Книга - A Deal at the Altar: Hired by the Cowboy / SOS: Convenient Husband Required

A Deal at the Altar: Hired by the Cowboy / SOS: Convenient Husband Required
Liz Fielding

DONNA ALWARD


This convenient arrangement could be so much more! Two popular marriage of convenience stories—in one convenient volume!—from New York Times bestselling author Donna Alward and Liz Fielding.Hired by the CowboyAlexis Grayson can look after herself—even if she's alone and pregnant. But gorgeous cowboy Connor Madsen seems determined to take care of her. Since he needs a temporary wife, Alexis decides she can help him. A short-term marriage will solve their difficulties…until this wife-for-hire wants a marriage for real!SOS: Convenient Husband RequiredMay Coleridge must marry to inherit her family home and keep her new business afloat. Adam Wavell has turned his life around and is a corporate success story. But when his sister leaves him with her screaming baby, a deal must be done. May will help Adam with his niece if he'll answer her SOS!







This convenient arrangement could be so much more! Two popular marriage of convenience stories—in one convenient volume!—from New York Times bestselling author Donna Alward and Liz Fielding.

Hired by the Cowboy

Alexis Grayson can look after herself—even if she's alone and pregnant. But gorgeous cowboy Connor Madsen seems determined to take care of her. Since he needs a temporary wife, Alexis decides she can help him. A short-term marriage will solve their difficulties…until this wife-for-hire wants a marriage for real!

SOS: Convenient Husband Required

May Coleridge must marry to inherit her family home and keep her new business afloat. Adam Wavell has turned his life around and is a corporate success story. But when his sister leaves him with her screaming baby, a deal must be done. May will help Adam with his niece if he'll answer her SOS!




A Deal at the Altar

Hired by the Cowboy

Donna Alward

SOS: Convenient Husband Required

Liz Fielding







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




CONTENTS


HIRED BY THE COWBOY Donna Alward (#u45765418-73de-5358-ae72-34f19b063cb0)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u606a18ac-90f4-5bfd-9e75-0749b4ef80ca)

DEDICATION (#u0691667c-94b1-5bfd-97f4-8ae2f81a0efc)

CHAPTER ONE (#ub4d8be06-7f86-59f5-9575-78531ab2e3ab)

CHAPTER TWO (#u066b6ef2-64cd-5ab2-95cd-c7a6068317e6)

CHAPTER THREE (#uc2816eba-9f04-5d5f-964a-ef91e304db02)

CHAPTER FOUR (#udf69592b-7b6d-5ee9-a045-fbe70fd3c962)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u52d251d1-81f8-5359-9df8-dbf67ecf1e66)

CHAPTER SIX (#ud0d8a957-398e-55b1-b947-a48e24ad4ff4)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u32a7107a-ea17-5e42-9467-74559ce7af00)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

SOS: CONVENIENT HUSBAND REQUIRED Liz Fielding (#litres_trial_promo)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#litres_trial_promo)

DEDICATION (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)



Hired by the Cowboy


New York Times bestselling author Donna Alward has the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mother and romance novelist. In 2001 she penned her first novel, and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes heartwarming stories from her home in Nova Scotia, Canada. Donna loves to hear from readers; you can contact her through her website at donnaalward.com (http://www.donnaalward.com) or through her publisher.

Look for more books by Donna Alward in Harlequin series.


For Subcare—keep the faith. It does happen! And with special thanks to Michelle Styles and Trish Wylie for their unwavering support and guidance.




CHAPTER ONE


“MISS? WAKE UP. Can you hear me?”

The deep voice came first, then Alex’s vision gradually started to clear.

“Oh, thank God. Are you all right?”

Alex’s eyes followed the sound of the voice as she looked up, dazed. Trying hard to focus, she found herself staring into the most beautiful set of brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were stunning, dark brown with golden flecks throughout, large and thickly lashed.

Men shouldn’t have eyes that pretty, she thought irrationally, realizing with a jolt that she was captured in the arms of the eyes’ owner.

“Oh, goodness!”

The eyes crinkled at the corners at her exclamation, and she felt his hands on her arm and behind her back, helping her to rise.

“Slowly, now. You fainted.”

Really? I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy being unconscious. She bit back the sarcastic retort when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes. He even made sure she was standing firmly on her feet before releasing her—and then stayed close, as if he didn’t quite trust her to remain steady.

He would have fainted too, in her condition and with this heat…and the lack of air-conditioning in the convenience store hadn’t helped much either.

“I’m so sorry,” she blustered, brushing off her pants and avoiding his eyes. It had only taken a moment, but she could even now see him completely in her mind. Not just the eyes, but thick, luscious black hair, just long enough to sink your fingers into and slightly ragged at the edges. Crisply etched lips and a large frame in a grey suit.

Someone who looked like him was so far removed from her world it was laughable, and she avoided his eyes from simple embarrassment. She stared instead at his shoes…shiny, brown leather ones, without a smudge of dirt or a blemish. A businessman’s shoes.

“No need to be sorry. Are you sure you’re all right?”

She bent to retrieve her bag and purse. The first time she’d bent to pick up her dropped crackers everything had spun and then turned black. This time she gripped the bench for support, just in case. To her dismay she realized that she’d spilled her apple juice, and it was running down a crack in the sidewalk. She folded the top over on the paper bag, picked up the juice bottle and looked around for a recycling receptacle.

“I’m fine,” she said, finally looking him in the face. Her heart skipped a beat at the worry she saw there. It had been a long time since anyone had been concerned over her. He was a complete stranger, yet his worry was clear in the wrinkle between his brows. Gratitude washed over her for his gallantry. “I haven’t even thanked you for catching me.”

“You turned white as a sheet.”

She chanced a quick look around. Any passers-by who had seen her little episode were gone, and now people went about their business, not paying any attention to them whatsoever. Another face in the crowd. That was all she was. Yet this man…Mr. GQ…had seen her distress and come to her assistance.

“I’m fine. Thanks for your help. I’m just going to sit a moment.” She coolly dismissed him; his duty was discharged.

Solicitously he stepped back to let her by, but once she’d sat, surprised her by seating himself as well. “Do you need a doctor?”

Alex laughed. Oh, she did. But a doctor couldn’t cure what was wrong with her. “No.”

The answer was definitive. By the way his shoulders straightened she knew he’d got the message loud and clear. Briefly she felt guilty for being blunt, so she offered a paltry, “But thanks again, Mr…?”

“Madsen. Connor Madsen.” He held out his hand, undeterred, inviting her to introduce herself.

She took his hand in hers. It was warm and solid and a little rough. Not a banker’s hands, as she’d thought. Working hands. Solid hands.

“Alex.”

“Just Alex?”

His eyes were boring into her, and she stared straight ahead at the office building across the street.

“Yes. Just Alex.”

It wouldn’t do to encourage him. In the early June heat her T-shirt clung to her, the hems on the sleeves heavy on her arms and the fabric pulling uncomfortably across her breasts. And what had possessed her to wear jeans today, of all things? Apparently such a heatwave this early in summer wasn’t that uncommon, but for her the temperature only compounded the light-headedness and nausea.

Necessity had forced her wardrobe choice, plain and simple. Her shorts weren’t comfortable any more, and at least in her jeans she could breathe. As silence fell, thick and awkward between them, the world threatened to tilt again. The feeling slowly passed as she took slow, deep breaths. “For the love of Mike…” she mumbled.

He laughed, a full-throated masculine sound that sent strange waves through her stomach. “So, just Alex? Intriguing name. Your parents want a boy or something?”

“Probably.” She couldn’t believe he was still here. After all, beyond the first fuzzy moment that she’d succumbed to his arms, she hadn’t encouraged him at all. His attempt at polite conversation had done nothing but awaken an all-too familiar sadness, the heavy weight of regret every time she thought of her parents. “My full name is Alexis MacKenzie Grayson.”

“That’s quite a name for a small thing like you.” His eyes were warm on her and he twisted, angling himself toward her and bending a knee.

“Alex for Graham Bell and MacKenzie for the prime minister, you know? You planning on using it for the paramedics later? In case I faint again?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You look much better, thank goodness. But you spilled your juice. Can I get you something else cool to drink?” His eyes wandered to the convenience store behind them.

Her stomach rolled at the thought of a sugary sweet, slushy drink. Every teenager in a ten-block radius had been buying them today. The very idea of them had Alex’s tummy performing a slow, sickening lurch. She pressed her lips together.

“Or are you hungry? There’s a hot dog cart down the street.”

She stood, desperately trying to get some fresh air while exorcising the thought of greasy hot dogs from her mind. But she rose too quickly, her blood pressure dipped, and she saw grey and black shapes behind her eyes once again.

His arms were there to steady her, but she dropped her paper bag to the ground, the contents falling out as they hit the concrete.

His fingers were firm on her wrist as he helped her sit back down. “Put your head between your legs,” he demanded quietly, and for some reason she obeyed.

Alex avoided his eyes as she sat up moments later. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, completely mortified at the awkward silence that fell between them like a ton weight. This had to be an all-time low. Blacking out not once, but twice, in front of her own personal Knight in Shining Armor. And wasn’t he annoying, this Mr. Perfect Chivalry, sitting there calm as you please?

She expected him to mumble his apologies and hurry away. Instead he knelt and began picking up what she’d dumped on the ground in her haste.

Oh, God. Her humiliation was complete as he paused, his hand on the plastic bottle of pre-natal vitamins. His eyes darted up, caught hers. In them she saw sudden understanding. Now, of course, it all made sense. At least it made sense to him. She was still trying to assimilate everything.

“Congratulations.”

Her smile was weak. He couldn’t know. Couldn’t know how her life had been turned completely upside down with a three-minute test only a few short weeks ago.

“Thank you.”

He watched her carefully as he sat again on the bench. “You don’t sound happy. Unplanned?”

She should end this conversation right here and now. He was, after all, a complete stranger.

“That’s none of your business.”

He had no cause to know her personal troubles. It was her problem. And she’d solve it. Somehow.

“I beg your pardon. I was only trying to help.”

She grabbed the vitamins and shoved them into her purse. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

The pause was so long her scalp tingled under his scrutiny.

“No, you didn’t. But I offer it anyway.”

And who else was going to step up and give her a hand? She was alone, nearly destitute, and pregnant. She had no one waiting for her at home. Home, she thought sardonically. Now, there was an idea. She hadn’t had a real home in a long time…too long. Five years, to be exact. Five years was a long time to be at loose ends.

At present she was sleeping on the floor of a friend of a friend. Her back protested every morning, but it was the best she could do for now. She’d find a way, though, she thought with a small smile. She always did, and had done since being left alone and without a penny to her name at eighteen.

Connor was a friendly face, and also the first person who actually seemed to care. Perhaps that was why she made the conscious choice to answer his question.

“Yes, this baby is unplanned. Very.”

“And the father?”

She looked out over the bustling street. “Not in the picture.”

He studied her for a few moments before replying, “So you’re alone?”

“Utterly and completely.” Despair trickled through in her voice and she shored herself up. No sense dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Her voice was again strong and sure as she continued, “But I’ll manage. I always do.”

Connor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Surely your family will help you?”

“I have no family,” she replied flatly, discouraging any further discussion of that topic. She had no one. Loneliness crept in, cold and heavy. Not one soul. Anyone she’d truly cared about in the world was gone. Sometimes she almost forgot, but now, faced with a pregnancy and no prospects, she’d never felt more isolated.

After a long silence, he spoke again. “Are you feeling better? Would you like some tea or something?” He smiled at her, friendly, and her heart gave a little foreign twist at this complete stranger’s obvious caring and generosity.

“You needn’t feel obligated. I’m fine now.”

“Humor me. You’re still a bit pale, and it would make me feel better.”

It was a lifeline to hold on to. It wasn’t like her life was a revolving door of social invitations. “Tea might be nice, I guess.”

She looped her purse over her shoulder. “So where are we off to, Connor Madsen?”

“There’s a little place around the next corner.”

She chuckled a little. “You use that line often?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever used it before, as a matter of fact.” He adjusted his long stride to her much shorter one.

“I wouldn’t recommend using it again,” she remarked dryly.

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” Connor shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over an arm. “To be truthful, I don’t spend much time in the city, picking up women. Or for any other reason, for that matter.”

He was wearing a white dress shirt that fit snugly over wide shoulders, then tapered, tucked into slim-waisted trousers. Alex hadn’t believed men that good-looking actually existed, and here she was going for tea with one. One who had already seen her faint. She shook her head with amazement.

“So, if you’re not from the city, where are you from?” Small talk. Small talk was safe and not too revealing. She could handle niceties.

“I run a ranch about two hours northwest of here.”

“Ah.” Well, she certainly wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him again after today. She’d be able to look back on it as a bizarre, fantastical dream. A Knight in Shining Chaps, it would seem.

She giggled, then clamped her mouth shut at his raised eyebrow. “Is this the place?” she asked, changing the subject.

“It is.” He held the door—more good manners, it seemed—seated her at a table and went to get drinks.

The coffee shop was trendy, and didn’t seem to suit either of them. She pictured him more as a local diner type, drinking black coffee from a thick white mug while some middle-aged waitress named Sheila read the specials of the day. Despite his formal appearance today, she got the impression that he wasn’t totally comfortable in a suit.

In moments he returned with two steaming mugs…one of peppermint tea and one with straight black coffee. The café didn’t suit her much either. She usually bought coffee from a vending machine, or drank it thick and black from behind the bar—not that she’d been drinking much lately. Still, she was touched and surprised that he’d thought to get her something herbal in deference to her pregnancy.

“Thanks for the peppermint. It was thoughtful of you.”

“I’ll admit I asked the girl behind the counter for something uncaffeinated. And the peppermint might be, um, soothing.”

He handed her something wrapped in waxed paper. “I got you a cookie, just in case your blood sugar was low.”

Alex wondered how he knew so much about the biology of pregnancy as she unwrapped the long, dry biscotti and tried a nibble. It seemed safe. A sip of the peppermint tea confirmed it. “Thanks. I think we’re good.”

His shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad. I’d hate to have a repeat of earlier.”

She laughed a bit. “You’ll have to find another method for your next damsel in distress.”

Connor sipped his coffee, sucking in his lips as the hot liquid burned. “You seemed to need it. Plus, my grandmother would flay me alive if I didn’t help a lady in need.”

“I thought chivalry was dead?”

“Not quite.” His smile was thin. “And this way I can procrastinate.”

“I beg your pardon?” She put down her mug and stared at him.

“I have a meeting this afternoon. I’d rather spend the afternoon shovelling—Well, you get the idea. I’m simply not looking forward to it.”

“Why?”

He avoided her prying eyes and stared out the window. “It’s a long story.” He turned back. “What about you? What are your plans for you and the baby?”

She took another long drink of tea to settle the anxiety brewing in her belly. “Our plans are pretty open. I’m working for now. Trying to figure out what to do next. It’s temporary.”

“You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent.”

“No. Ottawa.”

He smiled. “I thought I sensed a little Ontario,” he teased. “But there are so many easterners here now that for all I knew you could have lived here for years.”

“Three weeks, two days and twenty-two hours,” she replied. “I’m working at the Pig’s Whistle pub for now.” She needed to find something else, away from the second-hand smoke. But her tips were good, and she’d have a hard time finding a boss as accommodating as Pete had been.

He didn’t have to answer for her to know what he was thinking. It was a dead-end job, and hardly one she could support herself and a baby on. She knew right away she’d said too much.

His brow furrowed a little, and she somehow felt she’d failed a test. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her, and they wouldn’t meet again, so his opinion shouldn’t matter at all. She was working on coming up with a solution. Just because she hadn’t come up with one yet, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Heck, she’d been finding her way out of scrapes for years. This one was going to take a little more ingenuity, that was all.

It was time to end this whole meet-and-greet thing. She pushed away her tea. “Listen, thanks for helping this afternoon, and for the tea. But I should get going.”

She stood to leave and he rose, reaching into his pocket.

“Here,” he offered, holding out a card. “If you need anything, call me.”

“Why would I do that?”

His face flattened and he stepped back at her sharp tone. “I’d like to be of help if I can. I’m at Windover Ranch, just north of Sundre.”

She had no idea where Sundre was, and had no plan to discover the wonders of Windover Ranch, so she figured there’d be no harm in responding to his solicitude by being polite. She tucked the small white card into her jeans pocket.

“Thanks for the offer. It was nice meeting you, Connor.”

She held out her hand, and he took it firmly.

Her eyes darted up to his and locked.

Another time, another place. She lost herself momentarily in their chocolaty depths. Perhaps in different circumstances she might have wanted to get to know him better. It was just her luck that she’d fainted in front of the first hot guy she’d seen in a good long time.

And it was the height of irony to meet someone like him when she was obviously unavailable. She was pretty sure that being pregnant with another man’s child was probably number one on a guy’s “not in this lifetime” list.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, pulling her hand away from his grasp.

Her steps were hurried as she exited the shop, but she couldn’t escape the gentle and understanding look he’d given her as she’d said goodbye.




CHAPTER TWO


“HAVE YOU SEEN today’s paper?” Connor stopped his agitated pacing and faced his grandmother.

Johanna Madsen looked coolly over the rims of her glasses, her shrewd eyes assessing. Not a single white hair was out of place, curled back from her temples stylishly and stopping at her collar.

“Yes, dear, of course I have.”

Connor started pacing the elegant sitting room again, feeling fenced in among the classic furniture and expensive knickknacks. His head was ready to implode. How could she sit there so implacably, a study in calm? This was big. It was huge. It was probably the end of Windover.

“We almost lost the farm after the last scare. This’ll put the final nail in the coffin, Grandmother.”

“My, you are upset,” Johanna replied with a tiny smile. “You never call me Grandmother unless you’re piqued at me.”

“Whatever.” Connor stopped pacing and faced the elderly woman squarely. “I want to know what you’re willing to do to help me save our heritage.”

She laughed, a raspy, rusty sound that made Connor’s lips twitch even as he waited for her answer.

“Our heritage? You’ve been thinking about this all day, I can tell.”

On the contrary. For a few hours that afternoon he’d forgotten about his current troubles, focusing on another’s issues. A slight girl with jet-black hair and astonishing blue eyes. With a baby on the way. Where was she now? He hoped she was still all right. When her face had paled and she’d wavered, he’d simply acted, while no one around had batted an eyelash.

And even at her worst she’d still maintained a sense of humor. He admired that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was in a bad way. For the father to simply disappear like that…Connor frowned. He had no compassion for cowards. A real man stood up and did what needed to be done.

And so, apparently, did Alex. Because the only sense he’d got from her today was that of strength and stubbornness, not hopelessness and self-pity.

And why, considering the current pickle he found himself in, was he thinking about her when he should be focusing on convincing Gram to release his trust fund?

“Connor?”

“Yes, Gram,” he answered sharply, turning back to the woman who looked so much like his father. Right now her expressive eyes were troubled, and the mouth that always looked like it held a secret joke was a thin line.

“Look,” he relented, “you know as well as I do why I’m here. There’s already a ban imposed on beef exports. It’s the same scenario as before, only this time it’ll be harder to convince the world our beef is safe. Meanwhile I have a herd, a growing herd, that I can’t slaughter but that still has to be fed and cared for.”

“And you want the cash?”

“My birthday is less than a year away. Surely you can release it a little early?”

Her blue hawk-like eyes bored into his as she folded her hands in her lap. Hands that had once been rough and workworn but now held a small smattering of delightful rings. “No, my grandson, I can’t do that. Your parents’ will clearly states that those monies be held in trust for you until your thirtieth.”

Connor cursed fluently; Johanna merely raised an elegant eyebrow. He glared at her, and she stared him down.

Damn it. She was strong—too strong. She’d lived her life, worked the ranch herself, knew what tough meant. She’d chosen comfort, a condo with a mountain view for her retirement. But she’d lost none of that prairie woman’s steel.

“Gram. I can’t do it. Not without the resources.”

“You are your father’s son. You can.”

“He never had to deal with this.” He said it and knew without a doubt he was right. The last scare had nearly bankrupted them, and they’d kept going by the skin of their teeth. But now…there was nothing in reserve. The only way to keep Windover running was with cold, hard cash. And it was clear now she wasn’t going to give him any. His heart sank. He’d fail after all.

Like hell I will. His lips thinned with frustration and determination.

“Legally I can’t release the money, Connor. You know I would if I could.”

Her eyes softened just a little, and he saw the deepening wrinkles there.

“I don’t want to see Windover go under either,” she continued. “It means as much to me as it does to you. You know that.”

He did know it. She’d spent all her married life there, had delivered his father, seen grandchildren grow and thrive.

“I’m just trying to find a way, and everywhere I turn there seems to be a roadblock.” Exasperated, he ran his fingers through his hair.

“There is one other provision, remember?” she remarked blandly.

She couldn’t be serious.

“The one other way for me to claim that trust fund is to get married. Gram, I’m not even seeing anyone! What do you want me to do? Post an ad at the general store? Perhaps I could find a mail order bride on the Internet!”

She shrugged, undaunted by his sarcasm. “Mail order brides have worked in the past, as you well know.” She rose from her chair and stood, her five-foot-ten frame slim and imperious, but mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I suggest you get busy, my boy.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

She laughed again, throwing him a flirtatious wink. “Why, courting, of course!”

* * *

COURTING. HMMPH. Connor snorted as he accelerated through the exit ramp onto Highway Two. The idea was as preposterous as the old-fashioned word. Courting. As if he had time to romance a woman, entice her to marry him and have the ceremony before the banks called in their loans. Besides, who did he know that was single?

He came from a community where everyone had known each other from diapers. Most of the town women he knew were married, or on their way to the altar. There was no one he could think of that he would consider marrying. And if it got out that he was looking for a stand-in wife he’d be laughed out of town. And what woman would settle for that anyway? What woman should have to?

Nope. He’d simply have to come up with a different solution.

There would be government money—aid for farmers affected. At least he wouldn’t have to cull—for now. But the aid cheque wouldn’t be enough to cover the growing mountain of expenses while on-the-hoof prices cratered.

He could sell the southwest parcel.

Just the thought of parting with that spectacular piece of land caused physical pain to slice through his gut. His father would never have split up the farm, and Connor knew he couldn’t either. Even in the lean years, during the Depression, when farmers had left their land behind to look for work, the Madsens had stayed and made it through. It was what they did.

He missed the sound of his dad’s voice, and his strength. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for that wisdom now, to sit at the kitchen table working through it. Together—Connor, Jim, and Dad—they would have come up with a plan. Only now it was up to him.

He turned up the radio to drown out the thunder that was exploding around him. It had been stuffy, sweltering today. The rain would cool things down, and hopefully there wouldn’t be any hail. He was going to need all the feed crops he could get. When you couldn’t sell beef, you still had to feed it.

Connor sighed, wrestling with his tie with one hand while steering the truck with the other. He’d put on the suit to meet with the bankers—and, yes, he admitted it, to impress his grandmother. It hadn’t worked, in either case.

Which brought him right back to courting.

Marriage was for a lifetime. Or at least he intended it to be. And as such it wasn’t something he glibly approached. It would be a huge mistake to find someone suitable and marry her in haste. He wanted to be in love with his bride. He wanted it to be someone he cherished and honored and wanted to build a family with. And he didn’t want to be pushed. He wanted it to be in his own good time, and when the time was right.

There had to be a way. A way he could bring the ranch back from the brink. His parents had been smart when they’d set up the trust the way they had. There was more than enough money in the trust account to keep things afloat while he restructured, figured out where to go next. If he were careful. But how to get his hands on it…?

“I suggest you get busy, my boy.”

His grandmother’s words rang in his ears as he headed north. What he needed was a practical solution. Something black and white and easy—something that made sense. What he needed to do was stop worrying and take action.

He envied the optimism that Alex had shown today… “I’ll manage. I always do.” Even in her dire straits she seemed capable, even though he knew she was pregnant and alone and without her own place to call home. She had an intrinsic faith that things would work out in the end.

The idea hit him fast and hard, and he almost steered the truck into the ditch as lightning forked in the sky ahead of him.

Alex. He needed a wife. She needed a place to call home for a while, and resources. They could help each other. He hadn’t been mistaken in the connection they’d made today as she’d held out her hand and he’d taken her smaller one in his. They could become friends, he was sure. He could do her a favor and she could help him save the family spread.

He remembered how they’d parted. He’d given her a business card.

“Why would I do that?” she’d asked, and he’d known she was too independent to rely on a stranger for help.

But perhaps if she knew he needed her help as much as she needed his…

He changed lanes, steered the truck over the grass median, and gunned it out on the highway in the opposite direction, heading back to town. His heart pounded with anticipation and apprehension.

How did you propose marriage to someone you’d met only hours before?

* * *

THE PHONE RANG as Alex came out of the bathroom, clad in flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She answered it, expecting it to be someone for one of her temporary roommates. Instead it was the pub—asking her to cover a shift. Peggy had up and quit with no notice.

She looked out the window at the rain streaming down the pane. The walk would be hell, even if it was only a few blocks. But it was extra money…and the tips were always better in the evenings.

With a sigh she agreed, and changed into a pair of jeans and her work T-shirt: snug white, with a picture of a whistling pig on the front. She gathered her hair into a careless ponytail, the black ends touching the top of her spine. For a moment she paused, watching as lightning forked across the sky. If she didn’t need the money…

But she did. So she grabbed her umbrella from behind the door and made the trek to the pub in the downpour.

It was dim and smoky inside, and for a minute she contemplated the effects of second-hand smoke on herself and her baby. But this was the only job she had, and she couldn’t afford to quit while she looked for something else. She had to eat. She had to think of how she was going to feed herself and care for an infant. Tying a black apron around her waist, she grabbed an empty tray and started cleaning up empties and taking orders.

* * *

IT WAS ONLY nine when he came in.

The door thumped open the same as it did a hundred times a night, but for some reason she turned towards it. When Connor stepped in, shaking the water from his coat and instantly scanning the room, her pulse jumped. It was too coincidental. He had come looking for her.

When his eyes met hers across the hazy room she knew she was right. He smiled, a lazy, melting smile, and she braced herself. Men who smiled like that were deadly. And the last thing she needed was a distraction as lethal as Connor Madsen.

He made his way through the crush of people to her side. “Hi,” he said loudly, over the pulse of country music and boisterous laughter. “Can we talk?”

“Hey, Alex! Table ten needs another round! We don’t pay you to stand around all night!”

Alex nodded at Pete, the bartender and owner. Pete came across as all gruff, but she knew he had a heart of gold and a protective streak a mile long. It was one of the reasons she’d stayed as long as she had. As long as Pete was watching, she wouldn’t have to worry.

Alex looked up at Connor with consternation twisting her face. “I can’t talk right now, I’m working.”

“It’s important.”

“So’s my job.” She turned away, heading to the bar to pick up the round of beers.

His hand was firm on her arm. “If you care about your baby’s future, you’ll listen.”

That got her attention.

She stared up at him with eyes narrowed, curious despite herself. “Fine, then. But not now. Another time, when I’m not carting beers around.”

“What time are you through?”

“One.”

“In the morning?”

She laughed then, at his dismayed expression. “Yes, I have four more hours of being on my feet.”

He followed her to the bar. Pete asked a question with his eyes, but she gave a slight shake of her head: No, he wasn’t bothering her.

“I’ll come back and walk you home. I really do need to talk to you.”

She sighed. “Fine. But for now you’re costing me my tips, in case you didn’t notice. I need to get back to work. I won’t make much money with you standing glowering over me.”

She shouldered past him, pasting a smile on her face as she apologized to the patrons at table ten for the delay. When she turned back, he was gone.

At one a.m. they ushered out the last customer and Alex locked the door. Pete eyed her over the bar as he started counting out the float for morning. “Go home,” he said, “and I’ll finish this. That’s the second double you’ve pulled this week. You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks, Pete.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or nervous. If she left now, Connor might be outside waiting. If she didn’t, he’d probably get tired of waiting around. On one hand she wanted to see him, see what was so important. On the other she knew it probably wasn’t best. She didn’t need any extra complications right now—her life was already full of too many.

She grabbed her umbrella from behind the bar and saluted him. “Tomorrow at four?”

“G’night, darlin’,” he answered. “I’ll lock up behind you.”

When she stepped out into the darkness Connor was waiting, standing next to a bench beneath a streetlight. His tie from earlier was gone, and he looked sexily rumpled in the dim light. She swallowed, thankful that she’d spent enough time alone to have some street smarts. And to follow her instincts. Right now her instincts were telling her she wasn’t in mortal danger. But the way her body was reacting to seeing him again told her loud and clear that she was in danger of another kind.

She should turn around and go back inside. She reached for the handle, only to hear the lock click into place.

She could handle this. She could.

“My mother used to warn me about strange men and dark streets late at night.”

He turned, and in his arms was a bouquet of lemon-colored roses. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we have a streetlight and we’ve already met. I can’t do anything about the hour, though.”

He held out the roses and she was too stupefied to do anything besides take them, the clear cellophane wrapping crackling in her hands. Where had he found roses after nine p.m.?

And, a better question, why? What was so important he needed to butter her up with flowers first?

Warning bells screamed through her head. Whatever he wanted was something big. She’d only received flowers once before in her life. It had been roses then, too, pink ones. And the gist of the card had been Thanks for the memories.

“Thank you,” she said clearly. “But I don’t quite understand what is so important you think you need to impress me with roses. Even if they are quite stunning,” she admitted, sniffing the yellow blossoms.

She laughed a little to herself, remembered reading somewhere that yellow roses signified unrequited love. She needed that like she needed a hole in her head.

“You’d better get to the point,” she suggested. “The novelty of these will probably wear off pretty fast.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

She began walking, and he fell into step beside her.

“What sort of proposition?”

“I want you to marry me.”

Her feet simply stopped working, and she halted, frozen to the sidewalk. He what? What sort of cruel joke was this? Poor, pregnant Alex. Surely he didn’t think she was that desperate! He could take his pity and—

Her head lifted until she looked down her nose at him. “I couldn’t have just heard you correctly.”

He grabbed her forearms, turning her to face him, his hand catching on the umbrella dangling from her wrist. “I want you to marry me.” He huffed out a laugh of surprise. “That wasn’t how I planned to say it, but there you go.”

He wanted her to marry him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. What on earth? She realized he was completely in earnest. He was proposing to her in the middle of the street at one-twenty-two in the morning.

“I met you less than twelve hours ago. You’re insane. Good night, Connor.”

She turned to walk away, and made it a few steps.

“Wait.”

The desperation in his voice caught at her and she stopped. “Wait for what? You can’t be serious about this.”

“I am. And I’ll explain it if you’ll only listen.”

His suit was rather rumpled, and his hair looked as if he’d spent the better part of the evening running his hands through it. Against her better judgment she capitulated. He’d helped her this afternoon, and she felt obligated to him. “You have five minutes.”

“Let’s keep walking.”

Shoulder to shoulder they headed down the street. It was considerably cool after the violence of the earlier shower, and Alex shivered in the damp air. Gallantly he removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. If nothing else, all his actions said he was a gentleman.

“I went to see my grandmother today. I have a trust fund, but I can’t access it until I’m thirty.”

“So old? I thought most of those were age of consent, or twenty-one or whatever?”

“My parents set it up that way. Anyway, I’m twenty-nine. But I need the cash now.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.” She kept walking, her eyes straight ahead. If she looked into his, all dark and earnest, she knew she’d be taken in. She’d been in danger of it earlier today.

She knew what it was to be fooled by a pair of beautiful peepers. And now she knew better than to do it again.

“This’ll make sense, if you actually let me explain,” he answered. “There is a provision. I can have the money if I’m married.”

“I see.” She didn’t, really, but it was getting slightly less muddled.

“I think Mom and Dad set it up that way so I’d be old enough not to squander it, but that if I got married it would help me and my bride.”

“Good logic.”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

She felt his eyes on her but refused to meet his gaze. “I don’t know you, Connor. But I agreed to listen, so I will.”

“Look,” he said, with a hand on her arm, stopping her. “If I don’t get some cash soon I’m going to lose our ranch. That ranch has been in our family for over a hundred years.”

“Why are you in such trouble?” The last thing she needed was a man who didn’t know how to manage his own affairs. Lord knew she’d screwed up enough on her own. But at least they’d been her mistakes to make and fix. What surprised her most was that she was already intrigued, instead of flatly telling him to take a hike. She couldn’t escape the gentle way he’d helped her this afternoon. How he’d bought her peppermint tea and actually seemed to care about what happened to her.

“There’s been an outbreak of cattle disease. It took everything I had to get us through the last crisis. But now…another case, up north. It’s going to cripple the whole industry. Yet, I’ve got a herd to sustain. A lot of farms will go under because of this. I refuse to let Windover be one of them.”

She’d read the news, and knew the situation was as serious as he said. This wasn’t mismanagement. This was a situation completely out of his control.

“You need some way to support yourself and the baby. What I’m talking about here is a mutually beneficial arrangement. You marry me, I get my trust fund, and Windover survives the crisis. After the baby is born, and you’re back on your feet, you can do what you choose, and I’ll make sure there’s money in your bank account every month.”

“A paper marriage, then?”

He sighed and looked down into her eyes. Yep, she’d been right. A woman could lose herself in those chocolate eyes and find herself agreeing to all kinds of madness.

“Yes. It won’t be a traditional marriage. Look, it’s not like this is what I wanted for myself. Believe me, I’ve exhausted every possible angle trying to find a way to keep things going. I’m looking at this practically. I get what I need and you get some help. We are both in predicaments here and are in the position of being able to help each other. Nothing more.”

“Marriage isn’t supposed to be a business arrangement.”

That took him by surprise, she could tell. It probably did seem strange, coming from a woman who was practically homeless, single and pregnant. He might be shocked to discover how she truly felt about love and marriage. Not that she’d ever breathe a word of that to him. No way.

“I know. It’s supposed to be love and commitment forever. And I do want that someday.” His cheekbones softened as he looked away. “A wife who loves me as I love her, and children of our own. A partner to share the ups and downs with. Honor and strength, and knowing you’re stronger together than apart.”

A devastatingly sexy man with traditional values. Could he possibly know how rare that was?

“I’d be a means to an end,” she confirmed, the words coming out strangled. She shook off his hand and started walking again.

“That sounds cold,” he said gently. “We would be helping each other. I want that happy ending…and I’m assuming you do too. Someday in the future. We’d be doing what we need to do now to survive. I’m hoping we would become friends.”

Friends. Now, that sounded dangerous. Her footsteps made squishing noises in the film of water on the concrete. What he was suggesting was outrageous. Preposterous. Humiliating.

“I think you’re crazy.” She stopped outside a pale yellow house. “Thanks for the walk home.”

“Alex, please. Don’t say no yet, OK? Just think about it. I know it’s not romantic. But leave all that behind and look at the facts, OK? You’d have some security for yourself and the baby, and a comfortable place to live for the rest of your pregnancy. Your needs will be looked after, I promise.”

She shrugged out of his coat and handed it back.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you can propose to?”

“No.” The answer was flat and final. “Take until Monday to consider it. I’ll be back in town then. If you take the time to think about it, you’ll see that you’d be helping me immensely. The least I can do is repay the favor.”

It was too practical, too perfect, and too convenient. Perfect plans always ended up getting blown to smithereens and leaving her standing alone after the dust had settled. If her life had taught her anything, it had taught her that.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Without looking back, she went inside and shut the door.




CHAPTER THREE


ALEX WAS ZIPPING UP her backpack when a car door slammed.

She couldn’t see the vehicle, but a quiver along her spine told her it was him before she even peered out through the peephole. Sure enough, he was skirting around the front of a huge pickup truck. She pressed a hand to her heart, trying to calm the thumping there. He was early. She had planned on him meeting up with her at the pub later. But it was barely ten, and he had obviously remembered where she was staying.

She opened the door before he had time to knock. Connor’s boots halted abruptly, and they stared at each other. She didn’t know what to say, and as the silence stretched out she grew more and more uncomfortable. She chewed on her bottom lip, while he stood so still she could barely make out the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was like he was waiting to see what she’d say before he decided what to do. Offering her hand to him seemed silly, a kiss on the cheek presumptuous. She stuffed her hands into her pockets instead.

He was looking very different than he had on Friday. In a very good way. Long, muscled legs filled out faded jeans, and he wore a plain black T-shirt that accentuated the broadness of his torso. Her eyes darted upward; his hair, shaggy at the ends, was as tousled as ever. His forearms, brown from the sun, were lightly sprinkled with hair, tapering to strong wrists. They disappeared into his jeans pockets when he caught her staring at him.

“Good morning.” He smiled, but his eyes were focused on her lips, which she was still biting nervously.

“You’re very prompt.” The words came out more sharply than she’d intended, but the fact of the matter was she was more affected by his appearance than she cared to admit.

His jaw ticked ever so slightly in response to her tone. “I’ve got to be back by lunchtime.”

Wow, wasn’t this romantic? She rested her weight back on a hip. Gee, honey, don’t mean to rush you, but could you answer my proposal so I can get back to the cows? He didn’t say it, but that was how it made her feel. Suddenly she doubted her decision. Things were happening too fast. A week ago she’d just been trying to pay her share of the rent. Today she was actually contemplating moving out to a farm in the middle of nowhere in a bogus marriage to a man she didn’t even know. This was so surreal.

“I don’t mean to rush you.” He tried an encouraging smile instead.

“You think by turning on the charm I’m going to follow along meekly?” Her eyes shot fire at him. “You need to do more than flash your pearly whites to convince me.”

He stepped back, properly chastised. “I beg your pardon,” he responded stiffly.

She couldn’t help it. The whole situation was ludicrous. Her lips curved up slightly in response and she let her eyes twinkle at him. “I would think so.”

She knew the moment he got that she was teasing. His eyes warmed, glowing back at her, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m ready.” She pulled the backpack out from behind the door and stepped out on to the porch.

“You mean you’ll do it?” His jaw dropped.

She kept her smile in place. She was glad he hadn’t been sure of her; that made what came next a little easier.

“Well, not exactly.”

“I don’t understand. Either you’re coming or not.” He leaned his right arm against the porch pillar, pulling the shirt taut against his ribs.

Alex licked her lips, unsure of how to begin. “I’m not sure marriage is such a good idea. We hardly know each other.” She braved a look into his eyes. “For all I know you’re some wacko, looking for an easy target.”

His gaze was steady on hers. He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but took her comment seriously. “And do you really think that?”

“No,” she admitted. “But this is pretty unorthodox, you have to admit.”

“A business dealing, no more. I help you, you help me.”

He made it seem easy, when it wasn’t—not at all. This was her future and her baby’s that she was tampering with. Alex, who hadn’t relied on anyone in years, was suddenly considering becoming dependent on a relative stranger for her security and well-being. There was nothing simple about that. The one thing that kept her even considering it was the lack of choices she seemed to have lately.

She stepped back, putting a few extra inches of distance between them. “What I mean is, this is all happening so fast.”

“I know that. Which is why I had an idea this weekend. How about a trial period first? You come up to Windover, stay a while, before you make your decision. If you decide it won’t work, I’ll bring you back here.”

When the strain evaporated from her face like magic, he knew he’d done the right thing.

“I think that is a very sensible approach,” she responded. Her eyes cleared of worry and she treated him to another one of her genuine smiles.

“I certainly don’t want to chain you to the place if you’re going to be miserable for the next…how many months? I thought this might be a way to test the waters.”

“Four months,” she replied thinly. Chained to the place? The place wasn’t worrying her half as much as being chained to him. And it would likely be more than four months. Once the baby came she’d need some time to recover; to figure out what to do next.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “How long a trial period?” She knew he was operating on a timeline, and a short one, and she didn’t want to feel pressed to make this decision in the first forty-eight hours, or some silly thing.

“I don’t know. No longer than a week.”

Her breath came out in a rush, but her words came out cautiously. “OK. A week I can do.”

“In that case, let’s get going.”

She lifted her backpack as he spoke, surprised when his hands took the weight from her. Her shoulder tingled where his fingers touched.

She’d forgotten his penchant for chivalry, which was surprising, since he was constantly polite. It was hard to get used to that in a man. Simply not what she’d been used to.

“Thank you.”

“Where’s the rest?”

She looked at her toes. “That is the rest.”

“This is all you’ve got?” He halted by the door of the truck, his fingers on the handle. “No suitcase?”

“This is it,” she said firmly. She would not, could not, get into a discussion of why her life was packed into a solitary bag. Someday she’d settle, find something permanent. Then she’d make the home for herself that she longed for.

Wordlessly he opened the door, helped her in, and put the pack behind her seat. Nerves bubbled up in her stomach. What on earth was she doing? This was crazy. Insane. She knew next to nothing about him.

He got up into the cab beside her and started the engine as she fastened her seatbelt. At least she’d had the foresight to do a bit of checking on him of her own. Saturday she’d hit the library and the computers there, looking up information on the man and his ranch.

Surprisingly, there’d been several hits to her query, and she had read with fascination articles regarding Connor and, more interestingly, his family. His father had been prominent in the beef industry, and under his hand the farm had flourished. The Madsen ranch had been around for over a hundred years. Now she understood why Connor was determined to make it through this crisis.

One hit had turned up a recent “spotlight” on Connor—he had done an interview on innovative breeding. His picture had come up beside the print, and she’d stared at it. He sure didn’t look like some creep, despite the oddness of his proposal. He was twenty-nine, sexy as the day was long, and apparently smart and well respected. Her eyes darted to the imposing figure beside her, concentrating on the road.

She wished she’d found something more personal—a vital statistics sort of thing. Where was his family now? He’d only mentioned his grandmother. What were his interests, his quirks?

The only way she could find out that information was to talk to the man himself. She wasn’t at all sure she could marry him, even if it were only a legality. She’d be stuck with him for the next several months. There was her baby to consider. She had to do what was right by her child.

Her hand drifted to her tummy as a current country hit came on the radio and Connor exited on to the highway. It was too early for her to feel the baby’s movement, but already her shape was changing and her waist was thickening. It was her child in there. She hadn’t planned on having children for years yet, and certainly not alone. But she was attached to this life growing inside her, knew that no matter what, she wanted to be a good mother. How could she do that if she couldn’t even afford a place for them to live?

Alex stared out the window at the city passing by in a blur. A trial run was her best option right now. At least it left her a way to get out.

* * *

THE LANE WAS long and straight, unpaved, leading to an ordinary two-story house in white siding with blue shutters.

Alex stared at it, not sure what to think. She looked out both windows…there weren’t even any neighbors. No, wait. There. On that distant knoll to the southeast there was a speck that might have been a house. The land surrounding them was green and brown, spattered sparsely with trees. Basically empty. Isolated.

Beyond the house were outbuildings of various sizes. Alex, city girl, had no idea what they were used for beyond the basic “looking after cattle” umbrella. Another pickup sat in front of a white barn. To the side were tractors. Not the small, hayride sort of tractor she had been used to growing up in southern Ontario. But gargantuan monsters painted green and yellow. The kind she’d need a stepladder to get into.

Connor pulled up in front of the house and shut off the engine. “Here we are,” he said into the breach of silence.

“It’s huge,” she answered, opening the door and hopping down. “The sky…it seems endless.”

“Until you look over there.” He grinned at her, came to stand beside her and pointed west. Her eyes followed his finger and she gasped.

She had focused so hard on the house that she’d completely missed the view. It spread before her now, long and gray, a jagged expanse of Rocky Mountains that took her breath away. They were a long way away, yet close enough that she saw the varied shades, dark in the dips and bowls, lighter at the peaks, tipped with snow even in early June.

“That’s stunning.” Stunning didn’t cover it. Something in the mountains simply called to her, touched her deeply. Made her feel alive and strong.

“They keep me from feeling lonely,” Connor murmured, and she realized how close he was to her ear. There was something in his tone that touched her. All this space…and he lived here alone. Something about him in that moment made her realize that he had a gap in his life, an emptiness he wanted to fill.

She wondered what had put it there, but was in no position to ask. And she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answer either. She sure didn’t want him to delve into her past, so she said nothing.

“Why don’t you show me the inside?” She changed the subject, pulling her eyes from the scenery and adopting a more practical air.

He grabbed her bag from the truck and led the way inside. She took off her sneakers, placing them beside his boots on the mat in the entry, and followed him past a living room and a stairway to a large, homey kitchen.

“You hungry? We should have some lunch.” He put her bag on an old wooden rocker and turned to face her. His jaw seemed taut with tension, and she realized that he was finding this as odd and uncomfortable as she was. Now, here, in his house, it became ever more clear that they were practically strangers.

“I could use a sandwich or something.”

He took meat and cheese out of the fridge, condiments, and grabbed a loaf of bread from a wooden breadbox on the countertop. “I don’t know what you like,” he offered apologetically. “So we can fix our own, I guess.” Silence fell, and to break it Connor began stacking meat and slices of cheese on his bread. He reached for a bottle of mustard, looked up, and saw an odd expression on Alex’s face.

“Are you OK?” His hand halted, poised above his sandwich.

“It’s the mustard. I’ll be fine.” She swallowed visibly.

He stared at her, his mouth gaping open with some sort of fresh horror, and a drop of bright yellow landed on his corned beef. He looked down, his expression horrified at the offending blot, wondering if it was enough to make her ill. God, he hoped not!

Connor heard her snort and looked up, confused. Her hand was over her mouth and she was trying futilely not to laugh. Before he knew it, he was laughing too.

“Oh, the look on your face,” she gasped. “Pregnancy does make cowards out of men!”

Putting the mustard bottle down on the cupboard, he chuckled while she caught her breath. “Do you feel as awkward as I do?” he asked.

“Incredibly.”

The laugh had done much to dissolve the polite tension that had risen between them. “I don’t want you to feel out of place here. I want you to feel at home.”

“I want that too.”

“You’ll find I’m easy to please, Alex.” He smiled easily as he said it, but her cheeks colored. When he realized she’d taken what he’d said a little too literally, his smile faltered as they stared into each other’s eyes. He became aware of the way her breasts rose and fell beneath her T-shirt. She was still breathless from laughing.

“I don’t need much,” she murmured. “A place to sleep and some good food. I want to try to help out in any way I can. I’m not used to being idle.”

“Farm work isn’t for you.”

Her mouth thinned. “I’m not going to break, Connor. Women have been having babies for thousands of years.”

“I realize that.” His eyes didn’t relent. “But you’re not doing heavy farm work. There’s a garden behind the house if you like the outdoors. I don’t want you to be bored, Alex, but I don’t expect you to be some indentured servant either. Honestly, if I didn’t have to cook at the end of the day it would be a gift from heaven.”

Choices. Time that was her own, to do as she wished—making dinner or tending the tiny plants of the garden in the fresh air and sunshine. The freedom to clean, do laundry, on her own time.

Perhaps that sounded mundane and tedious, but to Alex it seemed wonderful. Growing up, she’d always envied her school chums whose moms had baked cookies for class parties, or who had invited her over for home-cooked meals. Not to be unfair, her parents had been great, but their lifestyle hadn’t exactly been traditional. It would be almost perfect. If only…

If only it weren’t such a sham.

Still, if he were willing to go through with it, the least she could do was carry her own weight.

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t had much experience in the whole domestic arena…” she waved a hand “…but I’m a fast learner.” She went to the counter and began making her own sandwich of turkey and cheese. She took one look at the tomatoes and passed on to the nice, friendly lettuce, eschewed mayo and went for the pepper.

“All right, then. I’m going to take this with me.” He gestured with the thick sandwich in his hand. “I wish I could stay and help you get settled. But I’ve got a couple of calves that need tending, and if the hands didn’t have any luck this morning I’m going to have to call the vet. Will you be OK?”

He looked so apologetic that she couldn’t be mad. After all, the whole reason she was here was because this place meant everything to him. She couldn’t expect him to forget that and play host for the afternoon.

“I’ll be fine. I can explore on my own. Go.” She smiled and shooed him with a hand. “If you stayed in you’d just worry about it, wouldn’t you?”

He looked relieved that she’d let him off the hook. “Yes, I would. I’m glad you understand. I want you to know…” His feet shifted a little as he admitted, “I’m happy you decided to try this out. I’m going to make sure you don’t regret it, Alex.”

She got the sinking feeling that she was going to regret it, deeply. Because when he was kind, when he was considerate, she knew she couldn’t stay immune.

She followed him back to the door, watched as he shoved his feet in his boots, pulling up the heel with one hand.

“Your room is at the top of the stairs. Turn right and it’s the first door. There’s a white spread on the bed.”

“I’m a big girl. I’ll manage.”

“I’ll be back in around six.”

At this point she started to laugh. “Connor. Seriously. Go do what you have to do.”

He offered her a grateful parting smile, but then he was gone and the house was empty and quiet without him.

Alex went back to the kitchen and finished her sandwich, washing it down with a glass of milk. The morning sickness was starting to pass now and, still hungry, she snooped through the pantry and found a bag of oatmeal cookies. She grabbed two, then put her backpack over her shoulder and went to explore.

At the top of the stairs she turned right, but she was immediately faced with two doors. Did he mean the first one at the end or the first one right in front of her? She chose the latter and, turning the knob, stepped into what had to be Connor’s room.

The spread wasn’t white, it was brown with geometric shapes dashed across it in tan and sienna. He’d made it that morning, but there was a spot on the edge, just about in the middle, that looked like perhaps he’d sat there while getting dressed. The air held a slight odor of leather and men’s toiletries, mingled with the fresh scent of fabric softener. She put down her bag and went over to the chest of drawers. On the top was a bowl, containing some errant screws and pins and what looked like a screwdriver bit, probably removed from his pants before they went in the laundry. Beside the dish was a framed picture. In it she saw Connor, much younger, perhaps twenty or so, standing beside a boy with the same dark hair and mischievous eyes. They each had a hand on a shorter woman standing in front of them. The woman was slight, with black hair, and she was laughing. In her hands she held a gold trophy. Off to the right stood their father, tall and strong, his hand on the halter of a large black cow.

So he did have a family. A brother and two parents. And from the smiles they appeared happy. But where were they now?

She’d trespassed long enough. If Connor had wanted her to know about his family he would have told her. And he might tell her yet—once they knew each other better. But she wouldn’t pry. It was his business, his secret to reveal or to keep. She respected that—after all, she had skeletons of her own. She backed away from the dresser and picked up her bag on the way out the door.

The next room was undoubtedly the one he’d meant. It was large, with a double dresser and mirror and a sturdy pine bed. The coverlet was white and lacy, lady’s bedding, and Alex wondered if it was a spare room or if it had belonged to his parents. She put her bag on a chair beside the nightstand. After the floors she’d slept on, the dingy rooms with nothing pretty to redeem them, this was too much. Too pretty, too feminine. Too perfect. She didn’t want to mar that pristine white duvet with whatever might be on the bottom of her bag. She took her clothes out and put them in the dresser. All she had only filled two drawers. A plastic bag held toiletries—soap, shampoo, toothbrush, deodorant. Those she took to the bathroom at the end of the hall and placed them on a wire rack that had one empty shelf. Other than that her bag only contained a journal and a pen and a picture. The picture she left in the bag, stowing the pack in the otherwise empty closet. The journal she tucked into the nightstand drawer, out of sight.

Going back downstairs, she decided then and there that if she were going to pull her weight at all she’d better get cracking. After all, it wasn’t fair if for the next six months her only contribution to this arrangement was signing on the dotted line and leaving Connor to do all the work. He was willing to support her, not only now but after the baby was born, if only she’d marry him first. It definitely made her feel guilty, knowing she got the easy part of the deal. The least she could do was make sure he had a good hot meal at the end of the day and a clean house to come home to. If he wouldn’t let her do any of the manual labor, she could at least look after things in the house.

Except she’d never done anything like it in her life. And now the fate of herself and her baby depended on her success.




CHAPTER FOUR


THE TOP OF the fridge held nothing but extra bread and some frozen vegetables. He’s got to have meat around here somewhere, she thought, and searched high and low until she came across a huge Deepfreeze in the basement.

She took out a package that said “cross rib steak” and remembered going to her grandmother’s house when she had been a small child. Her grandmother had made this dish…Swiss steak…and it had been fork-tender, surrounded by onions and gravy, all layered on mashed potatoes. Surely there was a recipe book somewhere that would tell her how to make it?

She searched the kitchen for such a book, and came up with a small binder. The cover had a crudely drawn picture of an apple on it and the words Mom’s Recipes in black marker. Inside were pages of handwritten recipes, in no particular order. Maple Chicken was next to Dad’s Chocolate Cake. Bread and Butter Pickles next to Come and Get ’Em Cookies. She sighed as the microwave dinged out a message that the meat was thawed. This was going to take forever.

She finally found a recipe that said “Smothered Meat” and thought it sounded about right. Retrieving a roasting pan from a low cupboard, she put in the meat and then added water, onions and bay leaves that she found above the stove in a motley assortment of spices. She turned on the oven and slid the roaster in…step one complete.

She could do this. She could. Just because she’d never learned to cook, it didn’t mean she couldn’t, she told herself. All you had to do was follow instructions. It couldn’t be that hard.

Potatoes didn’t take that long, so maybe she’d really live on the edge and attempt something for dessert. Jazzed up with motivation, she grabbed the red binder again and flipped through the pages, looking for one that sounded good. These were his mom’s recipes, probably the ones she made most often. She stopped at a page that looked like it had been handled often. Caramel Pudding. She read the recipe. Easy enough. Flour, egg, butter, milk, leavening, salt…brown sugar, boiling water. How hard could it be?

An hour later she slid the pan into the oven beside the meat and sighed. The instructions had sounded deceptively simple. However, they didn’t seem to translate into her hands. She looked at the countertops. They were strewn with flour and sticky batter and dirty dishes. The first order of business had to be cleaning up this disaster zone before she went any further.

She was halfway through the dishes when she remembered the meat needed tending, the sauce thickening.

The mess doubled. Again.

The next time she looked at the clock it said four-fifty-five. She was exhausted, and with a whole new appreciation of women who willingly did this every blessed day of their lives. She was certain now that she’d had the easy job—waitressing, instead of being in the kitchen!

It took her twenty minutes and two Bandaids to peel the potatoes, and she grumbled that she was really going to have to caution Connor on having his knives too sharp.

She found a glass casserole and emptied a bag of frozen corn into it, put it in the microwave and let her rip just as Connor was coming in the door.

“Hey,” he called from the front door. “How was your afternoon?”

I’d rather have been chased by the hounds of hell, she thought grumpily, but pasted on a smile and said, “Fine.”

He came into the kitchen and sniffed. “Do I smell caramel pudding?”

She smiled for real, the curve of her lips fading as she saw how weary and defeated he looked. “I found your mom’s old recipes.”

He came over to the stove, lifted the lid on the potatoes bubbling away. “It’s good to come in and not have to worry about supper. Thank you, Alex.”

Don’t thank me yet, she thought, none too sure of success. The pudding seemed oddly flat, and she hadn’t checked the steak yet. At least the potatoes seemed to be holding their own.

“Your afternoon didn’t go well?” she surmised quietly.

When he sank into a chair and ran his hand through his hair, she knew she’d guessed right.

“We lost one. The other’s touch and go.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, her stomach suddenly churning with nervousness. He was expecting a great home-cooked meal after a rotten afternoon. He couldn’t know she’d never made anything that wasn’t out of a can or ready with one touch of a microwave button. She took the roaster out of the oven, and as the corn finished she drained the potatoes.

“Don’t be sorry. It happens. But you know, no matter how much you think you get used to it, you never do.”

She filled his plate with potatoes and a generous scoop of corn, then a large slice of steak from the roaster. The gravy was thinner than she’d expected, and seemed suspiciously lumpy, but she hoped for the best and ladled it over the top of his potatoes.

She fixed her own plate and sat down across from him. “I hope the other one makes it,” she offered as he picked up his fork. Only to pause with it still stuck between his lips.

“Is something wrong?”

Connor looked up at her hopeful eyes and made himself swallow. The corn was still cold in the middle. “No, no,” he reassured her, cutting into the steak. She looked so vulnerable, so eager to please, that he didn’t have the heart to tell her.

The meat was cooked and tender, but the gravy…something was off. It was too pale and runny. He bravely took a scoop of potatoes and gravy and found a ball of flour rolling on his tongue. He smiled up at her, but he could tell she knew by the crestfallen way her lips turned down and her cheeks fell.

“It’s horrible. Disgusting. You can’t eat this.”

“Sure I can. It’s definitely edible.”

Alex tried a bite with the gravy and made a face. “Eeeew. What did I do wrong?” She took a mouthful of corn and hurriedly spit it into her napkin. “And the corn is still frozen! Oh, I can’t do anything right!” she cried. “You put in a horrible afternoon and then come in to this!”

“You can do things right,” Connor said gently. He got up from his chair and took her plate. He put it in the microwave and heated it up more. “It’s not your fault that I had a tough day. And you worked hard to try to make me a nice dinner. That was a sweet thing to do, Alex.”

“Don’t patronize me. I don’t want to be sweet. I want to be helpful!” she burst out in frustration. “I’ve been on my own for five years and I’ve been outdone by a bag of frozen vegetables!”

He gave her back her plate, then heated his own. “The corn just needed more time.”

“But I followed the directions on the bag!” She stared morosely at the offending kernels, now piping hot. Cooking was the only thing he’d asked of her, and the meal was a disaster. It wasn’t a good way to start a trial period for marriage.

Connor couldn’t help but laugh. “It takes a bit longer when you cook a whole bag at a time.” The casserole was filled with enough of the vegetable for at least three more meals.

“And the gravy is revolting. But I followed the directions to the letter!”

“Where’s the gravy browning?”

“Browning?”

He had to turn his face away to hide a smile. That was why it was pale. She hadn’t used any browning. If he knew Mom’s recipe, it probably said to thicken the juices with flour and water. And the lumps…If she didn’t know how to make gravy, she wouldn’t know how to make it without clumps of flour in it either.

“Connor?”

“I’ll show you how to make gravy. It takes practice.”

Alex pushed her plate away. Other than the corn, the tasteless, flour-pitted gravy had ruined everything. How on earth could she carry her own weight when he had to teach her how to cook? Never had she felt so defeated.

She scooped the odd-looking pudding into two bowls. “Do you put ice cream on it?”

“I’m out, but milk’s just as good. Sit down. I’ll get it.”

He poured a little milk on the pudding and served it. He took a bite, sucked in his cheeks, and pushed the bowl away.

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

Tears sprang into her eyes. She had never felt such a complete failure. Well, if this wasn’t a whole new discovery. Alex, who always seemed to manage, to find a way, was completely hopeless in the kitchen. The one thing she could contribute in this whole arrangement and she was a culinary idiot.

“What did you use to make it rise?”

“Arsenic.” At his horrified expression, she shook her head. “Baking powder, like the recipe said,” she insisted.

He went to the cupboard and took out a small orange box. “You mean this?”

“Yes.”

He started laughing. “This is baking soda, not powder.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Oh, yes. If you taste your dessert it’ll be sharp, and a bit bitter.”

She did, made a face, and struggled to swallow the solitary bite.

“I’m a complete failure. And of no use to you, obviously. I’m sorry, Connor, for wasting your time and mine.” She pushed out her chair, haughty as a queen, and made for the stairs.

“Hey,” he interrupted, lunging after her and grabbing her arm. “One disastrous meal does not a deal-breaker make.”

“Why not? You sure can’t eat my cooking for the next six months. You’ll starve, if I don’t kill you with food poisoning first.”

“Have you ever cooked before?”

“No.”

“Then why on earth did you think you’d suddenly be perfect at it?”

“I didn’t think it would be so hard,” she murmured, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Tears threatened again. “Oh, these stupid hormones!” she said, frustration finally bubbling over. “I hate crying! I never cry!”

Thankfully he ignored the tears and remained pragmatic about the whole issue. “I know how to cook because my mom taught both my brother and me. I’m no great chef by any means, but I can show you the basics.”

Alex took several breaths in and out, calming herself. She was the only one throwing a fit here. Connor was being particularly good-humored about the whole thing. Because of it, she decided to give him a little insight into her past.

“My mom never cooked much. We were sort of the take-out and convenience food house on the block,” Alex admitted, not sure why he was being nice about it. “But I can do stuff out of cans and frozen entrees really well.”

Connor laughed, and Alex smiled up at him. His eyes were warm, framed by those shaggy dark locks. He wasn’t mad. Not even a little. Even though she’d wasted that food and made a horrible mess of everything. Connor Madsen had a generous spirit, she realized, despite the unorthodox relationship they seemed to have started. He was certainly nicer than she deserved.

“You need this money badly, don’t you?” she asked him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes swallowing her up in their dark, honest depths. Their bodies stood close together, and for a moment she wondered how it would feel to put her arms around his waist and simply rest against his strength.

“Bad enough to put up with terrible cooking and hormonal mood swings?”

A ghost of a smile tipped the corners of his lips. “Yes.”

She wondered how long he’d lived here alone, and why. Why hadn’t he married yet? He certainly wasn’t lacking in the looks department. In fact, she was constantly having to remind herself to be practical—which was hard, considering she was already fighting attraction. She mentally added things up: his stellar manners, his consideration, his understanding and lack of a quick temper. He was the kind of man she thought she could trust, and more than anything that counted for a lot. Even knowing him a short few days, she sensed his integrity and strength. He would keep to any bargain they made.

“I’ll probably regret this.”

His hand lifted to cup her chin gently. “I sincerely hope not.” Her eyes strayed to his lips, serious now, but shaped so that she couldn’t help but think of kissing him.

“It’s not forever, Alex. But you need to decide if you can trust me. You need to take that leap of faith.”

“After a few days? No one in their right mind would make such a decision,” she breathed, feeling the tug between them again.

“My great-great-grandparents met on a Wednesday and got married the next day. But you need to decide for yourself.”

He started to pull away. She stopped him with her fingers gripping into his arm. “Wait.”

He waited patiently, steadily.

“Trusting comes hard. Surely you can understand that? I can’t afford to screw this up, Connor. I need to know what I’m doing is right for my child.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “You wouldn’t have told me that if you didn’t already trust me,” he whispered against her skin. “And you know it. It’s OK to be frightened.”

He was right, and it scared the daylights out of her.

“Marry me, Alex.” The calm force of his voice almost made it a command.

She closed her eyes and jumped.

“All right. For better or worse, the trial period’s over. I’ll marry you, Connor Madsen.”




CHAPTER FIVE


THE RADIO WAS playing softly in the kitchen when he entered, and the table was set for two, but Alex was nowhere to be found. On the counter was a crockpot. He lifted the lid and the appetizing smell of chili wafted out. His stomach rumbled in appreciation. She had told the truth when she’d said she was a fast learner. It didn’t look like they’d have a repeat of last night.

“Alex?”

“Out here.”

He followed the voice to the deck that faced west. She was standing at the railing, facing the dim outline of the mountains, squinting against the sun.

He stared at Alex. The deepening sunlight framed her figure, outlining her curves, and he was shocked to feel desire streaking through him like a current. Where in the world had that come from? Of course she was attractive—he wasn’t blind—but he hadn’t factored that into the plan. He frowned slightly. It had been a long time since a woman had had that effect on him. He’d been focused on Windover, and working things out, and hadn’t taken the time to pursue a relationship. And he honestly hadn’t considered how much having an extra person around would change things. He’d looked forward to being alone with Alex all day, perhaps too much. He had thought of how her eyes snapped and flashed as she angered, how hard she was on herself for the smallest error. How independent she was. But they’d made a bargain. And he had to keep personal distance.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was sweet and a bit shaky.

“I’m fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping back. “Dinner smells great.”

She turned back to the view. “I found the recipe on the kidney bean can. I told you I could make things out of a can.”

He smiled. “Mmm, progress.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet,” she remarked wryly, and he took a place beside her at the rail, making sure their elbows didn’t touch. He could still smell her, though, light, citrusy, and his nerves clawed at his stomach.

“Can we eat later? Let’s take a walk. You haven’t even seen anything of the ranch yet, and you’re going to be here for at least the next several months.”

They hadn’t really had a chance to talk much about themselves, only about the deal they were making. They could be friends, and maybe, just maybe, he’d forget about how pretty she was in the late-day sun.

“Is it OK to leave the chili on?” Her eyes looked up at him, worried.

“That’s why it’s called a slow cooker,” he teased. “Your meal will still be here when we get back.”

They walked out past the lane and to the edge of a field, side by side but careful not to touch. A grove of trees and a fence separated the field from another meadow. Cows bawled in the warm sun as they grazed, their jet-black hides shining in the early-evening light, and Connor took a deep, restorative breath.

“It’s part of you.” Her voice interrupted their silence.

He exhaled slowly, surprised she understood so intrinsically. “Yes. It always has been.”

“I can tell. It’s in the way you look at the land. I’ve never had anything like that. I envy you.”

Connor recognized the low note of sadness in her words and responded. “What was your childhood like, Alex?”

She stared straight ahead while he gazed at her profile. She was beautiful in such a simple, natural way, and she tried to be strong. But there was something in the wistful turn of her lips that made him sense the pain beneath the surface, and he longed to make it better. It had always been his thing, trying to fix whatever went wrong. But he knew better than most that there were some things you just couldn’t fix—and he’d thought he’d left that protective streak behind.

The smell of fresh-cut hay filled the air around them, familiar and comforting, as she began.

“My parents were historians. We had a house in Ottawa. But we were gone so much…it was more like a base of operations. We traveled a lot.”

She glanced up at him, her smile contrite as magpies chattered in the poplars.

“You said you were alone. Where are they now?”

She stopped, bit down on her lip, and squared her shoulders. “Dead. When I was eighteen they were going on a work trip to Churchill. They were taking a bush plane in…it’s so remote…but the plane never made it.”

So she was utterly alone. Alone like him.

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

She started walking again. “My parents were smart people, but they thought they were indestructible. They had little insurance. By the time I was done paying estate taxes, my lawyer, and their outstanding bills, there was hardly anything left. The bank took the house and I got an apartment, worked as a waitress.”

She let out a long breath; that was all she was comfortable revealing at this point. They really didn’t know each other well enough for her to reveal the nitty-gritty details. The loneliness. The longing for a normal childhood.

“That’s my life in a nutshell. What about you, Connor? Did you ever want to do anything besides farm?”

He had. As a teenager he’d wanted nothing more than to be a farm vet, and he’d planned out his future like a roadmap. He’d work from Windover, and he and Jim would run the ranch together after Dad retired. And his family had supported that dream. He had taken his science degree and been about to enter vet school when he’d given it up to take sole control of the ranch operations.

“I was going to be a vet.”

Their feet made whispering sounds through the tall grass. “So what happened?”

“I was home from university that summer. Dad had a load of cattle headed for the States, and Mom and Jim decided to go along.”

His voice flattened, sucking out the emotion, making it sound like a news report rather than a life-altering personal event.

“They were a little south of Lethbridge when the wind must have caught the trailer. Someone said it looked like a weird downdraft, but we never knew for sure. Anyway, they went off the road. All three of them were killed.”

His throat bobbed, suddenly tight and painful, and he was unable to go on. But he remembered that day as vividly as if it were yesterday.

He’d driven down himself. Half the cattle were injured, two were dead, and three had to be put down. He still saw the stains of red on the highway, smelled the death there. The cattle could be replaced, but in a single, devastating moment he’d lost his whole family. By the time he’d arrived they’d already been taken to the morgue. In a split second he was Windover. Everything was suddenly empty, like a colorless void. It wasn’t right, working without Jim’s jokes by his side, or his dad’s warm wisdom, or his mother’s nurturing support. They were just…gone. He’d never understood why he’d been the one left behind. Always wondered if he could have somehow prevented it if only he’d gone along. Instead, he’d taken the day and had gone to Sylvan Lake with friends.

His feet had stopped moving, and he was ashamed to discover tears in his eyes. Alex said nothing, just twined her fingers with his and squeezed. He cleared the ball in his throat roughly.

She understood. Their upbringings were diametrically opposite, yet a single moment in each of their lives had devastated them completely. He sighed. She’d been hurt as badly as he had. And he wouldn’t risk being the one to do it to her again. All he’d need would be more guilt.

They turned back, the house visible, rising alone against the sky in the distance.

“I didn’t realize we’d come so far,” Alex remarked, and for a few minutes they pondered the significance of that statement.

Connor changed the subject, away from them and to the much safer topic of the background of the ranch. “This place…I’ve never considered leaving. Even my great-great grandfather stuck it out through a horrible winter. That’s how Windover got its name, you know.”

She left her fingers within his, a link between them on the path. “How?”

“He put up a rough cabin that first year. There was just the two of them, and the story goes that they were almost ready to pack it in when a Chinook blew in, melted most of the snow, and brought instant spring in the middle of March. He called it the wind over the mountains, and when they bought their first livestock it became Windover Farm and later Windover Ranch.”

He had roots that went so deep. How could he ever understand someone who’d been rootless most of her life? She was glad now she hadn’t revealed more than she had. They’d led completely different lives.

“Do you think we can go through with this?” she asked, angling a sideways glance at his profile.

“The wedding, you mean?” Connor nodded. “I think we are both realists. Despite the obvious differences in our situations, our personalities seem to match. Considering the predicament we find ourselves in, it seems like a workable solution. Practical. I know you have your doubts—anyone would—but if you’ll let me show you that you can trust me…”

“Show me?”

The air cooled around them as the sun dipped further behind the mountains. “If at any time in the next few weeks you want out, I’ll take you back to Calgary myself. Take this time, Alex, to find out who I am. To be sure I’ll keep my word.”

“But what happens in the end?” She swallowed. After two days she was already envying him his home, the one she’d always longed for and he’d always had. On one hand she told herself not to get attached to the kind of life she could have here at Windover, because it wasn’t permanent. The other part of her told her to enjoy it, absorb all that she could and save it as a beautiful memory.

“I don’t have all the answers. But, knowing what we know, surely we can part as friends in the end?”

“Do you think it’ll be that easy? Going back to being alone?”

“Do you?”

The house grew closer with each slow step.

The thought of living alone now seemed dull and pointless, even after such a short time. It was a joy to know that someone was coming home at the end of the day. It gave the time she spent a point, a meaning. She’d have her baby when it was over, but who would Connor have?

“Who knows? We’ve both been alone for a long time. Maybe we’ll drive each other crazy and you’ll be glad to be rid of me.” She tried a cocky smile, but faltered at the look in his eyes as they stopped at the edge of the dirt road.

He turned to face her, his warm gaze delving into hers, drawing her in and making her thoughts drift away on the evening breeze. His hand lifted to her cheek. “I think there’s a very good chance you’re going to drive me crazy,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly.

She stepped back in alarm, her face burning from the intimate touch and the clear meaning of his words. She left his hand hanging in thin air. A truck approached and spun past them, stirring up loose gravel and clouds of dust.

When the air cleared they said nothing, but crossed the road and made their way up the lane.

* * *

SHE WOKE AT dawn and checked her watch. It was barely five. Squinting, she glared at the window that was letting in all the lemony fresh sunshine. Last night she’d been so distracted she’d forgotten to pull the blinds. Her cheek still remembered the weight of his hand, caressing the soft skin there. Her drive him crazy? Not if he drove her nuts first. He was giving her the opportunity to back out. And she should. She was far too taken with him already. He was too strong, yet kind and understanding.

And he looked far too good in a pair of faded jeans. Add in that messy, slightly ragged hair, and any woman would be a goner. She should run, very quickly, in the opposite direction.

But the truth of the matter was this was by far the best way for her to provide for her child. She couldn’t go back to where she’d been staying, as the tenant had decided to move in with her boyfriend when Alex left. She’d quit her job at a moment’s notice. And now was no time to start from scratch.

She stared at the window. The flimsy white curtains didn’t do much to keep out daylight, even when the sun was rising on the other side of the house. Tonight she’d make sure the blind was down. She sure didn’t want to wake at five every day.

Footsteps passed outside her door, quiet, stocking-footed. A floorboard creaked beneath the weight. Connor was up already? She pushed the covers back and stepped out onto the hardwood floor. She’d missed his rising yesterday. She might as well get up now that she was awake, start learning what he liked for breakfast—and how he cooked it. If she weren’t going to be allowed to help outside, she meant to do her best inside.

She went downstairs dressed still in her pajamas—cotton shorts and a tank top. When she reached the kitchen, Connor already had a skillet on the burner and was half buried in the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients. He was dressed in what she now realized must be his customary uniform—faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. Her mouth grew dry as he dug deeper, the seat of his jeans filling out. She was in serious trouble here.

The touch of his hand on her face last night had prompted strange dreams. In them he’d stroked her cheek and kissed her. And it hadn’t been a brotherly kiss either. In her slumbers he’d taken her mouth wholly, completely. His lips had been soft, deliberate, and devastating. His hands had glided over her skin. Tender. Possessive.

He straightened, turned with eggs in his hands, and jumped.

She wanted to disappear through the floor. Belatedly, she realized her fingers were touching her lips…and that her nipples were puckered up almost painfully. All from the sight of his bottom in some worn denim.

“I didn’t expect you up for hours yet.”

Blushing, she turned away, searching the cupboard for dishes. Hormones, she tried, quite unsuccessfully, to convince herself. It had to be the excess hormones in her system making her feel so…carnal.

“I forgot to pull the blind last night,” she said to the plates. “You always up this early?”

He put a carton of eggs on the counter and nodded. “Ranching isn’t exactly a nine-to-five business. You hungry?”

She was ravenous…and she couldn’t blame that on her pregnancy. She’d found it incredibly difficult to eat after their walk, despite the fact that the chili had actually turned out fine.

“Normally I don’t eat until later, but after last night…”

The words hung between them, not only a reminder of their walk but of the strange feeling of intimacy that had followed their personal revelations. She needed to keep things casual. She’d walked away from his touch last night; he had no idea she’d started fantasizing about him. She didn’t want things to become more uncomfortable between them.

“What are you making?” She asked it quickly, to dispel the sudden feeling that he was remembering too.

“Scrambled eggs, sliced ham, and toast.”

“Will you show me?” She stepped forward, feeling a little silly that at twenty-three she didn’t even know how to scramble eggs. She wanted desperately to contribute, but having Connor have to show her everything…he could probably do it much faster himself than taking the time to instruct her. Setting her jaw, she vowed to pay close attention and learn—quickly.

“Sure.” He cracked eggs into a bowl and handed her a whisk while he put butter in the pan. “Here. Beat the daylights out of those for a minute.”

Her lips curved up without warning. She was really starting to like his sense of humor. He was relaxed and joking, which meant he wasn’t letting what had happened affect their relationship. Perhaps being married, even for such a brief time, could be enjoyable. Their personalities meshed. And, yes, the ranch was isolated, but Alex was used to being alone and didn’t find it too solitary. For the first time in a long time she felt a little hope that things would turn out all right after all. If only she could learn her share. If only they could maintain their boundaries.

As she was whisking he explained about adding salt and pepper and she paid close attention to quantities. He let the butter melt in the skillet, and then poured in the eggs.

“Once they start to set a little, then you keep pushing them around,” he explained, and handed her the spatula.

She stuck it in the pan but splashed a little egg batter over the side. “Like this,” he explained, and moved in behind her, covering her hand with his own on the spatula.

Alex’s breath caught. Connor had showered last night and now, at the start of day, the scent of his soap was mingled with the smell of man in the morning. His body was warm and firm, close behind her, and the intimacy of the moment curled through her. OK, maybe this marriage wouldn’t be as enjoyable as she thought. Not if she had to spend the next several months hiding the fact that he made her pulse race every time he was close. Last night’s tender caress was only the tip of the iceberg.

His voice was oddly thick as he pulled away. “You’re getting it now,” he mumbled, and moved to put slices of bread in the toaster.

She pushed the eggs to one side and managed to fry the ham slices without incident. Silently they sat at the table to eat, while the light around them grew brighter.

“I called my grandmother last night.”

She nearly choked on her toast. “You did?”

“I explained I was getting married.” His smile was grim. “I think she’ll probably come up here today to check you out.”

She hadn’t counted on grandmothers. And his had to know that this wasn’t a regular marriage. This had been a real, functioning family, she was sure. And that meant that his grandmother would likely be outraged at the fact that he was marrying a relative stranger for money.

“Why did you do that? I didn’t sign up for irate grandmothers!” Her voice rose in panic. Not only was she a stranger, but an inept one. She didn’t know much about being domestic and less about farming. Surely his grandmother would find her completely unsuitable? Alex wasn’t ready for that type of criticism to be heaped on her head. After the ridiculous sexual thoughts she’d had about him lately, she couldn’t seem to keep up with all the emotions he inspired in her. Last night had been sympathy, tenderness. Then carnality, embarrassment. And right now she was seeing the red cape of anger. If this was going to be a rollercoaster, she wanted off.

Connor didn’t see the huge problem in telling his grandmother anything at all. After all, Gram had told him to get courting. Perhaps she hadn’t meant quite this quickly, but Johanna Madsen was a practical woman. She’d figure out the truth very quickly. She was the one who had put him in this position, so she could say nothing about how he handled it.

Thankfully, he knew that Gram wasn’t too hung up on conventionalities. But, more than that, Gram was the only family he had left. His honor, his family loyalty, demanded he be honest and upfront about it.

“She’s all I have, Alex.” He studied the ornery set of Alex’s chin and smiled at her stubbornness. In the light of early morning she was beautiful, without artifice. All that was amplified when her eyes snapped with anger and her cheeks flushed. Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but her skin had a luminescence—and he’d caught sight of lots of it when she’d arrived in her pjs.

Yet she wasn’t soft. There was a strength, a resolution about her that he admired. Alex Grayson was no pushover…and Gram would respect that if nothing else.

“Gram’s pretty gruff, but she loves me and understands what’s going on. Not only that, but if we’re going to move ahead with this then it only makes sense that you meet my family right away. The most important thing to remember is she hates deception. She’s way too smart for that, and will see through you like anything.”

Alex put down her fork, her lips contorted grimly. “So you automatically think I’ll lie to her? Thanks a lot.”

“Of course not. That’s not what I meant!”

“It sounded pretty clear to me.” She gave up all pretence of eating. “Do you want me to tell her exactly why I’m here? Because I got knocked up by a low-life, have no prospects, and latched on to you for your money?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d put it, no. Besides, I asked you.”

“Like that’ll matter. Does she even know I’m pregnant?”

“No.” Surprising Gram with a fiancée last night had been enough, Connor thought. They’d get to the baby in time. After the wedding would be time enough to tell Gram that there would be a third Madsen in the household before long.

He swallowed roughly. Only the baby wouldn’t be a Madsen. How could he have forgotten that?

“She’s naturally going to think I’m a gold-digger. Thanks a lot, Connor.”

She took her plate to the sink, nausea suddenly battling with her anger. At this rate she wouldn’t have to worry about baby weight gain. She was always in such a tumult that she never seemed to finish a meal!

Bracing one hand on the counter, she closed her eyes, willing away the sickness. When she spoke, her words were soft and accusing.

“Isn’t not telling her a form of deception?”

“I’m going to tell her, of course,” he countered. “It’s not exactly something we can keep hidden. I thought I’d give her a little time to get used to the marriage idea first.”

“Coward,” she mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?”

Alex scraped her plate into the garbage. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of your granny,” she accused.

“I’m not a coward for not hitting her with all the details at once,” he defended. “I did nothing wrong by letting my grandmother know we’re getting married.”

He frowned as he looked at her lips, thinned into a condemning line. Great. If she were this upset about meeting his grandmother, she was going to go ballistic when he told her the rest of the news.

“Unfortunately, I have an association meeting in Red Deer this morning. I’ll be gone most of the day. Remember what I told you and you’ll be fine. Just be yourself, Alex, and be honest, and I’m sure she’ll love you.” It was paltry pacification and it failed miserably.

“So you’re lighting the fire and leaving me to put it out? Last night you said for me to trust you. Then you pull something like this. You didn’t even consult me. Did you seriously think I’d be OK with this?”

“I honestly didn’t think it’d be this big of a deal. I’m still not completely sure why it is.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal. Huge. Today I get to be judged. Alone.”

For a moment he considered skipping the meeting. He hadn’t considered how upset she might be over it, and in hindsight he probably should have talked to her first before calling Gram. But he’d been disconcerted after their talk last night, and he hadn’t considered all the ramifications. And he’d learned something new—something that surprised him. Going toe-to-toe with Alex was invigorating. When they argued they left all pretence and awkwardness behind. They were honest. It was liberating.

Alex sighed, a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I’d better get started tidying this place up, then.”

He took his empty plate to the sink. She was furious. It was in the way her eyes refused to even glance in his direction, in the icy set of her cheek. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Despite how alive she looked when she was wound up, he didn’t like being at outs with her.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I certainly didn’t intend to upset you. With any luck I’ll be back by lunch, and she won’t be here yet. Or I can make a few phone calls. Maybe I can reschedule the meeting, and then we can face her together.”

She turned, raised her chin defiantly.

“I can handle your grandmother,” she retorted. “It’s the fact that I have to that I don’t like.”

“Point taken.”

“If you want me to stay, don’t let it happen again.”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit at her steel. She might be down but she would never admit to being out. The more they talked, the more he realized how resilient she was. He wondered what she’d left out about her life last night during their walk. “Agreed.”

He stepped closer to her and laid a hand on her cheek. A few tendrils curled around her face and whispered against the rough skin of his hand. Her hair…He’d resisted the temptation thus far to sink his hands into that rich carpet of darkness. But this morning it was out of her customary ponytail and rippled down her back. There wasn’t a man in this hemisphere who could resist hair like that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think this through better.” He made the apology clear. “But, Alex?” At the questioning look in her eyes he smiled. “You’re amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman more determined than you. You’ll be great.”

He pressed a kiss of reassurance to her forehead as he left for his chores. He’d lied. He’d met one woman more determined…and Alex was going to meet her too, very soon.




CHAPTER SIX


THE EGGS AND HAM, what she’d managed to eat of them, stayed down. Alex showered, dressed in clean jeans and T-shirt, and wished she had something nicer to wear. Grandmothers were not on her top ten list of things she wanted to do today. Alex knew that if she didn’t pass muster, chances were the wedding would never take place.

She fussed with the hem of her shirt. Well, there was nothing she could do about her dearth of a wardrobe. Instead she went to work, tidying the house, dusting and vacuuming, and making sure the appliances gleamed. She took pleasure in looking in at the rooms, tidy and shining. It felt…already…like a home.

She frowned. Two days. Two days and she was thinking of this as home. She had to be careful and remember that this was temporary. If she got too invested, then she was only setting herself up for heartache when it became time to leave. And leave she must. They would go their separate ways, and she would find a new place for herself and the baby she’d be bringing up alone.

But first she had to deal with Connor’s grandmother. The fact that she had to made her blood boil. Of all the nerve. Connor had sat there, calm as you please, and just announced that he’d told his grandmother about their plans. Now he was off “working”, and she was left to deal with the fallout alone. How typically male!

She’d get lots of mileage out of this one. He owed her big time for dropping this on her and leaving.

She was heading upstairs when a horrible thought took hold. What if the revered lady arrived expecting to spend the night? Was Alex already in the room she would expect to occupy? Would his grandmother be expecting her to be sharing Connor’s bed?

The thought of sleeping next to Connor all night made her stomach roll over. It was bad enough the tricks her mind was playing on her; she wasn’t sure how she could handle lying close to his body through the night, listening to his steady breath, feeling his warmth. She had no business feeling this elemental attraction to him, not when their relationship was temporary and she was pregnant. And who knew what would happen while they were sleeping? She was apt to wake up draped over him, and how embarrassing would that be? As if Connor would be attracted to her—poor, plain Alex, pregnant with another man’s child. Briefly she remembered how gently he’d touched her last night, and her stomach twisted again. Maybe it was possible that he was attracted, she supposed, but someone had to keep a clear head around here!

She could switch her things to the other spare room. It wouldn’t take but a moment, and then Mrs. Madsen could have the white room. She was just taking the steps with fresh linens in her hands when the doorbell rang. Her heart sank. She’d run out of time.

She put the linens on a chair and opened the door with a heavy and panicked heart.

“You must be Alexis. I’m Johanna Madsen, Connor’s grandmother.”

Of course you are. Alex held the thought inside and tried to keep her mouth from dropping open. The woman was tall and imperious, dressed in a stylish black pantsuit with a real silk scarf twined about her neck.

But she was looking at Alex in a friendly, grandmotherly sort of way, not with the glare of suspicion and dislike that Alex had completely expected.

“Please, come in,” Alex said automatically, then felt ridiculous. Johanna belonged here so much more than she did!

Alex stepped aside and Johanna came in, pulling a suitcase behind her. Alex’s heart sank. Johanna was planning on staying.

“Connor’s gone to a meeting,” she said haltingly, hating the uncertainty in her voice.

Johanna’s brow crinkled in the middle. “All this fuss—all these meetings he has to attend when there’s hay to be cut. It looks like a good crop. He’ll need it.”

“He will?”

Johanna smiled at Alex indulgently, making Alex feel like a simple child. “When you can’t sell beef, you’ve got to feed the ones you’ve got.” She put a friendly hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Let’s have tea.”

Alex was helpless to do anything but follow Johanna into the kitchen. The woman had been in the house less than five minutes and already she was in charge. Alex wasn’t sure whether to be offended or strangely relieved as she paused in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure of what to do.

Johanna placed the kettle on the burner, and then knelt down with her head in the cupboard, searching for teabags. A rancher’s wife, born and bred. It made Alex feel even more like an impostor.

“So, when are you due, Alexis?”

Alex’s mouth did drop open then, and she stood paralyzed. Johanna took the kettle off the burner and poured, unhesitating in her movements. The woman was making tea like she’d just asked about the weather. Connor had distinctly said he hadn’t told his grandmother about the baby. How on earth could she know? The shirt Alex was wearing covered most of her belly, and she was barely beginning to show. She should have been prepared for the question, but she wasn’t, and she floundered horribly.

“Mrs. Madsen…”

“Oh, dear. None of that, I hope.” Johanna turned with a carton of milk in her hands. “You can call me Gram, like Connor does, or Johanna—whichever suits you best.”

Alex paused. She was on shaky footing. The woman before her was shrewd, and exuded an aura of power and competence that Alex found intimidating. Yet at the same time she seemed very down to earth and without artifice. Alex couldn’t read her at all, and her discomfort grew as the woman raised a questioning eyebrow at her continued silence. Somehow she had to try to gain control of the conversation, yet without seeming adversarial. She’d already argued with Connor this morning; she wasn’t sure she could stand to go three rounds with his grandmother.

“Mrs. Madsen.” She used the formal name as a shield. “I’m sorry. Your question took me by surprise,” she finally got out.

“You are pregnant, aren’t you?” Johanna turned her back to Alex, putting the cream and sugar on a tray with the teapot.

Alex dropped her eyes and her shoulders tensed. Never in her life had she felt more deceitful, more undeserving. Johanna had guessed about the baby—and that was sure to create problems. The best way to deal with it was head-on.

“Yes, I am. Fourteen weeks.”

“And Connor says you met on Friday?” Johanna turned back, bringing the pot to the table.

Oh, didn’t that sound lovely? Alex flushed. By the way, I’m marrying your grandson. I’ve known him for less than a week. She might as well march right upstairs and repack her bag. She knew how it looked, no matter what the reality was. In a cool voice she replied, “Yes. I fainted downtown and he came to my rescue.”

To her surprise, a tender smile spread across Johanna’s face. “Oh, my. That sounds just like Lars.”

“Lars?” Alex was intrigued by the radiant look that transformed Johanna’s face, making her look twenty years younger.

“My husband—Connor’s grandfather.”

Johanna brought the tray to the pine table while Alex hesitantly perched on a chair. They sat across the table from each other while Johanna poured the tea. Alex was wary, but found herself curious about Connor’s grandfather, and what kind of man held the power to put that particular soft look on Johanna’s face.

Alex wanted to believe this woman was on a friendly mission. But until she could be sure she had to be very, very careful.

“Lars was the noblest man I ever knew.” Johanna chuckled a bit, on a lovely little note of remembrance. “When we met I was fifteen. I had a bicycle, you see. I’d fallen off and scraped my knee quite badly. Lars saw me by the side of the road.” She smiled warmly at the memory. “His father…Connor’s great-grandfather…had bought a truck for the farm the week before. Lars put my bike in the back and drove me home. He was twenty-three and, oh my, so handsome. It’s where Connor gets his looks, you know.” She stared at Alex knowingly over the rim of her cup.

Alex shifted in her chair. How was she to respond to that? Of course Connor was handsome. Devastatingly so. But to agree would be admitting to an attraction she didn’t want, and to ignore the comment…she didn’t want to be insulting, either. It would make her look like she was only after his money. She couldn’t win.

“Connor is handsome. You’d be blind to miss it,” she stated matter-of-factly, revealing essentially nothing.

“It’s the Madsen men.” Johanna nodded sagely. “There’s a picture of Lars’s grandparents around somewhere, on their wedding day. He was a looker too.” Johanna rose and retrieved the bag of cookies from the pantry, handing one to Alex. “It was Lars’s grandfather who settled this place, you know. The government was offering homesteads. He traveled all the way from Norway to start a life here. And the farm has never left the family.

“Which is where you come in.” Johanna pushed her mug aside. “I know that this isn’t a regular marriage. My question is, why are you willing to marry a man you hardly know? And how much of his money do you expect to get out of the deal?”

“I beg your pardon?” Alex put down her mug, confused at the sudden turn of the conversation. First she was friendly, and now she was putting the screws on her? Alex was finding it hard to keep her balance. She understood now that it had all been a part of Johanna’s strategy. Lull her into a friendly conversation and then hit her with the big guns. Alex burned inwardly with indignation. She wasn’t a bad person. This whole situation wasn’t as cold as it sounded.

“What’s in this for you, Alexis? Because being a rancher’s wife isn’t the easy way out, let me assure you.”

Johanna’s eyes were sharp, her lips a thin, unreadable line. Alex had never seen a woman so completely put together: not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her clothing, even though she’d been nearly two hours in her car. Alex tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and tried to shake away the feeling of a chastised child. She hadn’t done anything wrong or deceitful. She’d made the mistake of falling for the wrong guy once, and now she was dealing with the aftermath in the only way she knew how. She didn’t deserve to be judged.

Alex dropped her cookie to the table. “I don’t have any plans of being a rancher’s wife. And I resent the implication that somehow I’m extorting money out of your grandson. I’m doing this for one reason and one only. Security for me and my baby.”

For a few months she could pretend she lived in this secure, traditional world. A husband and a house, and no stress about where the next meal was coming from. It was a sham, all of it, but she had a desperate need to belong somewhere, even for such a short time. But how could she explain that to this woman? Their family tree went back several generations, right here on this farm. She would never understand how displaced and alone Alex had been for most of her life.

“When Connor met me I was alone, working as a waitress, with no real home and a baby on the way.” She looked squarely into his grandmother’s eyes, and gambled that Connor had outlined their agreement already.

“This all took place because he wants to save Windover, plain and simple. Connor marries me so that he can access his trust fund. After the baby is born we’ll go our separate ways, and he’ll help support us until I can get my feet under myself again.”

She didn’t use the word “divorce”, even though it was the proper term. Somehow it seemed cold and hateful, even in a platonic marriage such as this. She did not look away from Johanna’s serious expression. Alex didn’t want to anger Johanna, but neither would she be a doormat, nor accused of being a gold-digger.

“And, to be clear, Connor approached me, not the other way around. I didn’t go looking for a sugar daddy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I think I already knew that.” Johanna’s eyes showed nothing of what she was feeling. “But I had to hear it anyway. You are doing this for your baby. What about the child’s father?”

Alex winced. Ryan had been charming—too charming. Alex had fallen for him quickly, absorbing the affection and attention into her love-starved soul. But deep down she’d known he wasn’t the keeper type. When she’d announced she was pregnant he had hit the door so fast she’d felt the draft. In another situation she would have said good riddance to bad rubbish. But this time was different. She was alone again, but with an innocent, precious baby to consider. One she was determined would have a stable, secure life.

“The biological father has no interest in parenthood, I’m afraid. He left me, and the baby I’m carrying.”

Johanna rose and took her cup to the sink. Turning back, she said softly, “What do you ultimately want, Alexis?”

A home. Again the answer came unbidden, and it wasn’t one she cared to share. This was only a temporary home and she had to remember that. What Connor had proposed would make it possible for her to build her own home, a safe, welcoming place for her child. A child who would always feel wanted and loved and a first priority. All the things her parents had tried to provide but somehow she’d missed.

“I want a good life for my baby. I want to make a home for us. I just want a place for my baby to feel loved and safe.”

Johanna walked over to the table and placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That’s a damned good answer.”

Alex couldn’t keep up with the changes from friend to foe to friend again, and somehow knew she was failing this test miserably.

Johanna’s hand was warm on her shoulder, and Alex hadn’t known how much she’d missed simple human contact. Something about Johanna’s hand, firm and sure, sent feelings rushing up in Alex, and she struggled to hold them rippling beneath the surface. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even been hugged. The older woman could never understand what a simple touch could do…

“Thank you,” she whispered, sweeping a few crumbs into her palm to try to escape the moment.

“How long has it been?”

Alex straightened. “Since what?”

“Oh, my dear, it’s obvious,” Johanna murmured, nothing but kindness softening her face. “Since someone loved you.”

The tears came so quickly, so completely unexpectedly, that Alex was powerless to stop them. Johanna came forward and tucked Alex into her embrace, and she cried into the older woman’s shoulder. Cried for the second time that week, when it had been years since she’d shed tears. Not once in the time she’d been alone had anyone acknowledged that she hadn’t been loved. Had anyone cared that she might be lonely and afraid. But she was. She was terrified of failing. Of not being enough for her child. She was frightened, quite simply, of the unknown future.

Her breath came in halting gasps, and she desperately tried to even them out as she tasted the salt of her own tears. She had to get herself together.

Connor stepped through the front door, halting abruptly at the sight of his grandmother holding a sobbing Alex in her arms. His throat constricted at the picture they made. So much for maintaining distance. Because the sight of his fiancée and his grandmother together did something to his heart he knew he’d never get back.

* * *

CONNOR STEERED THE tractor to the edge of the field and left it. Tomorrow he’d be back to continue on. Now he’d drive back to the house in the truck.

The noon meal had been tense. He’d rushed the meeting, anxious to get back early so he might arrive before Gram. But he’d been too late. When he’d entered, Alex had turned to the small bathroom off the kitchen, embarrassed, to wash her tear-streaked face and regain control. When she’d returned she had pasted on a smile and apologized that she didn’t have his lunch ready. He hadn’t cared less about lunch. What he’d really wanted to know was what his grandmother had done to provoke such an emotional response. He remembered Alex protesting before that she hated crying. But she’d been in the middle of a full-blown jag when he’d come in.

It was obvious his grandmother approved of Alex, no matter how unorthodox their situation.

Connor started up the pickup and shoved it into gear, a line appearing between his brows. Seeing them together that way…it had been right somehow.

“She’s already had enough hurt in her life, that girl,” Gram had warned under her breath, while Alex had been in the next room, repairing the damage to her face.

He had no plans of hurting Alex further at all. In fact, the more he saw of her, the more he knew he had to protect her. They had made a deal that benefited them both, but ultimately they were from two very different worlds. Now it was up to him to uphold his end.

He would be her friend, but there was no room for anything more. Not if he were to be fair.

As he’d left the house, Gram had said something else. “Be very careful, dear,” she’d said, a hand on his arm. “I’ve never seen a creature more hungry for love and affection than that child.”

Pulling up into the yard, he noticed Gram’s car was gone. Perhaps she’d gone back to Calgary and her own apartment? Connor’s stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of being alone with Alex. “Stupid fool,” he chided himself as he hesitated at his own front door. If they were to be friends only, there should be nothing to be nervous about.

Alex was coming through the living room with a basket of laundry in her arms as he entered. Both stopped in surprise.

“Gram went home?”

Alex laughed, putting down the basket. “Hardly. She’s put her bag in the third bedroom and dug in for the duration.”

“Oh.” Connor’s voice registered disappointment and he put on an optimistic smile. “She’ll be a great help to you.”

“Oh, yes,” Alex replied, a happy smile on her face. “I was terribly worried about meeting her. And we did have a few uncomfortable moments. But once she knew about the baby…”

“She knows?” He stepped forward, surprise lighting his face. All Gram had said at lunch was not to hurt Alex; she’d mentioned nothing about knowing about the pregnancy. Now here was Alex, carefree and happy. He hadn’t seen that particular look on her face before, but he recognized it now. It was devoid of strain and worry. She looked like a woman who’d been given a free pass. Connor hadn’t thought it possible, but it made her even more beautiful.

“Yes,” she chirped. “I must have answered her questions satisfactorily. She’s already making wedding plans.”

Connor’s head spun. The words don’t hurt her and hungry for love echoed through his brain. He’d expected stiff resistance once she knew about the baby. Instead Gram had moved in?

“Is it too soon?”

“What?” he came out of his stupor and shook his head. “Oh. No, of course not, I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“I was too. We had a big talk this afternoon, though, Connor. Your grandmother is an amazing woman. She said she understood I didn’t know much about cooking, and when I told her I’d never gardened she said I could use a helping hand. That she’d missed it, living in her condo the way she does.”

“She did?”

“Uh-huh. And she said she’d help plan the wedding too.”

This was getting out of hand. Weddings and gardens and babies…Connor’s very logical, sensible plan was suddenly spiraling out of control. And all under the hawk-like eye of his grandmother. He agreed that she was wonderful. He also knew she was shrewd. This was her way of keeping a finger in the pie. He knew it and resented it. But he couldn’t send Johanna back to Calgary. Alex was already looking forward to the help. And he was so busy with the ranch he didn’t have time to spend with her except in the evenings. It wasn’t fair for him to expect her to while away her days all alone. If having Johanna here made her happy, he’d keep quiet. And he’d keep his eyes wide open. Helping was one thing. Meddling, however well intentioned, was another.

Besides, the less time he spent with Alex the better. Because sooner or later he’d see her looking at him like she was right now, and he’d be stupid, and kiss her like he wanted to, and complicate everything.

He changed the subject.

“She gave you your first lesson in cooking, I take it?” He looked past her shoulder to the pots bubbling on the stove.

“Yes. But she said she was going into town to have supper with a friend and not to wait up.”

“Probably Millie’s,” he surmised, naming Gram’s oldest and closest friend. And if she revealed what was going on at Windover Ranch, news of his impending marriage would be common knowledge by coffee time tomorrow.

He discovered he didn’t mind as much as he’d thought he would. For a moment he stared at Alex, picturing her in a long white dress, her mass of dark hair falling over her shoulders, and he couldn’t breathe. Alex lifted the basket again, momentarily placing her palm on the slight bubble of her belly, and his heart contracted painfully.

Connor was as hungry for love as Alex…But he could not, would not, seek it from her. She was leaving, and the one thing he knew he could never do was abandon Windover.




CHAPTER SEVEN


“MIKE’S ON HIS way over. He’s going to run things for me today. I’ve gotta go into Red Deer after lunch.”

Connor made the announcement as cheerfully as he could, successfully hiding his dark feeling of despair. It was nice of his friend Mike to lend a hand, but Connor was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. The source of the outbreak was still being investigated. If anything tied it to his herd he’d have to cull the whole lot. Windover would be finished. And no amount of money would save it, trust fund or not.

He picked at his pancakes, not actually eating much. If Windover was finished, he should release Alex from their agreement. Yet he wasn’t ready to let go. He wasn’t giving up on Windover yet, and he wasn’t going to give up on her either. Sure, he could release her, but then what would she do? He’d made her a promise. And he’d deliver on it no matter what.

“We need to go shopping.” Johanna interrupted the silence.

Alex and Connor looked up from their breakfast to stare at Johanna.

“I got groceries yesterday,” Alex explained, her eyes darting between Johanna and Connor with confusion.

“Not that kind of shopping. Clothes shopping. You need a wedding dress, and you’re already squeezing into your jeans.”

Alex flushed. “I can manage,” she said, spinning a piece of pancake in the syrup on her plate.

Connor nodded. “Gram’s right. I’m sorry, Alex, I should have seen to it before now. But things have been…”

“Busy. It’s fine.”

He looked at her, dressed in the same jeans and T-shirt he was growing used to seeing. She’d asked for nothing, nothing at all. She had to have some new things. That was all there was to it. When he’d made this proposition, looking after her welfare had become his duty, and he simply should have seen before now how threadbare her wardrobe was.

He looked outside at the rain falling. One of the reasons he’d decided to meet with John, Cal and Rick was that the rainy day meant no haying. He’d called them early, asking them to meet. They were ranchers, like him, who had everything to lose. And they hadn’t hesitated when he’d suggested getting together.

“Why don’t we go this afternoon? I can drop you off on my way, pick you up on the way back.”

Alex put down her fork. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, Connor.”

“It’s no inconvenience. In fact, I insist.” He forced a grin. “Come on, I didn’t think you’d fight me on a shopping trip!”

Johanna interjected. “A bride needs a suitable dress, and maternity clothes will soon be a must. We’re going to need a whole day, dear.”

Connor met his grandmother’s gaze, relieved. He’d been thinking that Alex had no wedding dress. She had no more than what she’d brought in that single bag. Yet he hadn’t known how to go about saying it without hurting Alex’s feelings. Coming from Johanna, it seemed less critical than he’d imagined.

“We can go this morning.”

“Really, you two, this isn’t necessary…” Alex interjected, pushing her plate away.

“Nonsense. Connor, there’s no reason why you can’t join us for the morning, have lunch, and drop us off after at the formal wear store to shop for dresses.” She winked at him. “We will spare you the wedding dress shopping.”

A morning shopping wasn’t normally what he’d call fun, but when he looked at Alex he saw reluctance mingled with a tiny bit of anticipation. When was the last time someone had treated her to a shopping spree? When was the last time he’d taken a day off?

“I’m game if you are, Alex.”

Alex had never had anyone treat her to a day of shopping, and the sheer novelty of it was exciting. Yet she hesitated to agree. She didn’t have any money of her own, and felt like enough of a freeloader already, without Connor and Johanna paying for an entirely new wardrobe.

“I’m sure Connor would like to see you in something other than jeans and T-shirts,” Johanna went on, aiming a pointed glare in Connor’s direction.

Alex met Connor’s eyes. There was nothing in the warm depths that criticized her appearance. In fact they crinkled at the corners a bit, giving her a strange sense of reassurance. She couldn’t read what he was thinking, but his face was relaxed and amiable as he responded, “You deserve it.”

She certainly didn’t feel like she deserved it, and she was so used to looking after herself that she wasn’t comfortable with someone else footing the bill. She certainly didn’t want Connor to feel as if she were taking advantage of his generosity, or his grandmother’s either, for that matter.

“It’s settled, then.” Johanna resumed eating, bringing Alex’s misgivings to a screeching halt. “We can take my car, Connor. It’ll be much easier than the truck.”

Alex got the sneaky feeling she was being railroaded, but knew it would be fruitless to argue. Besides, if she didn’t get some new clothes soon she’d be running around with her pants unbuttoned. Practicality warred with guilt, and practicality won.

“I’ll get ready,” she answered faintly, still not convinced it was a good idea.

* * *

THE FIRST PLACE they hit was a shopping mall, arriving just as the stores were pushing back their metal and glass doors.

“You need maternity clothes,” Johanna insisted, and led a reluctant Alex inside by the hand. The first customers of the day, they got the saleslady’s undivided attention.

“Only the basics,” Alex insisted, looking at Connor. He hung back, and she wondered why in the world he’d agreed to come along. Surely he didn’t consider this “fun”? As Johanna fluttered around, she wondered what exactly Connor did think constituted fun. She didn’t even know that much about him, yet here she was planning their wedding and shopping for clothes. Clothes he was going to pay for.

She didn’t want to be accused of taking more than she needed. She looked around at the racks of clothing, amazed at how stylish and cute they were. She picked up a black crepe top, with ties to the back and tiny pink flowers dotted over it. In a very few short months her tummy would be rounded and full. She touched the warm area where right now her baby lay. Motherhood. Somehow, shopping for maternity wear drove home the fact that she was going to be a mother more than anything else had—even the crazy deal with Connor. Someday in the near future she was going to have a tiny bundle to love, to nurture, to care for.

“Are you OK?” Connor touched Alex’s shoulder.

Alex half turned, letting out a breathless laugh. “It just hit me. I’m going to be a mother.”

Connor smiled. “You started to turn pale.” He scanned the racks, and shook his head at the sight of his grandmother chatting animatedly with the clerk. “So—excited, or scared to death?”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed, suddenly very glad he’d come along. “A little of both?”

She had an ally in Connor, although she had no idea why she deserved it. Johanna held up a hand, waggling it in the air and rattling hangers.

“I think I’m being summoned.” She aimed a wry smile at him, gratified to see his own mirror hers.

“I predict you’ll be a while, from that gleam in her eye. I’ve seen it before. I’ll go find us some coffee.”





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