her head bounce wildly.

“You—”

The rest of her verbal attack was lost as his lips swooped down on hers. Like a vulnerable little mouse clutched in a hawk’s talons, he ravaged her mouth while she stood in a shocked, rigid stance. The heat of his body flowed into her like a sudden arc of electricity and from her head to her toes she felt her skin flushing bright pink.

Just as abruptly as the kiss started it came to a shattering end as he ripped his lips away from hers and set her an arm’s length away.

Dazed and gasping for air, she stared at him.

He stared back as his eyes roamed over and over her face.

“Consider that a lesson,” he finally said.

His voice was low and husky and Juliet shivered inwardly. The man was more than sexy looking; he was Mr. Sensuality. Too bad he was bent on using his charms in the wrong way.

Quickly, before he could see how stunned she’d been by his kiss, she gathered as much of her senses together as possible and asked coolly, “What sort of lesson would that be?”

“To leave me and my family alone.”

His blunt reply was as sharp as a knife. Juliet told herself it didn’t really hurt. She’d been spurned before. Yet she felt as if he’d sliced open an old wound and all the times she’d been rejected in the past had come up to slap her in the face.

Drawing up her shoulders, she said, “If the rest of your family is anything like you, it will be a pleasure. Now if I’m excused, Mr. Sanchez, I’m going back inside. It’s cold out here and there’s no gentleman around to offer me his jacket.”

His blood simmering, Matt watched her turn on a tall, delicate high heel and walk back into the house.

Damn it all, he silently fumed. The newspaperwoman should have never been invited here and for two cents he’d question his Aunt Geraldine about her presence on Sandbur. But since a woman was something he never discussed with anyone, for any reason, he realized he wouldn’t take the issue that far. His aunt would think he’d cracked up. Besides, he wanted to push Juliet Madsen totally out of his thoughts. He wanted to forget he’d lost his head and kissed that Dallas woman.

Inside the house Juliet quickly made her way to the restroom and, after locking the door, leaned weakly across the lavatory. A gilded mirror hung over the shallow basin and Juliet was horrified at the image she saw staring back at her.

She looked ghostly pale, except for her lips—and they were almost cherry-red from the hard kiss Matt Sanchez had planted on them. Much of her naturally curly hair had come loose from its pins and several locks were now swinging in front of her eyes.

She’d left her tiny handbag back in the kitchen under the table where she’d been sitting with the old cook, so she was without a compact, lipstick or comb. Her hands shook as she tried her best to finger comb her tumbled hair back into place and she scolded herself for having such a violent response to the man. It shouldn’t matter that he’d taken her unaware with that kiss. She’d been kissed before, she told herself.

But not like that. For a few seconds you were swooning, dreaming of more.

Disgusted with herself, she straightened the straps on her dress, then bravely stepped out of the room and back into the party.

In the great room she was quickly swept onto the dance floor by one man and then another. The music was lively and normally Juliet loved to dance, but as each partner struck up a conversation, she found herself looking around the room, searching for him.

Eventually, Juliet decided she’d lost the partying mood and decided to retrieve her purse from the kitchen and head home. She’d already gotten what she’d come for anyway. And more, she thought dismally.

When Juliet entered the kitchen, she found Cook stirring up another bowl of punch. She told the older woman goodbye, then collected her wrap and left the house through the nearest exit. As for thanking Geraldine Saddler for the wedding invitation, she’d do that later through a card in the mail.

Outside the massive, hacienda-style house, the clouds had grown even heavier than when she and Matt were on the patio. The wind was chillier and she gathered the velvet stole higher on her arms as she hurried to her parked car.

Juliet was so intent on getting away from the ranch she almost missed the young girl sitting on one of the half-buried railroad ties that lined the edge of the driveway. She was wearing a long, pale pink dress and her light brown hair flowed in waves down her back. If it weren’t for the lost expression on her face, she would have looked totally adorable.

Curious as to why the girl was out here alone, Juliet walked over to her.

“Hello,” she said warmly.

The girl, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen, glumly glanced up at her.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”

Bending her head, the girl plucked absently at her skirt. “Why aren’t you?”

Carefully, Juliet sat down next to the girl, while telling herself it didn’t matter if creosote stained the seat of her dress. The child emanated sadness, an emotion that Juliet was well acquainted with, and she couldn’t leave until she’d found out what was upsetting her.

“Well, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m not all that good at talking to strangers.” Or kissing them, either, Juliet thought wryly. “So I decided to head home.”

Big brown eyes looked curiously up at Juliet. “I know everyone here today. Except for you. Are you a relative?”

Juliet shook her head. “No. My name is Juliet Madsen and I write stories for the newspaper. I’m going to do one about the wedding.”

“Oh.” The flicker of curiosity fell from her face and the corners of her lips turned downward. “Then I guess you know my daddy was a groomsman. You probably have all their names down and all that kind of stuff.”

“That’s right. What’s your father’s name?”

“Matt Sanchez. I’m Gracia Sanchez and my daddy’s the general manager of the Sandbur. Did you know that?”

Juliet didn’t know why she was so stunned to discover that Matt Sanchez had a daughter. The man was probably closer to forty than he was thirty. He’d had plenty of time to acquire a family. But when he’d kissed her—well, she’d never imagined that he had a wife somewhere in the wedding crowd. Dear God, what if the woman had walked in on them? The idea burned Juliet with anger and embarrassment.

“Uh—no. I didn’t know that. You must be very proud of him.”

The girl shrugged. “I guess so. He’s always busy.”

The simple statement said volumes and Juliet suddenly remembered her own childhood and a father who’d never been around. No matter if she’d needed him or not. Hugh Madsen’s indifference to his daughter’s life had left a deep wound inside Juliet, one that had never healed.

Juliet nodded with understanding. “Most men usually are,” she said more wistfully than she’d intended, then looked pointedly at Gracia’s pink satin dress. “Your dress is beautiful. Did your mother let you pick it out yourself?”

The girl’s eyes shadowed over and then she quickly glanced away from Juliet. “I picked it out myself. But I don’t have a mother. She died when I was six.”

Juliet was suddenly struck with empathy for the girl. Looking at Gracia was like seeing herself twelve years ago.

Gently, she reached over and stroked a strand of gold-brown hair lying on Gracia’s shoulder.

“My mother died when I was eight,” Juliet told her. “So you don’t have to tell me how awful it is. I understand.”

Gracia’s head twisted back around and she looked at Juliet with surprise. “Your mother died, too? Really? How come?”

Juliet’s heart squeezed as faded memories of her ailing mother drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Eva Madsen had been a softspoken, gentle woman who’d made Juliet’s world a magical place with smiles and laughter and a loving hand. When she’d passed away from cancer, Juliet’s life had never been the same.

“She was sick for a long time and could never get well.”

“Oh. My mother got hurt on a horse and died all of a sudden.”

Juliet was suddenly thinking about Matt and how the tragedy must have affected him. He seemed such a stern, unyielding man it was hard to imagine him grieving. But people dealt with personal loss in different ways. For all she knew, the ranch manager might still be mourning his wife’s death.

“I’m sorry, Gracia. But sometimes bad things happen to nice people.”

She gave Juliet a solemn nod as though she’d already accepted such a fact. “Do you have a stepmom?”

Juliet shook her head. “I only have a father and no brothers or sisters.”

A petulant look suddenly stole over the young girl’s sweet face. “Me, too. And that’s why I don’t like being inside today—with the wedding going on. My daddy won’t—”

“Gracia! Finally, I’ve found you!”

Matt’s voice interrupted his daughter’s words and both girl and woman looked over their shoulders to see him rapidly descending upon them. The cowman’s strides were long and purposeful, his expression dour. Juliet felt herself bracing for his presence and when his eyes zeroed in on her face, she unconsciously rose to her feet.

“You! What are you doing out here with my daughter?” he asked sharply.

How could she have had one sympathetic thought for this man, Juliet wondered. Too bad she hadn’t managed to get that slap off. Whacking his jaw would have given her supreme pleasure.

“I’m trying to get to my car and go home.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

“You don’t know what anything looks like,” Juliet shot back.

His gaze settled on her lips and Juliet felt her cheeks fill with unaccustomed heat. Had she actually kissed this man? It seemed impossible and yet all she had to do was look at him and her lips burned with the memory.

“I warned you to stay away from my family, Miss Madsen. And my daughter is definitely off-limits to—”

“Daddy!” Gracia exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and stared at him in horrified embarrassment. “What are you doing? Juliet is my friend and—”

Stepping forward, he placed a hand on his daughter’s slender shoulder. “Juliet is not your friend. You don’t even know the woman.”

The girl shot Juliet a wounded look, then stabbed her father with a tearful gaze.

“Juliet is my friend,” she practically shouted. “And you’re being mean and bossy! You never want me to have any friends. Never!”

Jerking away from her father, the girl took off in an awkward run toward the house. It was all Juliet could do not to race after her. The child needed comfort and understanding; two things that she obviously wasn’t going to get from this man. But it wasn’t her place to give his child solace and he’d be the first one to point that out.

“Feel good now?” Juliet quipped. “Now that you’ve gotten her away from the evil reporter?”

Matt jerked his gaze off his daughter’s retreating back to scowl at Juliet. “Damn it! See what you’ve done! It’s time for pictures and now her face is going to be all red. You’re a real piece of work,” he gritted.

Forgetting what happened the last time she got close to him, Juliet stepped right in his face. “Your daughter and I were doing just fine until you butted in. But you were so dead set on insulting me that you didn’t care whether you hurt and embarrassed her. God, what a cretin you are!”

“If I knew what that meant—”

“It means you have the mental equivalency of an idiot!” she interrupted hotly. “If you haven’t looked lately, your daughter is hurting. You ought to focus a little of your time on her instead of worrying about your family’s past skeletons!”

Once she’d blasted the words at him, she turned on her heel and began to march in the direction of her car.

Behind her, Matt yelled, “My family doesn’t have any skeletons!”

Juliet paused long enough to glance back at him. “Everyone has skeletons, Mr. Sanchez. Even you.”




Chapter Two


“I tried, Mr. Gilbert, but Mr. Sanchez practically booted me off the ranch. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want any such stories in the paper about his family. And frankly, sir, I think you’d have a lawsuit on your hands if you did print anything containing the legend of the buried money or the old man’s murder.” Juliet tried to reason with her boss.

It was Monday morning, two days after the Sandbur wedding, and the editor of the Fannin Review was pacing around Juliet’s small office like a man possessed. He wasn’t happy about her failure to dig up personal information on the ranch’s old matriarch and the money she’d supposedly buried to keep from her husband. But then David Gilbert was never happy. Heading toward his sixtieth birthday, he was a frail man with thinning brown hair and a perpetual frown. He’d taken over the reins of the weekly newspaper from his father, who’d died unexpectedly only a few short weeks after he’d retired. From what Juliet could see, he was a man who privately wished he were anywhere but at his job.

“Let him try. Just because that family is probably the richest in Goliad County doesn’t mean he can keep the press from public information.”

Dear Lord, the man sounded as if he was running some newspaper on Capitol Hill in Washington, instead of a weekly review of small town Texas life, Juliet thought.

Sitting comfortably behind her desk, she tried not to groan out loud with disbelief. “I’m not sure his family’s money is public information, Mr. Gilbert. They just might take you to task.”

The older man stopped to toss a challenging look her way. “Just let them. I’ll be ready. In the meantime, I want you to see what else you can find about the matter. Dig through our old archives, I’m sure there will be something on Nate Ketchum’s death. Look through some of the neighboring papers, too. The murder had to have been big news back then.”

Any other time, Juliet would have been excited to be working on such a story: love, marriage, money, murder and one of the richest families in the area. Readers loved such things. But in spite of her squaring off with Matt, she’d come away from Raine Ketchum’s marriage with the impression that the Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were nice, genuine people. She didn’t want to hurt or anger any of them.

“I’m not sure—”

“You’d better be sure, Madsen. Our distribution numbers have been down this last quarter. We need something to grab people’s attention. So I’m giving you two weeks to get something together on this.”

“Two weeks!”

Her outcry had him walking over to her desk to stare menacingly down at her. “You don’t sound too eager about this, Madsen.”

Eager? The whole idea was making her ill. Maybe if this puny little man had to face Matt Sanchez head-on, then he wouldn’t be so quick to bark. “Well, I’m just not sure that it’s the right thing to do.”

His eyebrows shot up as though he couldn’t believe she was defying him. “Look, Madsen, you’re frankly overqualified for this job. I don’t need to pay you a journalist’s salary when I could get by with anyone with enough education to structure good sentences. If you don’t want to earn your paycheck, then you’d better head on back to the Dallas Morning News.”

And face Michael again? Never, Juliet thought. The man had been a cheating lout. He’d broken her heart. She couldn’t work in the same room with him. And she couldn’t go back and let him tempt her back into his arms. He was no good. Just like the boyfriend she’d had before him. The two guys were a big reason she’d taken this small-time job in an out-of-the-way little town. She wanted to forget all her horrid affairs of the heart.

Glancing away so that he couldn’t guess that her teeth were grinding together, she said, “I can do the job, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll have something on your desk in two weeks.”

“Good. I’ll be watching for it.”

The editor abruptly left the room and once he was out of sight, Juliet got up and firmly shut the door behind him. Damn man, she silently cursed, he knew as much about running a newspaper as she did about changing the oil in her car, which was practically nothing. The only reason he owned the paper was because he’d been an only child and his father had no one else to leave the business to. Too bad the old man hadn’t sold it, Juliet thought grimly.

Well, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pick up her belongings and move to some other town and some other job, she told herself. But she didn’t want to. These past few months she’d been making friends and settling into a neat little house that she loved. The people were friendly—except for Matt Sanchez—and she liked the slower movement of the small town after rushing around in Dallas all her life. Besides, there was no one who was giving her a reason to live elsewhere. Her father was still in Dallas, but she got more warmth from a stranger on the street than she did from him. Her mother’s relatives were scattered throughout the northern states, but she rarely saw or spoke to them. No, she was more or less on her own and she had a right to live where she wanted. And damn Gilbert for threatening her.

Picking up her notes on the Sandbur wedding, Juliet tried to push the whole male race from her mind as she went to work at her computer.

Three hours later, when she broke for lunch, the social piece was finished, all but a few final touches, and she left the building to walk to her favorite restaurant.

The Cattle Call Café was only three blocks away. The red brick building had been built back in the eighteen sixties and was located on the main drag. On the days the livestock auction was being held on the outskirts of town, the café was always jammed with ranchers who’d come to buy or sell cattle and horses. Today the long room, filled with round wooden tables, was only moderately busy with regular townsfolk.

Juliet chose to sit at a wooden bar running along the left side of the room. Almost before her seat hit the red vinyl stool, a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile waved to her from behind the counter.

“Hi, Juliet! I’ll be right with you.”

Angie Duncan was a single mother working her way through college. Her shift at the Cattle Call started at eleven in the morning and ended at six in the evening. Juliet didn’t know how the woman managed to stay on her feet, much less have a cheery disposition, as well.

“So how’s my best friend today?” Angie asked as she approached Juliet.

With a lukewarm smile, Juliet said, “Okay, I suppose.”

Angie made a sound of disapproval with her tongue. “Where’s that smile I always see on your face? You look like you’ve just lost your best friend. And that can’t be true, ’cause I’m here,” she teased.

Juliet tried to laugh, but the sound was garbled. “I’m fine, really, Angie. I just had a long weekend and I’d like to bang an iron skillet over my boss’s head.”

Laughing quietly, Angie pulled out her order pad. “Okay, tell me what you want for lunch and then you can tell me the rest.”

“I’d really like a big greasy cheeseburger with piles of onion rings and a vanilla shake,” Juliet told her wryly.

Grinning, Angie tapped a pencil thoughtfully against her chin. “But you’re actually going to eat a salad with unsweetened iced tea, right?”

Juliet sighed. “Yeah. Make it a grilled chicken salad.”

The waitress left to take the order to the kitchen. While she was gone, Juliet glanced around the café. Other than herself, there were only five people: two older couples and a young man drinking coffee and scanning the daily newspaper out of Victoria.

For some reason Juliet suddenly wondered if Matt Sanchez ever came to town and ate in this café. Probably not. He was from the rich set and the Cattle Call catered to the middle and lower classes of the area. Well, that was all right with her. She didn’t want to rub elbows with his sort. And she wished to heck she could quit thinking about the man. But ever since the man had kissed her, she couldn’t seem to get her mind back in its regular groove.

The swinging doors to the kitchen swished open and Juliet turned her head to see Angie returning with a tall glass of iced tea. She set it in front of Juliet, then pushed a small container with packets of sweetener toward her.

As Juliet emptied the fake sugar into the tea and stirred, the waitress propped her upper body on the counter.

“Okay. What’s the matter with old Gilbert boy? Been chasing you around the office?”

Juliet groaned. “Lord no! The man doesn’t have enough testosterone in his body for those kinds of impulses. I doubt he sleeps in the same bed with his wife.”

Angie giggled. “Lucky her.”

Juliet took a long sip from her glass. “He wants me to do a story that I don’t want to do. And when I more or less told him that I didn’t want to do it, he threatened to fire me.”

“That’s terrible. What sort of story?”

“Something personal about a family around here. He thinks it would grab readers. I think it would cause more trouble than it would be worth.”

Thankfully, Angie was prudent enough not to press her for details on the subject. Instead, she asked, “So how did the wedding go? A big deal, huh?”

Sighing heavily, Juliet nodded. “Very big. The house was overflowing with flowers. Real ones. There was live music, lots of food, champagne and dancing. I’ve never seen so many diamonds and minks in my life.”

With her chin resting on her palm, a wistful expression stole over the waitress’s face. “Gosh, can you imagine that kind of wedding? That sort of life is a fairy tale to me.”

Juliet let out a dry laugh. “Me, too.”

Angie waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t give me that. You’re gorgeous. It wouldn’t be any problem for you to get a rich man. That is, if you wanted one,” she added coyly.

Rolling her eyes, Juliet said, “Well, I’ve had plenty of trials and errors. I don’t want one.”

“Juliet! You—”

The waitress was going to say more but the bell at the pickup window rang and she went to fetch Juliet’s order. When she returned with the salad, Juliet asked in a casual voice, “Angie, do you know any of the Sanchezes or Saddlers?”

The woman’s brows lifted thoughtfully. “No. Not personally. I’ve seen some of them around before. Mercedes and Nicolette come in here to eat from time to time. So do Lex and Cordero.”

The four that Angie had just mentioned were all cousins. Juliet had learned that much at the wedding. She’d also learned the Sandbur was owned by two sisters, Geraldine Saddler and Elizabeth Sanchez. The latter had passed away and Geraldine was in semiretirement. It was the two women’s grown children that were now seeing after the multimillion dollar ranch.

Thoughtfully, Juliet picked up her fork and stabbed into a morsel of chicken. “But not Matt Sanchez?”

Angie shook her head. “Not on my shift. But that’s not surprising. I hear he’s something of a hermit.”

Juliet had never been one to listen to gossip, but this time she couldn’t help herself. “Really?”

“Yeah. That’s what a friend of mine who used to work on the Sandbur said. He never saw Matt leave the ranch for anything.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s a busy man.” Busy insulting women like her, she thought irritably.

“I’d say it has more to do with losing his wife. She died a few years back and everyone says he’s never been the same. ’Course, since I didn’t know him, that would be hard for me to say. I’m just telling you what I hear.” She looked curiously at Juliet. “Why were you asking about him, anyway?”

Why indeed, Juliet wondered. He should be the last thing on her mind. Instead, he was all she could think about. The whole thing was maddening.

“Oh, just curious. He was in the wedding party and he struck me as—well, different from the other men in the family.”

Angie gave her a mischievous wink. “Honey, it’s his brother, Cordero, that strikes me. He’s a hunk and then some.”

Juliet looked at her with surprise. “Why, Angie, I’ve never heard you talk about any man like that.”

The waitress shrugged one shoulder. “Well, after Jubal left me to marry the rich girl in town, I thought I’d hate the male race forever. But a woman can’t help but be attracted when the right man strolls by.”

Shaking her head, Juliet leaned forward so that only Angie could pick up her words. “Look, I’ve never met Jubal, but I have an inkling he would have never married the rich girl if he’d known you were pregnant with his child. Dear God, I’ll never understand why you didn’t tell him.”

Angie’s frown was a picture of disbelief. “I didn’t want him that way! I’ve told you that before!”

“Yes. But still, he ought to know he has a three-year-old daughter.”

Wiping a dishcloth at an invisible spot on the counter, Angie mumbled, “Maybe someday I’ll tell him.” She looked up at Juliet. “You want anything else? I gotta go warm up the Reynolds’ coffee. The old man’s looking this way.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got to finish this anyway and get back to work. Gilbert’s mad at me enough without adding fuel to the fire.”

The waitress went to tend to her other customers and Juliet hurriedly swallowed the last of her salad. While she ate, she scolded herself for giving Angie unwanted advice about Jubal. Juliet was the last person to be giving anyone advice about their love life. Since her days in college, she’d picked some real losers. And the thing that made her choices even worse was that she hadn’t realized they were losers until her heart had already been broken.

Bad judgment in men. She might as well have the phrase tattooed on her arm so that she could look down at it every day and remember how much she’d been hurting when she’d fled Dallas. That memory alone ought to be enough to make her forget about Matt Sanchez and the sizzling kiss he rocked on her lips. But so far nothing was making her forget the heated exchange with the ranch manager.



Two days later, Gilbert gave Juliet the exciting assignment of covering a birthday party at a local nursing home for a resident that was turning a hundred and three. The woman had served many years on the city council and had been a philanthropist in the area, so pictures and a short story in the paper would be expected.

That afternoon, as Juliet drove to the Sunset Manor, she asked herself, as she did many times since leaving the Dallas Morning News, if she was wasting herself in this small town with its tiny paper that consisted of mostly local social events. She was a good journalist and she’d written pieces on everything from crime to politics. But the city pace had been exhausting and the pressure to meet deadlines enough to give her stomach problems.

If she could manage to get five minutes of her father’s time, he’d tell her it was a hell of a waste to go through years of working and scraping for funds to get herself through college then wind up writing about births, deaths and weddings. But she wouldn’t take five minutes of Hugh Madsen’s time even if he would give it to her. Just as she’d not taken a dime of his money when she’d been working her way through college.

Hugh was a man that was for one person and one person only. Himself. Even before her mother had died, Juliet could remember him being gone from the house for days on end. There had always been some big deal he was making, the next pile of money to be made. Every now and then he’d hit it big with some new venture, then a few months later be filing bankruptcy.

Even when her mother had become seriously ill, Hugh hadn’t changed his high-rolling ways. He’d always made charming promises to his daughter and his wife, but he’d rarely, if ever, come through with them. As far as Juliet was concerned, her mother had died of a broken heart rather than cancer. She’d simply lost her spirit to fight for her life.

At the nursing home, Juliet interviewed the birthday honoree, then took pictures of the woman among her family and friends. The social room was festooned with bright colored balloons and strips of twisted crepe paper. A stereo was providing ballroom music and several old, but agile couples, were dancing and holding hands like young lovers. It was a festive, uplifting scene and as Juliet walked down the wide corridor of the building, she felt a little better about the world.

Maybe there was hope for her yet, she thought wryly. Maybe by the time she grew to be an old woman she would find the love of her life.

Juliet was walking along, musing over that thought, when she passed an open door to a resident’s room. An older man with thick, dark hair and slumped shoulders was sitting in a wheelchair and at his feet, a young girl was reading to him from a small, leather-bound book.

The girl’s voice was sweet and clear and somehow familiar. Juliet paused in the corridor for a closer glance and was totally surprised to see Gracia Sanchez.

For a moment Juliet questioned the wisdom of making her presence known to the girl, even if the door was open to the private room. But the last time she’d seen Gracia, she’d been crying and fleeing across the lawn. She wanted to make sure the girl had gotten over the embarrassing incident.

Quietly, Juliet stepped to the open door and knocked on the facing. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Gracia. I just happened to see you and I wanted to say hi.”

“Juliet!”

Jumping from her seat on the low stool, the girl ran over to Juliet and flung her arms around her waist. Juliet was so surprised by the unexpected display of emotion that for a moment she was at a loss for words.

“I thought I’d never get to see you again!” the girl exclaimed as she stepped back and grabbed Juliet’s hand.

Juliet smiled at her. The girl was dressed in blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt with some sort of logo printed across the front. She looked like any normal girl her age rather than the miserable child she’d seen on the front lawn of the ranch.

“Well, I never expected to see you here today,” Juliet replied. “Are you visiting a friend or relative?”

Gracia looked fondly over her shoulder at the man in the wheelchair. “That’s my grandfather, Mingo Sanchez. He likes for me to read the Bible to him. So I come every other day after school.”

It was difficult for Juliet to determine the man’s age. His face wasn’t that lined with wrinkles, but the twist of his mouth aged his appearance. A wide scar ran from his temple to the back side of his head. Seeing the hairless strip of skin made her wonder if he’d had to undergo some sort of operation.

“That’s very nice of you to spend your time with him. Has your grandfather lived here long?”

Gracia tilted her head to one side as she thought about Juliet’s question. “Maybe two or three years. I can’t remember exactly. He got hurt. Do you want to come in and say hi to him?”

Juliet hesitated. She wasn’t all that good with handicapped people and besides that, she had a feeling that if Matt found out she was anywhere near his father, he’d be snorting fire. Still, she didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings.

“All right. Just for a moment.”

With her hand still closed around Juliet’s, Gracia led her over to the man in the wheelchair.

“Grandpa can’t talk, but he understands what you say to him,” Gracia explained to Juliet, then spoke to her grandfather in a rapid spate of Spanish.

Once she was finished, the man lifted one hand weakly out toward Juliet. She stepped forward and shook it gently.

“Hello, Mr. Sanchez. My name is Juliet. I’m a friend of your granddaughter’s.”

He nodded and managed to give her a slow wink. The flirtatious greeting told Juliet the man must be the exact opposite from his son.

Gracia said, “I’ve already told him about you. I told him about Daddy being rude to you, too.”

Embarrassed heat swept across Juliet’s face. “Oh. You shouldn’t have mentioned that. It’s already forgotten.” At least, she liked to tell herself he was forgotten.

Gracia twirled a strand of hair around her forefinger as she studied Juliet. “Uh—what are you doing here? Do you have family here, too?”

Juliet shook her head. “No. I’m here doing an assignment for the paper.”

“Oh. Then you have to go back to work this evening?”

“For a while.”

The girl’s expression fell flat. “Gee, I was hoping we could go for a soda or something.” She glanced at a big watch on her wrist, then added hopefully, “Daddy won’t be here to pick me up for another thirty minutes.”

Then that meant Juliet had time to be long gone before the man showed up.

“I’m sorry, Gracia, I really need to get back to the office. But if it’s okay with your grandfather, why don’t you walk with me to my car?”

“Well—it’s not like having a soda together,” she said halfheartedly. “But it’s better than nothing.”

In another rush of Spanish, Gracia explained to her grandfather that she would return in a few minutes. Juliet told the older man goodbye and then the two of them left the room.

As they walked down the wide, tiled corridor, Gracia said, “It always makes me sad when I come to visit Grandpa. I want him to get well so he can come home to the ranch. He was my best friend. We rode horses together and he was training a cutter for me so that I could compete. But now—” She broke off with a wistful sigh. “Well—I’m just waiting for him to come home.”

Sadness for the girl filled Juliet’s heart. “There isn’t anyone else on the ranch that could train your horse for you?”

Gracia’s head tilted from one shoulder to the other. “Sure, there is. But it wouldn’t be the same. My grandpa is the best. He trained champions. It’s got to be me and him and Traveler.”

“I understand,” Juliet replied. “And I’ll pray for your grandpa to get well. Sometimes that’s the best medicine of all.”

Gracia’s expression was a mixture of hope and appreciation as she glanced up at Juliet. “That’s what Cook says, too. But I don’t think my daddy believes prayers will do anything. He goes to mass, but he never smiles when he leaves the church. He’s always mad. Guess ’cause Mommy is gone and Grandpa is kinda lost to us, you know.”

Juliet didn’t know what to say. Hearing Gracia’s words had somehow exposed her to Matt Sanchez’s pain and she felt as though she’d stepped onto private ground without an invitation.

Resting a hand on Gracia’s shoulder, she said gently, “Sometimes it’s hard to be happy when things go wrong. That’s when we have to have hope that things will get better.”

Gracia nodded with adultlike understanding. “That’s what I think. I’m going to keep hoping that Grandpa will walk and talk again.” She smiled, then abruptly changed the subject. “Do you live here in town?”

The two of them had reached the main entrance of the building and Juliet pushed open the plate glass door and motioned for Gracia to precede her through it.

Once they were outside, Juliet answered, “Yes, I live on the edge of town in a house on Travis Street. It’s small and old, but I like it. Maybe you can come see it sometime. If you can get permission,” Juliet quickly added. From the bitter remarks Matt had flung at her, she very much doubted he would allow Gracia to visit her, but at least she could let the girl know she was welcome in her home.

“Gee, that would be great. Do you have any pets?”

“A cat. He’s a big, fat Persian and he loves attention.”

Gracia’s brown eyes lit up. “I have a cat, too! Sam’s a Siamese with a crooked tail. He loves to catch birds and Cook has been threatening to put a bell around his neck for killing the mockingbirds that eat at the backyard feeder. She hasn’t, though. Daddy says it’s Sam’s born instinct to catch birds and it wouldn’t be natural to try to stop him. The big prey on the little, that’s what he always says.”

Yeah, Juliet thought dourly. And in his case, she just happened to be the little.



Out in the parking lot of the Sunset Manor, several yards away from Juliet’s car, Matt Sanchez killed the engine to his truck and reached for the door handle at the same time. As usual, he was in a hurry. A cattle buyer was going to meet him at the Sandbur in less than one hour. He was going to have to break the speed limit to make the meeting in time.

He should have asked Cordero to pick up Gracia. In Matt’s opinion, his younger brother didn’t visit their father enough. But Mingo would be expecting his eldest son to show up and Matt didn’t want to disappoint his father. Short visits from friends and family was all the man had to look forward to.

What the hell?

Matt’s hand paused on the door of the truck as his gaze fastened on the woman and girl walking down the steps of the building. It was that Dallas woman with his daughter!

What was she doing here? And why the hell hadn’t she taken heed of the warning to stay away from his family?

Matt’s first instinct was to burst out of the truck and interrupt the little tête-à-tête going on between the newspaperwoman and his daughter, but he desperately quelled the urge. Gracia was just now coming round to him after that incident in the yard on the day of the wedding. He didn’t want to embarrass her again. Juliet Madsen had been right about that and the fact that he’d been thinking more about his own feelings than his daughter’s. It had taken two days of the silent treatment from Gracia to make him admit such a thing to himself, but damned if he would ever apologize to the sexy blonde. She’d probably take pleasure in laughing at him.

Before he knew it, his gaze was traveling up and down her body, appreciating, in spite of himself, the full, luscious curves encased in a black jersey top and a pair of gray slacks. She was not a willowy, fragile woman by any means and he realized her lusty shape did more than stir the man in him. Each time he laid eyes on the woman, he felt an instant fire in his loins. It didn’t make sense. Especially since Erica had died, he’d not even wanted a woman.

But having Juliet against him, even for those few moments, had burned all sorts of distracting impressions into his brain. He could remember the curved indention of her waist, the full press of her breasts and the soft skin exposed by the skimpy dress she’d been wearing. Yet none of those memories were as strong and dangerous as the kiss of her lips. Like a blind man with heightened senses, he had every curve, every scent, every taste detailed in his mind.

Now after three days had passed, he realized it had been a grave mistake to have kissed her. He couldn’t forget. And a part of him didn’t want to.

All sorts of mixed feelings raced through him as he watched Juliet and Gracia exchange a few more words, then Juliet leaned down and pressed a swift kiss on Gracia’s cheek. In turn, his daughter gave her a brief hug, then turned and raced back up the steps and into the building.

The affectionate exchange hurt him in ways he didn’t want to think about. He’d tried so hard to be a good father to Gracia. Especially since she had only one parent. But it seemed as though the more he tried to get close, the further she’d drifted away from him. Maybe it was because she was going to be turning thirteen next week, he reasoned with himself. Teenagers couldn’t be figured out.

With the flick of his wrist, he quickly opened the door and stepped down to the ground. The movement caught Juliet’s attention and she turned where she stood to look in his direction. For a moment her beauty stunned him all over again and he swallowed, a sudden strange thickness in his throat.

He walked over to her.

“Miss Madsen,” he greeted curtly.

“Hello, Mr. Sanchez,” she said.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Smiling wanly, she reached up and captured the blond strands of hair being whipped by the wind. “Yes, it’s a small world.”

Listening to her twangy drawl was like warm pudding slipping over his tongue. Sweet and smooth. “I noticed you just happened to run into my daughter.”

She drew her shoulders back and his eyes promptly fell to her breasts.

“That’s right. I just happened to be here working this afternoon.”

His mouth twisted. “I’ll bet.”

Her eyes narrowed on his chiseled face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His weight shifted from one boot to the other. “I’m sure you didn’t know my father was a resident here,” he said with just enough sarcasm to send her brows flying upward.

“Actually, I didn’t. I happened to be walking down the hall and saw Gracia.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Hefting a camera bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned in the direction of her car. “Believe me, Mr. Sanchez, in spite of your enormous ego, I’m not that interested in you or your family. Tell Gracia it was very nice to see her again.”

But not him. She couldn’t have spoken the words more clearly. Matt was wondering why that should bother him when she started striding away from him. Before he could stop himself, he marched after her.

“Where are you going?”

As soon as the question popped out of his mouth he knew it was a mistake. She turned on her heel and shot him a droll look down her nose.

“I do have a job, Mr. Sanchez. I still have work to finish this evening.”

So did he. That damned cattle buyer was probably already at the ranch. Why in hell wasn’t he worrying about him instead of this sexpot with a tart mouth?

Maybe because she’s been on your mind ever since you kissed her.

Shoving that irksome thought away, he said, “I want to know what you think you’re doing trying to insert yourself into my family. Particularly, through my daughter.”

“Insert? God, you’re a sick man. Or maybe I should say fearful. Is that it, Mr. Sanchez? You’re actually afraid your daughter might seek out attention from someone other than you? Or do you have something far bigger to worry about?”

His jaw tightened to the point that it was aching, while his hands itched to reach out and grab her. It would give him pleasure, extreme pleasure, to shut her mouth exactly the way he’d shut it three days ago. But this time he wouldn’t let himself forget that he was a gentleman. At least, not here in a parking lot where anyone might be watching.

“What are you trying to insinuate?” he countered.

“That you’re overreacting for some reason.”

He was. And he wasn’t exactly sure why. True, he didn’t want his grandparents’ history plastered about in the paper. But he’d be a fool to think that the locals didn’t gossip about his late family. Nate and Sara had been local icons in their era and because so much mystery had swirled around his death and her money, the interest would never die.

Releasing a long breath, he said, “You’re right. And if I’m wrong about you, I’m sorry. But then, how could I possibly know I can trust you?”

She gave him a halfhearted grin and Matt could feel his gut tighten at the sight of white teeth against lush pink lips. Everything about her shouted sensuality and he could only wonder what it would be like to have her in his bed, to hear her whimper with pleasure and sigh with contentment.

“You can’t know, Mr. Sanchez. Except that I told you I was here on another assignment—you’ll read about it in the newspaper. Also, I met your father. And since his speech is impeded it’s pretty obvious I wasn’t here to question him.”

He looked at her with surprise. “You met Dad?”

She nodded. “Gracia wanted to introduce me and I was glad. Your father seems like a very nice gentleman. I wished we could have visited verbally, I think we would be friends.”

No doubt. Mingo had always adored pretty women. From afar that is. As far as Matt knew his father had always been a faithful husband to his wife. But Mingo had never hidden the fact that he liked to look at the opposite sex. Well, he’d certainly gotten an eyeful with Juliet.

“My dad is a nice gentleman,” he agreed.

“Gracia is lost without him on the ranch.”

It had taken Matt months to realize just how much his daughter was devastated by Mingo’s absence on the ranch. Apparently it had only taken Juliet Madsen a few minutes to figure it out.

“I know. But there’s not much to be done. He needs a lot of personal care that we couldn’t give him at home. We thought about hiring a round-the-clock nurse for him, but one person, especially a woman, couldn’t deal with all the lifting and turning. Besides, Dad wants it this way.”

She actually looked disappointed and Mingo wondered if she really did feel compassion for his father. It certainly looked that way.

“Is there any hope that he might get better?” she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder much in the same way that Gracia had. “The doctors haven’t ruled out all hope, but they’re not very encouraging, either. We have more tests scheduled for him in Houston at the end of the month. If we’re lucky, something will come out of them.”

Juliet nodded. “I hope so. I’ll pray for him.”

Prayers, he thought bitterly. Who was this woman kidding? For several years after Erica had died, he’d prayed constantly for the rest of his family to be safe and together. In return his father was nearly killed, his strong healthy body reduced to helplessness.

“I have to go. Goodbye, Miss Madsen.”

He quickly walked away before either of them could say anything else. Inside the nursing home, he headed straight to his father’s room and found the man alone, watching a program on television.

At the sight of his eldest son, Mingo switched off the set and gave Matt a wide smile.

“Hi, Dad. Where’s Gracia?”

The man made a motion of lifting something to his mouth and drinking. Matt guessed, “Gone to get you a soda?”

Mingo nodded, then reached for the pad and pencil he always kept in a pocket on his chair. He quickly scribbled two words and handed the paper to his son.

Blond woman.

Matt looked at him. “Yes, Juliet told me that she met you.”

Mingo’s smile grew broader as his eyes gleamed with pleasure. He then pointed questioningly to his ring finger and Matt knew instantly what was on his father’s mind.

“No. She isn’t married.”

Mingo pointed at Matt, then lifted his fingers to his lips in a kissing motion.

Matt groaned. Dear God, she’d already gotten to his father, too. Where was it all going to end?




Chapter Three


For the next three days Juliet worked on several pieces involving social events and a political issue being squabbled over by the town’s council. In between all that, Juliet began to go through the old archives, hunting for anything involving the Sandbur ranch. She’d discovered that the ranch had been a popular news item over the years and as she pieced the bits of information together, she learned far more than she’d ever expected.

As for Gilbert and his idea to print a story about Sara Ketchum’s so-called buried treasure, Juliet hated it. These past few days, she’d been hoping against hope that the man would have a change of heart and tell her to drop the whole idea. So far that hadn’t happened and as the days began to click by, her mind was spinning faster, searching for a way out.

What was she going to do? Tell Gilbert to kiss her plump behind? She didn’t think he’d bat an eye about firing her. In the months she’d worked at the Fannin Review, she’d not seen a drop of compassion in him. And no doubt he’d like any excuse to replace her with cheaper labor. She didn’t want to lose her job. But she couldn’t bring herself to write something about a family that might cause them embarrassment or pain. Not that she was the least bit worried about Matt Sanchez. As far as Juliet was concerned, he could chew on any words she wrote and choke trying to swallow them. But Gracia was a different matter. The child had already been through more than any young person should have to endure. The last thing she needed was to see sordid details about her great-grandparents plastered in the hometown paper.

The telephone on her desk rang, interrupting her dour thoughts. She tried to push them aside as she answered, “Juliet Madsen here.”

“Hi, Juliet! This is Gracia. I know I shouldn’t call you at work. Can you talk a minute?”

She’d just been thinking about the girl and now here she was on the phone, Juliet thought. Was it some sort of omen? Or was something wrong?

“Sure. Go right ahead.”

“Well, I called ’cause I want to invite you to my birthday party tomorrow night. I’m going to be thirteen and Daddy said I could have any sort of party I want, so I’m inviting every friend I have and that means you, too.”

Juliet stared thoughtfully down at the papers piled upon her desk. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint the girl. But the idea of facing Matt Sanchez under any circumstances was a troubling one.

“Is the party going to be at the ranch?” Juliet asked.

“Yes. It’s gonna be a barn party. So wear jeans and boots. Cook is gonna fix lots of good things to eat and a giant chocolate cake.”

“Sounds like fun,” Juliet replied noncommittally.

“Oh, it will be! Say you’ll come! I won’t have a happy birthday unless you do.”

Juliet seriously doubted her lack of attendance would ruin anything about Gracia becoming a teenager, but she didn’t say that. Instead, she said, “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Gracia.”

There was a short pause and then, “Why not? Don’t you want to come?”

“Of course. It’s a big deal to turn thirteen. And I’d like to be there. But your father and I aren’t exactly friends and—”

“I’ve already asked him if I could invite you. He said yes.”

After plenty of begging, tears or pouting, Juliet figured. Probably a little of all three. God, she was going to feel awkward, but she couldn’t refuse.

“You’re sure about that?”

“I’m sure, Juliet. Gee, I wouldn’t lie. I’d be grounded for life if Daddy caught me lying.”

Juliet couldn’t help but smile. At least Matt Sanchez cared enough to teach his daughter morals. Hugh Madsen couldn’t have cared less if Juliet told a fib. As long as she stayed out of his hair, he was a happy man.

“Okay. I’ll be there. What time?”

“Oh cool! It’s at seven. But you can come early and that way I can show Traveler to you before everybody else arrives.”

The fact that Gracia considered her a special guest touched Juliet far more than it should have and, in spite of Mr. Sensuous Sanchez, she found herself looking forward to seeing the young girl again. “All right. I’ll be there. And thank you for inviting me, Gracia.”

The girl gave her a quick goodbye and as Juliet hung up the telephone she wondered what she could possibly take as a gift. What did you give a child that had been raised in a rich family? She didn’t appear to be spoiled. Rather, she seemed to simply want attention and affection. The same two things Juliet had always wanted while growing up.

Since Gracia obviously liked horses, the next afternoon Juliet made a trip to a Western wear store in town and purchased the girl a fashion T-shirt with the head of a horse on the front and sequins adorning the neckline and the edge of the sleeves.

After she’d wrapped it in colorful paper and signed a small card to go with it, she dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a thin white sweater. She brushed her blond hair smooth before pulling it into a ponytail and fastening it with a white silk scarf. As for makeup, she kept it light. If she were lucky while she was on the Sandbur, she wouldn’t meet up with Matt Sanchez. But if she did, she didn’t want to give the man any reason to think she’d taken pains to impress him.

Gracia must have been watching for her arrival because as soon as she parked several yards from the house and climbed out of her car, the girl was already there to greet her with a tight hug.

“I should’ve told you to drive down to the barn where we’re having the party,” she told Juliet. “I forgot. But we can walk.”

Juliet reached back inside the car and pulled out the gift box. Handing it to Gracia, she said, “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

Gracia looked at the box in complete wonder. “Gosh, I didn’t mean for you to get me a gift. I should have told you that the party wasn’t going to be a gift thing.”

Smiling impishly, Juliet said, “Well, if you want me to I can take it back.”

Gracia quickly shoved the package beneath her armpit and out of the way of Juliet’s extended hand. “Oh no! Since you’ve already bought it, the polite thing to do is keep it.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed Juliet’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Looping her arm through Juliet’s, she beamed up at her as they began to walk slowly toward the ranch yard and large group of barns and outbuildings.

“Gosh, you look beautiful,” the girl told her. “More beautiful than anybody I’ve ever seen.”

Juliet could actually feel herself blushing. “Not really, Gracia. But thank you for the compliment. You’re very pretty yourself. I’ll bet your mother was a beautiful woman and you took after her.”

Gracia’s head tilted back and forth as she thought about Juliet’s comment. “I remember her being pretty, but I was so little back before she died that now her face just looks sorta blurry when I try to remember it in my mind. I keep a picture of her in my room, though. She had lots of red hair and her skin was really pale. I guess that’s why I’m not as dark as Daddy.”

So Matt’s wife had apparently been white rather than Hispanic, Juliet thought. The fact surprised her a little. He seemed such a straight and narrow traditionalist.

“Mommy was a model, did you know that? She worked in New York and Paris and all those places. But after I was born I think she quit all that.”

Juliet was more than surprised by this revelation. She’d not known that Matt Sanchez had been married to a career woman. And she would have never guessed he’d marry a fragile model who made a living off her looks. But love was a strange thing. So far in her young life it had caused her to make several out-of-the-ordinary choices that ultimately turned disastrous.





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