Книга - Cattleman’s Honor

Cattleman's Honor
Pamela Toth


SINGLE…WITH CHILDRENRunning from a bad divorce Emily Major was looking for peace, quiet and a safe new life for her son. She was not looking for love, not even from a walking, talking cowboy fantasy like her new neighbor….But rancher Adam Winchester was used to getting his way, especially when it came to women. With sweet talk and persistence, this hard-as-nails single father was determined to win Emily's heart–come hell, high water or…teenagers. With their kids wreaking havoc on romance, could they be lovers and family? Just how far was Adam willing to go to make the land–and the woman–his?









“I’ve kept you long enough.”


“Another minute isn’t going to matter.” Standing so close, Adam seemed even larger than before, more solid without being the least bit threatening—except to her peace of mind. Emily tried to step back, but her butt bumped the fender of her truck. There was no room to retreat. If she didn’t get out of here, she was going to start batting her lashes and licking her lips.

With one hand he removed her sunglasses and set them on the hood of her truck. Emily’s breath snagged in her throat as Adam cupped her chin lightly. He was near enough for her to see that the green of his irises was only a thin band around the black of his pupils.

“I’m going to be damned sorry I did this,” he muttered. And then he bent his head toward hers….


Dear Reader,

A rewarding part of any woman’s life is talking with friends about important issues. Because of this, we’ve developed the Readers’ Ring, a book club that facilitates discussions of love, life and family. Of course, you’ll find all of these topics wrapped up in each Silhouette Special Edition novel! Our featured author for this month’s Readers’ Ring is newcomer Elissa Ambrose. Journey of the Heart (#1506) is a poignant story of true love and survival when the odds are against you. This is a five-tissue story you won’t be able to put down!

Susan Mallery delights us with another tale from her HOMETOWN HEARTBREAKERS series. Good Husband Material (#1501) begins with two star-crossed lovers and an ill-fated wedding. Years later, they realize their love is as strong as ever! Don’t wait to pick up Cattleman’s Honor (#1502), the second book in Pamela Toth’s WINCHESTER BRIDES series. In this book, a divorced single mom comes to Colorado to start a new life—and winds up falling into the arms of a rugged rancher. What a way to go!

Victoria Pade begins her new series, BABY TIMES THREE, with a heartfelt look at unexpected romance, in Her Baby Secret (#1503)—in which an independent woman wants to have a child, and after a night of wicked passion with a handsome businessman, her wish comes true! You’ll see that there’s more than one way to start a family in Christine Flynn’s Suddenly Family (#1504), in which two single parents who are wary of love find it—with each other! And you’ll want to learn the facts in What a Woman Wants (#1505), by Tori Carrington. In this tantalizing tale, a beautiful widow discovers she’s pregnant with her late husband’s best friend’s baby!

As you can see, we have nights of passion, reunion romances, babies and heart-thumping emotion packed into each of these special stories from Silhouette Special Edition.

Happy reading!

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor




Cattleman’s Honor

Pamela Toth







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


In loving memory of my mother, Dorothea Coles,

who inspired and encouraged me.




PAMELA TOTH


USA TODAY bestselling author Pamela Toth was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle where she attended the University of Washington and majored in art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.

Recently she took a lead from one of her romances and married her high school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookstore and an ice-cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, reading, playing FreeCell on the computer, doing counted cross-stitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers of America since 1982.

Her books have won several awards and they claim regular spots on the Waldenbooks bestselling romance list. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006. For a personal reply, a stamped, self-addressed envelope is appreciated.










Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen




Chapter One


Ignoring her teenage son’s glowering expression, Emily Major shut off the engine of her new pickup truck and slid out from behind the wheel. Heart pounding with excitement, she grabbed a bag of groceries and breathed deeply of the clean Colorado air. In front of Emily was a modest ranch house with a wide, inviting porch, the first home she’d ever had a say in choosing.

“Are you going to sit there all day?” she finally demanded through the open window of the truck.

David hadn’t wanted to come here from their home in L.A., but he hadn’t wanted his mother and father to get a divorce, either. Even though the breakup hadn’t been her choice, Emily suspected that David blamed her for it as well as for moving him to Waterloo.

David didn’t honor her with a reply. His arms were folded across his chest and his head was turned away. His bleached hair was hidden by a baseball cap, and the sun glinted on the small gold hoop in his ear.

Emily had no idea how to reach him anymore. The loving little boy who had believed she’d hung the moon had been replaced by a brooding stranger with a partially shaved head and a permanent curl to his lip. Sometimes the pain in his eyes, brown like her own, broke her heart.

It was for David’s sake that she’d uprooted the two of them and her business. She would do anything to keep her son safe, but he hated everything she did. Sometimes she wondered whether he hated her, as well.

With a sigh, Emily dug the new brass key from her purse and headed up the path to the house. She’d been here once before, after spotting the classified ad in a real estate magazine. She’d been desperate to get out of L.A., but David had of course refused to come with her to look at the property—just as he’d refused to believe she would consider moving to the American wasteland, as he called anything outside southern California.

They had spent last night in town, sharing a motel room equipped with sagging beds, a bathroom faucet that dripped all night into a rust-stained sink and a black-and-white TV with two channels. Now their suitcases and David’s motorbike were in the back of the pickup. The truck with the rest of their belongings was supposed to meet them here this morning.

When she’d driven through the center of the sleeping town late last night, David had made rude comments about the false-fronted buildings, the cowboy they’d seen walking down the wooden sidewalk and the community in general. Finally, Emily, exhausted by the long drive and the uncertainty gnawing a hole in her stomach, had lost her temper and snapped at David. He’d barely spoken since, but at least he’d stopped sneering long enough to wolf down a huge country breakfast this morning at the little café on the rustic main street. Beneath all the bravado and attitude, he was still a typical sixteen-year-old with a hollow void for a stomach.

“What are you doing?” he called out as she lugged the bag of groceries up the front porch steps.

Encouraged, Emily plastered a wide smile on her face and turned around. She pushed her sunglasses back up her nose with her free hand. Despite the cool breeze, the spring sunshine was dazzling. After the cacophony of noise in L.A., the silence here was a sound in itself.

“I’m going inside our new home. Why don’t you come and look around?” she invited with a sweeping gesture.

To her surprise and delight, he opened the door of the pickup she’d bought for the move and unfolded his gangly body from the cab. If he walked any more slowly, he wouldn’t be moving at all, but she hid her irritation beneath a veneer of patience as she waited for him to cross the yard. He’d shot up this year and the girls back home had started to notice him, one more reason he resented the move.

When he finally joined Emily, their gazes were level, even though she was standing three steps above him. “It’s your new home,” he replied, his attractive features distorted by his hostility. “I’m moving back to Brentwood with Dad.”

Dismay pricked Emily’s balloon of happiness. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away. Letting her hand drop to her side, she bit her lip and debated breaking the news that his father didn’t want him. Stuart had a new family now, a wife who was much younger than Emily and a baby conceived before his separation from her. True to form, Stuart had allowed David to believe that Emily’s vindictiveness was the reason he couldn’t live with his father in his sprawling new showplace, that the court had sided with her, and that Stuart’s hands were tied.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Emily said now, silently calling herself a coward for postponing the inevitable as she juggled the groceries and unlocked the solid front door. It opened directly into the living room, which was minuscule by the standards they were both accustomed to, but was perfectly adequate for the two of them. On one wall was a lovely fireplace built by the former owner with rocks he’d hauled from the surrounding land.

Ignoring David’s derisive snort, Emily crossed the wood floor and went through an archway to the cozy dining room. Two big windows trimmed with leaded glass faced east, framing a view of rolling pasture that stretched out like a shaggy gold and green carpet as far as she could see. Twenty acres of that pasture was hers.

Emily tore her gaze from the view and continued to the kitchen. The appliances were outdated, though functional, and would eventually have to be replaced, but the oak cupboards, lovingly handcrafted and polished to a satiny gleam, were as appealing as the first time she’d seen them. Setting down the bag of groceries, she stowed the perishables in the refrigerator.

“Where’s my room?” David demanded from behind her. “Or do we have to share, like last night?”

The town’s one motel had been booked nearly full with attendees of some local livestock auction, an event that hadn’t escaped David’s contempt, and they’d been fortunate to get a room at all.

Emily ignored his sarcasm, but his attitude was eating at her patience and spoiling her pride of ownership. “You have your own room,” she replied with forced cheerfulness. “You’re way too messy for us to be permanent roommates.”

Before he could say anything more, she brushed past him, leading the way back through the dining room to a short hallway. As well as three adequate bedrooms, the house had, astonishingly, two bathrooms, one adjoining the master bedroom. She paused in the doorway of the other one.

“This is yours,” she said, gesturing, “but you’ll have to keep it picked up, because company will be using it, too.” Their home in Brentwood had included a private bathroom off each of its five bedrooms, as well as two powder rooms on the main floor, one bigger than the kitchen in this house.

There was no point in looking back. The past was behind them and the future was hers to determine without asking anyone else’s permission.

“Like we’ll have any company here,” David complained. “We don’t know a soul in the whole damn state.”

“I’ll let that one go,” Emily replied, hanging tight to her temper, “but any more bad language and your bike stays parked for a week. If you want to ride the bus to school, keep it up.”

“Aw, geez!”

“You know the rules,” she continued, ignoring his outburst. “I understand how difficult this has been for you, but it’s no picnic for me, either.”

“The he-eck it isn’t,” he burst out. “You can work anywhere, but my life and my friends are a thousand miles away!”

“So’s the hood who could have killed you!” Emily said without thinking. The boys who’d shot at David while he was jogging before school had never been apprehended. Her son had steadfastly claimed not to have recognized them, nor could he remember anything about their car.

Now his jaw clenched as she touched his arm fleetingly. Flogging him with constant reminders of the incident would get them nowhere. “You’ll make friends at your new school,” she promised, hoping his appearance wouldn’t set him apart from the local kids. “Now let’s look at the rest of the house before the truck gets here with our stuff.”

For a long moment he returned her pleading stare with an obstinate one of his own. Then he ducked his head, giving her a glimpse of the bewildered child behind the defiant rebel, and stepped aside. Emily pushed open the door to the room directly across from the bathroom.

“This is yours.” She let him go in first, knowing how different it was from his former retreat with its custom entertainment center, computer desk and small refrigerator. He stood in the middle of the floor with his shoulders hunched, but at least he looked around. The corner room had windows on two walls. The third held an ample closet and a built-in bed frame with drawers underneath.

David glanced at Emily and shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Not surprised, she nodded and quickly showed him the remaining two rooms. Her bedroom would be the one with the adjoining bath that she’d been surprised an old bachelor would bother with, and the other would serve as her office. She planned to turn one of the nearby outbuildings into her studio.

Trained by a respected old master back in L.A., Emily restored rare books. While living in California, she had developed a large client base and she now turned down more commissions than she accepted. Her income, though not on a par with that of her ex-husband, was sufficient to maintain herself and her son comfortably. The only money she accepted from Stuart was the court-ordered child support payments that went directly into David’s college fund.

Before she could think of anything else to say about the house, a rumble from outside alerted her to the arrival of the moving truck. Emily was relieved it was on schedule. Once the unloading was done, she and David would have plenty to keep them busy. With the first show of real interest since they’d crossed the California state line, he hurried past her toward the front door.



“Adam, it’s just dinner. Denise Sparks seems like a nice woman. C’mon, give her a chance.”

Travis Winchester’s voice was as irritating as the whine of a mosquito, and his older brother, Adam, ignored it as he stalked past the feed store cash register to the exit. Adam had enough on his mind without dodging Travis’s clumsy matchmaking attempts.

Head down, cheeks burning, Adam pretended not to notice the cashier’s smirk or the curious glances from several other customers who had overheard Travis’s plea. Adam would have liked to wring his brother’s neck. Ever since Travis had married his mail-order bride, he’d been determined to see Adam get hitched, as well.

Dammit, why wouldn’t anyone listen when Adam told them he tried never to make the same mistake twice? Except for his daughter, Kim, his marriage had been a huge blunder he had no intention of repeating.

Tugging down the brim of his hat, Adam yanked open the front door of the feed store, bent on escape from Travis’s nagging. The bell jangled, and he barely had time to register a pair of startled brown eyes before a woman who’d been pushing the door open from the other direction stumbled forward.

She yelped in surprise as one of her flailing hands knocked his hat off and the other jabbed his ribs. He grabbed her arms, struggling to keep his balance as she fell against him, but their feet got tangled, and they both nearly went down.

“Whoa, steady,” he said as she twisted out of his grip. Her hip bumped the front of his jeans, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Before she could do him real harm, he took a prudent step backward.

“Are you okay?” he demanded as her spicy perfume teased his nostrils.

Her topknot had come loose and a thick hank of blond hair hung down past her ear. “I’m fine,” she exclaimed, her cheeks a fiery pink. “Sorry.”

Adam had never seen her before, or he would have remembered her. “It wasn’t your fault,” he assured her, bending down to retrieve his new Resistol before she could step on it. He slapped it against his thigh to knock off the dust and set it back on his head. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? We hit pretty hard.” He could still feel the imprint of her soft breasts against his chest.

“No, I’m okay.” She was medium height, and she had to tip back her head to look at him. Her brown eyes, beneath feathery brows, were an intriguing contrast to her golden hair, but he realized that she wasn’t quite as young as he’d first thought.

She bit her lip, drawing his attention to its fullness, and she tucked the dangling lock of hair behind her ear. He was about to introduce himself when she excused herself abruptly and ducked around him. He turned to follow her back inside and ask her name when he realized he’d forgotten all about Travis, who was watching him with undisguised curiosity. Sneaking one last glance at the blonde’s retreating figure in snug tan jeans, Adam went down the front steps with his brother hot on his heels.

“That’s a novel way of meeting women,” Travis said when they both reached the sidewalk. “Just knock ’em down. If they get back up, ask them out.”

“I didn’t ask her out,” Adam growled as he circled their truck and opened the driver’s door. “I don’t hit on strange women.”

“You don’t hit on any women,” Travis replied. “Strange or otherwise. I’ve never seen her around before.”

“She’s probably just passing through town. Forget about her.” That was what Adam planned to do.

A brand-new silvery-blue pickup with fancy wheels and California plates was parked in the space next to his. It looked like something the blonde would drive, since it didn’t resemble a ranch rig any more than she did a ranch wife. Her perfume screamed “big city” and the skin where he’d grabbed her arm had been as smooth as warm satin.

Not that he’d noticed.

“Why would anyone who looked like her be passing through Waterloo?” Travis asked as Adam started the truck and backed onto the street. “Is there a movie crew in town?”

Adam shot him a disbelieving glance. “How should I know? Maybe she’s here for the auction. In case you missed it while you were gawking, she and I didn’t take the time to exchange life stories.” He shifted gears and headed down the street, resisting the urge to look around and see if she’d come out of the feed store. Speculating about someone he’d probably never see again was a waste of time he didn’t have to spare.

“I wasn’t gawking,” Travis muttered, “but if I was single, I would have at least gotten her name.”

Adam nearly laughed out loud. “Yeah, before Rory showed up, you were a real ladies’ man.” He didn’t bother to tone down his sarcasm.

Travis leaned forward to fiddle with the buttons on the radio. “What am I supposed to tell Denise about dinner?” he asked over the sound of fiddle music.

“Tell her whatever you want,” Adam replied heartlessly. “I didn’t invite her. And tell that redhead you married to quit trying to fix me up, or I’ll have her shipped back to New York.”

“You tell Rory that.” Travis leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to live with her.”

“Fix your friend up with Charlie,” Adam suggested. “He’s single.”

“Charlie’s been seeing the new nurse from the clinic,” Travis reminded him, looking out the side window.

Who could keep up with Charlie’s social life? When it came to women, he more than made up for both his older brothers. “We’ve got bigger problems than what to do about your friend,” Adam said bluntly. “While you were ordering that fencing, I heard that Ed Johnson sold out.”

Travis’s head snapped around, and he gaped at Adam. “Are you serious? Johnson sold his spread without telling us? Is the deal final?”

Adam nodded grimly as he swung out to pass a loaded stock hauler. “Apparently so.”

“Everybody knows how bad we need that land,” Travis exclaimed. “Who’d buy it out from under us like that?”

Adam’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I don’t know, but I intend to make some calls and find out.”



Back in the feed store, Emily wandered up and down the rows of work clothes, tack, veterinary supplies and tools, some of which she couldn’t begin to identify. Several other customers glanced her way, but she wasn’t sure whether their interest was because she was new in town or they’d witnessed her embarrassing collision with tall, dark and rugged.

While Emily was here, she had intended asking the cashier if he knew of anyone who might have puppies for sale, but instead she stopped in front of an elaborately tooled saddle. Pretending to study it, she waited for her cheeks to cool off and her heart rate to return to normal. She could still picture the shock in the cowboy’s green eyes right before she crashed into him. He’d been as solid as a tree, and his voice was as rough as the bark on its trunk.

She’d felt like such a clumsy fool, knocking his hat from his head and then nearly stepping on it. He’d grabbed her arms to keep her from falling, and she’d acted as though he was trying to assault her.

She had a vague impression of a strong, weathered face and dark hair, but she’d been too embarrassed to pay much attention. Instead she’d made some inane remark, and then she’d bolted down the first available aisle.

Had she even apologized for almost mowing him down? She couldn’t remember. If she was lucky, she’d never have to face that man again.

The only male who should be occupying a place in her thoughts right now was David. This was his first day at the local high school, and Emily remembered how rough that could be. She’d brought him in yesterday to register, but today she’d allowed him to ride his motorbike. Although she hadn’t been pleased when Stuart had presented it to him without consulting her, she could understand why David would prefer riding it to being dropped off by his mother or taking the school bus.

She hoped he’d make some new friends, if the local kids didn’t think his hair and clothes were too weird. The boys she’d seen looked pretty conventional, and the woman in the office had certainly seemed startled when she’d first glanced up from her computer and seen David, but she’d been pleasant enough while assisting him with his paperwork.

Now Emily noticed the wall clock above the feed store cash register. The real estate agent who’d sold her the property had promised to send over a contractor to turn the shed into a studio, and the man was coming today. Emily and David had spent all yesterday afternoon emptying an assortment of junk from the small outbuilding and scrubbing down the inside. It already had running water, electricity and a solid floor, but it needed some attention before Emily could set up her equipment and work there in comfort.

She had hoped to visit the local library while she was in Waterloo, but any further exploration would have to wait for another day. She’d buy a newspaper on her way out of town and check the classified ads. Perhaps a dog would ease David’s transition. He’d never been allowed a pet before, and now they had room for a menagerie if they wanted. Meanwhile she had a contractor to consult with, an office to set up and dinner to plan.



“I hate it here.” David threw down his fork and slid his chair back so fast that it crashed against the floor. “I want to go live with Dad.”

“I know the first day at a new school can be tough—” Emily began.

“They’re a bunch of dorks and losers!” David exclaimed. At Emily’s pointed glance, he righted his chair. “The building is old and crummy, and it’s too small.” When he’d gotten home earlier, he’d retreated to his room with the door firmly closed, leaving Emily to put her curiosity on hold until she’d summoned him for dinner.

“Why don’t you sit down and finish eating,” she suggested now. “Give it a few days—”

“I’m not going back there.” His cheeks were flushed and his dark brows were bunched into a frown, but his eyes had a suspicious sheen as he plopped back down. After a moment he stabbed his fork into the spaghetti on his plate.

“What will you do if you don’t go to school?” Emily asked, feeling as though she were walking barefoot through a room full of mouse traps. Her own appetite had disappeared with his first angry exclamation. She’d hoped at least one student would make an effort to welcome him.

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Hitchhike back to L.A., I guess. I could find a job at one of the studios. Dad would help me.”

Emily clasped her shaking hands together in her lap under the table. “Listen,” she said, leaning forward, “I want your promise right now that you won’t do any such thing.” The idea of him alone on some highway, thumb out, made her stomach turn over.

“You mean get a job?” he asked with a patently innocent expression.

“Don’t play dumb! I don’t want you hitchhiking under any circumstances.” Her voice was sharp, and she had to take a deep breath before she continued. “We’ve talked about the dangers of accepting rides from strangers.”

He rolled his eyes, but at least his frown had faded. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He took a huge bite of garlic bread, his jaw flexing as he chewed. Pretty soon he’d be shaving and Lord knew what else.

“I mean it. I want your promise that you’ll talk to me before you do anything like that,” Emily repeated.

She waited impatiently for his answer while he swallowed. When he took a drink of milk, she nearly screamed with frustration. “David,” she warned.

Finally he bobbed his head. “Okay, I promise.”

Emily released the breath she’d been holding. “What about your classes? Your teachers? Anyone good? Anything interesting?”

He shrugged, twirling spaghetti around his fork. “Geometry’s all right, I guess, and the Spanish teacher’s a babe.” He gestured with his hands. “Really built, you know?”

Emily realized he was fishing for a reaction. “But can she teach?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and his mouth relaxed ever so slightly. “Who cares?”

“You’re right,” she teased. “If you don’t learn anything, you can always take the class over in summer school.”

He slid down in his chair, and she wondered, as she always did, how he could sit on his tailbone like that and be comfortable.

“Are you behind in your classes?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? I’m way ahead in most of them. There are only a couple hundred kids in the whole school, and that’s for six grades,” he replied. “It’s weird having the younger kids right there.”

“And did you meet anyone interesting, other than your Spanish teacher?” she persisted.

Instantly his frown was back. “Talk about a bunch of hicks,” he grumbled. “You’d think the whole world was into rodeos and cattle ranching. They all dress like Roy Rogers, and they stare at me as though I just beamed down from another planet.”

“I’m sure that to the kids around here California is a different planet,” Emily agreed, “but I’ll bet some of them are curious about you. Maybe they’re shy. Keep smiling and give them a few days to get used to you.”

“You always think everyone is shy, but the truth is that no one likes me here.” David shoved back his chair, but this time it didn’t tip over. “Is there more spaghetti?”

Emily nodded toward the pan on the stove. “Help yourself. Didn’t anyone talk to you?”

“Just one girl,” he said as he piled more pasta on his plate and ladled sauce over it. “She showed me where the library was. It only has five computers.”

“What’s her name?” Emily asked, shaking her head when he pointed first to her plate and then to the stove.

“Her name’s Kim. She’s in two of my classes, and I saw her getting on the bus after school.”

Emily knew better than to express too much curiosity about the girl. “Do you have homework?” she asked instead.

He stuffed the last bite of garlic bread into his mouth. “Yeah.” His voice was muffled, but she ignored the breach in manners that would have sent Stuart into a rage. “I can help you with the dishes first, if you want,” David offered.

Emily beamed at him. Sometimes, when she least expected it, the sweet boy she remembered would make an appearance. Stuart had always worked long hours, leaving her to raise their son alone. Until the incident that had gotten David expelled from his old school, she would have said her relationship with him was extremely close. He was still the most important person in her life, but since the divorce, he had built up a wall she couldn’t scale.

“School will get easier,” she promised rashly. “Give it a little time.”

“Can I call Dad?” he asked as he carried his dishes to the counter.

“Sure, after you’re done with your homework. Just don’t talk too long.” She hoped, for David’s sake, that Stuart would be home this time, since returning David’s calls didn’t seem to be a priority.

While David stacked their dishes, she began running water into the sink, followed by a squirt of liquid soap.

“When are we getting a dishwasher?” he asked as he put the leftover salad in the refrigerator.

“After I get the bill for remodeling the studio,” she replied. She’d spent a big chunk of her settlement for this place, and she was cautious by nature. “Until then, we do it the old-fashioned way.”

Wrinkling his nose at the sinkful of bubbles, he grabbed a towel. “I’ll dry.”



Two days later Emily was in her office going through the mail when she heard someone knocking. Figuring the contractor must be back from town, where he’d gone to buy more supplies, she hurried through the living room and opened the door without bothering to look out the window.

Standing on her porch was a tall man wearing a black cowboy hat. Speechless with surprise, Emily stared over the top of the reading glasses perched on her nose. His familiar green eyes widened and then his serious expression relaxed slightly. How could the same lines that detracted from a woman’s beauty look so fantastic on a man?

“Ms. Major,” he said, touching the brim of his hat with his fingers, “we meet again. I’m Adam Winchester. We more or less ran into each other at the feed store the other day.”

How had he found out her name and tracked her down so quickly? And why had he bothered?

As he waited with an expectant expression, Emily pulled the door partially shut and blocked it with her foot, suddenly aware of her isolation from the main road as well as her neighbors. This wasn’t L.A., and the man was probably harmless, but he had gone to the trouble of seeking her out, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

“What do you want?” she asked without returning his smile.

His jaw hardened in response to her lack of welcome, and his gaze narrowed, drawing attention to his thick, dark lashes and emphasizing the creases fanning out from his eyes. “There’s something important you and I need to discuss,” he said forcefully.

Some women would undoubtedly find his interest complimentary, his determination flattering, but Emily was merely annoyed by his persistence. In California she’d been surrounded by truly beautiful women, and she’d been married, so men hadn’t been standing in line to flirt with her. Perhaps here in rural Colorado any reasonably attractive woman was fair game, but the last thing Emily had time for was an admirer, especially one who might prove to be obstinate. The best thing for both of them would be for her to make it clear this man was wasting his time.

“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing,” she said with a dismissive curving of her lips as she shifted the door shut a couple more inches. “It’s nothing personal, believe me.” As her gaze left his to inadvertently sweep over his long, lean body, she felt a tiny shiver of regret. If she’d been in the market… Her visitor was a walking, talking cowboy fantasy, the total opposite of her sophisticated, successful ex-husband.

“I’m sure you’re a very nice man,” she continued briskly, before he could respond, “and you’re certainly attractive, but I’ve just moved in. and I really don’t have the time or the interest in getting to know you better. If you’ll excuse me—”

Before she could close the door the rest of the way, his hand, clad in a worn leather work glove, shot out and held it open. “I hate to burst your bubble, Ms. Major,” he drawled, amusement evident in his eyes, “but I’m not here on a social call.” His gaze touched her body in a way that left her feeling as though she’d been thoroughly frisked. His smile was back, but it was mocking. “You’re an attractive woman, and I hope you won’t take this personally,” he continued, parroting her words outrageously, “but my visit is strictly business. I’m here to buy your land.”




Chapter Two


Adam watched the woman’s cheeks turn pink as she absorbed his last statement, and he wondered whether he should have pandered to her assumption that he’d taken a personal interest in her. She was certainly pretty, even with those silly wire-rimmed glasses perched on her pert little nose and a streak of dust down one cheek, but he would prefer a woman who wasn’t quite so confident of her own appeal as to assume he’d followed her home like some lovesick pup.

“You’re here to buy my land?” she finally echoed, her death grip on the door relaxing enough for him to gently pry it back open. A frown marred her forehead. “But it’s not for sale.”

He’d come prepared to negotiate, and he refused to be distracted by the way her full lips shaped each word she spoke. “Everything’s for sale if the price is right,” he replied. “I’ll give you ten percent over what you paid Ed Johnson. Why don’t you let me come in, and we’ll finalize the deal right now.” He wasn’t sure what her connection was to the previous owner, but the only possible reason for her to buy the twenty-acre parcel, surrounded on three sides by Winchester land, was to turn a quick profit. Why else would she be here?

He’d actually taken a step forward before he realized she wasn’t exactly welcoming him into her home. Nor did she appear the least bit impressed by his offer.

“I might be able to go a little higher,” he admitted grudgingly, “but keep in mind that I’m probably the only interested buyer you’ve got, and my generosity only goes so far.”

“Why are you so determined to buy my piddling twenty acres?” she asked. “From what I’ve seen, there’s enough open land in this state to go around.”

Adam thought fast while he returned her stare. The reason for his interest was no secret. Why was she pretending ignorance? To throw him off guard?

“My brothers and I own The Running W,” he explained, fairly sure he was only repeating what she must already know. “Your land nearly cuts our spread in two, and it’s got water we need for our cattle.” His senses recognized her perfume from their last encounter, but the distraction was more irritating than enticing. “Let’s not dance around the campfire,” he added without bothering to conceal his impatience. “Name your price. I’ve got things to do.”

Removing her glasses and folding them carefully, she drew herself up to her full five and a half feet. The curls on top of her head quivered as she thrust out her chin. In its center was a shallow dent that looked as though it had been put there by a sculptor’s touch.

“What part of no didn’t you get?” she demanded. “My place is not for sale.”

Adam sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Call me Adam,” he suggested. “And I didn’t catch your first name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Releasing his hold on the door, he folded his arms over his chest, lifted his brows and waited, a maneuver that worked as well with his fifteen-year-old daughter as it did with his ranch hands.

It didn’t work now. “Good day, Mr.—”

“Winchester!” he reminded her right before the door was shut firmly in his face. “Adam Winchester.” It took him a full ten seconds to realize he was staring at the painted panel like a fool. Once he’d recovered, he spun on his boot heel with a muttered oath and stomped back down the steps, irritated but undaunted.

Ultimately he’d get what he wanted. When it came to the ranch he usually did. He rarely misjudged an opponent. The little blonde with the big brown eyes might have distracted him temporarily, but she was no match for Winchester determination.

Halfway to his truck, Adam glanced over his shoulder in time to see the front curtain drop back into place. “I’ll be back,” he muttered as he settled his Resistol more firmly on his head. “We’re not done yet.”

Plastered against the wall next to the window where she’d ducked to avoid being caught gaping, Emily pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a groan of embarrassment. What on God’s green earth had possessed her to jump to the narcissistic conclusion that Adam Winchester had tracked her down because he’d been dazzled by her feminine charms—and why had she humiliated herself further by telling him?

What must he be thinking? Thanks to her impetuousness, he’d have an amusing story to tell his cronies around the campfire, or wherever cowboys hung out these days. Perhaps it was the rustic saloon she and David had driven by on their arrival. The only thing that could have increased her embarrassment even more would have been for Winchester to catch her watching his departure with her nose pressed to the window.

Good thing that when it came to men with sexy eyes, a killer smile and great buns, Emily was immune—totally, terminally uninterested, especially when the man was also insufferably arrogant, assuming he could waltz in here and demand that she hand over to him this place she already loved.

If her little section of Colorado was so crucial to her neighbor’s operation, why hadn’t Mr. Johnson sold it to him instead of going to all the trouble of advertising out of state? When she’d bought the land, she’d had no idea anyone else would be interested, but it was obvious now that Adam Winchester would have paid more than she had.

Before accepting Emily’s offer, Mr. Johnson had insisted that she make him an unusual promise. He hadn’t given her an explanation for his request, and she’d been reluctant to pry, but after Adam Winchester’s visit today she was certainly curious. She doubted the promise was legally binding, but that didn’t matter. When she gave her word, she tried her best to keep it.

The whine of David’s motorbike cut through her thoughts like a chainsaw through butter. She opened the door as he pulled up beside the porch in a cloud of dust and killed the engine.

“How was school?” she asked when he’d removed his helmet.

David swung one long leg over the bike. He came up the steps without meeting her gaze, the helmet tucked under his arm. “It was okay,” he said in a flat voice as he brushed past her.

One of the reasons she’d agreed to let him ride his bike instead of catching the bus was that she’d hoped he’d get involved in some after-school activities. Unfortunately, nothing about the new school seemed to interest him so far, not the kids, his new classes or anything else.

“Do you want a snack?” she asked as she trailed after him into the house. Over the last few days, she’d managed to unpack most of their belongings and make the living room presentable, but she had no idea whether her son had even noticed her efforts.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” he muttered. Before she could say anything else, he’d gone into his room and shut the door.

A teenage boy with no appetite? Something was seriously wrong. Emily sank onto the leather couch she’d brought from L.A. and stared at the opposite wall, which was blank. The house in Brentwood had been decorated by a big name interior designer Stuart had hired, but Emily planned to fix this one up herself. She’d hoped to enlist David’s help, but unless his attitude changed drastically, she couldn’t imagine him taking the slightest interest in picking out pictures and bric-a-brac.

She hadn’t done anything more about getting a dog, but she wanted to find one before she bought any livestock. She’d need a cat, too, once the remodeling in her workshop was completed. The contractor had promised to send a man out to repair the corral fencing next week. Fortunately, the small stable was sound. It would make a perfect home for the horses she planned to buy.

Emily hadn’t always been a city slicker. Growing up near Sacramento, she’d spent as much time as possible on horseback. Over the years she’d continued to ride on occasion. Stuart had never shared her interest—had even seemed to resent it—but she’d taught David to ride. His enthusiasm had waned in the past couple of years, but she hoped having horses of their own would revitalize it. He had to do something besides e-mailing his friends back home.

Meanwhile she removed the chicken from the refrigerator in order to fix his favorite dinner. It was nearly ready when he finally emerged from his room.

“Sweetie, would you set the table?” she asked as she mashed the potatoes.

Silently he complied, while Emily mounded the fluffy spuds into a bowl and fished around for something to talk about.

“Who was that guy I saw leaving right before I got home?” he asked, sparing her the trouble. “The one in the big black truck.”

As if they had so many visitors that he needed to be specific. “That was our neighbor, Adam Winchester,” she replied as she dished up some peas. “He made me an offer for this place.” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could recall them.

David froze in the middle of setting out flatware. “What did you tell him?” His hopeful tone made Emily wince.

She sighed. “We’re not selling.”

“Why not?” David demanded, his voice rising. “If you got your money back, we could go home where we belong.”

“We just got here,” Emily told him. “Won’t you please give Colorado a chance? Neither one of us belongs in L.A. any longer.”

He glowered at her, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair. “I hate it here. The kids are all hayseeds, and they stare at me like I came from Pluto.”

Emily ached to see him so miserable. “What about that girl you met?” she asked. “Have you talked to her again?” She still hoped a few of the other students would be friendly enough or curious enough to make the first move.

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, his shoulders hunching over. “She’s busy with her own friends.”

“What about the boys?” Emily persisted. “This is a small town, and it’s not every day someone comes here from another state. They must have noticed you.”

“Like I care,” he said with a defensive sneer. “I have plenty of friends.”

And a few enemies, too, Emily thought grimly, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” she suggested as she set the plate of chicken and the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.

David poured milk for both of them. “Why can’t we just go home?” he whined, after they’d helped themselves and started eating.

Emily gave him a long look. “You know why.”

His cheeks turned red, and his mouth took on a sulky droop. “Aw, Mom. You just overreacted,” he said. “Nothing really happened.”

She set down her fork and lifted her chin. “We’ve been over this before. We’re here now, and we’re staying, so you might as well make the best of it.”

For a moment he glared back at her defiantly. Then he shifted his gaze, picking up a drumstick and biting into it without replying.

It was time for a change of subject. “I’ve been thinking about getting a dog,” Emily announced. “We’ve certainly got the room. Would you be interested in helping me pick one out?”

David had always wanted a pet, but Stuart hadn’t liked the idea of an animal shedding on the expensive furniture and carpets of the showplace in Brentwood. Now she watched the emotions play across her son’s face. Finally, after an obvious struggle, his brooding expression lightened, reminding Emily of his habitual sunny disposition until her divorce from his father. How much David had changed in a little more than a year.

“Can we look for a dog after supper?” He was actually smiling.

Emily had to grin at his enthusiasm. “I need to call on a couple of ads from the newspaper first,” she replied. “And don’t you have homework?”

David shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Yeah, but only a little,” he mumbled. “I did most of it at lunch.” He swallowed and immediately took another bite. “I’ll do the dishes while you call.”

Chores had been one more thing she and Stuart had never agreed on, but she’d been adamant that David learn responsibility. Now that she no longer had hired help in the kitchen, she was doubly glad she’d stuck to her guns despite Stuart’s sneering remarks about women’s work. Had her husband changed so much over the years, or had she failed in the beginning to see what he was really like?

She hoped the people with dogs for sale were home. “Just for tonight I’ll do the dishes while you finish your studying.” She gave David a warm smile. Whenever she caught a glimpse of the sweet little boy she remembered beneath the cool adolescent veneer, her determination to keep her son safe at all costs was strengthened. She would have moved to the ends of the earth to protect him. Compared to that, the wilds of Colorado seemed pretty tame.



“Daddy, don’t you like the enchilada casserole?” Kim Winchester asked. “Betty and I fixed it special for you because last time you said it was so good.”

Adam blinked and glanced down at his plate, surprised to see that he’d only been picking at his food. “Uh, the casserole is great, honey. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” He gave his daughter a reassuring smile, relieved to see her worried frown melt away.

Since Kim’s mother had left when Kim was little, Adam’s daughter was the most important person in his life. Call him overprotective, but he remembered how fiercely she’d missed Christie in the beginning. He was determined to make sure no one ever hurt Kim that badly ever again.

To convince her now that he really liked the casserole, and because he’d just realized he was genuinely hungry, he dug into the mixture of meat, corn and tortillas. She watched while he rolled his eyes and chewed enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful,” he pronounced, mouth full.

Apparently satisfied, Kim turned her attention back to her own meager portion. She was built like her mother, small and slim, and she ate like a bird.

As Adam made an effort to clean his plate before the housekeeper could scold him, his thoughts went back to his earlier visit to his neighbor, Emily Major.

Even though she hadn’t bothered to introduce herself, he’d already gotten her name from county records. When he’d first recognized her, he’d felt a momentary twinge of disappointment. He’d been right—she was new to the area. Too bad she would probably be leaving again as soon as he’d bought her out. Under different circumstances he might have enjoyed getting to know her better.

His determination to acquire her twenty acres hadn’t changed since she’d turned down his offer, but the negotiations looked to be a whole lot more entertaining than he’d first figured. Now that he’d had time to think about it, he couldn’t say he was all that disappointed she hadn’t given in on his first try. At least he had an excuse to tangle with Ms. Major again.

“You look like you just beat Uncle Travis at poker,” Kim said. “What’s going on?”

Her perception startled him. If she was able to read him this easily at fifteen, the next few years could be a challenge.

“I was just thinking about a little land deal I’m working on,” he replied, sipping his water.

“Isn’t the Running W big enough for you yet?” she teased. “It’s already way bigger than any of my friends’ ranches.”

“You know how we always have to move the cattle out of the eastern pasture every summer,” he reminded her. “It’s water we need more than land.”

When it came to the actual working of the ranch, Kim hadn’t yet taken much of an interest. Someday the Running W, begun on a much smaller scale by her grandfather, would be passed on to the next generation of Winchesters. Kim was the only child Adam figured on having. Someday she’d own a third of it. Since Adam had taken over, he’d expanded the operation and put it on a solid financial footing. Too bad the old man hadn’t lived long enough to see what a good job his oldest son was doing.

“There’s a dance at school in a couple of weeks,” Kim said. “Sarah wanted to know if I was going.”

At least it wasn’t some boy doing the asking. Not yet, anyway. Dances at the high school were well chaperoned. Kim had been allowed to go to several already this year, even though Adam would have liked to keep her locked in her room until she was thirty.

“Is this the reason for the enchilada casserole?” He couldn’t resist teasing. “Soften the old man up first?”

Kim looked mildly indignant, but the flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Of course not. All of my friends will be there, and I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Well, if Sarah’s parents can drive one way, I’m sure somebody here can manage to pick you up,” Adam conceded.

“Billie Campbell got his driver’s license.” Kim picked up her roll and began tearing it into pieces. “Sarah said he might be able to borrow his dad’s car.”

Before Kim had finished talking, Adam was already shaking his head. “Billie Campbell lives clear on the other side of town, and I don’t want you riding with someone who just got his license.”

“Da-ad!” she wailed, dropping the roll onto her plate. “That’s not fair. I’m too old for my father to drive me.”

“You’re fifteen. Life isn’t always fair,” he replied evenly, unwilling to argue with her, “but I’ll be happy to provide transportation. Let me know what you decide.” Billie Campbell was barely sixteen, a mass of hormones with all the sense of a bull calf. Adam might not be able to bar boys like him from the dance or keep them away from Kim, but he wasn’t about to let his daughter in a car with one of them behind the wheel.

For a moment she glared at him, lower lip poked out, but then she sighed dramatically. “Okay. Can I at least get something new to wear?”

He chuckled, suspecting he’d just been maneuvered by an expert. “I suppose. If Betty doesn’t have time to take you shopping before the dance, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Kim’s smile brought a shaft of relief that, so far, their relationship hadn’t been marred by the kinds of arguments some of the other parents were already having with their kids.

“What else is going on with you?” he asked idly as he cleaned his plate.

“There’s a new boy at school.” She tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind one ear. Six months ago he’d told her she couldn’t have them pierced until she turned sixteen. That had cost him a new parka, he recalled. “I think he’s from California,” she added. “He’s way cool.”

Adam blinked. “Who?”

Kim rolled her eyes. “The new boy. The one I was just telling you about.”

New boy? Adam’s paternal instincts went on red alert. “Have you met him?”

“Not really, but he’s in a couple of my classes. He acts so much more mature than the other boys.” Kim had friends of both genders, and Adam suspected she got periodic crushes he didn’t know about or care to. Someone different might seem pretty slick to a young girl like her. Adam wanted to warn her to be careful, but he didn’t know what to say without scaring her or making her clam up.

California! Perhaps the fancy truck Adam had seen in town belonged to the new kid. He was probably Emily’s son. If so, he wouldn’t be around long enough for Adam to be concerned.

Suddenly, he realized that Betty, his longtime housekeeper, was standing by his elbow waiting to take his plate.

“Are you finished, Mr. Winchester?” she asked. She’d worked for him since right after Christie had left, managing the household, helping to raise Kim and offering a running commentary on Adam’s social life, but she had steadfastly refused to call him by his first name. That, she felt, would breed too much familiarity.

On more than one occasion he’d wished she would call him any damn thing she wanted just as long as she kept her nose out of his personal life.

Now he leaned back in his chair so she could clear away his dishes. “Thank you, Betty. As usual, dinner was delicious.”

“Thank your daughter,” she replied, glancing across the table with a warm smile. “While she was fixing the casserole, I had time to make peach cobbler for dessert.”

Adam sat up straighter. Peach was one of his favorites. “The two of you are going to spoil me,” he drawled, patting his flat stomach. He was on the move far too much for his weight to ever be a problem.

“You don’t have anybody else in your life to pamper you and no prospects on the horizon that I can see, so I guess the job falls to Kim and me,” Betty replied with a sniff as she left the room.

Adam had learned from long experience that ignoring Betty’s more pointed remarks was his simplest option.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Kim exclaimed. “Like you’ve always told me, you and I are a team, right?” Although Christie still lived in Denver, she hadn’t played a big part in Kim’s life. Christie worked in a gallery there, and a daughter who needed her wasn’t a priority. She hadn’t remarried, but Adam had long suspected Christie had something going with the gallery owner, who was much older and very successful.

“In a few years you’ll meet someone special, and then your attitude will change,” Adam told Kim, putting on a woeful expression and shaking his head sadly. “You’ll forget your old man even exists.”

“Never!” she declared, jumping up to come around the table and throw her arms around his neck. “And I’d never marry anyone who wasn’t willing to run the ranch and take care of you in your old age, either.”

A sudden image of himself in a rocking chair with gray hair and a blanket over his knees made Adam wince as he returned her hug. “Thanks, sweetie, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that,” he said dryly. For some reason, he pictured the way Emily Major had looked that afternoon, her cool smile a challenge he found hard to dismiss. Although remarriage wasn’t in the cards, he was still glad that he wasn’t ready for that rocking chair just yet.



Emily surveyed her new studio with a sigh of satisfaction. There were several long benches, two with recessed shelves underneath them for her cases of brass hand tools and other supplies. In a corner was a cabinet with drawers for type and a small iron nipping press bolted to the top. On one table were several other kinds of presses and cutters, an electric tooling stove and a grinder for her knives. A file cabinet held correspondence and records of books she had already restored. A fire-resistant safe contained two new projects, a very old family Bible and a sixteenth-century medical handbook. Mounted on one wall was a CD player and speakers. On another was a rack to hold rolls of raw Asahi silk from Japan.

Emily was eager to return to work, but right now she wanted to take a walk along the property line with Monty, the collie she and David had brought home the afternoon before, and see how the fence repair work was going. There was a stiff spring breeze, and the sun was shining. She wasn’t ready to shut herself inside with relics from the past, no matter how fascinating.

Monty thrust his cold, wet nose into Emily’s hand as if to remind her of his presence. He might not have been the dog they’d set out to acquire, but they’d made an impulsive—and fortunate—detour at the local veterinarian’s office on their way to check out a litter of blue heeler puppies at a house on the other side of Waterloo.

Monty’s owner had gone into a nursing home, and the vet told Emily he’d nearly given up finding a new family for the middle-aged collie. Lucky for Emily that David had fallen for the dog as quickly as she had. The moment they followed Doc Harmon into the back room of his office and saw Monty curled up on a braided rug by the heater, the dog had stolen her heart. When she was little, she’d always wanted a collie just like Lassie, and now she had one.

“Yes, you’re a good boy,” she cooed as she stroked his long, thin head. At first he’d been nervous, sniffing everything in the house and startling at the slightest noise. Eventually he’d settled onto his rug by David’s bed and slept there through the night. This morning after David had gone to school, Monty stuck by Emily’s side like a magnet on a refrigerator door. He minded well. So far she’d had no need to use the leash that matched his red leather collar.

A puppy would have been banned from her studio to avoid any risk of damage to her irreplaceable inventory or expensive supplies, but Monty, well past the chewing and piddling stages, would be great company while she worked.

Emily was about to shut the studio door behind her when the collie’s tulip-shaped ears pricked to attention and a low growl rolled up from his throat. Seconds later Emily saw a dust cloud and then she recognized the black pickup coming down her road.

“It’s okay,” she reassured the collie, glad for his presence. Coming from L.A., she wasn’t yet completely at ease with the wide-open spaces surrounding her or the sense of utter remoteness she felt when David wasn’t home.

The dog gave her a quick glance and then resumed his watchful stance as the pickup rolled to a stop. Adam Winchester emerged, one long leg at a time and, to Emily’s surprise, Monty’s feathery tail began to wag in great sweeping strokes.

“Some watchdog you are,” she scolded softly as the dog deserted her for her visitor, who immediately stopped and extended his hand.

From his black cowboy hat to his scuffed leather boots, Winchester was once again dressed like a working cowboy. All he needed was a six-gun strapped to his hip and he could have walked right onto the set of an old Western movie.

“Hello again,” he called out to Emily as he patted Monty’s head. The dog wiggled like a puppy. “What’s Mae Sweeney’s collie doing here?”

Monty glanced up at Emily, who hadn’t bothered to return her neighbor’s greeting. What part of I’m not selling hadn’t Adam Winchester understood?

“I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she replied defensively, ignoring her sudden attack of jealousy over her new pet’s defection. “I got Monty from the vet. He needed a home, and Doc Harmon said he’s got too many dogs already.”

“What are you going to do about him when you leave?” Winchester asked as he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his black hair.

“Doc Harmon?” She barely knew the man.

“No, the dog. I’ll take him, if you want. We can always make room for one more at the ranch.”

First her land and now her dog? What was it with this man? Next he’d be angling after her firstborn. Emily lifted her chin and braced her hands on her hips. “Who said anything about leaving?” she asked in her chilliest voice. “I happen to like it here.”

Winchester glanced around them with a speculative expression. “You planning on ranching your twenty acres?” His tone indicated that her property was too small for anything bigger than a pea patch.

“I may,” she retorted. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She’d actually considered buying some sheep, but she no longer had to explain her every action to some man. Let Mr. Hotshot Cattle Rancher think what he liked.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “My property surrounds you on three sides. Everything that goes on around here is my business.”

What arrogance! Emily forced herself to saunter over to where he stood with her dog. She would have liked to call Monty back to her side, but it would be too embarrassing if the collie chose to ignore her.

She wished Winchester didn’t tower over her by a head, but she refused to let his greater height and the width of his shoulders intimidate her. She was through knuckling under to anyone, and she’d go toe-to-toe or nose-to-nose to hang on to what was hers. This man might make her nervous, but he’d never know it.

“I think you’d better leave.” She snapped her fingers at Monty, who ducked his head and slunk to her side.

“Not before you name your price,” her neighbor insisted with a gleam in his eye, as though they were sharing a joke.

“A million dollars!” Emily said rashly.

His amusement faded like a light winking out. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it. Let me know when you’ve come to your senses.” Letting his gaze sweep over her one last time, he jammed his hat back on his head and spun on his heel.

Emily watched him climb into his truck, ignoring the way his jeans molded themselves to his masculine contours. “Don’t hold your breath,” she called out childishly, arms folded.

He looked down at her from the open window. “You’ll sell.”

His confident tone sent a shiver of foreboding down Emily’s spine. How far was this man willing to go to get what he wanted?




Chapter Three


“How’s the land grab going?” Charlie Winchester asked Adam as Travis turned a snort of laughter into a cough that he buried in his fist.

Usually the three brothers worked different parts of the sprawling ranch, each leading his own group of men, but a small bunch of cattle needed moving closer in, so Adam had recruited the other two and a couple of the dogs to ride out with him this morning. Preparation for spring roundup had kept them all too busy for more than the most perfunctory conversation during the past couple of weeks, and this was the kind of day that made a man thankful to work outdoors. The sky above was as blue as Arizona turquoise, and the swaying grasses were dotted with early wildflowers.

Adam’s saddle creaked as he turned to look at Charlie. “We’re buying the Johnson place, not stealing it,” Adam said mildly, refusing to let his youngest brother’s comment spoil his mood. “The current owner wants to dicker a little before she lets go, but we’ll have what we need in the end.”

He still didn’t know why Emily Major had bought Johnson’s place, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He realized uneasily that he was actually looking forward to their next sparring match. She was attractive, and his blood was still red, even if he didn’t have what it took to hang on to a woman he cared about. He had no intention of getting involved.

“So the rumors are all true,” Charlie said. “Johnson sold out to a woman from the left coast. What I don’t understand is why he didn’t talk to us first. He must have known we’d top anyone else’s offer.”

“He was a reclusive old man,” Adam replied as he spotted a few head of cattle. When they saw the approaching riders, they bunched together, their calves bawling nervously. “Maybe he was getting senile, too. Who knows? It’s not important. She’ll sell.”

“Adam will charm her,” Charlie told Travis with a broad wink he didn’t bother to conceal from his eldest brother. “By the time he’s done with the sweet-talk, she won’t know what hit her.”

Travis glanced at Adam. “If charm is what’s needed, maybe I’d better take over,” he said to Charlie behind his gloved hand. “When it comes to dealing with the ladies, our big brother’s a little rusty.”

“You’re a married man,” Charlie reminded him. “Rory would hand you your head if you ever looked at anyone else.” His dimples flashed as he made a mock bow. “I, on the other hand, am presently unattached.”

“What happened to that nurse you were seeing?” Adam demanded. The pretty brunette had been on Charlie’s arm so often lately, she might have been stuck there with Velcro. “I thought you two were getting serious.”

“Hey, this is Charlie we’re talking about.” Travis’s voice danced with humor. “When have you known him to be serious about anything?”

An expression that could have been hurt crossed Charlie’s face, quickly replaced by his usual cocky grin. “She started dropping hints about a ring and a future together,” he explained with a shrug. “I figured it was time for a clean break.”

“You should think about settling down,” Travis told him. “Marriage to the right woman beats single hands-down.”

“Yeah, but Rory’s already married,” Charlie replied with exaggerated petulance, “and you won’t share.”

“Damn right,” Travis agreed. “You had your chance with her.”

Five years before, Charlie had decided that Travis needed some help in the romance department, so he located Rory through a pen pal service and persuaded her to come out from New York for a visit. The day of her arrival, Charlie disappeared, leaving Travis to deal with her. By the time Charlie came back, Travis had fallen for her just as his younger brother had planned all along.

Until Charlie managed to convince Travis that he’d never intended her for himself, relations had been strained, to say the least. Ever since then, Charlie had taken full credit for finding his brother a bride, much to Travis’s annoyance and Adam’s unease. Charlie had been warned he’d spend six months in a line shack with only the herd for company if he even thought about pulling a similar trick on Adam.

Adam signaled the dogs to get the cattle moving while Charlie and Travis fanned out. Adam hadn’t yet told Travis that the woman who’d bought the Johnson place was the same one Adam had collided with at the feed store.

“Has this gal got a husband?” Charlie called out. “I could drop by and pay a neighborly visit after church tomorrow, encourage her to sell.” Despite his matchmaking talent, Charlie had never tied the knot, and he fancied himself a bit of a ladies’ man. Most of the local female population would probably agree. All he had to do was smile and flash his dimples. Women fell like apples from a tree.

Adam wished they were driving a larger herd, so they’d be too far apart for conversation, or that the cattle would bolt, necessitating a wild chase. For once the dogs were doing too good a job keeping them tight.

Adam was tempted to tell Charlie that Emily was married to a pro wrestler from cable television or that she was eighty-five years old and chewed tobacco. “Don’t trouble yourself,” he said instead, the surge of irritation he felt making him more than a little uneasy. “I’ll handle her.”

“He’s holding out on us,” Charlie called out to Travis. “I’ll bet you a ten spot she’s pretty.”

“Adam’s idea of pretty is a horse with spots on its butt.” Travis glanced pointedly at Adam’s Appaloosa.

Adam fiddled with the bandanna he’d tied around his neck. The other two would be on him like dogs on fresh meat if they suspected he was keeping something back. “Do you remember that woman at the feed store?” he asked Travis, as though she’d barely caught their notice. “We wondered at the time if that little sissy truck with the out-of-state plates was hers.”

Travis’s expression was speculative. “The cute little blonde you tried to knock down? Of course I remember. I’m married, not dead.”

“What’s this?” Charlie demanded, reining his mount closer to the other two. “Why haven’t I heard about her before?”

“It wasn’t important,” Adam said, exasperated.

“Are you telling us that she’s the one who bought the Johnson place?” Travis’s tone was incredulous. So much for slipping that little fact unnoticed into the conversation.

“Who is she?” Charlie asked, glancing back and forth between his two brothers, neither of whom was paying him any mind. “Would someone kindly tell me what’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Travis drawled.

“Nothing’s going on,” Adam exclaimed. “I’m doing my best to close a business deal for the good of the Running W, just like I always do.” He hadn’t meant to add that last part. They were all keenly aware of what running the ranch had cost him, but it wasn’t his intention to whine about it.

Travis gathered up his reins and urged his mount forward as a determined heifer broke from the group, her calf struggling to keep up with her. One of the dogs streaked past Adam, barking excitedly while Charlie headed in the other direction before the rest of the herd could follow.

Swearing under his breath, Adam prepared to join the fray before one of the animals got hurt. At least the skirmish had served one good purpose: it gave his brothers something to focus on besides Emily Major. With luck he’d have a signed deed in his pocket before the subject came up again.



The little country church with its stained-glass windows and narrow steeple poking up toward heaven belonged on a Christmas card sprinkled with silver glitter, Emily thought as she drove past the worshippers starting to head up the walkway lined in flower beds to the open front doors. Several people turned to stare as she parked her silver-blue pickup at the end of a row of freshly washed cars and trucks.

Her palms were damp on the steering wheel, and she wished that David hadn’t woken up this morning with the start of a cold. Refusing to put her own need for moral support ahead of the best interest of her child, she’d sent him back to bed after breakfast and set out for church by herself. From parent-teacher conferences to Little League games, she was used to showing up alone, she reminded herself as she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. Stuart had usually been too busy working to join her, but he’d found the time to father a half sister for David without Emily suspecting a thing.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of her truck, smoothed down the long skirt of her black-and-white polka-dotted dress, relaxed the death grip on her purse and marched across the grass with what she hoped was a pleasant expression plastered on her face. She’d planned to arrive at the last minute so she could slip into the back of the congregation unnoticed, but the drive hadn’t taken as long as she’d figured.

As Emily approached the sea of strangers, a dark-haired man with a mustache glanced her way. He was carrying a little girl with bright orange curls, and something about his face looked vaguely familiar. He spoke to the woman at his side, a tall, striking redhead holding a little boy’s hand. Except for the swell of her stomach, she was as willowy as a dancer. They watched Emily with welcoming smiles as though they’d been waiting to greet her.

“Welcome,” the woman said. “I’m Rory Winchester, and this is my husband, Travis.”

Emily’s relief at the friendly overture turned to dismay when she heard their last name. Warily she glanced around, but she didn’t see the man she’d initially mistaken for an overenthusiastic suitor.

“Hi, I’m Emily Major,” she replied, shaking first the hand Travis Winchester extended and then his wife’s. Her skin was softer than his, and without the calluses, but her grip was equally firm despite her ultrafeminine appearance.

The little girl in the crook of Travis’s arm flashed Emily an impressive set of dimples. Her eyes were the same navy blue as her mother’s.

“This is Lucy, and that’s our son, Steven,” Travis said with a warm glance at the dark-haired boy.

“Pleased to meet you,” he recited politely, his cheeks turning pink as he looked up at Emily.

Emily greeted both children. Steven ducked his head, and Lucy studied her with a child’s frank stare.

“I recognized you from the feed store,” Travis said. “I was with my brother when he tried to run you over in the doorway. It appears you survived.”

That explained his connection to the man so determined to buy her out. Did Travis realize who she was? “As you can see, I’m still in one piece,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Newcomers to Waterloo tend to stand out,” he said. “Especially the pretty ones.” His wife elbowed him playfully, and they exchanged smiles, the easy affection between them plain to see.

“Don’t mind my husband,” she told Emily. “Most of the locals still think of me as a newcomer, and I’ve lived here for five years.” There was a trace of East Coast in her voice that Emily couldn’t quite place. “I’m from New York,” Rory added. “How about you?”

“Southern California,” Emily replied as they trailed after the last of the people going inside. “I bought the Johnson place,” she added, wondering whether they already knew and that was why they were being so friendly.

“Then we really are neighbors,” was all she said. “Why don’t you sit with us inside, and we can introduce you around afterward?”

“Thanks, that would be nice.” The knot of nerves in Emily’s stomach began to loosen.

“It’s a shame Adam and his daughter aren’t here,” Rory said in an undertone as they crossed the vestibule. “He took her to Colorado Springs for the weekend to buy her a dress for the school dance.”

So Emily’s nemesis had a child. It seemed odd that he would be the one to take her clothes shopping, unless her mother was no longer in the picture. Despite the negative impression he’d made on Emily, it sounded as though Adam took his duties as a parent seriously. How she wished her ex-husband felt the same way.

She would have liked to ask what grade the girl was in. David hadn’t said anything about a dance. Perhaps Adam’s daughter attended a private school.

Emily followed Rory down the center aisle of the church, aware of the heads turning curiously and the murmured greetings when they took their places in the pew. Travis had entered first, still carrying Lucy, and Steven sat between him and Rory, with Emily on the end. Before anyone around them could do more than smile or nod, the choir filed in, followed by the minister, and the service began with a hymn.

The simple decor of the interior was complemented by the elegant tapestries on the walls, the gleam of well-polished wood and the masses of flowers Emily assumed had been provided by members of the congregation. Beeswax tapers burned on the altar. Behind it was a large, round, stained-glass window, the rich colors of its traditional biblical scene glowing as brightly as a neon sign.

At the conclusion of the hymn, the minister began to pray. Hands clasped loosely in her lap, Emily let the soothing words wash over her bowed head. Long before the service was over, she experienced the healing sense of peace and comfort that attending services nearly always brought her. Her only regret was that David wasn’t here with her. He was having such a difficult time adjusting to the changes in their lives, and Emily didn’t know what, if anything, she could do to help him.

Despite her concern for her son, she enjoyed the sermon, the prayers and especially the music. After the service was over and the minister had walked up the aisle past their pew, she left with Rory and her family. They seemed to know everyone. Emily met so many people on her way to the exit that she doubted she’d ever be able to keep them all straight.

When they got to the front steps, Travis introduced her to the minister. “Welcome to Waterloo,” Reverend Foley boomed as he pumped Emily’s hand. With his rotund build and fringe of hair, all he needed were brown robes and sandals to pass for a Franciscan monk. “Do you have family around here?”

“Not a soul,” Emily replied. “My son, David, and I needed a change of pace, and I fell for Colorado when I got off the plane in Denver.” She didn’t add that she’d come to scout out Ed Johnson’s property, nor did she figure it would be polite to mention that David thought the locals were a bunch of hayseeds. “He’s home with a cold,” she said instead.

“I hope you’ll bring him with you next Sunday,” the minister replied. “Meanwhile, if there’s anything my wife or I can do to help you settle in, don’t hesitate to call. Rosemary will be disappointed that she missed meeting you, but she’s off to Cheyenne to visit her sister until midweek.”

“I hope you’ll join us for dinner one evening while you’re batching it,” Rory told him. With her approval, Steven had gone with another little boy down to the lawn for a game of tag. He reminded Emily so much of David at that age. Life had been much simpler then.

The minister’s smile widened in response to Rory’s invitation. “Rosemary left me a couple of frozen casseroles with detailed instructions, but I have to admit that eating alone isn’t much fun.” He leaned closer. “You know how fond I am of your cooking,” he added conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell my wife that I prefer your meat loaf to hers.”

“Or that you’re a shameless flatterer,” Rory responded, glancing at the line waiting to greet him. “Come tomorrow, and I might just whip up that dinner you like.”

“With mashed potatoes?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course.”

The minister’s pleased expression faded as he glanced discreetly at Rory’s rounded stomach. “It won’t be too much trouble?”

Travis curved his free arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’ve tried to get her to slow down,” he said, “but she’s stubborn. Must be all that red hair.”

“Compared to slinging hash for a diner full of customers, feeding one family and the occasional guest is child’s play,” she exclaimed, piquing Emily’s curiosity. “We’ll look for you tomorrow, Reverend.”

After he’d promised to be there, he excused himself to greet another parishioner, and Travis guided Rory down the front steps as carefully as if he were escorting royalty.

“Would you and your son like to join us?” she asked Emily when they reached the sidewalk where knots of people stood visiting. “We’d love to meet him.”

Emily was touched by the easy way the invitation was issued, as though they were already friends. Although that might not be possible, Emily liked the idea. “Might I take a rain check until my son is over his cold?” she asked regretfully.

“Sure thing. Let’s make it soon, though. We’re neighbors, after all.” Rory’s smile was guileless as she reached into her purse and extracted a card she handed Emily. “Here’s my number. In the meantime, at least come by for coffee some morning.”

Emily thanked her and tucked the card in her pocket, intending to slip away quietly. Her plans were thwarted when Rory led her to another group and began making introductions.

“Don’t even try to keep everyone straight,” she told Emily between names. “If you’re anything like me, all these new faces will be a blur for a good while yet, but at least it’s a start.” She winked at Emily. “Besides, they’re all curious as heck about why you would move here from southern California, when the change has to be like crash landing on a different planet. Everyone’s just too polite to ask.”

Emily sensed that asking was just what Rory was doing. What would she say if Emily told her she’d brought her son here to save his life and that she had no intention of selling their new home, not to anyone?

Now wasn’t the time for confidences, especially with someone whose last name began with a W. Emily settled for part of the truth. “I wanted David to attend a school that didn’t need metal detectors and armed guards patrolling the halls.”

“I’m afraid that day will come, even here,” Rory replied regretfully. “We’re lucky that so far we’ve had no trouble. It’s very different from the Bronx, where I grew up.”

“Why did you pick Waterloo?” Emily asked curiously. “Did you already know Travis?”

Rory glanced at her husband, who was talking to an older man with a face like tanned leather and a bolo tie with a turquoise stone the size and color of a robin’s egg tucked beneath the folds of his chin. “Do you remember that attractive hunk in the choir who sang the solo this morning?” she asked Emily.

“Of course. How could I not? He had a wonderful voice.” And looks to match, she thought. For a small town, Waterloo had more than its share of attractive men.

“That was Charlie, Adam and Travis’s younger brother.” Rory looked around. “He must have ducked out right after the service, probably has a hot date, knowing him. Anyway, he was the first Winchester I met, but that’s a story best told over coffee.”

Emily absorbed the information silently as a little girl who looked to be the same age as Steven asked Rory where he’d gone. She pointed out her son, and the child ran off.

“I understand you’ve already met Adam,” Rory said to Emily.

“Yes, I have.” She was tempted to add more, but since the man was Rory’s brother-in-law, she restrained herself.

“He’s trying to buy you out.”

Her bluntness surprised Emily, who decided to be blunt in return. “He’s been by a couple of times, but I’m not selling. We just got here.”

Rory tossed her head, sending her apricot curls flying. “Good for you. Not getting what he wants will build Adam’s character.” Her smile flashed. “Honey, everyone in the county knows how much he covets your land, but what you decide to do is your business. It doesn’t mean you and I can’t be friends.”

Emily returned her smile. “Thank you. He warned me he’d be back.” She remembered his determination and suppressed a shiver.

“Oh, he will.” Rory leaned closer, her eyes brimming with laughter. “I don’t see a husband in tow, and you aren’t wearing a ring. Does that mean you’re single?”

The forthright question caught Emily off guard. “Divorced.”

“Ah.” Rory’s grin turned smug. “Don’t let Adam push you around. He’s had it tough, and he can be a little intimidating, but he’s as honorable as any man in the county.”

Emily wasn’t sure how to reply. “I’m sure he is,” she said finally, “but I’m still not selling.”

Rory chuckled. “I understand. The character reference I was giving Adam was a personal one.” Her gaze strayed to her spouse. “Winchester men make good husbands.”

“He’s not interested in me that way,” Emily protested, slightly horrified at the idea. “I’m not in the market for a husband or anything else involving a man, honorable or otherwise. All I want is to put down a few roots and provide a peaceful home for my son.”

Rory’s gaze was steady, giving Emily the impression that the other woman could see past her words to the feelings behind them. Rory’s expression softened slightly. “I understand what you’re saying. You just keep standing up to Adam,” she said enigmatically. “You’ll be fine.”

Before Emily could think of a response, Steven ran up and tugged on Rory’s skirt. “Mommy,” he whispered loudly, “I have to go potty right now!”

She put her hand on his dark head before she turned back to Emily. “I hope you will come by for coffee.”

“I’ll try.” Perhaps a visit wouldn’t be a good idea if it meant running into Adam again. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem. I know what it’s like to be the new kid on the block.”

After Rory excused herself and allowed Steven to tow her away, Emily waved goodbye to Travis, who smiled in response. Before anyone else could approach her, she headed toward the parking area.



Adam took one look at the midriff-baring black outfit his daughter had on as she left the dressing room and decided he was being set up. Kim probably figured he’d happily double the limit he’d allowed if she would agree to something that covered more skin than it bared. “Okay, you’ve had your little joke,” he said with a grin. “Now show me the dress you really want, so we can get some lunch and head home. It’s a long drive, and I’ve got paperwork waiting.”

“Daddy!” she wailed, surprising him. “This is what I want. It’s just what everyone else will be wearing.”

“Everyone but you,” he replied firmly, trying not to notice the amount of leg the tiny skirt revealed. Even with her lip poked out and her blue eyes filling with angry tears, she was growing up before his eyes. “Now find something that makes you look like a fifteen-year-old and not a dance-hall girl.”

“I don’t think they sell nun’s habits here,” she retorted.

He kept his expression blank. “Well, you’ve probably got something in your closet that would do.”

She spun around and stomped back into the fitting room, her long dark hair swirling like silk. Adam stifled a chuckle. Two could play that game.

When she came out a few minutes later, still pouting, his heart stuttered in his chest. She was wearing a simple blue dress that matched her eyes. It was shorter than he would have liked, but he knew he’d buy it if she wanted. Then he’d chaperone that dance with a baseball bat tucked behind him, just in case.



Emily was in her studio the next morning with a cup of coffee in hand and the fragile old Bible on her worktable, when Monty, who’d been curled up by the heater, raised his head and whined.

Emily pushed her chair back. Her neck was stiff from studying the Bible through the big magnifying glass. She glanced at the collie, who’d gotten to his feet. “What is it, boy?”

As Monty padded over to the door, Emily heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Her first thought was that Adam was back and the only concession she’d made to her appearance this morning was to wind her hair into a topknot and stick a pencil through it. Her second thought was to wonder why it mattered.





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