Montana Bride

Montana Bride by Barbara Clark

Amber Quill Press www.amberquill.com

Copyright ©2006 by Barbara Clark

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Montana Bride by Barbara Clark

MONTANA BRIDE by BARBARA CLARK **** ISBN 1-59279-476-9 Amber Quill Press, LLC www.amberquill.com

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Montana Bride by Barbara Clark

Also By Barbara Clark Dangerous Haven Emerald Heat Rainbow Valley **** Sons of Earth and Wind Series Book I: Tears of the Hawk Book II: A Breath of Heather Book III: A Touch of Fire Book IV: Deserts of the Heart Book V: Tears of the Desert Rose

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DEDICATION Dedicated with love to our grandchildren, Danny, Sean, and Sarah

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Montana Bride by Barbara Clark

CHAPTER 1 "Marry me, Megan, and I'll take you away from this Montana wilderness." Albert Broadhurst, in designer slacks and shirt, stared at the rugged mountains on the west boundary of Silvertip and his lips twisted in disgust. "A ranch, for God's sake. Why isolate yourself in this lonely place?" Megan O'Connor took a deep breath of the pine-scented air and fought to stay calm. "I love Silvertip Ranch. It's quiet and peaceful, and the children are finally happy." "My Connecticut estate is private." He moved closer, invading her personal space. "Come on, Megs, and say yes. Together, we can make Stonewood a showplace that'll be the envy of our friends." "I told you months ago I wasn't interested." She sighed, fed up with all the fortune hunters, like Albert, who thought if they waved a marriage proposal at her, she'd fall into their arms like a ripe peach. With a self-important air, he drew a black, velvet-covered box from his suit coat pocket and opened it, displaying a twocarat diamond circled by smaller diamonds. "Look at this ring. Your father said you'd love it." She stiffened at Broadhurst's challenging tone. "My father doesn't run my life. Goodbye, Albert." Turning her back on him, she walked along the unpainted corral fence, past a watering trough, to the section she'd been raking when he'd arrived. If only he'd get the message. Albert followed, complaining about the pebbled dirt. 6

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Ignoring him, she was reaching for the rake to finish her chore, when a motion across the yard caught her attention. A tall, rugged-looking cowboy rode out of the nearby pine grove and, for a moment, she faltered, caught by a thrill of feminine awareness. There was something in the easy way he rode—in his air of command. With an effort, she pulled her attention away from him. Just another drifter, she told herself. Her gaze dropped to his magnificent black Appaloosa stallion with a shower of white spots across its hindquarters— the kind of horse she dreamed of breeding one day. "Ma'am." The stranger touched the wide brim of his fawncolored hat politely, but remained in the saddle, crossing one powerful hand over the other on the saddle horn. Now what? Mentally, she groaned, caught between the sudden appearance of the rider and Albert's refusal to leave. "Come on, Megan. Say yes," Broadhurst insisted. "I've turned you down four times," she snapped, running out of patience. "I won't marry you or any other man." He grabbed her wrist, pulled her closer, and snarled, "Don't play hard to get." "I said no." She jerked her hand out of his grip and pushed him away. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over the rake, and with a wild cry, splashed into the horse trough. He cursed and thrashed in the cold water, sending sheets of liquid over the side. Cowhands, gathered on the other side of the corral, whooped and shouted suggestions, but she cautiously kept her attention on Albert. 7

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He finally pried himself out of the coffin-shaped trough and looked around frantically. "My God, where's the ring? O'Connor will kill me." Torn between laughter and disgust, Megan retrieved the box from the dirt at her feet, saw the ring safely nestled inside, closed the lid, and handed it to him. "Tell my father nice try, but give it up." "You haven't heard the last of this." The would-be groom spun on one heel and marched toward the rental car, his wingtips squishing with each step. Opening the door, he aimed one more indignant glare at her, then slid behind the steering wheel, gunned the engine, and drove away with a screech of tires. At last. Relieved, Megan watched the car disappear into the tunnel of pines lining both sides of the road. The creak of a saddle behind her reminded Megan of her other visitor. Turning, she watched the cowboy swing off his mount in one supple move. "Ma'am." The stranger dropped his horse's reins to ground-hitch it and sauntered toward her. She barely had time to absorb the impact of his powerful fluid stride, his tall rangy body, before he reached her. Close up he looked like he'd stepped out of a cowboy calendar, except for the contempt she saw in his hazel eyes. Why contempt? Travis studied the slender woman who matched his aunt's description of Miss O'Connor. Her fair skin, lightly tanned, sported freckles across a slim nose. Her auburn hair, licked with glowing fire from the morning sun, was smoothed away 8

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from her face and spilled in a single braid down her back. He'd seen enough wealthy women when he'd worked at Rainbow Valley Ranch to recognize designer jeans. It was obvious she spent her money on herself instead of this ranch's weathered buildings and rotting fences. Hell, that didn't matter. He was here for a job, not a date. He jerked one thumb in the direction of the plume of dust left by the tenderfoot's retreat. "Is that how you turn down a man?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, not another one. I suppose Burke also sent you. That makes two guys in half an hour." "Only if the greenhorn was here for the foreman's job." Looking relieved, she said, "No, it was another matter." After studying him a moment, she asked, "You want to be my foreman?" "You got that right, ma'am." He took off his hat and held it. "I can ride any horse, gentle a green-broke one, round-up strays, rope and brand 'em before you can squeal, and scout out the best pasture." A smile lurked around the corners of her lips. "Plus you're real modest. That's some resumé." He shrugged. "Just the truth." A shout of laughter drew his attention to the cowhands on the opposite side of the corral. They sat on their heels or leaned against the rough fence as they hurled good-natured insults and traded shoulder punches. He looked down at the slender woman. "Where's your temporary foreman? Why wasn't he here to step in when that 9

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clown tried to get rough? And why's your crew hanging around instead of workin'?" A flash of vulnerability crossed her face, then she took a breath and squared her shoulders. "My foreman quit. He said he wouldn't work for a woman. Since he walked out, they've been impossible." She turned at another loud burst of laughter from the crew. "You men have jobs to do. Get started." A wiry cowhand tipped his hat back away from his face and jerked a thumb toward the guy beside him. "Aw, Miz O'Connor, I hate diggin' post holes. Get Butch here t' do it." Another cowboy, black-haired and with a wolfish grin, propped his elbows lazily on the top rail of the corral. "Yeah, I'm bunged up, too. Can't work. My knuckles're sore from—" She cut off the complaint. "Tony, you said the same thing yesterday." Travis muttered an oath and stepped forward. "You yahoos heard the lady. Get goin'." The three men froze and looked at each other. Butch, big and brawny, clenched his fists, scowling. "Who the hell are you?" "Travis Knight. A neighbor." "I work for Miz O'Connor. You ain't my boss." Half turning so he kept the troublemaker in view, Travis said, "Your call, ma'am." "Butch, you're supposed to clean and put fresh hay in all the loafing sheds, beginning with the east valley pasture." Butch's jaw tightened. His resentful expression grew harder. 10

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"Or you can pack your gear." She folded her arms and tapped one foot. Fists still clenched, the cowhand eyed Travis and took a deliberate step forward. "Feeling lucky?" Travis opened and closed his hands, primed by a surge of adrenaline. "Hell, I don't need luck to take you." He spat on the ground. "An' I ain't no woman's puppy dog." Travis closed the distance in two strides, grabbed a fistful of Butch's shirt and slammed him against a fence post. "Your time just ran out." Fear flickered in the brawny man's eyes. Muttering a curse, he tramped to a battered pickup, jumped in, and roared away in a shower of dirt and gravel. Travis dusted off his hands and looked at the other men. "Any more discussion?" With comical haste, they scattered to their tasks. Miss O'Connor's lips tightened. "I didn't think he'd really leave." "He was trouble waiting to happen. Only takes one like him to turn a whole crew sour. A guy like that, he'd buck at every order. There can only be one top dog on a ranch." "I suppose you'll be it if you get the job." "Hire me and I'll make the hands toe the line." "It's my ranch. They should follow my orders the first time I give them." He saw the frustration in her expression and felt a burst of sympathy. "C'mon, lady, don't be hard on yourself. Those guys could give lessons in stubbornness to a mule. If you 11

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were a leathery, old woman with a lifetime of ranch living like my Aunt Lucy, they'd listen." Her shoulders slowly relaxed. She sighed and shook her head, then looked up at him with a whimsical smile. "It was funny to watch them make a break for their horses. I doubt Tony has moved so fast in years. Thank you, Mr.—?" "Travis Knight." He watched various expressions play across her face. She was prickly, but it hadn't taken long to get a smile out of her. Not that he needed one, he assured himself. She offered her hand. He took it, aware of her soft skin, delicate bones, and—swearing softly he turned her hand over—blisters. Their eyes met. Hers were a clear shade of green, framed by thick dark lashes. Hastily, she stepped back, leaving a whisper of rose fragrance. "I'm Megan O'Connor. Thanks for your help." "My pleasure." He recalled his reason for being there. Aunt Lucy had fallen on hard times and needed money for mortgage payments and taxes. "When do I start as foreman?" Shading her eyes with one hand, she studied him, suddenly all business. "You told me about your skill with stock. What else do you know about running a ranch?" "For over ten years, I ramrodded for Jake Stone on his Rainbow Valley Ranch in Arizona." "Ramrod?" "Foreman's right-hand man. I ran his spread the year he was in California." "It sounds like you're qualified. Let's continue this interview at the house." 12

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Travis followed Megan across the freshly-raked ground, past a new flower bed, and up the worn steps to the wraparound porch, admiring her firm butt and graceful movements. Strands of rich auburn hair had slipped loose from her single braid. Surprisingly, her shirt, jeans, and scuffed boots showed signs of hard work. Pausing in the porch shade, she wiped a hand across her forehead. "I'm still getting used to this sun. Let's go into the office and handle the paperwork. Do you have your references with you?" "Telephone numbers." He extracted a folded paper from his shirt pocket. Megan accepted the list, alive to his scent of clean male and soap, and led him through the door into the ranch office. She recalled the moment he'd ridden out of the nearby pine grove. There'd been a hint of disdain around his mouth, and arrogance in the set of his shoulders. Now he was here, in her office. She heard his tread behind her on the polished oak plank floor and wondered why she sensed a threat to her hard-won freedom. Clearing her throat, she said, "These days the world runs on paperwork and computers. I learned that in the business course I took last year." "Beauty and brains." Pausing in front of the window, he took off his hat and sunlight gleamed in his blond hair. She tried not to stare, tried to ignore how her heart beat faster. His air of masculine confidence made her wary, but called to her deepest instincts. 13

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She pulled open a file drawer and rummaged through the folders for the paperwork. Anything to give her time for her pulse to slow to normal. "Voilà, I found them." Hoping he couldn't see the tremor in her fingers, she spread the papers on the carved mahogany desk. He took possession of the chair across from her. "You speak French?" "At Madame Aubrey's finishing school, if you couldn't say 'Pass the potatoes,' or 'May I be excused?' in French at the table, you were ignored." "Pretty damned effective way to make a kid learn." "I won't put my niece and nephew through that." He gave her a quizzical look. "I'm raising them." "Their parents?" "Dead," she said, filled with a lingering sadness. "Read these while I make a few calls." He picked up the first sheet. She punched in the number for Rainbow Valley Guest Ranch. While she waited for someone to answer, she watched the big cowboy lean back in his chair and read the application form. He radiated an aura of power and strength as solid and unmoving as the Rocky Mountains rising behind her ranch. Two telephone calls confirmed her impression. "Everything checks. You're hired, Mr. Knight." The confidence in his expression showed he'd never doubted the decision. 14

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She nodded toward the last paper he held. "Sign that. You can start tomorrow. That'll give you time to get your things. Of course you'll live in the foreman's cabin." "You got a deal, Miss O'Connor." "I'm glad to have you at Silvertip." She offered her hand and found it engulfed by his warm, callused fingers and palm. A frisson of excitement shot up her arm. Travis released her hand, knowing he'd held it too long for a formal handshake. Her eyes had gleamed with excitement, quickly replaced by wariness. He refused to think about his own reaction. One thing for sure—he damn well couldn't get serious about her. "Will you stay for coffee?" She gifted him with a bright smile. "My housekeeper made apple turnovers earlier this morning." "Ma'am, that's an offer I can't refuse." As they went down the hallway, Travis caught a glimpse of the living room. It had a homey, relaxed air, with bright pillows and a folded afghan, like his mother used to crochet, on the couch. It sure wasn't the showy, don't-touch place he'd expected of an heiress. According to Aunt Lucy, the gossip trail had been quick to spread the word of Megan O'Connor's wealth. He followed her into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively at the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and warm apple and cinnamon lingering in the air. He'd just settled at the polished wood table with coffee and the promised turnover, when the door burst open. A small, 15

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red-headed boy dashed in, trailed by a three-legged German Shepherd. "Aunt Megan, it's a 'mergency." "Is Katie hurt?" "No, it's Sam." She knelt beside the jeans-clad whirlwind, slipping an arm around his waist. "Take a deep breath, Ryan, and tell me what's wrong." The boy frowned. "Sam wants the big horse with spots on it." Travis jolted to his feet. "Sam?" She looked at him with laughter in her eyes. "Our cat thinks he's a herding dog." The kid crouched on hands and knees. "Sam's tail is going—" He wiggled his bottom. "An' he's making that funny sound." "Good thinking, honey. You came for a grown-up. Want to help Mr. Knight and me rescue the big horse?" "Oh, boy." The kid scrambled to his feet and reached for Travis's hand. "Come on. Let's go." He clasped the small hand, and smiled at the blue eyes sparkling with excitement and trust. "We'd better rescue Chief." He, Ryan, and the furry dog followed his new boss out to the porch. At the sight of a sleek, cream-and-brown Siamese cat stalking his great Appaloosa, he grinned. Chief snorted and twitched his black tail, then turned an interested gaze on the small feline. 16

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The cat crept closer, belly brushing the ground. Jumping up and down, the boy scolded, "No, no, Sam. Don't touch." The Siamese paused, one foot in the air, then continued his slow, predatory stalk. Concerned the cat would spook Chief or get injured, Travis stepped off the porch. "Wait, Mr. Knight." Miss O'Connor whistled a signal. The cat stopped, gave her a disgusted look, and strolled toward the barn. Ryan called, "Wait for me," and followed. She joined Travis. "Sam responds to herding directions." "You teach him?" "Our old-timer, Bill, did. He's great with animals. Someone bet him he couldn't train a cat. He won." "Handy." He studied her lively expression. She was fresh and seemed genuine. Too bad she was rich. He'd had a gutful of wealthy women like— He silently cursed himself and moved toward the steps. "Got chores to do for my aunt and my gear to pack. I'll grab my hat and hit the trail." "But you didn't eat your turnover. Let me wrap it for you to take." "Thank you, ma'am." Was that relief or disappointment in her eyes? The porch screen door opened, and an older woman bustled out, carrying a blonde baby girl on one hip. "Liebschen, in case he couldn't stay, I wrapped your guest's turnover and added another." 17

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Miss O'Connor took the package. "Thanks, Frieda. This is Mr. Travis Knight. He's my new foreman." The woman turned and stared. "Lieve hemel, oh, my God, it's the Marlboro man. Broad shoulders, blond hair, and such a handsome face." Amused, he smiled and shook his head. Miss O'Connor handed him the package. "Frieda was my nanny when she first came from the Netherlands. Now she's our housekeeper and helps with Katie and Ryan." "You ladies have your hands full." He touched the brim of his hat. "Adios. See you in the morning." As Travis strode toward his horse, his thoughts revolved around his new boss. She seemed far different from the pampered babes at the dude ranch who'd made a game of trying to snare every cowboy in sight. Different from Pamela. But then he hadn't recognized her true character until it was almost too late. After tightening the cinch on Chief, he swung into the saddle, and headed for the Circle S. Megan watched him ride away, tall and proud. If she'd spent too much time looking into the golden depths of his hazel eyes, she'd have hired him without references. He'd be back tomorrow. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. His take-charge attitude set off alarm bells. This guy might ride roughshod over her and her orders. Katie babbled, holding out her arms. Megan took her, feeling the usual rush of love, and kissed the top of her head. Breathing in the scent of baby shampoo, she cuddled her niece. 18

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Frieda nodded toward Knight. "I saw Ryan hold that cowboy's hand." Megan shifted Katie to one hip. "It's the first time I've seen him go to any man since the accident. My father must've frightened him because he always clung to me when Dad was in the room, but he glommed onto Mr. Knight like a long-lost favorite uncle." "That one is a man, not one to chase you for what your father offers." "I know." She sighed, giving Katie a hug. "Meggie, liebschen, some day you will find a man to trust." "About as likely as one who'll marry me for love, not money. Mother tried to tell me." "Your mother, God rest her soul, was a bitter woman." "She had good reason. A husband who ran his home like a business. His motto was never ask, just give orders." Megan made a face at Katie, and listened with delight to the little girl's laughter. "Let's drop the past. At least we have a new foreman, providing he remembers I'm the boss." Frieda patted her graying hair coiled in a neat bun, and gave Megan a fond smile. "Ven—when he spoke, the men ran to obey." **** Travis rubbed his eyes. Midnight. He'd sorted the receipts and double-checked all the figures. Now he studied his Aunt Lucy's checkbook register where it lay open on the roll top desk. Entries were as clear as a fresh brand. In spite of the money he'd sent from 19

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Arizona, including everything he'd saved for a ranch of his own, and her careful use of it, Lucy's assets had drained away as quickly as rain in the desert. The foreman's job at Silvertip would help. Megan O'Connor's image floated in front of him, green eyes fringed with dark lashes, a warm smile, and the spirit of a free-running mare. It would be so easy to fall into the trap of caring for her. But he could never get serious about a woman whose fortune could buy and sell him.

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CHAPTER 2 Travis dumped his gear on the floor of the foreman's cottage and surveyed the small living room, furnished with a comfortable-looking red-and-blue plaid couch, two chairs, and a desk. Thick blue drapes blocked the early morning sunlight. A compact white kitchen unit with built-in refrigerator sat in one corner. An electric coffee maker shared space with a toaster on a small table. "Not bad," he muttered. "I could get used to this." One door off the living room led to the bathroom. Another revealed the bedroom. A bright quilt covered the bed, and the air held a faint scent of roses. Had Megan been in here? Had she plumped the pillows? Smoothed the spread? He had the sudden image of her stretched out on the bed, a sexy smile on her lips. Desire in her eyes. His pulse throbbed. Blood raced through his veins. He suddenly wanted Megan O'Connor with the intensity of a stallion pursuing a new mare. Hold it, Knight. He kicked his duffel bag. He was here to do a job. He'd run the ranch and keep a rein on his hunger for the owner. With fresh determination, he left the cottage and headed toward the main house. The buildings needed repair and paint, but new plants grew in weed-free flower beds, and he glimpsed one end of a thriving kitchen garden. Obviously Miss O'Connor did care about the ranch. She just needed someone to help her set new priorities, and he was the man to do it. 21

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**** Megan stopped her gelding on a low rise and slipped from the saddle. A teasing wind, scented with wild plants and open range, plucked at her jeans and cotton top. She looked toward the ranch buildings set at the foot of rugged mountains. From there, the sweep of grassy high plains stretched east. The sky arced above in a pure, achingly-bright blue. "I love this land," she said, stroking Foxfire's chestnut neck. In the month they'd been here, it had become home for Ryan, Katie, Frieda and her. Earlier this morning, she'd given the list of the crew's assignments for the day to Travis. Saying he'd check on the men, he rode away, but his image still filled her thoughts. She shivered. He was too dominating. Too, too—male. Foxfire lifted his muzzle and snorted gently. "Ready to go?" She gathered the reins and mounted in one easy move. Her summers at camp hadn't been wasted. She'd learned to ride and to take care of horses. Even her father had approved, and presented her with the custom-made Western saddle—designed to allow more leg contact with the horse's side—a saddle she still used. With light pressure from her knees, Megan set the gelding toward a distant stand of trees. She needed time to think, away from the press of ranch business. Unbidden, her thoughts once more flashed back to her new foreman. His controlled violence when he'd confronted Butch the previous day had left her horrified and fascinated. With a 22

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few words, he'd sent the men running to do their jobs. There was no doubt he'd make a good foreman. In spite of his forceful personality, though, he'd have to understand she still called the shots. Give it time, she chided herself. For the next hour she'd forget her worries and just enjoy riding this gorgeous horse. Megan turned her thoughts back to the days when she'd learned to ride and jump. Smiling, she knotted the reins, looped them over the saddle horn, and raised both hands, controlling her mount with her seat and legs. "Wonderful," she shouted, swinging her arms to relax her body. With a flash of its yellow breast feathers, a meadowlark swept up from the tall grass ahead, and her heart soared with the beat of its wings. If only she could fly. Signaling with her legs, she lifted Foxfire into an easy lope. The wind tugged her hat loose. She let it dangle down her back, held by the stampede string, and urged him to go faster. Worries and tension drained away in the muted thrum of his hooves. She moved as one with her horse across the sun-warmed earth. And lost herself in the joy of running with the wind. **** Travis had tightened the last strand of fence wire when he saw the horse and rider in the distance. They raced east toward a grove of cottonwoods and aspens. Before he lost sight of them, he realized the rider was Miss O'Connor. 23

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"Runaway." He vaulted into the saddle and kicked Chief into a gallop. Only an expert or an idiot would ride at that speed across unknown ground. Worse yet, she was waving her hands in the air. She'd lost the reins. It was a sure thing city girl O'Connor wasn't an expert. In his last glimpse of her before the trees loomed up between them, her hat had come off and dangled by the stampede string. Her hair streamed behind her. Her arms windmilled. She disappeared behind the trees. His gut clenched. What if the horse stumbled? What if she fell? He urged Chief to greater effort, spurred by the image of her crumpled on the ground. Cursing the time it took to cross the long expanse of open land and reach the small grove, he took a shortcut, dodging between trees. As he reached the far edge, he saw the big chestnut, his reins loose, calmly cropping grass. But where the hell was his rider? Then he saw her in the cool shadow of a cottonwood, stretched out on the ground, arms wide. Her eyes were open and she stared at him. Swearing, he jumped from Chief's back and knelt beside her on the grass. "Miss O'Connor?" He fumbled to measure the pulse on her wrist. "Do you know who I am?" Her eyes widened. "What do you want?" "Where does it hurt?" He ran his fingers lightly along her arms testing for broken bones. In spite of worry, his body throbbed with a greater awareness of her—of skin, warm and silky, scented with roses and sunshine. "Ma'am," he asked urgently, "what's the date?" 24

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She pushed at his hands. "Let me up." Ignoring her protests, he smoothed his hands over the sides and back of her head, and through her rich hair, alive with bright electricity. "Who's the president?" She jerked away from his fingers and propped herself up on her elbows. "Cool it, Knight." He raised both arms in mock surrender. "Come on, ma'am. Humor me. I've seen my sister and two brothers tumble off horses and get right back on, but they were ranch kids." He held up his hand. "How many fingers?" A smile of comprehension lit her face. "Three." Laughing, she sat up and hugged her knees. "I didn't fall, but thanks for coming to my rescue. This is something to put in my diary." The tension eased in his chest. He rose to his feet and extended a hand. "Come on ... I'll ride back to the ranch house with you." "Not yet." She stood and opened one of the saddlebags on the back of her gelding. "This is the first break I've had in days." She held up a wrapped sandwich. "Join me for lunch? After I packed the food, Frieda put in extra. She thinks I should eat more." "No, thanks." He leaned against a tree and studied her. Sunlight, filtering through the branches, glowed in her hair. She looked feminine and vulnerable. "Ranchin' is tough." She chuckled. "Tell me about it. I've walked and ridden more in the last month than I ever have. And I'm learning to chop wood. But it's beautiful here, and the children love it." 25

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He saw the riding gloves tucked in her belt and remembered the blisters on her hands. "Chopping wood is man's work. Where was your crew when you were swinging an axe?" "Ranch women tackle lots of jobs. Lucy's told me how she helped in cattle round-ups, drove a wagon, hauled hay to feed stock in below zero temperatures, and battled wildfires." "She was raised on a ranch." "I wasn't, but I'm learning." Settled on a patch of dry leaves, she bit into her bologna sandwich with the enthusiasm of a healthy appetite. Laughing, she waved a fly away from her face. "I hate flying picnickers." "Pesky," he agreed. He had to remember her background. She wasn't simply an appealing woman who took the outdoors in stride. As he recalled her wild ride, his stomach knotted. "What the hell were you thinking, galloping with your hands in the air?" Her smile faded. "It was a canter. I had control all the time." "Didn't look like control. You'd lost your reins." "I tied off the reins and looped them over the saddle horn." Her soft green eyes darkened, flashing storm signals. "If you don't recognize English riding, that's your problem, Mr. Expert." "I know what I saw." She gathered the rest of the food and dumped the trash into a sack. "I don't have to listen to insults. I'm gone." 26

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Turning on one heel, she stuffed the sack and sandwich carrier into one saddlebag, tightened the cinch, and mounted with fluid ease. Without a backward look, she rode away. Travis rubbed his chin. Damn. **** Megan slammed the phone down and stared out the window. Four days since she'd gotten rid of Broadhurst and her father had phoned to chew her out for treating the "poor man" so "shabbily." Frieda knocked on the closed door, then bustled in carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers, and almond macaroons. She placed it on the table in front of the living room fireplace. "The children are taking their afternoon naps. You just picked at lunch, so I bring, I mean brought you this." After she poured tea for both of them, Megan collapsed against the bright pillows on the wheat-colored couch. The graying-blonde woman sat across the low table on the matching piece. "O'Connor called?" "Same old thing." Megan sighed. "He wants me to, in his words, "Stop acting like a fool, bundle up the children and come home." He's selected a nursemaid for Katie, and says you can take care of Ryan until he goes away to boarding school next year." "That was not your brother's wishes." "Kyle and Alice made me the children's guardian. They said if anything happened to them, they knew I'd give Ryan and 27

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Katie a real home, not ship them off like Father did Kyle and me." "Mr. O'Connor will not honor their wishes." "He wants me back east, married to someone he's chosen, and running with the Four Hundred again. I refused. He said not to expect any financial help from him until I come to my senses. It wouldn't matter, except I already used all the money I could get my hands on to buy this ranch. He still has control of my stocks in the company." Megan stroked the framed photo set on a rosewood end table beside the couch. Her blonde sister-in-law, seated in front of a Christmas tree, held one-month-old Katie. Ryan leaned against his mother's knee. Kyle stood behind them, one hand on Alice's shoulder, the other on Ryan's. "What can you do, liebschen?" Megan rose and walked to the window carrying the picture. "Until I can break his hold on my stocks and other assets, I'll have to make Silvertip support us. Somehow." Sadly, she looked into the faces of Alice, Kyle, Katie, and Ryan. "I won't let you down, big brother," she promised. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect your kids." **** The next morning, Megan was doing her usual round of chores. She hung the shovel on its brackets, dusted her hands, and surveyed the barn. She'd been at work since before sunrise. The hard-packed dirt floor was swept. Each stall had been cleaned and bedded with fresh straw. 28

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She grinned and sang, "I'm an old cowhaaannd from the Rio Graaannd...." An image of a country house party surfaced from her memory. Linen-covered tables set under awnings on Spanish tile. Manicured lawns and gardens. White-gloved waiters serving men and women dressed in designer country-chic. Smiling, Megan shook her head. If her friends could see her now, they'd choke. But this was home. A mountain breeze fanned her cheeks. Early morning sunbeams danced through open windows. The tangy spice of pine trees mixed with the warm aromas of leather, horse and hay. A barn cat mewed. Her kittens answered. All she needed to make it perfect was for her father to stop his interference. They'd manage until her lawyer pried loose her stocks. But soon she'd have to sell another piece of jewelry to pay the wages. Her new foreman intruded into her thoughts. The steel under his good looks and his tempting male physique appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. Whoa, Megan Marie O'Connor, she told herself. Don't go down that road. Wolfie launched into a storm of barking. She welcomed the distraction and stepped through the barn door, closing it behind her. Shading her eyes, she murmured, "Speak of the devil..." Knight rode up, leading a bay gelding whose deep brown coat shimmered in the sunlight. He nodded, and swung off his stallion. "Brought a Quarter Horse I'd left at Circle S." 29

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"He's a beauty." She held out one hand for the horse to get acquainted, then stroked his neck. "This would be a good time to show you more of the ranch." The foreman's large, masculine fingers brushed hers, and she felt a warning tingle. His gaze caught hers. For a moment, something hot and elemental gleamed in his eyes. Wolfie's tail beat a happy tattoo on Megan's thigh. She took the opportunity to pull her hand away and pat the dog's furry head. Aware of Miss O'Connor's reaction to him, Travis hunkered down in front of Wolfie and scratched the dog's throat. "Good boy." With a happy, "Woof," the dog licked his face. Travis stood. "I'll get the bay settled in." Leading it into the corral, he removed the saddle and set it on the fence, always conscious of the woman waiting outside the barn. A fresh breeze murmured in the pines near the house. It stirred wisps of hair around her face and carried the fragrance of roses and her natural scent to him. His fingers itched to touch her soft cheek, to frame her face with his hands, to sample her enticing lips. His pulse kicked into a gallop. What the hell was he thinking? She picked up her wide-brimmed hat from a storage chest inside the entrance to the barn. "Why're we standing here? We can talk while we look at the horses in the home pasture." He walked over to join her and they followed a freshlyraked path between the barn and the separate stable, with its own paddock, for a stallion. "Had this ranch long?" 30

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"I passed through Grizzly on vacation two years ago and fell in love with the area. When I saw Ron Henderson's advertisement online, I bought Silvertip, including the livestock, and moved here with the kids and Frieda a month ago." Her expression grew pensive. "I was tired of traveling, tired of family interference. Now I'm settling down where I can breathe." She stopped and gazed at the barn and horses. "I love the mountains and the open spaces." "Big sky country. No other place like it on Earth." She chuckled. "I suppose you're a world traveler." "No, ma'am. The west is good enough for me." "Me, too. I spent half my life shuttling from place to place. Now I can put down roots." She resumed her walk. "That's enough about me." They reached the pasture fence. A small herd of Appaloosa mares and one colt grazed in the lush meadow grass. Their coats ranged from white, black, or gray, to shades of brown. The patterns on their faces and legs were just as varied. All moved with the gracefulness of well-conditioned animals. He grinned at the antics of the colt, a chestnut with darker chestnut spots against a white blanket on its back and hips, as it frisked around the mares. Megan pointed to three mares clustered near the loafing shed. "There they are, my three mommas. Henderson bred them to foal in late January. According to Bill, it'll be deep cold when they're born." "Don't worry. They should be okay in the barn." 31

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Travis studied the mares. Two Appaloosas, one with black leopard markings over white and the other a dark brown with a white snowflake pattern across loin and hips. The third, a compact bay, raised his curiosity. "Henderson into crossbreeding? She looks like a Morgan." "He said an Appaloosa and Morgan cross would combine stamina and intelligence, and make a good cutting horse. Henderson knew the offspring would be worth less money because it was cross bred, but he could afford the experiment." She gave him a half-smile. "Your Chief serviced all three mares." "Yes. By AI, artificial insemination. I signed off on it." She brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes, and grinned. "Of course, I should've remembered he'd need your signature for the papers." "No problem. Let's get a closer look." Travis opened the gate and they slowly approached the pregnant mares. "It's all right, sweetheart," he crooned, resting a hand on the bay's warm side. The mare swung her head to look at him, a mild expression in her wide, dark eyes. He really is good with a horse, Megan thought. And with a woman? An image of his powerful hands stroking her arms, her shoulders, his warm fingers gliding down her spine, his sensual mouth touching her lips, sent a warning shiver through her body. His maleness was as potent as the fine Napoleon brandy she'd once tried. The Travis effect had caught her unawares and made her head whirl. 32

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Woman's intuition told her to back away from his virile appeal, but common sense said she needed his ability and experience with horses. What she didn't need was a man who questioned her decisions, who took over her life the way her father had. She'd finally escaped that trap.

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CHAPTER 3 Megan adjusted the fan to cool Katie in her crib, then tiptoed away from the napping child. Ryan was outside in the shade of a cottonwood, splashing in a shallow wading pool while Frieda watched. Bill Seeps had proclaimed today, "Hotter 'n blazes." Then he'd qualified it by warning that this third week in August was summer on the calendar, but a cold front could roll in anytime from the mountains. Cold? The heat wave had arrived two weeks ago, the same day she'd watched from the front room window as Travis Knight had driven up in his dusty Ford pickup to start as foreman. Lord knew she'd felt his cool disapproval and didn't understand it. Worse, he questioned her decisions and overrode her orders. The fact he'd been right each time didn't make it any easier to swallow. So why did a look from him, the touch of his hand on her arm as he explained some ranch detail, make her feel all hot and bothered? Detouring past the refrigerator, she collected two cans of icy Coke and headed for the barn. A few minutes ago, she'd heard him ride in from repairing fence. This would be a good time to talk to him, show him her new employee incentive. "Yeah, right, Megan." You just want another chance to see him, talk to him. She walked into the shadowy barn with its roughhewn board walls and stopped. Her foreman, his shirt off, relaxed in a tipped-back, wooden chair. He'd propped his booted feet 34

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beside his belt and Resistol on a bale of straw, and leaned his head back, eyes closed. His worn jeans hugged muscular legs. Sweat dampened his palomino-gold hair and face, and trickled down his strong, corded neck. The wooden shutters had been propped open, but only a breath of air entered to mix with the lingering odors of animal and the sweet spice of hay. He raised a leather-bound canteen high, muscles and sinews tensing in his tanned arm. "Damn, that feels good," he muttered, pouring water onto his chest. Megan swallowed—hard. At the sight of the liquid flowing across his muscular chest, pooling in his belly button just above unsnapped jeans, a hot stream of sensation spread from her throat downward. Drops sparkled in the wedge of tawny hair stretched between his flat male nipples. Into her thoughts sprang the fantasy of tracing the liquid stream with her fingers, of touching her tongue to the glittering drops. Would they taste of hard work, salty and masculine? Her face grew hot. She'd never explored a man's body with her tongue. Never thought of it, not even with her ex-fiancé, Elliot. Travis rolled his head and looked at her. Then he stood, shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it. "Wasn't expecting you, ma'am. Problem? Need me?" Yes, she thought. "I brought you a cold drink." "Mighty fine." His fingers brushed her hand when he took the icy can, dewed with condensation. He rubbed the side against his face, then popped it open and gulped. 35

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Watching his sensual enjoyment, she pressed the second cold can against her forehead. His male scent hovered in the air, urging her closer. Her Travis alarm jangled. She opened her soda and drank. "Miz O'Connor, thanks." He raised the can in salute. "Don't remember it being this hot when I spent summers here as a kid." "It reminds me of home in July. We'd spend a month at Hyannisport, playing in the waves, sunbathing, yachting, swimming in our pool." She faltered when he frowned. God, she was babbling. "Come up to the house. I want to show you my new idea." Shrugging into his shirt, he motioned for her to go ahead. They started up the path. A few feet from the porch, she stopped to pick some daisies and carnations. Her foreman continued on. Looking up, she saw his tight, lean butt, his sinewy leg muscles flexing and bunching under form-fitting jeans as he went up the wooden steps. She flashed back to the image of him lounging in the barn, bare-chested, as sleek and muscled and full of graceful power as a stallion. "Ma'am, you wanted to show me something?" "Be right there." She held up the bouquet. "For the table. A touch of beauty." A touch of beauty, Travis thought. Like her. She looked so fresh and unspoiled, it was too easy to forget her wealthy background. He held the door open, breathing in her 36

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fragrance when she passed by. Not that he held anything against rich people as employers. But Pamela's betrayal had taught him a lesson he shouldn't ignore, in spite of his attraction to his appealing boss. Megan led him into the ranch office. "Look. There. Beside the door." A computer-generated banner was pinned to a cork board. An empty frame waited for a photo. "Employee of the Week," he read aloud. "My new job incentive. I read about it in Increasing Productivity." She smoothed the banner with one finger. "I'll take a Polaroid picture of the special employee and put it in the frame. That person can choose a favorite meal and I'll cook it." "You'll fix the food? Like the huevos rancheras for breakfast yesterday? They damned near melted my teeth." She tapped her lip as if considering the problem. "You're right. Guess I used too much hot salsa and I probably should've cut down on the jalepeños." "Chili tortillas were a little much." Sighing, she said, "I thought the orange tortillas were so pretty." "Tell me more about the employee of the week." "The idea is to make the crew take pride in their work. You know, ride faster, shovel harder, quit goofing off." She looked so pleased with her idea, he hated to discourage her. "Doin' my job?" He frowned. "You see one of the hands goofing off, tell me. I'll straighten him out." 37

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"We'll do it my way." Her chin came up defiantly. "I'm the boss." "Yes, ma'am, but you hired me to run the place. I'll—" He spun at the sound of Ryan's voice coming through the open window. "Auntie Meg, Auntie Meg, mamma and baby goat are in the garden eatin' stuff." "Not again. Those blasted goats." She whipped past him and raced to the door. "Coming, Ryan." Travis clattered down the porch stairs behind her and around the side of the house. He nearly bumped into her when she stopped at the large kitchen garden. Near one edge, two gray-and-white goats browsed among feathery, green tops. The larger one calmly chewed a carrot. The baby nosed among the plants choosing her next mouthful. "Here, mamma. Come out of the garden. I'll give you a nice apple," Megan coaxed. She glanced at Ryan. "Honey, get me two apples." "Okaaay." He raced toward the side door, Nikes flying. Wolfie left him at the door and hobbled back to the garden. He flopped at the edge and watched. "You take point, ma'am. I'll do drag." Travis angled across the garden stepping from furrow to furrow, to get behind the two goats. "Thanks." She turned her attention back to the animals. Both had their heads up, facing her. "Baby, sweetheart, come to me. I'll give you a treat."

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Gradually, she worked closer to them. Strands of hair had come loose from her neat braid. Her face was flushed. She smiled at the wayward nannies. Lucky goats, he thought, moving closer from behind. "Take it slow and easy. Don't wanna spook the critters." "I've caught them before." Her eyes held a gentle light. She advanced two more steps and froze as the mamma stared at her. "I think they're suspicious," she said in a stage whisper. Nodding, he closed in on the baby, bending down to keep a low profile against a row of staked tomato plants. He brushed the leaves. Their sharp tang clung to his clothes, and the sunwarmed soil below gave off a rich, earthy aroma. The young goat let loose a loud, "Maa." Mamma spun toward her daughter. At the same time, Megan made a grab and missed. Baby leaped away from Travis. Swearing, he dove for the mamma. After a brief tussle, he straddled her and held tight. He looked toward Megan. On hands and knees, she arched over a row of flattened carrots and a parallel one of radishes. Mud streaked her face and shirt. "Anything hurt?" She wrinkled her nose. "Only my dignity. I'll use Wolfie's collar around the mamma's neck to lead her. "I'll bring baby." Once Megan secured the mamma, he gathered up the kid who'd stopped to munch on more carrots.

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With the wriggling bundle in his arms, he joined the parade of Megan, mamma goat, and Wolfie. The goats were a nuisance, but they were kind of funny. He used two fingers to scratch the little one's neck. Softly maa-ing, she nibbled on his shirt. "Hey, you little bugger, knock it off." Megan chuckled. She led the mamma into the pen. After he set the baby down, it bumped his leg, then ran to its mother. Travis closed the gate and turned to Megan. Eyes full of laughter, she said, "Seems like you made a conquest." "Just what I need, Pied Piper to a goat." Drawn to Megan in spite of himself, he moved in closer. Her lips looked inviting. How would they taste? The kitchen door banged. Ryan's voice brought Travis back to reality. "Auntie Meg, I got them." Travis dragged in a shuddering breath. She was a damned potent temptation. Megan heard Ryan running toward them, but she stared at Travis in stunned silence. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. For a moment, she'd thought he was going to kiss her. Ryan skidded to a stop. "Can I give the apples to the mamma and baby?" "What?" She drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "Go ahead." While her nephew fed the animals, she watched her foreman check the fence around the goats. Obviously the 40

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near encounter didn't affect him, she thought, a little disgruntled. As he moved and bent, his muscles bunched and smoothed under his clothes. She fantasized how it would be to feel the strength of his arms, the power of his body, the sensual touch of his lips. "Found it." He moved a loose board. "The tricky rascals slipped out here. Won't take long to fix." He headed toward the tool shed attached to the barn. "Tricky rascals," Ryan repeated, and followed him. In minutes they were back. Grinning like he'd won first prize, Ryan carried a small hammer. "Travis said I could help." Alarmed that he'd hurt himself, she said, "You're too little." Travis gave her a steady look. "I was Ryan's age when Dad started teachin' me about handling tools. But you're the boss." With an earnest expression, Ryan laid a hand on her knee. "Travis said a hammer's a tool, not a toy." "He's right." She studied her nephew, knowing he missed his father and needed a man's influence. She'd seen the bond growing between him and her new foreman. She nodded. "Thank Mr. Knight for teaching you." "Oh, boy!" Ryan hugged her. "I'll be in the garden." As she headed for the plot, she heard the low rumble of Travis's voice and Ryan's excited chatter. **** 41

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An hour later, Megan sat back on her legs, brushed her hands and rubbed her back. Her foreman's face floated before her. Thick, blond hair gleamed in the sun. His warm hazel eyes held her, and his sensual lips came closer, closer. She blinked and shoved away the memory. It had haunted her while she'd pulled carrots with broken tops for dinner. Tantalized her as she'd repaired the damaged rows, and picked green beans, tomatoes, and radishes. She'd worked automatically, wrestling with the replay of that damned nearkiss. Convincing herself it had been just to celebrate their recapture of the goats, she looked at the restored rows with satisfaction. Silently, she thanked her father's patient gardener for taking a lonely girl under his wing and teaching her about plants. Travis strode toward her and stopped. "Looks like a professional job." Seized by the desire to tease him, she dipped her head. "Thank you, kind sir." His mouth slanted wryly. "Did I sound surprised?" "Does Chief have spots?" He rubbed his lips and chin. She could've sworn she'd seen a smile. "I took Ryan to Frieda. He's ramrodding the cookies." Travis's expression grew serious. "Promise me you'll keep him away from the horses unless an adult's holding his hand." "He knows that already." "Yeah, but kids forget." Abruptly, he muttered something about checking on the men and strode away. 42

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Megan watched until he disappeared around the side of the house. By the time she'd set the baskets of vegetables on the back porch and gathered her garden tools, she heard the thud of hooves and saw him ride away through the pines. **** Ryan had drifted off to sleep as she'd read to him in the shaded porch swing. After settling him in his bed for a late nap, Megan gave Katie her afternoon snack. Frieda sat at the table while Megan scooped up the last bite of mashed pears for Katie. "Liebschen, you haven't taken a break for days. Go. Ride. Let the wind and the sun give you peace." "Only for a couple of hours. I'll be back to help with dinner." "Shoo. Go." Megan smiled at her friend. "I'm gone." It only took a few minutes to saddle Foxfire. After a leisurely ride through the pines, she found the narrow trail leading up into the peak behind her ranch. Just for a short distance, she told herself, drawn by the lure of adventure. With a light touch of the reins, she turned Foxfire toward the opening between two Ponderosa pines, then paused at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. "Hey! Stop! Dammit, O'Connor, where the hell do you think you're going?" Her foreman brought his horse to a stop beside her. 43

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"If it's any of your business, which it's not, I'm riding up this trail." His lips flattened. "Not without someone with you who knows the area." "Oh?" Her pulse sped up. Heat rose in her cheeks along with her temper. "And what gives you the right to dictate where I can or can't ride?" "I'm the ranch foreman. It's part of my job to ride herd on everyone living on the ranch, make sure they don't do somethin' foolish." "Foolish? Is that sarcasm, Mr. Knight? I'm perfectly capable of riding my horse." He leaned toward her, his saddle creaking. "Not sarcasm, ma'am, a warning. Grizzlies live in these mountains. They generally stay away from people, but we're gettin' toward the time when they're hungry, filling up with food before hibernation." She swallowed her annoyance and said mildly, "Ron told me about the grizzlies when I bought the ranch. In fact, he named Silvertip for the bears. I'll be cautious." Travis gave an impatient shrug. "It's still a danger, especially if you're alone." "How about if you ride up the mountain with me? Two of us on horseback should be enough to send a bear hiking. We'll find a cool spot and get back before dinner." "It's a deal." He pulled ahead of her. "I know just the place." Megan urged Foxfire to follow. A whole afternoon alone with him, she thought with a perplexing shiver. 44

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**** Travis drew in a breath of mountain air spiced with the resin scent of pine and damp earth. Behind him, the soft thud of Foxfire's hooves was muffled by leaf mold on the trail, but he knew damn well she was there. To his discomfort, his body wouldn't let him forget. They crossed a shallow stream in a spray of water. Twisting in his saddle, he saw her small frown of concentration. "Doin' okay?" She nodded. "It's heavenly up here. Cool. Peaceful." Not cool for me, he thought, imagining her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her fingers moving along his back. "Two more switchbacks and we'll take a break." He urged Chief up a steep section. She followed. One last sharp incline, then he eased between halves of a massive boulder, split apart somehow a millennium ago. In the dappled sun and shade, he turned to wait for her. A squirrel chattered at the intrusion. She swung off Foxfire and stretched. "What a marvelous view." Watching her breasts rise, molded by her soft shirt, he muttered, "You can say that again." Louder, he said, "I found this spot when I was a kid, and came back every summer I visited my aunt and uncle." He led her to a sunny patch where a fallen tree had left an opening. A strong breeze cooled the heat of the afternoon sunshine. To their left, the side of the mountain rose in great, forested steps. On the right, the valley spread below. 45

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"Walk easy. It's a long way down." "No kidding." She tightened her grip on his fingers and brushed a strand of wind-tangled hair out of her eyes. "Isn't that Silvertip down there in the clearing? The buildings look like Monopoly pieces." "It's your ranch all right. It's a great location—plenty of pasture and fresh water for choice livestock." "That's what my real estate agent said after I found the listing online. I had to go on blind faith." She stared across the rolling land. "It's the first place I've ever lived that I chose for myself. I love the mountains, the fresh air, the garden, the horses, the peace and quiet, even the goats and chickens. No one orders me around, and I can be my own person." He felt the impact of her gaze. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you have a girl friend? Someone special you visit on Sunday?" "My aunt." He laughed. "Silvertip keeps me too busy for socializing." A twinge in his shoulder reminded him of last Sunday's run-in with Jed's new bronco. "But sometimes I help a neighbor break stock." "Is that why you came back limping last week?" "Jed Bonner's new stallion. I climbed on. He took two jumps, fishtailed, and corkscrewed me off into the dirt." Her eyes widened and she lightly touched a scrape and bruise on his cheek. "Did the horse do this, too?" "Bronc's hoof grazed me. Part of the package when you're dealin' with balky animals." 46

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She shuddered and dropped her forehead against his chest. "It's dangerous. I can't tell you how to spend your day off, but why spend it trying to kill yourself?" The genuine concern in her voice, her tantalizing fragrance, roused his protectiveness. He cupped the back of her head. His fingers slipped under her soft braid to the delicate, vulnerable nape of her neck. "Shh, relax," he murmured soothingly. "Don't get all worked up because I got thrown." "But you were hurt." She clutched his shirt. "Ma'am, I rode a lot of bulls and bucking horses in my rodeo days and survived. There's an old saying, 'There ain't no man that can't be throwed.'" She looked up as her eyes darkened to a deep jade. "That's supposed to make it okay? I don't think so." He couldn't help himself. She looked so damned worried and indignant, he kissed her forehead, a soothing, big-brother kiss. One that turned into something deeper as his lips moved down to her mouth. "More," he muttered. Framing her face with his hands, he pressed his lips tighter to hers. His heart raced as her mouth softened under his. Her pulse throbbed in the tender flesh where their lips touched. God, she was honey and fire. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her cheek, breathing in her sweet fragrance. She slid her hands around his waist, and her fingers danced along his muscles. He changed the angle of his head and dove deeper into the kiss. Her eyes closed. She looked so sweet, he touched each lid with his lips. 47

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She snuggled closer. Her wordless moan lit a smoldering heat. He skated kisses down her temple, her cheek, homing in on her tender lips. She tasted like the mountain wind— fresh and free. Free? Slowly he stepped back from her, feeling the gulf of open air between them. The kiss and holding her had been a mistake. He didn't want to let her go, but he wasn't free to want her. She was his boss. And she was rich.

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CHAPTER 4 "This was a mistake." Megan's legs trembled. She took a breath, fighting her own need to return to the shelter of his arms. He stared at her, impassive as the mountain. Wind hummed through the trees and ruffled his hair. Retrieving his hat, he set it on his head. "Ma'am..." He touched the brim. "You're the boss." She wrapped her arms around herself against the sudden chill. "We'd better go." Nodding coolly, he went to the horses and tightened each one's cinch. Anxious to get back home, she patted Foxfire, gathered the reins and swung into the saddle. Without a backward glance, Travis led off between the split boulder halves. As she followed him along the rocky trail, she tried to put their kisses out of her mind. But they lingered there, teasing her with the sound of his harsh, uneven breathing when he'd held her, of the giddy sense of pleasure she'd found in his embrace. She licked her lips, still tingling from the touch of his mouth, still tasting of him. Why had she gone so willingly into his arms? Nothing can come of it, she reminded herself. Time to get things back on a business footing.

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They reached a wider section where the pines grew farther apart and she moved up beside him. "The ranch is running smoothly since you started to work." He shrugged. "Just proved to the hands it was healthier to follow orders the first time." "I saw you show Tony a more efficient way to set fencing." "Part of my job." Side by side, they splashed through a shallow stream. It flowed away in a series of rapids toward the valley and Silvertip. Megan recalled those first desperate days after her foreman had left. "How's Bill Seeps doing? "Slow and steady. Tries to pull his own weight, but gets behind." He glanced at her. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed. You know, most owners won't keep an old guy who can't do the work." "It's hard for him to move around because of his arthritis, but he kept the ranch going until I hired you. He'll have a place here as long as he wants." "No argument here." Travis nodded his approval. "Bill knows more about horses and this area than anyone else around." She smiled. "Including you?" "Hell, yes. He's lived here his whole life. I only spent summers here. Only a fool thinks he knows everything." "And you're no fool." "God, I hope not." He moved ahead, setting a brisk pace. As they broke out of the trees above Silvertip, she saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of the ranch house. Not again, she thought. 50

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**** Fifteen minutes later, she was in the shadowy barn unsaddling Foxfire while Travis finished Chief. She'd paused to rub between the chestnut's ears, when Ryan raced in with Wolfie at his heels. "Aunt Meg, there's a funny man to see you. He said he wanted to spend a penny and I asked why? Then he asked for the loo and Frieda showed him the bathroom. "And, and, he wanted some ree-fresh-ment so Frieda gave him lemonade." Ryan grinned at her and Travis. "He made a face when Frieda wasn't looking, but I saw him." Megan had a sinking feeling. It couldn't be, could it? "Ryan, honey, does the man have a mustache?" Her nephew wiggled and put one foot on top of the other. "Yes." He traced a line under his nose. "A skinny one like the time I played with markers. Do you think he used a marker?" Laughing, she gave Ryan a hug. "He grew it that way." She heard the crunch of steps outside the barn. "Thanks for telling me. Take Wolfie and go back to Frieda." Foxfire nudged her shoulder. Unbuckling the last of the tack, she gripped the saddle. Behind her, she heard, "Hello, my dear, little Megan. I've flown to your rescue." Exasperated, she glanced over her shoulder. Felix. She should've known. "I'll be with you as soon as I finish." "Really, darling, aren't you carrying this rancher pose too far? Let your worker unsaddle the horse." 51

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"I'll get it." Travis's arm brushed her shoulder, and her pulse jumped. He grasped the saddle, lifted it with ease, and set it onto a rail. She pushed a strand of hair away from her damp forehead. "You didn't have to help, but thanks." "My pleasure, ma'am." Glancing at Felix, he spoke in an exaggerated drawl, and the devil danced in his hazel eyes. "We workers sometimes forget t' do our jobs, 'less we're reminded." Sighing, she trudged across the freshly swept floor to where her unwelcome visitor waited in the sunlit opening. May as well get this over with, she thought, offering her hand. "What are you doing here, Felix? The last time we met was in Monaco. You were wining and dining a princess from San Muerto." He patted his pencil-thin mustache. "Her father sent me packing without a single good-by gift. Bad form, don'tcha know." He raised the back of her fingers to his lips and planted a wet kiss. "Megan, my dear. Charming as—" "Gonna introduce us, Miz O'Connor?" Travis's drawl was even slower, lazier. Felix couldn't have looked more surprised if Foxfire had spoken to him. She choked back a smile. Travis eyed her with apparent concern, belied by the laughter in his eyes. "Catchin' cold?" "Something like that." 52

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She half-turned to her unwelcome visitor. "Felix Langston, this is Travis Knight, my foreman." Each man eyed the other, like a poodle and a cow dog meeting for the first time. Travis extended a hand. "Howdy, Langston." Oh, puh-leese, she mentally groaned, mistrusting his innocent façade. "How'd'cha do, Knight." With a smoothly urbane expression, Felix lifted his well-manicured hand to meet Travis's work-hardened fingers. Their clasps tightened, fingers mottled red and white from pressure. Megan was reminded of two boys playing mine-isbetter-than-yours. After a strained minute, Felix pulled back, massaging his hand. He brushed his navy-blue linen blazer and checked his red silk ascot. "You can get my luggage out of the boot, old fellow. I'll be staying here a while." Travis looked at Megan. "Ma'am?" "Felix, I didn't invite you and don't intend to. Say what you want and leave. This is a ranch, not a vacation retreat. I have work to do." He gestured to Travis. "I say, old chap, it's time for you to leave. Go punch some cows or whatever it is you do. Miss O'Connor and I wish to conduct a private conversation." Travis folded his arms and propped a shoulder against the wooden support beam beside Foxfire's stall. "Miss O'Connor gives the orders." "Stay here, Travis. Mr. Langston will be gone soon." 53

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Felix stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. "Burke is quite worried about you, my dear." "Forget my father. If you leave now, you'll have time to find a nice motel." He glanced at Travis who'd tugged down the brim of his hat, and was watching them. "Megan, I'm serious. We go back a long way. Remember Paris? Cabo San Lucas? Aruba? I know you were attracted to me, but afraid to say anything." "Get real. That wasn't attraction. It was caution. We were in the same crowd because of my father's wishes." With a faintly distasteful expression, Langston half turned and looked at the sweep of grass and trees swaying in the afternoon breeze. "A ranch, for God's sake. Why isolate yourself in this lonely place?" "I'll tell you what I told Albert Broadhurst. I like my privacy and the children are happy here." "He's a fool," Felix said dismissively. "Marry me, and I'll take you east where you belong. We'll get a nanny for your wards." "You didn't hear what I said. I'm happy here at Silvertip." He shot a nervous look at Travis, then dipped into his inside pocket and pulled out a jeweler's box. "Look at this ring. It proves I'm serious." Megan sighed. From the first time she'd been introduced to Felix, he'd pursued her for her fortune. "Put it away, Langston. I told you I wasn't interested. Save it for someone who'll appreciate it and finance the lifestyle you want." "Your father said you'd love it." "My father doesn't run my life." 54

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Travis didn't like the familiar way the dude spoke to Megan. Hell, it wasn't as if he had any say about it, but this was her ranch. He was her foreman, so it was his job to keep everything running smoothly. He eased away from the wall and moved closer, ready to put himself between her and the dude. The fancy dresser's voice rose a notch. "You know Burke O'Connor will keep trying to dictate to you until you're married." He opened the jeweler's box. Sunlight blazed off the diamond. Megan's eyes narrowed. She gave the dude a cold look. "Felix, I don't want the ring and I certainly won't marry you." Bending closer, Langston snarled, "Don't play hard to get. You're not a bargain at any price! Take this and count yourself lucky." He thrust the closed jeweler's box toward her. It fell from his shaking fingers. Frantically, he made a grab and barely caught it. Travis judged it was time to step in. He moved to Megan's side. "Langston need an escort back to the road?" She favored him with a relieved smile. "Felix is going now." The dude turned a cold eye on Travis. "I shall depart when I'm ready. My business with Miss O'Connor is not finished." "It is ... now." Travis gripped his padded shoulders and spun him toward the rental car. "You're burning daylight, mister. Haul ass outta here." Langston tripped on the uneven ground, caught his balance, scrambled into his car, and left. 55

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"Thanks for getting rid of him." He looked down at her strained expression. "Get many marriage proposals you don't want?" "Too many." She folded her arms. "You have heard of Burke O'Connor and O'Connor Industries?" "Who hasn't? What's that got to do with—? I get it. It's because you're his daughter." She laughed bitterly. "It's almost like he's offered a bounty to the man who marries me and takes me back east to live." "Bounty?" Waving one hand dismissively, she said, "Stocks. A seat on his corporate board. It sure isn't my looks. Mother told me that enough times for it to stick." He stared at her. She meant it. Didn't she realize she was a damned attractive package? Not a world-class beauty, but classy. Her nose, dusted with freckles, turned up a little too much, and her mouth was a bit too full. But on the other hand, the fire in her hair could warm a man. She had neat breasts and a trim body with just enough curves for an armful. And, mentally he swore, an heiress. Rich. Just like Pamela. He thought back to that last morning at Rainbow Valley ranch. He'd gone looking for his friend and boss, Jake, and found him on the graveled path near the row of guest cabins. "I'll do it, Jake. Before Pamela leaves the ranch this morning, I'm gonna ask her to marry me." Travis had tipped back the Resistol shading his face from the hot Arizona sun, and weighed the jeweler's box in his hand. "A diamond 56

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engagement ring. The stone's not big, but Pamela will love it." "Good luck." His boss and friend gave him a quick grin. "You'll need it." "Don't need luck. We love each other." Whistling, Travis had strode toward the luxury cabin set apart from the others. His heart raced like a ropin' calf. After years of friendly flirting with women, he'd found the one woman for him. What did it matter that Pamela was wealthy and he wasn't? Every time they made love, she'd clung to him saying, "I love you." Certainly, she'd be willing to give up New York for him. After the last check he'd mailed to Aunt Lucy, his savings were mighty lean, but he was ramrod on a successful working guest ranch. He could support a wife. They'd manage. Slipping the small velvet box into his shirt pocket, he ignored the three wooden steps and reached the porch in one leap. The door flew open before he could knock. Petit, goldenhaired Pamela flung her arms around his neck, and his hat hit the floor behind him. "Travis." Her mouth took his in a kiss hot enough to melt boots. He molded her lush bottom with his hands, pulling her closer. She tugged on his hair, pressed her lips against his, and wiggled against him until he was ready to explode. "Sweetheart." Frantic to make love, he carried her across the sitting room and into the bedroom. 57

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A maid looked up from folding clothes into a suitcase. "Señor?" "Out." He jerked his chin toward the door. The woman hesitated. Pamela laughed. "So impatient, my sweet cowboy." She brushed a knowing hand across his fly. "But we can't play now. The limo's coming." She pulled out of his arms and gestured to the maid. "Finish packing, Rosa." Play? He was so hard he ached and here was his goldenhaired beauty watching him with a knowing grin. He took her arm, propelled her into the sitting room, and sucked in a breath. "Pamela, sit down, please. I have something to ask you." "My Travis. So mysterious. So masterful," she cooed, seating herself gracefully in an armchair. "Ask away." Emptying his lungs, he inhaled her sexy perfume. Determined to do it right, he went down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket. He placed a kiss in her palm and held her hand. "Pamela, I've never said this to another woman. Will you marry me?" She dazzled him with a smile. "Travis, how sweet. This is so sudden." "We talked about marriage, having a ranch, children. It was our dream." Her smile slipped. "You talked about that. I went along because it was fun." "Fun?" A chill snaked up his spine. "You said you loved me." 58

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She laughed. "Of course I love you. You're dynamite in the sack. But marry you? Give me a break." Desperate, he opened the small box. "I have an engagement ring for you." "How quaint. That's not an engagement ring." Pamela grabbed her leather purse off the side table, rummaged in it, and pulled out a ring with a headlight-size diamond. Slipping it on her third finger, left hand, she waved in front of his nose. "This is an engagement ring. Howard gave it to me last New Year's Eve." Filled with bitter rage, Travis jerked to his feet. "You played me for a fool." "You did that to yourself, sweetie. Why in the world would I marry you?" She fluffed her hair and blew him a kiss. "You're so darling, but can you imagine tromping into the Four Seasons in New York in your dusty boots? I think not." Pamela wiggled her fingers in a sunbeam. The diamond blazed. Travis realized for the first time he was really seeing her for her true self. "All this time you've been engaged to Howard and still fooled around with me?" "Sure. Why not? We're all adults." Standing, she'd laid both hands on his chest. "Just because I'm marrying Howard next month doesn't mean you and I can't enjoy each other. He goes to Japan a lot on business. Next time he leaves, I'll send you a ticket. We can play cowboy and maiden all over our penthouse." Sickened, Travis jerked her hands away from his body. "A mare in heat has higher morals than you." 59

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He'd jammed the Resistol on his head and left, slamming the door behind him. That day he'd lit out for Montana and never looked back. Now he worked for another heiress, but he'd learned his lesson the hard way. Don't get involved with wealthy women. They'll dump you every time.

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CHAPTER 5 Standing at the kitchen window in the shadowed Sunday dawn, Megan watched Travis load ropes and a saddle into the back of his Ford pickup. A week had passed since he'd chased off Felix. A week in which, to her dismay, Travis had put more space between himself and her. Did he regret the kiss they'd shared? He spoke briefly to Bill, lashed a tarp over the load and walked briskly toward the house. The other hands had already eaten and left for town on their day off. At Megan's suggestion, Frieda was sleeping in. She hurried to heap platters with scrambled eggs and bacon for Travis, Ryan, and herself. Outside the kitchen door, she heard Ryan's high-pitched boyish laughter and a deeper male chuckle. Travis walked in, carefully ducking under the top of the door frame. She caught her breath at the sight of the gleeful four-year-old perched on Travis's shoulders. "Look, Auntie Meg." Ryan clutched two sides of the blond head as Travis bounced him gently. "I'm riding a bucking bronco." "That's too danger—" She saw Travis had a tight grip on her nephew's legs. "Ma'am?" Hazel eyes held a challenging gleam as he lifted the sturdy boy and settled him on his feet. 61

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Was her heart racing from the shock of seeing Ryan in a precarious seat? No, he'd been safe in Travis's strong hands. She gave him a distracted smile. "Breakfast's ready. I'll get the biscuits." Katie waved her hands chanting, "Da-da-da." Megan handed her a graham cracker. Piling hot biscuits into the warm bowl, her blood raced. In spite of his formal tone, pleasure had glinted in his eyes. Carrying the napkin-covered bowl and coffee pot, she took a deep breath and returned to the table. Ryan and Travis forked up eggs and munched in companionable silence. Katie flashed her four teeth and nibbled on the cracker. The air was filled with the warm aroma of bacon and fresh-brewed coffee, and invisible undercurrents of man and woman. Travis studied her over the rim of his mug. "You plannin' to see the rodeo outside of town?" "I'll give that a pass." She concentrated on buttering her biscuit, wishing she had the light touch with them like Frieda. But she couldn't erase the sudden boyish eagerness she'd seen in her foreman's expression when he mentioned the rodeo. "How many events are you entering?" "Two. Saddle bronc and bull riding. I'm too rusty for the roping events, but any yahoo with guts and luck can ride a bucking bronco or a bull." "Aren't they dangerous?" "So's crossing a city street." He finished his food, clapped his hat on his head, and left. 62

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She listened for the sound of his truck engine and soon heard the crunch of gravel as he drove away. Why did she feel she'd somehow let him down? Megan stepped out of her car and smiled at the sight of the small, white clapboard church, edged by flowers and set against a bright blue sky. It looked like the one in Little House on the Prairie, complete with a steeple. Someone called her name and she looked around. "Lucy! It's good to see you again." The elderly woman joined her and patted her hand. "Megan, how nice. Did the children stay with Frieda?" "She said to take a day off for myself. I'll bring them another time." Lucy nodded. "The Good Book says to train up a child in the way he should go. My sister did, and Travis grew into a fine man." "And you probably brought your children to church, too. Do they live around here now?" "Our three little boys died when they were just hours old. They're buried on Circle S land." Lucy's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "After baby Mike, I couldn't have any more children. The summers Travis spent with Adam and me were special times." Megan hurt for Lucy's loss, but she didn't know what to say. Lucy squared her shoulders and smiled. "Don't look so sad for me, child. The Lord has given me wonderful nieces and nephews. We keep in touch with letters, cards, and telephone calls." 63

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"Good for them." Other people stopped to chat and Lucy introduced her to them. Then they went inside. After the service, Lucy asked, "Do you want to come to the rodeo this afternoon?" "It's tempting. I've never been to one." She looked at her turquoise-and-white outfit and low-heeled white sandals. "I'm not dressed for it." "Pshaw, child, don't let that stop you. You'll meet a lot more of the folks. Travis is riding in two events. I packed a big picnic lunch. There's plenty for three of us." Megan hesitated. She had records to check and correspondence to answer. But the sunshine-drenched day was beautiful, and suddenly she couldn't stand the idea of being holed up in the ranch office. "It's a deal. Want me to drive?" "We'll take my truck. The cooler and basket are in the back." "I'll follow you in case I have to leave early. Frieda's great with the kids, but I don't like to be away from them very long." Strolling along the sidewalk to Lucy's green Circle S pickup, Megan said, "Grizzly's a pretty small town. Will there be many people at the rodeo?" "Honey, some drive in from a hundred miles or more. It gives them practice for the bigger rodeos and a chance to earn money." "Travis said he's entered saddle bronc riding and bull riding. Like I told him, they sound dangerous." 64

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"Adam used to say it took guts and luck to ride in those rough stock events." "Did he ever do that? I mean, ride in a rodeo?" "Child, that's pretty much the way young cowboys prove themselves here in front of the whole town. If he rides a bronc or bull to the whistle, everyone applauds him. Even if he's dumped in the dirt and walks away, he gets applause." Stopping beside the truck, Megan asked, "What if he doesn't walk away?" Lucy patted her shoulder. "Now don't you worry your pretty head about Travis. He used to rodeo a lot when he was younger. He'll be fine." Megan hurried to her car, parked two spaces behind Lucy, slid in, started the engine, and pulled out onto the road behind the Circle S truck. She turned on the radio. A country western singer crooned, "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys." A warm breeze, fresh with the scent of mountains and rolling plains, flowed through the open window. Clean and raw, she thought, like Travis. Outside of town, Lucy turned onto a narrow dirt road, followed it around a low hill, and parked in a dirt lot filled with beat-up pickups, Jeeps, and a scattering of cars. Megan parked beside the green truck. "We're just in time." Lucy donned a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with red flowers. "It looks like they've started another section of saddle bronc riding." Shading her eyes, Megan searched the cheering crowd as she walked at the older woman's side. "Do you see Travis?" 65

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"He's probably somewhere behind the chutes gettin' ready." They found a place on the low tier of wooden benches, and Lucy introduced her to nearby folks. The air was filled with the aromas of perfume, after-shave lotion, perspiration, and cigarette smoke mixed with horses, cattle, and dust. A group of young women, dressed in fringed and beaded form-fitting western clothes, had claimed the row of wooden benches nearest the arena and closest to the holding chutes. Megan guessed their ages to be around seventeen to twentyone or twenty-two. She made a quick assessment—cute figures, perfect clothes, perfect fit, perfect hair, each with a Stetson dangling down her back by a stampede string. They whooped and hollered, flirting and waving at the cowboys. She pointed them out to Lucy. "Are they performers or cheerleaders for the rodeo?" "Those are buckle bunnies." "Buckle bunnies?" "Rodeo groupies. They go for the guys who win the prizes—the buckles. You've seen my nephew's big silver-andgold buckle with a longhorn bull's head?" "I thought it was a gift from someone." Lucy smiled. "Honey, he earned that the hard way, stickin' on the back of champion bulls and bucking broncs. He stayed with us after one circuit, so bunged up with broken ribs, sprains, a bad knee, and a broken finger, he could barely slide out of his pickup." A commotion at one of the narrow holding chutes took Megan's attention. To the cheers of the crowd, the gate 66

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opened. A young rider in colorful cowboy shirt and jeans, flew out mounted on a dun horse. The horse twisted and bucked, rose up into the air, then landed with a jolt. The rider waved one hand in the air and moved his booted feet in the stirrups. Suddenly the horse went over backwards. The crowd screamed as the dun rolled over the man. It heaved to its feet and stood, trembling. Two men raced their horses from the far end of the arena. One grabbed the bronc's bridle and pulled it away. The other slid off his horse and knelt beside the motionless contestant. Three more men joined them, carrying a first aid box and stretcher. An old man behind Megan groaned. The crowd grew silent. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the medical people worked over the young man. When they carried him off on a stretcher, the crowd murmured, then broke into applause as the injured rider waved. But Megan's hands grew clammy knowing Travis planned to ride another bucking bronco. An announcement came over the loudspeaker that the rider had been transported to a hospital in the next town for X-rays. While the people around her discussed potential problems for the fallen man, Megan watched in consternation as Travis, wearing leather chaps over his jeans, straddled the railing of a second narrow chute. The buckle bunnies hung over the railing, calling to him. One, a brunette in white satin pants and blouse with a red fringed and embroidered vest, shouted, "Yoo-hoo, Travis, meet me after this section. I'll polish your buckle." 67

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Beside her, a redhead wearing form-fitting silver and black, sang out, "Darling cowboy, I'll buy you a drink." Without glancing up, he settled onto the horse. The bay reared, battering at the top rail before its front feet touched down. Megan's heart pounded. A chill ran down her spine. Behind her, the old-timer commented, "He drew Red Lightning, one damned rank horse." Megan's neighbor said, "Trav's in fer a helluva ride. He could score big ... if he doesn't blow a stirrup or see daylight." With her attention fixed on Travis and the men swarming around the boxed-in horse, she asked Lucy, "What does it mean, rank horse?" "It's a bronc that's unpredictable and tough, and bucks hard." The horse tried another escape, and once again Travis and the handlers worked to get it settled enough to open the chute. Megan bit her lip, caught in the image of Travis thrown to the ground, injured. "Why does anybody ride a dangerous horse?" Lucy sighed and patted Megan's hand. "In this case, he's doing it for me. I'm behind on my mortgage payments and taxes. He's trying to save the Circle S." Her last words were almost lost in the crowd's roar as the chute opened and Travis exploded into the arena. Megan buried her face in her hands, willing Travis to be safe, but afraid to watch. She heard the thud of hooves and shouts from the crowd. 68

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"Whoo-ee. Look't him go." "Damned bronc's fishtailing. Trav cain't get his rhythm." The old-timer beside her thumped the bench. "By dingies, now he's scratchin', takin' his licks, movin' his boots high. Ride 'em, cowboy! Eee-ha!" Feminine voices screamed, "Tra-vis, Tra-vis." A whistle blew, and the crowd cheered. It's done. He's safe. Eight seconds have never seemed so long, Megan thought, opening her eyes. But it wasn't over. The bronco continued to buck. Maneuvering to avoid its flying hooves, two horseman, one on either side, crowded in. Travis reached behind the pick-up rider to transfer when a groan went up from the crowd. "He's hung up," someone said. Helplessly, Megan watched Travis try to kick loose one foot tangled in a stirrup and hold onto the pick-up rider. A breathless moment, and he was safe. Right then, Megan silently vowed she'd never watch him rodeo again. Another bronc rider burst out of the chute, but she'd seen enough. She left her place on wobbly legs and staggered to a haven behind the wooden grandstand. She could still hear the crowd, but at least she didn't have to watch anyone else put their life at risk. "Why do I let it get to me?" She straightened, one hand braced on a thick pole, and drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, why do you?" She spun on her heel. "Travis!" She searched for signs of injury. His forehead and short, fringed chaps were smeared 69

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with dust. He looked the same as usual after a hard day's work. She'd been worried sick and he stood there smiling. "Damn you, stop grinning. You could've been badly hurt or killed." "Why, boss," he drawled, "I didn't know you cared. That's the first time you've called me Travis instead of Mr. Knight." Moving closer, he ran a roughened finger down her cheek. She slapped his hand away. "I didn't go through the hassle of hiring you only to lose a good foreman because of some macho ego." The moment the words popped out, she wanted to grab them back. Lucy had told her why he was in the rodeo, but she was angry with him for risking his neck. He pushed his hat back away from his face. "Only a fool argues with a skunk, a mule, a cook ... or an angry woman." He grinned coaxingly. "It is kinda flattering to know you were worried." "I..." "Tra-vis, yoo-hoo." The brunette in white satin led the charge, her white, fringed boots sending up puffs of dirt. The redhead in silver and black sashayed toward them. "Rita." Travis nodded at the brunette. "And Taffy. It's been a while." "Too long." Rita fluttered her eyelashes at him. "We haven't seen you since the Calgary Stampede." Taffy fluffed her hair. "You were mar-ve-lous, cowboy. Ready for that drink?" She glanced at Megan. "Who's this?" A Barbie look-alike sidled up to Travis and claimed his arm. "Is that your sister?" 70

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"No," he said in a curt tone. "She's—" Rita took his other arm. "Don't say she's your girlfriend. I know better." Her perfect teeth flashed, framed by kiss-me scarlet lips. She toyed with his buckle. "What would you want with her, big man, when you can have us." Megan wanted to wipe the come-hither smile off Rita's face. She watched Travis peel the entangling arms away from his body. He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. Extracting several bills, he shoved them into Taffy's hand. "Ladies, have a drink on me for luck in the next section." "But, Travis—" Barbie pouted. "—you should come with us." He touched the brim of his hat. "Still got ridin' on my mind." The groupies giggled. Rita posed for him. "Cowboy, I'd love to ride ... you know." Megan knew. She started to leave when Travis stopped her with a touch on the shoulder. She turned toward him. "What? Want more female admiration? Forget it." "Wait a damned minute," he growled. "Is this what it's all about? Rough horses and hot buckle bunnies?" "Megan—" He reached for her again and she jerked away from his hand. "Is it some kind of cowboy ritual, Mr. Knight? A testosterone high? You ride a bronco and then, then ... forget it." She stomped away blindly. 71

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"You're going the wrong way. Parking lot's in the other direction, and Aunt Lucy's waiting." She spun on her heel and glared. "I know where I'm going." He shrugged. "Didn't know you wanted a close look at the bulls, ma'am." "What?" She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, she'd been headed toward the pens holding the rodeo bulls. She looked at her foreman. He'd pushed his hat back and watched her with a quizzical expression. Clearing her throat, she said, "Guess I got turned around." "Guess you did." He kept his expression solemn, but she was still close enough to see the humor gleaming in his eyes. Her lips twitched. In spite of herself, she warmed toward him. He reminded her of Ryan trying to get on her good side. In a mild tone, she said, "Point me in the right direction." "I'll walk with you." He grinned companionably and took her elbow. "Never know when some yahoo on a testosterone high'll take a fancy to you all togged out in your pretty duds." "Ouch." She smiled. "Caught by my own words." Travis figured a wise man wouldn't answer that comment. So, he enjoyed the pleasure of being close to Megan, touching her soft skin, and breathing her sweet fragrance. They'd left the noisy arena behind them when he said, "Aunt Lucy sent me to ask if you're ready for lunch?" "Lunch? Good idea." Travis steered her around obstacles, trucks, cars, and admiring cowboys. He'd been pleased to see her beside his aunt in the grandstand, but her reaction to the bronc riding 72

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surprised him. Hadn't she seen him shake out green-broke horses on the ranch and gentle them? A feminine voice called, "Tra-vis," from across the parking lot. Without looking, he waved. That was another thing. Megan's reaction to the groupies had startled him. If he didn't know better, he'd think she'd been jealous. Why had she acted angry? He'd shelled out some of his hard-earned money to get rid of them. Women. Go figure. They reached the Circle S truck, and Aunt Lucy smiled at Megan and him. "Good ride, son." "If I do okay in the last go-round, Aunt Lucy, I'll finish in the money." He handed the blanket to Megan and hoisted the basket and cooler. His aunt said, "You rode Red Lightning to the whistle. That counts in your favor." "It's all the luck of the draw. Depends on what bronc I get." Megan stopped and looked at him, her face growing pale. "You're riding one of those bucking whirlwinds again today?" "Sure am." Lucy hastily said, "I'll go on and pick a spot for our lunch." "Don't rush in this heat," Travis said. Megan glanced at him and said, "Let me find a place. I'll never be able to talk sense into this, this—" "Big galoot? Knucklehead? Cowboy?" Travis offered helpfully. "All of the above." She stomped ahead, her hips swaying under the soft folds of her skirt. "Mighty pretty sight," he muttered. 73

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"You're a rascal, Travis Alexander Knight," Aunt Lucy scolded, but she ruined the effect by grinning. They reached Megan in time to help her finish spreading the blanket on the grass under one of the trees in a small picnic area. Around them, other folks were setting up their blankets and lunches. Aunt Lucy and Megan opened the basket and served meat loaf sandwiches, potato salad, pickles and chips. Travis opened cans of root beer. Megan peered in the cooler. "No Bud for you, Mr. Cowboy?" He took a bite of sandwich. "Later, after I finish my gorounds." "Go-rounds? I thought you only had one more in bronc riding." "Yep, and another in bull-riding." She threw up her hands. "That's it. The man has a death wish." "Nope. Just a cash wish." He polished off his sandwich, reached for another, and flicked away an ant scout. "Did pretty damned good this morning." Frowning, she stared at him. Gradually, her expression softened. "Lucy told me why you're rodeoing, and I understand. I truly do." She covered his hand with hers. "Please, be careful." Laying his sandwich down, he clasped her hand, and pressed it against his. "I can't promise to be careful, but I will stay focused." 74

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She leaned toward him until their faces were close. Her lips were moist and inviting. The distant sounds of cattle and horses, of people, even his aunt nearby, were all blocked out by Megan's presence. He framed her face with his hands. "Megan, trust me." She whispered, "I will." With a low sound, he settled his mouth on her lips, tasting the root beer she'd been drinking, tasting the unique Megan flavor. Tasting paradise.

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CHAPTER 6 Was it her imagination or did her lips still tingle from Travis's kiss? Megan hugged Katie and listened for the sound of his pickup. She'd run from the rodeo, from him, like the same shy debutante who'd spent half her debut evening in the restroom hiding from her father's dictates and her mother's disappointment. At the sound of a truck coming through the pine grove, Megan stepped out on the porch, relieved. Katie sniffled against her shoulder and she rubbed the baby's back soothingly. The sun had set. Night creatures chirped or called in the dark. Beyond the beam of the yard lamp, headlights danced across the grove, illuminating the tall pines and lush cedars lining the graveled road. She watched Travis slot his Ford between her car and the battered ranch pickup. Thank God, he was home. As he eased out of the truck and slowly straightened, she held the baby close and went down the steps to meet him. "Travis, what happened to your eye? It looks awful." "Last bull got me with its head right after the whistle." He carefully probed the bruised area on his cheekbone. "Lucy put an ice bag on it." "Come in. I'll get another. Have you eaten? I can heat up some dinner. Frieda cooked it before she left." 76

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"My aunt fed me, but I could use a cup of coffee." He dropped his hat on the table beside the door. His thick, tawny-gold hair gleamed in the light, and Megan's fingers tingled with the urge to touch it. "You give Frieda time off?" His deep voice snapped her out of her fantasy. "She got a call this afternoon. Her sister's ill. Bill drove her into Helena to catch a plane. She's the only family her sister has, so I don't know when she'll come back." She directed him to a kitchen chair, settled Katie in her highchair with a Biter Biscuit, and handed Travis a bag of frozen peas to hold against his eye. "This'll help while I get the ice bag ready. Coffee afterwards." With an amused tilt of his lips, he followed her directions. "Kinda like using a cold steak on a black eye." "Call it the modern version. Ryan thinks it's funny. He likes to choose peas or corn for his boo-boos. That and a kiss to make it better." "Do I get a kiss to make it better?" "In your dreams." Her hands shook at the idea. Ice cubes skittered on the counter. And she damned the effect he had on her composure. Why was she so vulnerable to him? Scooping up the ice, she filled the bag, screwed on the cap, and thrust the rapidly chilling container at him. He plucked it from her fingers. Slowly, he brushed a thumb across her wrist, lingering at the pulse point. With great gentleness, he drew her palm to his lips. "I'm dreaming." 77

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"Coffee! You wanted coffee." She reclaimed her hand and rattled in the cupboard for a mug. The chair legs scraped on the floor. She sensed him standing close behind her. "Need help?" "I need a stick." Turning, she frowned at him. "Back off, cowboy." "You said you'd trust me." "That's right. I trusted you to keep your hide in one piece, not bruised." "It's nothing." She glanced at Katie to check on her, quickly poured a mug of coffee and thrust it at him. "Here. Sit. Want some apple pie?" "Who made it?" "Me." "Hey, I like to live dangerously. I'll try a piece." His smile disarmed her. She cut a slice, heated it in the microwave, set it in front of him, and plunked down a fork.. Picking up Katie, she sat across the table. "After all that bouncing around, did you earn enough to help Lucy?" "Didn't pull down top dollar, but I did earn enough, after entry fees, for her to make a payment on the mortgage." Megan watched him take another bite, still holding the ice bag to his cheek and eye. All that effort, the danger and the bruises, to help someone else. She knew Elliot or Broadhurst would laugh at the mere thought of going to so much trouble for another person. But Travis was different, wonderfully different. 78

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The baby whimpered and threw down her biscuit. "She teething?" Travis asked. "Two at the same time. She's running a low fever. I gave her some Tempra a few minutes ago, but it hasn't had time to take effect." She shifted Katie in her arms and the baby clung to handfuls of Megan's T-shirt. "She hasn't been this clingy since we arrived here." Ryan flew in, wearing his black-and-red Batman pajamas with the bottoms on backwards. "Auntie Meg, I put my toys away and I'm ready for bed. I did it all by myself." "I'm proud of you." Megan hugged him with one arm. He looked at Travis. "Are you proud of me, too?" "Good job, pal." He held out a hand. Grinning, Ryan shook hands. He spotted the pie and said, "Can I have some because I did such a good job?" Megan ruffled his hair. "Sure thing, as soon as I get Katie settled." When she attempted to put Katie in the high chair, the baby stiffened and clung to her. Frustrated, Megan tried to soothe her, but, sobbing, Katie gripped the T-shirt tighter. "I'll fix the pie," Travis offered. He dished up a slice for Ryan and set it on the table. Instead of eating, Ryan leaned against Travis's leg, peering at his bruised face. "You got a boo-boo? Did you fall?" "Nope. A bull hit me with his head." "A bull? Was he mean?" "He didn't like me riding him." With a serious expression, Ryan studied Travis. "If I ride on that bull, an' he tries to hit me, or Katie, or Aunt Meg, I'll 79

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punch him in the nose." He paused as if thinking about it and said, "I'll punch him in the nose and run away fast." Megan opened her mouth to warn her nephew about bulls. But Travis dropped the ice bag on the table and folded his fingers over Ryan's shoulder. "If you ever see a bull near you, back away very carefully and tell the nearest grown-up. Promise?" "I promise," he said solemnly, raising one hand. Travis ruffled the boy's hair. "Good." Ryan hugged him around the waist. "You're the bestest pal in all the world." The big man looked at Ryan tenderly, one hand pressed against the pajama-clad back. Megan felt a warm flood of gratitude for her foreman's gentle handling of the vulnerable child. Sliding onto his chair, Ryan ate the pie and grinned. Silence settled on the kitchen. Outside, Megan heard the distant call of coyotes. But inside, it was cozy and safe. Katie broke the quiet with a fussy cry. She waved her hands calling, "Mama, mama." Megan cuddled the baby. "Bedtime for you kidlets." Ryan hopped down from his chair and clung to the foreman. "Read me a story, please." "Megan?" Choked with a sudden rush of emotion, she gave him a faint nod. Kyle had read to the children every night. With Ryan tucked in bed, Travis sat beside him. "This the book you want?" He held up an obviously much-read copy of The Runaway Bunny. 80

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"Uh-huh. Mommy or Daddy used to read it to me." His parents. A sudden shaft of sadness filled him. He looked questioningly at Megan. She sat in a rocking chair holding Katie while the baby drank a bedtime bottle. "It's good for him," she said softly. "Okay, pal." He chucked him under the chin. "Once there was a bunny—" "An', an' he wanted to run away, but his mommy follow' him." One chubby finger touched the mother rabbit, complete with Tyrolean hat and a climbing stick in one paw. "See? He climbed high up a mountain, an' turned into a rock, but the mommy bunny said she'd climb to him." Ryan's green eyes, so much like his aunt's, shone with excitement. Travis glanced at Megan. Her eyes were warm with love as they rested on her nephew. She held Katie on one shoulder, rubbing the baby's back. It feels like family, he thought. A small hand tugged on his sleeve. "More. Read more." Travis turned back to the story. Over the years, he'd read to his nieces and nephews. He'd missed that pleasure since he'd come to Montana. In the few weeks he'd worked on Silvertip, Megan's niece and nephew had claimed a place in his life. Ryan, so much like Travis's younger nephews, snuggled trustingly against his thigh and brought out a deep, protective feeling. When the story ended, Ryan tugged his head down and kissed him on the cheek. "Night, night, Travis. You're my bestest friend." 81

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Holding Katie, Megan leaned over the little guy, tucked in the blankets around him, and kissed him good night. "Sleep tight, honey." "I will. Love you, Aunt Meg." He yawned and his eyes drifted shut. **** The next afternoon Travis patted the shoulder of the bay Quarter Horse and released him into the corral. Bill gestured toward the compact gelding. "He's right handy with cattle." "Yep. He's quick and has good cow sense. Another month with the practice herd and Megan'll have an outstanding cutting horse." "You're a hell of a good horse trainer, Knight. And you got the crew jumpin' to your orders. I'll ride trail with you anytime." Bill thumped him on the shoulder and hobbled away. Travis heard his name called and looked up to see Megan and the children coming toward him. Ryan, walking cautiously, clutched a glass with both hands. Katie waved from Megan's hip. And Megan, the breeze tugging at her braided hair, held a pitcher. As she drew closer, Travis experienced a familiar jolt of sexual awareness. He kept telling himself his boss was off limits, but his body didn't believe him. Ryan reached him first. "We brought lemonade. I carried the glass an' didn't spill any ice." 82

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Travis held the glass as Megan poured. "Thanks." He drank some and winked at the eager boy. "Hits the spot." Ryan grinned at him. "Just like in the Runaway Bunny, only he got a carrot not lemonade." The boy studied him for a minute. "Can bunnies really turn into a rock?" Travis crouched down, face to face. "Nope, but I've seen rocks that looked like animals." "Way up there?" One little hand pointed toward the mountains. "Yep." "Can you show me?" Ryan set one hand on Travis's knee. "I have work to do. Sorry." "Oh." Head down, the boy wandered toward the house. Wolfie joined him, nudged at Ryan's hand then followed, tail down as if sympathizing with the child. Travis nodded to Megan. "I'll see to moving the horses in the south pasture." He strode away before she could answer, but his glimpse of Ryan's sad face disturbed him. The kid had already lived with more sorrow than any child should know. Retracing his steps, he met Megan at the porch. Ryan was seated on the bottom step with his hand buried in Wolfie's fur. In a low voice, so only Megan could hear him, he said, "If it's okay with you, I'll take the kid for a ride up the mountain." She gave the boy a fond smile. "Whenever it's convenient for you." 83

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He sat beside Ryan. "Still want to see the rocks shaped like animals?" "Now," Ryan declared, tugging on his arm. "You've got it. Get your hat and a jacket. Never know when it's gonna turn cold." As the eager child dashed into the house, Megan said, "He really misses his father. Your offer means a lot to him." "I'll take good care of him." "I know you will." **** As they rode double up the mountain, Ryan asked questions and exclaimed at the animals and birds around them. When he grew quiet, Travis halted Chief beside a fresh rill trickling down the mountainside. "Time for a break, buckaroo." Ryan laughed. "Buckaroo's a funny word. What's it mean?" "Means you're a cowboy." "Ee-haw, I'm a buckaroo," he shouted, bouncing and waving one hand in the air. Chief fidgeted at the unexpected noise. Travis patted the side of the horse's neck to settle him. Ryan clutched the fingers Travis held across his small waist. "Gee, did I scare him?" "More like surprised him. Tone it down, okay?" "Okay." The brim of the miniature cowboy hat brushed Travis's chest, and he felt an ache of longing. All the way up here, he'd held Ryan close, breathing his little boy scent, reminded of his dreams of a family, a son. 84

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Dismounting, he lifted the boy out of the saddle and set him on his feet near the thin ribbon of water. Like any kid, Ryan zeroed in on a small pool a few feet up the trail. Hunkering down beside it, he studied the liquid glittering in a patch of sunlight shining through the pine trees. "Don't drink the water," Travis cautioned as he dropped down on his haunches beside the boy. "I won't. Auntie Megan teached me that." Dipping one hand into the pool, Ryan brought up a small chunk of quartz with brassy-yellow, flat-sided cubes poking out of the sides, and gave it to Travis. "Look! I found gold, just like in my book Timmy and the Pirates. Take it and you can pay your Aunt Lucy's taxes." "Where'd you hear that?" "When Auntie Megan came home after the rodeo, she told Frieda she hoped you made enough to pay some of Lucy's taxes." Ryan tipped his head and gazed up quizzically at Travis. "Did you?" With a heaviness in his chest, Travis studied the false gold. He hated to disappoint the little guy, but trust was founded on truth and he wanted Ryan to trust him. He rested one hand on the sturdy, boyish shoulder. "This is a tricky kind of rock. It's all glittery and yellow, and it isn't real gold. People call it 'fool's gold.'" Ryan frowned. "It didn't fool you." "That's because my uncle told me about it when I was a kid. After he said it wasn't real gold, he said it was still lucky because it taught me not to be fooled by everything that glittered." 85

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A smile lit up the child's face. He stood and stared at Travis, then hugged him. "It's a lucky stone. You keep it. You'll have lots of good luck." Clasping the child close, Travis closed his eyes, struggling with the warmth and love that flowed through him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "Thanks, pal. It's the best gift anyone ever gave me." Moments passed. A fresh breeze whispered through the forest. Squirrels scolded from the trees and wild bees droned in the patches of sunlight warming the forest floor. Finally, he stood and smiled down at the little guy. "As Bill would say, we're burnin' daylight. Time to see the rocks shaped like animals." "Just like in The Runaway Bunny." "Yep, that and more." Travis tucked Ryan's hand in his. "Hold tight. I'll show you a big rock shaped like an elephant's head, and we'll take a look at Grizzly Valley from way up here." They climbed a low set of boulders until Travis found the elephant rock and pointed it out. "It's a giant," the boy shouted, raising his free arm. "Bigger'n any bunny." He twisted around facing the valley and Travis felt the small hand grip his tighter. "We're really high. Can we see heaven?" "No one can see heaven." "I don't like heaven," the child said fiercely. "It makes people cry. Aunt Meg got a letter saying her Aunt Elizabeth in Ireland went to heaven. She was very sad an' her eyes got all red, an' she said she was okay, but she wasn't." 86

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Travis sat on a flattened granite boulder and pulled the boy onto his lap, cuddling him. "Heaven's a good place for the people there. It just makes us sad because we won't see them again until it's our turn to go there." Ryan leaned against his chest and whispered, "Mommy and Daddy are in heaven. I miss them, but don't tell Aunt Meg 'cause she misses them, too." "I know." What else could he say or do to comfort the child? Sighing, the boy looked up at him. "What's a boarding school? I think it's something bad because I heard my aunt and Grandpa O'Connor argue about it. Grandpa wants me to go far away to one when I'm five. Aunt Megan said no." "Don't worry. Your aunt loves you. She wants you and Katie to stay with her." "Good." Ryan leaned against Travis's chest and gripped his hand. "My grandpa scares me."

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CHAPTER 7 Megan trembled, still clutching the business letter in her fist. She'd worried about the contents all through the long, hot afternoon drive back from Grizzly. Knowing what it said was worse than any conjecture. How could her father betray Kyle and Alice's memory? But he had. She read the short registered letter for the third time. Dear Megan Marie O'Connor: It is our policy at Adoption Plus to notify a petitioner for adoption when we are retained to conduct a home study. Mr. Burke O'Connor has contracted with us to make such a study regarding Ryan Kyle O'Connor and Kathleen Elizabeth O'Connor, children of Kyle and Alice O'Connor, deceased. Our agent will contact you to schedule the visit. She crumpled the letter in one hand, dropped it onto the small rosewood table, and slumped on the couch. Her father had pulled some high-handed tricks in his time. This was the worst. She gazed at the family photo of Kyle, Alice, Ryan, and Katie. As the first shock passed, her temper rose. There was a sharp rap at the door and Travis strode in, his expression harsh. "Bill said someone upset you. Who did it? One of the hands? I'll set him straight." "I wish you could, but it's not one of the crew. It's my father." She thrust the letter at him. "Read this." 88

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He scanned the words, his jaw tightening. "That bastard. I'd like to straighten him out." She jumped to her feet, too angry to stay still, and glared at the letter. "How dare my father go against Kyle and Alice's last request? They made me the childrens' legal guardian." She bunched her fists, barely conscious of fingernails digging into her palms. "He'll destroy Ryan and Katie's stability. Ryan's finally sleeping better, and he's not having as many nightmares." Travis set the letter on the desk. "Why in the hell does he want the kids?" "Because of his damned ego. I escaped when I bought this ranch and moved here with the children." Restless with pentup emotion, she went to the window and spread her fingers on the warm glass. "Long before I left, Kyle got away from him and ran for his own life. He was my father's only son. Now Dad wants the children so he can mold Ryan into another Burke O'Connor." "And Katie?" Megan whirled to face him. "Father'll control her, keep her sheltered, send her to boarding school, make her totally dependent on him for everything. If he has his way, he'll also select her husband. And you can be sure it'll be a man under the O'Connor influence." "You're speaking from experience?" Travis moved closer until she could feel his male heat and protectiveness. "Right, except for him choosing my husband, but he's trying that, too. From the time I was five, I attended boarding 89

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schools most of the year, including two years in Switzerland. Camp in the summer when I was a kid." "What about the trips you took?" "They were carefully planned and chaperoned. My father had to okay the itinerary and personnel before I could go, even after I turned eighteen." His lips curved in a grim smile of approval. "You finally got loose." "It was the hardest thing I've ever done." She picked up the letter, sat on the couch and smoothed the wrinkles out of the paper. "Kyle and Alice wanted a more normal life for the children, and they knew I loved Ryan and Katie. That's why they made me the kids' legal guardian. I'm adopting them to give them a greater sense of security." She recalled the problems she'd had since her brother and sister-in-law's death, and her eyes ached with unshed tears. "Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can hold out against Father's pressure. But, dammit, if he gets the children, he'll destroy their childhood, destroy their happiness. I can't let that happen." "Ryan said his grandfather scares him." "Poor baby. He never told me, but when he could, he'd hide from Father." Travis crouched in front of her. His hands were warm and strong as they folded around hers. "You can depend on me to help protect the kids." "How? Can you influence my father and the judge?"

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"You're not in this alone. Frieda, the crew, and I know how good you are to Ryan and Katie. Their mother couldn't do any better." "You and the guys mean well, but can you see them in court with some fast-talking lawyer turning them inside out with innuendoes and clever words?" She heard the shrill sound of her own voice. "My father's already asked me about my relationship with you and the crew. His lawyer is just as cynical. God knows what a judge would think." "What does your attorney say?" "Hold out as long as I can. He's working on it for me." Travis's lips thinned. "Sounds pretty fishy. Sure your father hasn't gotten to him?" Her stomach tightened. "I don't think he has." "You're not sure." "I checked him out with the Montana Bar Association and some friends before contacting him. His reputation is excellent." "He an expert in adoption?" "Not really. I hired him to take care of other matters and he also offered to do the legal work for the adoption." "Get a specialist in adoption." His voice hardened. "You need one." She rubbed her forehead. "If only I could. I deposited a big chunk of money in my account with him ahead of time so there'd be no delay. I'm nearly broke." "Broke? You?" In the shocked silence, Megan heard Lucy playing with the children in another room and blessed her for coming over to 91

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help. The last thing Ryan needed to know about was more trouble. "You heard right. I'm almost out of ready cash. On paper I'm still wealthy, but my father has tied up my bank accounts and my stock in the company." Travis rose and paced to the window and back. "How the hell did that happen? You're smart, level-headed, not some ditz." "Mostly habit and convenience." She jumped to her feet. "The stocks came to me when I was born. More were given to me as presents. Naturally, my father was the trustee. When I turned twenty-one, I didn't bother to make the change." She drew in a breath. "Of course I regret that decision, but at the time, it was easier to leave the stock in his hands than fight with him to change it." "You've grown up." Travis studied her, his hazel eyes darkening to muted gold. She colored under his look, and her heart raced like Foxfire galloping across the high plateau. He touched her cheek with one finger. "Now I know what's put the shadows in your eyes and the circles under them." His warm hand slid down to her shoulder and he squeezed. "Lady, you have more savvy and grit than any woman I know." "Nobody's ever said that to me. Thank you." "If anyone can find a way to keep the kids and make a go of the ranch, you can." "The ranch isn't my biggest problem. Eventually, I'll have access to my accounts and stocks in the company, even if it takes years. 92

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"My father's threat to the adoption is much closer. Any day the expert he hired will make an appointment for a home visit. It could be my only chance to prevent him from getting the children." Gently, Travis drew her into his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder, drawing strength. "Relax. You're worrying yourself to a frazzle. Take a break. After supper, we'll walk up to see the mommas and weanlings." "Supper. I have to get started." She tugged loose, already regretting the loss of his arms around her. "Pete's employee of the week. He wants meatloaf and cheese potatoes. I planned some other cheese dishes, too, because he said it's his favorite food. I have a new recipe that'll knock your socks off." "New? Something you've never made before, as in chili tortillas?" His expression grew apprehensive. "Not exactly. Remember, this time I have a recipe." The thrill of cooking something new coursed through her blood. He picked up his hat and crammed it on his head. "Gotta check on the crew." He exited through the kitchen door to the outside. She barely looked up when it closed. The cooking muse was calling. For the next two hours, she'd put aside her worries about her father's plans. Already her brain churned with an idea on how to dress up the salad—olives and grated romano cheese. **** 93

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At suppertime, Travis paused at the bottom porch step to polish the toe of each boot on the back of the opposite pant leg. The rest of the crew followed, all togged out in bright shirts, fresh-washed Wranglers, and either a bolo tie or a scarf around their neck. Newly-showered hair glistened. Sighing inwardly, he waited. They were as high-spirited as a herd of yearlings in spring grass. Pete swaggered up and struck a pose, hip cocked, thumbs in his front pockets. "I'm the star, and I ree-ques-ted somethin' easy ... meatloaf and cheese potatoes." "Way to go." Slim Johnson punched Pete's shoulder. The other hands chortled. "Don't matter what Miss Megan cooks, just the thought of a special meal pree-pared by her pretty hands is enough to sweeten the deal. Besides—" White teeth flashed under his black mustache. "—wouldn't want to hurt the little darling's feelin's." "Miss O'Connor is still your boss." Travis hid his grin. The guys were in rare form tonight. "Remember your manners. If you arm-wrestle or tell a dirty joke, you'll answer to me." "Hell, boss, where d'you think I was raised, in a barn?" Tony demanded. Bill nudged Travis. "Nope, with a manure shovel in his hand." The other guys hooted. Travis shook his head. They were rarin' for trouble. Pete led the stampede into the house. He struck a dramatic pose beside the dining table. "Man, lookee here. Pretty plates, real napkins, ice water, and flowers decoratin' 94

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the middle. He lifted his nose in the air and closed his eyes in an expression of ecstasy. "Umm-um. I've been smellin' that meatloaf fer over an hour. And hot rolls, too." He glanced toward the closed kitchen door and whispered, "I'm a genius. I asked fer somethin' easy. No fire-breathin' chili tortillas tonight." The door opened and Pete replaced his conspiratorial grin with an easy smile. "Miz Megan, we're here and ready to tie on the feed bag." "Sit down, guys. Lucy and the kids already ate. I'll bring in the food." Travis was used to Megan's sunshine smile. Tonight it was forced. He knew it was because of the letter. He followed her into the kitchen. "Megan—" She jumped like a startled deer. Her elbow knocked a roll onto the floor. Travis reached for it. Their hands touched, and they both pulled back. She swept up the roll, dropped it into the sink and gripped the edge of the counter. "Guess I'm kind of jumpy tonight," she said in a low voice. "Worried about the children?" Her shoulders slumped. "Yes." "Megan." She straightened, turned, and smiled faintly. "The men'll think I've left them to starve. Better get the food on." "Want help?" "Sure. I've already poured the coffee, but you can carry in the salads. I'll get the rolls." "Looks good. Is this cheese dressing?" 95

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"It's a creamy Roquefort." Megan went ahead of him and set two baskets heaped with rolls on the table. "Here you go. Enjoy." Sitting at her spot nearest the kitchen, she broke open a roll and daintily spread butter on one piece. "Dig in, everyone." Travis sampled the salad. "Crisp and cold, with plenty of dressing. Just the way I like it." Bill split his roll, slathered butter on and took a whopping bite. His eyes opened wide. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed, took a drink of water, and swallowed hard. For a fleeting moment he reminded Travis of a cartoon ostrich swallowing an orange. After another sip of water, Bill gasped, "Umm, homemade roll with cheese." Tony, with a sly grin, offered the basket. "Have another." Bill waved it away. "I'm savin' room fer the meatloaf." Casually, Travis sampled his own roll. Tough and salty. Glancing around the table, he saw Pete choke down a piece and go for water. Tony made a show of eating the salad while his roll, broken into pieces, sat on the side. After eating one small chunk of her roll, Megan said, "I'll get the rest of the food." Travis scanned the men's plates. Everyone had abandoned their baked disaster. He sighed, dunked a section in his coffee and chewed. In a low voice, he said, "She worked hard on this meal." Nodding, Bill followed his example. Megan hurried back from the kitchen. She set down a platter of meatloaf and a bowl heaped with cheese potatoes. 96

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Mixed peas and carrots came next, along with a gravy boat filled with cheese sauce. She refilled coffee cups and settled at her place. Helping herself to the end slice of meatloaf, and a spoonful each of the potatoes and vegetables, she said, "I'm not very hungry tonight. Dig in, guys." Dishes were passed and everyone else heaped their plates. Recalling Pete's words, Travis forked up a healthy bite of meatloaf. What was that weird taste? Some kind of cheese? Across the table, Pete chewed reflectively, swallowed, and drank a chaser of coffee. "Ma'am, is this here middle part cheese?" "You like it?" She damn near glowed with excitement. "It's a new recipe, meatloaf with blue cheese stuffing. I added a little Tabasco for tang." "Yeah, that's right ... tang." Pete finished his coffee and went for his glass of water. Megan gave them a bright smile. "Do you like it?" Around him, Travis saw varying expressions of consternation, carefully hidden from Megan. "It's different," Pete said manfully. The other men made a show of eating and passed around the cheese sauce. Beaming at them, Megan finished her small portions. "I'll make a fresh pot of coffee. There's cheesecake for dessert." Bill patted his stomach. "I'm pretty full." "Frieda made it before she left." "But I'll have room for dessert, ma'am."

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One by one, the other men allowed as how they'd have room for the cheesecake. Travis clamped his lips together to keep back a chuckle and reached for his own slice. **** After dinner dishes were done and the children in bed, Megan walked out to the porch with Lucy. "Thanks for all your help. You've been a lifesaver." The kindly woman took her hand. "No thanks needed, child. Just bein' around Ryan and Katie makes me feel younger. Are you sure you won't need me tomorrow?" "I'll manage. It's good practice. Other ranch women take care of their family and business every day." Lucy hugged her. "Bless your heart. You'll do just fine, but don't hesitate to call anytime you want help." She went down the stairs and to her pickup with the energy of a much younger woman. One more wave, and she drove away. Tired, Megan sat on the top stair. She'd hidden her worry about the adoption challenge from Lucy, but it had lingered underneath every thought, every action, like a low-level infection gradually poisoning her body. With a frustrated sigh, she tipped her head back to gaze at the Milky Way's river of stars. A deep, familiar voice came out of the shadows. "Mighty pretty night." "Beautiful." By the faint glow of starlight, she watched Travis move toward her. His eyes and hair reflected a dark, hammered gold. Centuries earlier, she thought, he could've 98

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easily been a Viking warrior slipping through the night to the captive prize who awaited his pleasure. He placed one booted foot on the bottom step, leaned forward, and took off his hat, thoughtfully toying with the brim. "Been thinking about the letter you got. I've heard it's easier for a married couple to adopt." "My attorney told me that, too, but I'm not going to marry one of those fortune hunters who want me for my inheritance." "What about protectin' the children?" "That's my worry. Somehow I'll find a way." He sat beside her. "I've come up with an idea to make your ranch finances stronger." She licked her lips and forced her thoughts to focus. "Great. Tell me." "We could offer AI for the regulated few number of mares. Chief has the required show points. For clients who prefer traditional insemination, have Chief stand at stud. He's registered for breeding, and it'll bring in owners with quality mares, and for those who don't have a mare to breed, buyers for your foals after they're weaned." "But he's your stallion." "Give me a percentage. It'll help Lucy." "You could make more for yourself and Lucy if you offered the service from the Circle S." "Lookin' a gift horse in the mouth?" She matched his light tone. "Just countin' its teeth." She laid a hand on his arm for emphasis. "I appreciate your offer, Travis, but I want to stand on my own feet. I let my father 99

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make my decisions for too many years because it was the easy way. No more." He covered her hand with his and she experienced a jolt of heat. "Call it a convenient business arrangement. Your ranch feeds and stables the mare until she's bred. I'm available to help and supervise." "All right. I agree, and thank you." He lifted one hand to her face. She felt the gentle rasp of his fingertips on her cheek. "Thank you," he murmured. "For being honest and thinking about what would benefit Lucy and me, too." His face hovered closer, shadowed, hidden, but his warmth, the force of his attraction called to her. His hands cupped her face. She drew in a ragged breath waiting for the press of his seductive mouth against her lips. "Sweet Megan, I shouldn't, but—oh, hell." His lips settled on hers with a pressure that rocked her. The cooling breeze, the call of night creatures, the snort and stamp of horses all faded into the oblivion of his scent, his heat, his mouth, lips, tongue taking her on a sensual journey with no end. She damned her own vulnerability, her own desire, but knew there was no turning back. She wanted, needed to be in his arms tonight. And she'd think about the consequences tomorrow.

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CHAPTER 8 Megan bolted upright in bed, her lonely bed, and thumped the pillow. She damned her imagination when it offered the image of a rugged male body beside her. Hours had passed since Travis had kissed her, held her on the porch steps, but her senses were still filled with him—his voice, his warmth, his touch, his mouth on hers. After he'd left her to go to the foreman's cabin, she'd retreated upstairs to her room to sleep. "Sleep? What a joke." She switched on the lamp, fumbled into her cotton robe and went down the stairs, through the quiet house, to the kitchen. Brewing a cup of tea, she carried it into the living room, and relaxed on the couch with the afghan tucked around her legs. Megan picked up the photo of her brother and his family. Katie and Ryan had grown and changed in the seven months since their parents' death. Her eyes stung with sadness and regret. She still missed Kyle and Alice. They'd believed in her when her father and acquaintances had written her off as helpless. The wrinkled Adoption Plus letter on the coffee table mocked her. Megan tightened her grip on the photo. "I'll fight for your children," she promised. She remembered what Travis had said. I've heard it's easier for a married couple to adopt. Megan gazed at Kyle standing behind Alice with a hand on Ryan's shoulder. Her brother's image wavered, replaced by 101

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Travis with his fingers resting protectively on the boy. Instead of Alice, she held the infant Katie, and Travis's lean, strong fingers settled on her nape, gently massaging her neck. Sliding down until her head was on a throw pillow, she snuggled into the afghan, closed her eyes for just a minute to rest them. Vague what ifs floated in her mind. What if her father released her funds? What if the adoption was final and the children were hers? What if she were married to ... ? **** Megan drifted up from a dream of riding across the grassy range, side-by-side with Travis. Opening her eyes, she discovered she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Sitting up, she pushed back the crocheted afghan. The drapes were closed, but a glance at the gold-and-crystal clock showed it was five o'clock, time to start breakfast for the crew. Something had awakened her. What? Then she heard Ryan chattering about waffles, and Katie's fussy cry. The children are awake. Megan jumped to her feet, but froze at the familiar, deep male voice in the other room. "Shh, be quiet. Your aunt's still sleeping." The baby's cries stopped. Ryan laughed and said, "That's funny." Just as Megan started toward the half-open door, Ryan ran in. "Auntie Megan, look at Katie." Travis followed, carrying the little girl. She clung to his shirt with one hand and held a quarter section of waffle with the other. 102

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At the sight of the baby chewing on the edge of the waffle, Megan chuckled. "What is she doing with that?" "Soothing her gums," Travis said, one hand curved across Katie's back. "It's frozen. My sister, Ruth, used them for her three babies." "That makes sense." "I'll start the coffee." He plopped Katie into her arms. "The guys'll be roaring in any minute." He beckoned to Ryan. "C'mon, you can help set the table." She watched them head toward the kitchen. Ryan walked with the same masculine swagger as Travis. "Guess it's you and me, kid." Holding Katie, she stood and headed toward the stairs. "First a diaper change for you, and jeans and T-shirt for me. It's going to be a long day." **** Morning dishes done, Megan carried Katie outside and settled her in the travel playpen shaded by the big cottonwood. Ryan had marched beside her, carrying a mesh bag of toys. Opening the zipper, he said, "Sister, you want this duck or a horsie?" Katie waved her hands and chattered back at him, her new teeth shining. Megan looked toward the corral. Travis was working with a skittish white leopard-spotted colt, getting it accustomed to a bridle. Ryan said, "I'm gonna watch." 103

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Before she could stop him, he dashed away in the direction of the big corral with faithful Wolfie at his heels. "Ryan, stay outside the fence," she shouted. Travis must've heard her. With a grim expression, he led the colt to the side and bent to the boy. Shoulders slumping, Ryan ducked his head and kicked at the dirt. Releasing the colt, the foreman swung over the top rail and crouched in front of her nephew. Megan reached the fence in time to hear him say, "Remember, never go into any corral by yourself." "I won't," Ryan promised. "Ma'am." Travis rose and held Ryan's hand. "Keep the kid away from the stock. You've been around horses. You know they're dangerous." Before she could frame an answer, he said, "I got work to do." His long strides took him to the barn and he disappeared inside. Ryan tugged on her arm. "Is Travis mad at me?" His thumb popped into his mouth. A sure sign he needed comfort. "Not angry, but he's worried." She wrapped her arms around him. "Travis doesn't want you to get hurt. Neither do I." His small, sturdy arms went around her neck. He pulled her head down and kissed her cheek. "Aunt Megan, I love you." "And I love you." Cherishing her precious little guy, she held him, wishing she could always keep him safe. 104

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After one more hug, Megan showed Ryan which row of carrots to pull. While she harvested spinach for dinner, her thoughts returned to Travis coming up to the house early to help with breakfast for the crew and his kind manner with the children. She grinned at the image of Katie and the frozen waffle. Once again, Travis had stepped in to help her. Sam appeared, wound his furry body around Megan's ankles three times, and flopped down in a soft patch of grass beside the playpen. Katie chattered to the cat, played a while with her toys, then dozed in the dappled shade. Ryan finished his assignment. He presented Megan with the carrots and a triumphant smile. "I did it all by myself." "You're a regular little farmer." "I'm a cowhand," he declared. She picked up the sleeping baby. "Wal, pahd—ner," she drawled, "rustle up the carrots and herd them into the house." As they entered the kitchen, the telephone rang. The caller briskly introduced herself as Lydia Blair from Adoption Plus. Megan fumbled for a chair and sat down—hard, cradling Katie in her lap. Ryan leaned against Megan, watching her face with troubled eyes. Please, God, Megan prayed, let the woman be understanding. By the end of the conversation, she ached with worry. Even over the telephone, she sensed the investigator was unsympathetic.

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During the conversation, Katie had awakened. Megan sat the child in her high chair with a handful of round cereal bits for finger food. Tense, tight-lipped, Megan washed an apple for Ryan's morning snack, gave it to him with a kiss, and told him he could watch cartoons on TV. Cheering at the rare treat of TV in the morning, he dashed toward the living room. When Katie finished her snack, Megan carried her upstairs to change her diaper. While she played with the baby, kissed her tummy and made her giggle, Megan did a mental inventory of her actions since she'd bought the ranch and moved there with the children. Now, every decision seemed open to question. Talk it over with Travis, she thought. After slathering another layer of sunscreen on the baby, Megan checked on Ryan, and, carrying Katie, went in search of her foreman. She found him inside the cool, hay and horse-scented barn, brushing the leopard Appaloosa colt with long, firm strokes. The colt stood quietly under Travis's touch. Megan knew she wouldn't stay as immobile at the feel of his powerful hands on her. The hot, seductive image of moving naked under his masculine form left her breathless. Her breasts ached. Katie giggled and Megan came back to reality with a thud. Damn her overactive imagination. "Is there a problem?" "I have to talk to you when you're finished." "Almost done." He picked up a soft cloth and wiped around the colt's delicate nostrils. 106

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"I'll wait." Automatically, she untangled the baby's fingers from her hair and made a funny face to distract Katie, but she was still vitally aware of Travis. He finished grooming the colt, rubbed his nose, and released him into the corral. After washing his hands and arms at the faucet, he approached her in his long, fluid stride, and she wanted to melt. Give it up, she chided herself. "You look as worried as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs." "I am." She shifted Katie again, thinking the child must've gained five pounds in the last five minutes. "I'll take her. You're tuckered out." Travis held out his hands to Katie and she readily went to him. He settled her in his arms with the ease of someone accustomed to babies. She patted his cheek and babbled. Megan laughed. "Little traitor." "More like little flirt." Travis smiled. Megan caught her breath at the effect. She'd seen him smile before, but this time the tenderness in his eyes added a new, heart-warming dimension. "Let's sit on the porch. This may take a while to explain." Unlike his usual silence, he kept up a cheerful stream of talk about the horses, the crew, and the weather. Megan's nerves relaxed under the flow. She sat in a white, wood chair with bright, floral cushions. He took the porch swing, gently rocking while Katie chortled. "Okay, lady, what's up? Trouble?" He shifted the baby, bouncing her on her feet. 107

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"The investigator from Adoption Plus called. She's coming tomorrow afternoon." "You expected that." "Yes, but—" Megan shook her head. "—her attitude bothered me. There was a disapproving note in her voice when we talked about my unmarried status. I suspect Miss Blair isn't in favor of single parent families." He stopped bouncing Katie. "These days, a lot of families have only one parent." "I know," Megan said slowly. "But she can make it harder to adopt Ryan and Katie, in spite of the fact their parents made me the children's legal guardian." He put Katie on his lap and wiggled his fingers. She tried to grab them, grinning when she trapped one in her hand. "What can the investigator do?" He frowned. "Miss Blair questioned my income." A little headache was beginning, and she massaged her temples. "You got Chief at stud." "I know, but that's long range." He stood, set Katie in her lap, and rested his hand on Megan's shoulder. "The kids belong with you, not some old guy who doesn't love them." Megan tilted her head, trapped his hand, and let his warmth flow through her. For the first time, she didn't feel so alone in her battle with her father. ****

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As far as Megan was concerned, the next afternoon came too soon. Now the investigator was here, settled in the living room, with her briefcase aligned perfectly beside her chair. Megan had seen her settled, then brought in the tea tray and poured a cup of the fragrant brew for each of them. "Thank you, Miss O'Connor." Miss Blair accepted the cup, added two level teaspoons of sugar to her tea, and cut a lemon wedge precisely in half. Megan sipped her tea, assessing the investigator's pearlgray suit, white blouse, and sturdy, low-heeled shoes. Miss Blair sat with her spine straight and her feet together. A buttoned-up sort of person, Megan thought. "You have a lovely home." The woman made a cool survey of the living room. "I see you've left a delicate porcelain statue and a valuable clock where a small child can touch them. Are the children barred from this room?" "No. They both like to see the horse statue. Ryan has stroked it and satisfied his curiosity. It and the clock are out of Katie's reach." Megan worked to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "This is their home, not a showplace." "I see." Pursing her lips, the investigator made a notation on her pad. "How long have the children been in your care?" "They've been with me since a week before their parents were killed in the airplane crash." Megan gripped the chair's armrest, hoping Miss Blair didn't see her uneasiness. "But I'd already spent a lot of time with both children at their home." "According to the preliminary report, you've employed Ms. Frieda Haag as nanny. I want to interview her." 109

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"She isn't here. Frieda went to stay with her sister who's ill." "Where can I contact her?" "I'll give you the number. Here's the health questionnaires and pediatrician's reports for both children." Miss Blair leafed through the file, occasionally writing notes. "Tell me, how do you feel about parenting? It's a lot of responsibility." "Of course it is, but I love the children." "Don't they interfere with your social life? Mr. O'Connor told me about your whirl of activities when you lived at home." "He exaggerated." A childish giggle came from the monitor. "Katie's awake. I'll get her." The investigator rose. "I'll come with you and finish the section on sleeping arrangements for the children." Struggling to hide the fear and irritation knotting her stomach, Megan led the way upstairs and to Katie's room. The baby grinned. Clinging to the slats on the crib, she jumped up and down. "There's my big girl." Megan slid the side down, and Katie reached for her. With the child in her arms, she watched Miss Blair jot more notes on her interminable pad. Back in the living room after a diaper change, Katie played with fabric blocks and a Sesame Street pop-up toy. "When can I see the boy?" Miss Blair selected two cookies and put them on her small plate, then fixed Megan with a 110

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stare that would do justice to any prosecuting attorney. "By the way, where is Ryan?" "My foreman, Travis Knight, offered to keep him busy for a while this afternoon." As if answering the investigator's question, Megan heard footsteps on the porch, punctuated by laughter and a man's deep voice mingled with a child's. Ryan, wearing his miniature Stetson trotted in, tugging on Travis's hand. "Aunt Meg, there's a strange car outside. Who's here? Is it another funny man?" He glanced back at Travis, who stood with one shoulder braced against the door frame. "We'll chase 'em for you." The foreman removed his hat, and nodded. "Ma'am." Hastily, Ryan took off his hat, and in a drawl so like Travis's, said, "Ma'am." Megan quickly introduced her foreman. Seeing the investigator's eyes narrow in speculation, Megan felt heat climb up her throat to her cheeks. "There's nobody to chase away, honey. Come and meet Miss Blair, a lady who wants to ask you a few questions." "Okay. Can I have some cookies?" She held out the dish. "Just two. I'll get you a glass of milk later." No way would she leave him alone with the Adoption Plus inquisitor. "So, Ryan, do you like living here with your Aunt Megan?" "It's fun. I can play Power Ranger." He dropped the halfeaten cookie on a napkin, crossed his wrists, shouted, "Go Rangers," and did two karate kicks and three hand chops. "See? Aunt Megan didn't yell." 111

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Megan, who was ready to yell, said mildly, "That's an outside game, remember?" "Oh. Yeah. I forgot." He finished his cookie. While Miss Blair jotted furiously, Megan looked at Travis. He flashed her a thumbs-up signal and an encouraging smile. The woman touched her pen to the next item on the list. "Do you have other children to play with besides your sister, Kathleen?" "We call her Katie." He gave her a smile that said she'd asked a silly question, but it was okay. Megan felt a catch in her throat. Kyle's expression had been the same when he'd ignored some small goof she'd made. He'd always given her unconditional acceptance. "I don't got other kids to play with, but I got my Aunt Meg, and Travis, an' Pete, an' Bill, an' Slim, an' a lotta guys. They make me laugh. One time Travis took me for a long ride on his horse." "Where did you go?" Ryan studied his second cookie, took a bite, and chewed. "We went way up in the mountains to find a stone elephant. I walked to the edge and looked a hundred miles down to the ground." Frowning, Miss Blair leaned forward. "You mean he let you stand where it was scary?" From the corner of her eye, Megan saw Travis's expression grow hard. "No way! He squeezed my hand real tight. He's my friend. He won't let anything happen to me, or Katie, or Auntie Meg." 112

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Looking puzzled, Ryan peered into Miss Blair's face. "Who told you to come here and ask all these questions?" She leafed through her pages and came to a form with a photograph clipped to it. Showing the picture to him, she said, "Ryan, here's the man who sent me. Do you know him?" "Grandpa?" Ryan looked uncertain and crowded against Megan's knees. "Aunt Meg, is she gonna make me go stay with him? I want to stay here with you, an' Katie, and Travis." She hugged him, breathing in his little boy scent blended with sweet hay and sunshine. "You're living here at Silvertip with me." The investigator cleared her throat. "That matter is still in contention. In making his decision, the judge will look at all the factors, including the type of home and lifestyle provided for the children." While the woman consulted her notes, Megan buried her nose in Ryan's hair, avoiding eye contact with Travis. Despite her attention to the child, she felt Travis staring at her. Miss Blair tapped the top sheet. "Burke O'Connor is financially independent. Your funds are tied up." "That's only temporary. The children are well fed. I have medical insurance for them and they're healthier and much happier here than they were at my father's estate." Katie crawled to Megan and tried to climb into her lap. She lifted the little girl, cuddling her. Miss Blair glanced up, gazing at Katie and Ryan. Megan quelled the sudden impulse to run with the children to a place where her father would never find her. Anyway, that was 113

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impossible. Her father could afford the best detectives. Eventually, he'd locate her. Apparently unaware of the thoughts racing through Megan's mind, the woman continued. "Mr. O'Connor can provide a secure home and the best possible education. He's arranged with a well-qualified nanny to care for the children. He'll allow Ms. Haag to remain with them for three months to make the transition easier. Of course, you're welcome to return to your home. If not, you'll be allowed to visit Katie and Ryan." "Visit!" Megan gathered Ryan and Katie closer. "Their parents gave me legal custody." "I'm not a lawyer." Miss Blair shrugged. "A judge will make the final decision." She plucked a set of stapled papers from her briefcase. "The detective Mr. O'Connor hired learned some interesting information." Her lips thinned. "He stated that you and Mr. Knight are more than employer and employee. He said he saw you together in a romantic rendezvous. The court may choose to consider you an unfit guardian for impressionable children." "You're wrong." Megan's heart sank. If she lost the children, it would be the end of her world. Damn her father for smearing her with half-truths. "Miss Blair—" Suddenly Travis stood beside her. He settled his fingers at the nape of her neck, gently stroking her. "Looks like you called our hand, ma'am. We're engaged. I'm Megan's fiancé." 114

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CHAPTER 9 Fiancé, Travis thought. Get real. They stood on the porch, his arm around Megan's stiff shoulders, and watched the woman from Adoption Plus drive away. He held Ryan's hand, mocking himself for the picture they made of a family. The moment the sensible compact disappeared into the tunnel of trees lining the road, Megan turned on him. "Engaged!" she exploded. "What in the world possessed you?" He raised a conciliatory hand. "I was trying to help." "You helped me all right, helped me lose the chi—" She glanced at Ryan. "—everything I've accomplished here, everything important." The boy's small fingers tightened on his and the sturdy body crowded against his leg and thigh. Katie whimpered. Megan patted her back, glaring at him. "Now see what you've done." "Me?" He dragged in a breath, fighting his own nerves. "Calm down. What's so wrong about saying I'm your fiancé? We bought some time, didn't we?" "Were you kicked in the head by one bronc too many?" Her chin rose angrily. "What happens when we don't get married? Miss Blair will put me down as a liar or a scatterbrain. It'll damage my case." "I didn't say when. Hell, is it so impossible to believe we're attracted to each other?" 115

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"Miss By-The-Numbers will expect us to have a ring and a date." "So? Stall." "For how long?" Her cheeks blazed and her mouth was set in a stubborn line. "Until you win." Ryan tugged on his leg. Travis looked down into the child's green, tear-filled eyes. "Are you mad at me and Aunt Meg?" Crouching down to the kid's eye level, Travis ruffled the boy's red hair. "I'm not angry at you or your aunt. We're just talking about something important." "Oh." Ryan's nose wrinkled and he seemed to consider the problem. He leaned close to Travis's ear and whispered. "She needs a hug." "I know," he whispered back. "You give her one." Ryan trotted to Megan and locked his arms around her waist, just below Katie's feet. "I love you. Don't be mad." She smoothed his hair back from his face and pressed his cheek against her stomach. "Honey, I love you, too. Everything's okay." "Good. Let's get cookies." "You got it." She looked at Travis and her tender expression was replaced by annoyance. "We'll hash this out later." "What's to hash out?" Her eyes flashed. "And what do you think my father's going to say when he hears I'm engaged to a cowboy I've known for only a month?" "You can tell him it's the magic of love." 116

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"Love?" She glared, spun on her heel, and, with Ryan and Katie, marched into the house. Why in the hell did I say that? Travis walked through the hot, resin-scented wind to the upper pasture to check on the mares. He mulled over what he'd told the investigator, and the scene on the porch. Damn, he'd rather break his ribs riding a bull any day than marry an heiress like his boss. Liar, his memory whispered. Megan's different. She'd gone out of her way to make the ranch a comfortable place for the crew, bought new blankets for the bunkhouse, even cooked that god-awful meatloaf. No mother could be sweeter or more giving with the kids. And she sure as hell stirred his blood. **** Megan put the heaping platter of oven-baked chicken on the table in front of Pete and avoided Travis, but tension hummed between them. She struggled to understand why her anger still simmered. After all, he said he'd been trying to help when he announced he was her fiancé. Some help. She sat at her place away from Travis and gave Katie a bowl of banana chunks to keep her content while the crew ate. Ryan had finished earlier and was watching a kid's show. "Mighty fine chicken an' fixin's, Miz Megan." Bill grinned and forked up another bite of potatoes drenched in gravy. "Thanks." She laughed. "Even I can follow directions on the box."

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Tony drained his mug, set it on the table, and patted his lean stomach. "Your coffee sure beats the tar out of what Bill makes on the bunkhouse stove." "There's more brewing." She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the fresh pot. Moving around the table to serve each man, she came to Travis. As she reached past him to fill his mug, her left breast brushed his upper arm. The nipple beaded. A fine thread of tension spun between them, and her hand shook. "Steady." His strong fingers wrapped around hers, tipping the pot to fill his mug. He'd left the top two buttons undone on his shirt, and she saw the fine curl of hair. His heat radiated around her. She smelled the spicy soap he'd used in his shower. His shower. Don't go there, she instructed herself, but her unruly imagination presented the image of his muscled chest and its inverted triangle of golden hair. That's enough. "That enough?" Wordlessly, his hand tightened on hers. Covering her confusion with a smile, she took her place again. Megan looked at her foreman. His eyes darkened, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her plate. Around her, the men joked and traded insults. Travis would join in with a lazy comment, but each time she peeked at him, he was watching her. Finally she escaped to the kitchen to bring in warmed slices of peach pie. Travis forked up a bite. "Damned good," he said, going for another mouthful. 118

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"It's part of the stash Frieda left in the freezer." A bead of pie syrup moistened his lips. Would it taste of Travis or peach? And why did she have the crazy impulse to taste and discover? To kiss? **** While she bathed the children, read to them, and put them to bed, the memory of Travis's mouth, of the lightning when they touched, troubled her. She'd never reacted this way toward any man. She'd finally gained her independence. No way would she ever again let a man dominate her. After her shower, she smoothed on lotion and slipped into a lace-trimmed cotton nightgown. As she tied the two front ribbons, she had a mental picture of a man's fingers loosening the satin strips, brushing the swell of her skin with his callused fingertips. In the secret depths of her heart, something wild stirred. She whispered his name. The children slept and nobody else was in the house. Feeling deliciously wicked, Megan left her robe and slippers in the closet. Downstairs, she looked out the window at the bunkhouse and foreman's cottage. No lights. Her contrary imagination produced another image. A rawly-masculine cowboy sprawled across the bed, asleep. Moonlight spilling in the window lit his pale hair and bathed his naked body and—what was she doing? In the quiet living room, she curled up in a chair with a Nora Roberts romance and tried to lose herself in the story. 119

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The telephone rang. Wondering who'd be calling after ten, she heard her father's voice on the line. Typical. "Megan, what the hell kind of game are you playing? Have you lost your senses?" "Hello to you, too, Father. What prompted you to call me— " She checked the clock and made a quick mental calculation. "—after midnight?" "Don't get mouthy. You know damned well why I'm calling. Who the hell is Travis Knight?" Megan could picture her father in his study, leaning forward in his leather chair, glaring. "He's my foreman." "Don't give me that bull, missy. I called Lydia Blair from Adoption Plus and got an earful. I won't have some saddle bum corrupting Kyle's children." "He's not a saddle bum. He's hard-working and reliable. I checked his references." "He the one who ran off Langston?" "What about it? Felix wouldn't leave when I asked. Mr. Knight encouraged him to go." "Encouraged, hell. He damned near dragged him to the car." She laughed. "Felix is a wuss. My foreman didn't touch him. That brings up another problem." She took a breath to steady her voice. "Stop encouraging your friends to marry me and haul me back to the old lifestyle." "I want you here. I want to protect you." His voice rose. "I want to see Kyle's children." "Dad, I've told you you're welcome to visit here at Silvertip." 120

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"And let you set the rules? I'll do what I damn please, and it won't be cooling my heels on some jerkwater ranch." He paused. Megan heard his chair creak and pictured him leaning back, fingers steepled as he planned a new strategy. "Meggie," his tone was gentle, coaxing. "Aren't you tired of the hard work, the rough cowhands, struggling to pay their wages? I heard you've had to sell your poor dead mother's jewelry. What would she say if she knew?" "She'd applaud." "Megan—" "Dad, I'm not a little girl. I'm running my own life. Of course it'd be easier if you'd release my money and stop blocking me, but I'm doing fine without it. Travis has helped me work out a plan to breed and sell Appaloosas. He's training them and other breeds as cutting horses to sell." "Travis, is it? When do we expect the wedding bells?" Her father's voice whipped through the connection. "Hope you clean him up and scrape the manure off his boots." Megan heard the crash of the receiver and the dial tone. Stunned, she slowly replaced the handset. Travis. He'd caused this new problem. She didn't care if he was asleep. They'd have it out now. She charged through the door and across the cool, windy, moonlit yard. Travis jerked awake at the sound of the door creaking open. "What the hell?" Before he could push aside the sheet, Megan marched through the cabin and into his bedroom, a white nightgown swirling around her knees. He had one tantalizing glimpse of the outline of her body before she closed the door. It took all 121

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his willpower not to yank her into bed, but his body had its own ideas. Damn. "Hey, you're naked," she yelped. "I sleep in the raw." Ignoring her, he pulled on jeans, very carefully, over his bare skin, leaving the top snap undone. She stood frozen with her back against the closed door. He moved closer. "What's wrong? Kids okay?" "Katie and Ryan are great. I'm, or I should say, we are the ones in it up to our necks." "Why?" Her natural fragrance, tinged with rose, was busily roping his senses and tying him into a knot. In the intimate dark, the last thing he needed was temptation. "You and your big mouth. Now my father expects us to get married." "Married?" He shook his head. Was he dreaming? He reached for the lamp. "Stop it!" She blocked his hand. "No lights. Someone'll see." "No lights," he agreed, and led her back to the living room—away from the bed and its temptation. "Sit down and tell me what the hell's going on." He thought about grabbing a shirt, decided she'd have to live with seeing his bare chest, and flopped onto the couch. Moonshine illuminated the chair and Megan. Her nipples cast enticing shadows under the thin fabric of her white gown. Two ribbons moved with the rhythm of her breathing. His fingers itched to tug them free. He'd never seen her with her auburn hair loose. Tonight it flowed in rich ripples over her shoulders and down her back. 122

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In two steps he could have her in his arms, bury his face in her hair, bury his need in her feminine softness. "You're not listening, Travis." She folded her arms and gave him a disgusted look. "Hey, give me a break. You pulled me out of a sound sleep and told me your father thinks we're getting married." "You've got it. Just an example of you trying to run my life." Travis rubbed his face. "I was trying to help, to buy you some time and protect Ryan and Katie." She laughed bitterly. "Another example of good intentions paving the road to hell. All my life, Dad has treated me like a combination ornament and airhead. If I don't marry you, he'll take it as more proof he was right." "That's what's worrying you? Not the children?" "Damn you, Travis, the children are my biggest concern." She sprang to her feet. "If my father can twist the report to make it look like I'm unfit, he'll get Ryan and Katie." She sucked in a sobbing breath, and it took all his willpower not to jump up and draw her into his embrace. Moonlight streamed around her. Her face was shadowed, but her shoulders slumped and her voice had tightened with pain. "He doesn't really want them, except as a symbol of his family name and power." "Aw, Megan." He moved to gather her into his arms. She stiffened. He rubbed her back until she relaxed. "We'll work it out for Ryan and Katie. Nobody will blame you for not wanting to marry a poor cowboy." 123

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"Nothing wrong with poor." She sniffled. "You're a million times better than those wimps in designer suits who lick my father's boots." He tucked her closer, and gently rocked her back and forth. Her nipples beaded against his bare chest. His arousal grew heavier. He adjusted his stance so he wouldn't press against her, and looked down into her eyes. "Travis?" She touched his cheek. Turning his head, he set a kiss in her palm. She closed her hand with an uncertain expression on her face. "Megan," he whispered, tilting her face up with a finger under her chin. She sighed. Her warm, moist breath washed across his skin, setting off ripples of sensation. She wrapped her arms around his waist and murmured, "Kiss me." Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. In the wash of moonlight, her moist lips were parted, an invitation to him. He brushed his mouth across hers, tasting, sampling. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears. She tightened her fingers on his back. "Travis." It sounded like a prayer, and he answered with a glide of kisses across her lips. She panted, opening her mouth to him. He probed the textures, tasting the salt, the sweetness. He paused to fight the aching pressure in his groin. She murmured, "More," and dug her nails into his flesh. He bore her backwards to the couch, laying her down, battling to go slowly. 124

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She lifted her arms to him in a lazy, seductive flow. Her breasts rose. The small ribbons holding the front together, beckoned. Kneeling on the floor beside her, he flicked a shiny ribbon and looked into her eyes. They glowed in the moonshine spilling through the open drapes. She nodded. He tugged the top ribbon, watched the bow fall away and the material part, revealing the upper curve of her breasts. She looked down at the opening, then gazed at him and traced his mouth with her fingertip. "Yes." Her voice vibrated with unknown hunger. A faint scent of rose and musk hovered in the air. Caught in a rush of desire, he pulled the second ribbon open—the delicate fabric snagging on his callused fingers— and stared at both breasts, uncovered except for a frame of white cotton and lace. He lost himself in the fragrant valley, soft and tantalizing, like a warm summer day in the high mountains when wildflowers bloomed. Her slender fingers slid through his hair, stroking his scalp, tugging, holding him to her. But he wanted, needed more. Megan tightened her hands in Travis's hair and groaned at the pleasure sweeping through her. His fingers joined the magic of his mouth. They cupped the outside curves of her breasts, plumping them. His thumb brushed one taut nipple, his tongue teased the other, while rivers of sensual fire raced through her nerves. His hot mouth left the beaded tip. As the moisture cooled, her sensitive flesh ached for his heat. 125

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He silenced her protest with a hungry kiss. His thumbs fanned the crest of each breast, and she clutched his shoulders, her only stable point in a whirlwind of sensations. Again, his mouth dipped, his lips nibbled and tugged on the other pearled crest. And her back arched, her body pleading for hotter, longer, harder. He growled, low and sexy—and rose, setting one knee beside her hip. His hand began a slow, tantalizing journey across her waist, lower and lower to the edge of her nightgown, and raised the hem. The golden hairs on the back of his fingers set off ripples in her skin. Cool air brushed her upper thighs. Her mother's lecturing voice nagged her. Never let a man touch you there. Suddenly alarmed, she clamped her legs together and pushed at his roving hand. "Megan," he murmured, bending to kiss her neck. Weak from desire, wild for more of his magic, she still knew she had to stop. "No. Please. I can't." "Oh, damn." He looked at her, closed his eyes for a moment, and groaned. With shaking fingers, he pulled the fabric together across her breasts and tried to tie the top ribbon. Gently, she slipped her hand under his. "I'll do it." He sank onto both knees on the rug, and bowed his head. "Lady, you're killing me." "Don't say that. I want you to touch me—" He raised his head and stared. "But I'm afraid." 126

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"Of me?" "Of myself." She swung her legs off the couch and sat, knees close together, her bare legs a scant inch away from Travis. He still knelt in the shadows at her feet. She reached for him, interrupting a stray beam of moonlight that lit his pale hair and slashed across his tense expression. His musky male scent tantalized and drew her. Her own senses rocked with the shattering after-effects of passion and denial. "Travis, I can't say I'm not attracted to you. God knows, you're a woman's dream." "Then why?" He set a warm hand on her knee, scorching her through the thin cotton. She started to brush his hand away. Instead, she laid her fingers on his. "Try to understand. I saw the damage done among my acquaintances by meaningless relationships, and I promised myself I wouldn't get caught in that trap." "You need commitment." He clasped her hand. "I need a man who really loves me." Megan held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything. Silently, Travis got to his feet. He traced the tears slipping from beneath her lashes. When he didn't say any more, she broke and ran to the house. This time the cold soil and rough pebbles hurt her feet, and she welcomed the distraction. Pausing on the porch to open the door, she glanced back at the foreman's cabin. Travis stood just outside his door watching her. She stepped in and shut the door, closing out the night. Closing out the man. 127

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CHAPTER 10 "Commitment. Love." Travis jammed the awl into the leather strap on the saddle he was repairing. How could anything last between two people with such different backgrounds? "Ryan." Megan's voice floated across the late afternoon quiet. From his seat on the old wooden chair just inside the barn entrance, he saw Megan on the porch. Afternoon sunshine bounced from the white rails and highlighted the curves in her jeans and sky-colored blouse. He bent to examine his work, but moonlit scenes filled his thoughts. The remembered scent of woman and roses made him tighten. Last night Megan had set a blaze in him faster than any wildfire whipping across dry grass. This morning at breakfast the heat still sizzled between them, but she'd stayed away from him and had roped Bill into pouring coffee. For a few hours he'd checked and doctored the herd of beef cattle in the north pasture. "Ryan, come here this instant." Megan sounded worried. Travis put aside his job and stepped out of the shadows into her view. "I'll look for him." She waved and went inside. He trudged around the side of the barn to the goat pen first, but the boy wasn't there. 128

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The mares. Small hairs on the back of his neck stirred, and he jogged toward the home pasture. He recalled Ryan's question that morning at breakfast. "Travis, did you ride horses when you were little?" He'd answered, more interested in the curve of Megan's hip. "Yeah, kid. Dad put me on my first horse when I was three." "I'm almost five. I wanna learn to ride and be a cowboy like you." A cowboy like me. Swearing, Travis broke into a run. Past the outer building and closer to the fence, he slowed. He didn't want to spook the mares. At first, everything looked peaceful. A meadowlark sang. A quiet breeze danced across the pasture spreading the fresh spice of grass and sun-warmed soil. The black Appaloosa with leopard markings grazed at the far end. Nearer, the dark bay with a snowflake pattern drowsed in the sun. The Morgan watched the loafing shed, her ears pricked forward with curiosity. A high whinny came from the shed. The bay colt trotted out, Ryan running after him swinging a small rope. Travis vaulted the fence and called, "Stop. Don't chase the horse." "We're playing cowboy." Ryan lunged at the colt. It sidestepped and Ryan laughed. "Come on, kid," Travis said, coaxingly, afraid to frighten the colt into injuring the boy. Slowly, he eased toward the pair. 129

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"Okay, just one more time." Ryan swung the small rope again. The colt shied away, bumping him with its hindquarters. The child flew forward and landed on the ground—hard. Travis covered the last few feet in a rush and fell on his knees beside the small form. Ryan rolled over and sat up. His eyes teared up. Sobs shook his small frame. "The horsie hitted me." "He didn't mean to. You scared him." Travis carefully brushed a smudge of dirt from the boy's forehead. "Well, he scareded me." "I know." Travis helped him to sit up, watching his face for signs of pain. "But he was afraid you were going to hurt him with the rope." "I want my Auntie Megan." His voice trembled. Travis picked him up, settling the small, sturdy body in his arms. "I'll take you." Ryan sighed. Resting his head on the broad shoulder, he stuck his thumb in his mouth, and curled one small arm around Travis's neck. Filled with a tender concern for the child, Travis headed for the house. He loved his nieces and nephews. Now Ryan had found a place in his heart. Why had he let it happen? From the living room window, Megan saw them coming, Ryan's head nestled on Travis's shoulder, red hair against pale gold. Her foreman was tight-lipped. One big hand rubbed Ryan's back as if to comfort him. 130

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Megan's stomach clenched with alarm. She glanced at Katie safe in the playpen, and raced out to the porch. "Is Ryan okay? Where did you find him?" "Found him in the home pasture chasin' the bay colt." Travis's tone was flat, unemotional, but she sensed an underlying anger and fear. "He knows better than to bother the horses, and I've told him never to go there alone." "Well, it sure as hell didn't stick." Ryan lifted his face toward Megan. Tears glittered on his cheeks and a bruise smudged his forehead. "Auntie Meg, the horsie scareded me." He's still so young, she thought, a lump in her throat. "Here. Give him to me." Travis hunkered down and eased the little guy onto his feet. "He's fine, just had the wind knocked out of him." Megan gathered Ryan into her arms and held him fiercely. He'd been hurt and she hadn't been there to prevent it. Travis straightened, looking down at her. "Keep the kid in sight," he said in a wintry voice. "A ranch is a dangerous place." Before she could answer, he left in a ground-eating stride, heading toward the home pasture. Going to check on the horses, she thought. They're more important to him than any little kid. Then she recalled his bleak expression. He did care. Ryan wiggled out of her grasp. "I gotta tell Katie about the little horse." He ran up the stairs and into the house. 131

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Megan followed. Thank God, Frieda would be back tomorrow. Katie had started walking. Soon she'd be a handful to watch. **** Frieda returned with good news about her sister's full recovery and presents for the children. She and Megan agreed to take turns preparing the evening meal. The days fell into a peaceful routine for Megan, except for two things—her hungry attraction to Travis and worry about her father's next move in the fight over the children. The letter she'd been dreading came in the Tuesday mail. Megan slowly closed the ranch office door and slumped into the chair behind her desk. With the sensation of the floor opening under her feet, she read her copy of Lydia Blair's report. "What can I do?" she groaned when she finished, and buried her face in her hands. The door banged open and warm fingers gripped her shoulder. "That the letter from Adoption Plus?" Travis asked. Megan looked up into his stern face. "It's a copy of the report they sent to my father." "Bad news." "Awful. Miss Blair compared my uncertain finances with Dad's solid fortune." Travis's fingers tightened. "We're handling that." Megan nodded and took a breath. "She contrasted Dad sending Ryan to an exclusive school and hiring a qualified nanny for Katie to my lack of experience." 132

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"You love the kids." He massaged her shoulder. "That's a helluva lot better than any paid nursemaid or fancy school." Megan whispered, "I know," too devastated by the next item to take any real comfort. "Miss Blair quoted an anonymous male who said you and I were having an intimate affair. She said, in her opinion, it would have a bad influence on Ryan and Katie." "Damn. Who does she think she is? And who the hell says we're having an affair? I'll hogtie the bastard and leave him to rot." "Travis, we know it's not true, but how do we prove it to the judge at the hearing?" Her voice faltered. Memories flashed through her mind—his lips on hers, his mouth on her breasts, the lightning strokes of pleasure. He froze, his face a tight, unreadable mask. "Want me to leave Silvertip?" "Of course not. We need you here. I won't let some cowardly person, anonymous or not, ruin both our reputations or force you to go." She stuffed the report into her desk drawer and slammed it. "I'll fight for Ryan and Katie if it takes everything I have." Surprisingly, one corner of Travis's mouth kicked up. "You're a real wildcat when you get rolling." "You've got that right." The telephone rang and Travis turned to leave. "Wait," she said reaching for the handset. As she answered, he perched one hip on her desk. So close she could reach out and touch his muscled thigh straining the faded denim. 133

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Her father's voice riveted her attention. "Well, missy, you sure as hell sabotaged your chances to keep the kids. Ready to give up your ranch obsession and come home where you belong?" "Dad, the report's wrong. You're wrong." Megan struggled to keep her voice calm. She sensed Travis watching her and looked up into his grim face. Her father said in a mellow tone. "Meggie, be reasonable. You've had your fling with the cowboy. Hell, I'll pay you full price plus a profit for the ranch and you can give it to him as a good-bye gift. Come back to men of your own class." "That cowboy hasn't asked for anything. He's worth a hundred of the men you've dangled in front of me. He's honest and hard-working." Travis stood. "I'll wait on the porch. Call me when you're done." "Megan," her father roared, "does that bastard live in your house?" With a sinking heart, she watched the door close behind her foreman. "Of course not." She heard the click of a lighter as her father lit a cigar. "Daughter, I have a proposition for you." The sly cheerfulness in his voice warned her to be cautious. "The only thing I want is for you to leave the children and me alone. You know Ryan's afraid of you. If you care about him, you'll give him time to grow a little older." "Hell, that won't do any good."

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"I have a picture of you and Ryan when he was a baby. I'll tell him about how happy and proud you were when he was born, and find out why he's scared." "Forget that plan. Come back with him and the baby. It's time you stopped coddling the boy. You're turning him into a wimp." "Dad, this conversation is over." "I'll see you in court." He broke the connection. She sat with handset clutched in her fingers until a raucous buzz reminded her to hang up. Her father was still determined to run the children's lives and hers. **** Travis braced one shoulder against a porch column, waiting, and gazed at the sweep of land, framed by jagged mountains on one side and distant peaks on the other. Wind shivered through the pines and firs, bringing the first hint of fall. His thoughts centered on Megan. She carried a hell of a load trying to keep the ranch going. Her s.o.b. father had put the screws to her when he'd tied up her money. Worse, if he got the kids, she'd be destroyed. The kids. He folded his arms, trying to block out the feel of Katie in his arms. Trying to forget her soft hand patting his cheek, her cheerful babble. Wolfie nuzzled his leg and he stooped to scratch the furry head. An image popped into his mind of Ryan walking beside him, holding his hand, with Wolfie keeping pace. Another 135

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memory surfaced of the little guy asking about heaven, confiding his fear of his grandfather. "Damn." Travis straightened. Katie and Ryan had sure as hell captured his heart. And their aunt? He wouldn't explore that trail. He turned at the sound of the door opening. Megan hesitated, then lowered her lashes, but not before he saw the sadness in her eyes. The bottom line was he had to help, had to do whatever he could to protect them. She crossed the porch. "I guess you know my father was happy about the report." "He still wants you to leave the ranch and go back east?" She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if it ached. "He pulled out all the stops this time—ordered, coaxed, bribed, and threatened." "Bribed?" "Can you believe it? He said he'd buy the ranch. That I was supposed to give it to you as a good-bye gift, then take the children back east to live." "Pretty damned tempting to a lot of guys." Travis threw a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Ride with me for an hour. It'll relax you." "Ryan and Katie—" "Frieda's with them." Megan's expression lightened. "The children were happy to see her. Me, too. Let's go." Afternoon sun gilded the treetops. Megan settled more deeply into the saddle and felt her heart lift. Riding through 136

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the grove was like traveling in a tunnel of brown columns roofed in green. Here and there, bits of bright blue sky sparkled through the dark-jade needles. The air was heavy with the scents of pine and the dust kicked up by their horses. Travis reined in at a wide place in the trail and waited. A shaft of sunlight dappled his bright hair and denim work shirt. As he turned, he stripped her with his molten gaze. The tips of Megan's breasts pebbled under the impact. She tugged at the front of her open vest to relieve the friction across her sensitized skin. He crossed one hand over the other and sat loose-limbed, at ease. "We're here." "Where?" She looped the reins around the pommel of the saddle and rubbed her arms to warm them. They'd climbed steadily upward and the temperature had dropped in the shade. "Listen." She heard the liquid sound of rushing water. "A waterfall?" "Lovers' Pool." He sounded matter-of-fact, but there was an underlying sensual note in his voice. He dismounted in one fluid motion. "It's rocky. We'll walk from here." They led their horses to a patch of grass tucked between the trees and a rockbound pool fed by a narrow fall leaping from the shear granite cliff. "It's beautiful," Megan murmured. "So wild and unspoiled." "Figured you'd like it." He took her hand, guiding her to a granite slab at the edge of the pool. "Relax." 137

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She perched on the sun-warmed rock and drank in the sights. Once her ears were accustomed to the rush of the waterfall, she heard the musical click of rocks tapping against others in the pool. A light spray drifted across her face, delicious in the warm sunshine. The air was fresh with the scent of water and mountain air. Travis picked up a handful of stones and threw them, one by one, into the water. "I've been thinking about what your father said." "About the ranch?" "Ryan and Katie, and what would happen if that bastard gets custody." His expression hardened. "Dammit, kids should be happy and loved. With you, they are." "They're not your responsibility. What could you do?" "That's what's eating me." He spun on one heel and stood, shoulders thrown back, hands fisted at his side. She rose and touched his arm. "Travis, I'm deeply moved to know you care so much for the children, but this is my fight." He faced her and gently ran his knuckles down her cheek. "Not if we got married."

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CHAPTER 11 "Married?" Am I dreaming? No. Megan heard birds chirping in the trees. Sunshine glinted off the waterfall and pool, and a fine mist dampened her face. "What about love? I always thought the man I married would love me. What you're talking about is more a business arrangement. A marriage of convenience." Travis's expression was guarded. "Why not? We're sure as hell sexually attracted to each other." "Marriage is more than how good we'd be in bed." She cursed the blush coloring her face. "It's more than some married people have." Returning to her perch on the granite slab, she shaded her eyes with one hand and looked up at him. "What do you want in a marriage? What's your ideal woman?" "A woman who loves children. One who respects me and is faithful." He settled beside her on the cool rock. The heat from his body reached out and enfolded her. "I want a woman who trusts me to take care of her." Megan smiled. "A woman with old-fashioned ideals." "Like you." He took her hand. "The only drawback is your wealth." "You mean the money tied up so tight I can't get to it to pay the wages?" Lightly, he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her temple. "I believe a man earns the money in a family and takes care of his wife and children." 139

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Annoyed, she leaned away from his seductive fingers. "That's not just old-fashioned, it's ancient. What about all the working wives and mothers? My father's executive secretary has a husband and children." "Nothing wrong with a woman working outside the home." He gave an impatient shrug. "Back home, my mom worked Thursdays and Fridays at the bank. She worked beside my dad on the ranch. They were a team." "A team? Like you calling the shots and expecting me, the owner of the ranch, to obey?" "Dammit, no. Like you realizing I've had more experience running a spread." He surged to his feet, muscles moving smoothly under his worn Wranglers. "Hell, I didn't propose marriage so I could run your life or get into your pants. I want the kids to be happy, to stay with you—with us." He shoved his fingers through his hair, and his jaw tensed. Harshly he said, "I'm not after your inheritance, Megan. I'm not a damned fortune hunter. Is that clear?" She stood, laying her hand on his chest. "I believe you." His voice softened. "Let me help you keep Ryan and Katie. Work with me to make the ranch pay its way." Cupping her face, he urged, "Marry me, Megan. I'll help you adopt the kids, then, when you decide it's time, I'll get out of your life." "Marriage will solve Miss Blair's main objection." Megan ached at the thought of him leaving her some day, but she didn't want to hobble him, force him to make a commitment. "A marriage in name only?" "If you want, but we have to convince everyone, especially the judge, that we can give the kids a stable family." 140

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"You mean sleep together?" "Share the same room, the same bed if necessary, work together." He stroked his thumb across her lips. "Act like newlyweds." She pulled away. "You don't love me." "I respect you. As long as we're married, I'll be faithful." "Guess that's all I can ask." She stared at Lovers' Pool, then back to his compelling eyes, to his face bronzed by sun and wind, to his sincere expression. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I'll be your wife, Travis, in every way but making love, for as long as we both choose." She slipped away from him, hurried to Foxfire, untied the reins and swung into the saddle. **** Travis stepped out of the cabin into the cool, moonlit evening, patted his shirt pocket for the small box, and headed to the ranch house. They'd marry to protect Ryan and Katie. His shadow raced ahead of him. He remembered Megan's curves outlined under her white nightgown as she'd slipped into his quarters. Soon, he'd have her in his bed, but not in his arms. "Think cold showers," he muttered, marching up the porch steps. Another image came. Megan saying, I need a man who really loves me, of silent tears slipping down her cheeks, and her barefooted dash to the porch. Before going in, she'd looked over her shoulder at him, and he'd stood there frustrated and aching. Would marriage to her be a series of cold showers and long nights? 141

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Was he strong enough to keep his promise of no sex? The house was quiet, but the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla led him to the kitchen. He grinned at the sight of Megan, in bunny slippers, a smear of flour on one cheek, wearing an apron that said Genius At Work. Enough oatmeal raisin cookies to feed the crew for a month were cooling on wire racks on the table. But she was busily filling another cookie sheet with small, creamy-brown balls of dough. "Be with you in a moment," she said, flattening the top of each dough-ball. "Soon as I put these peanut butter cookies in to bake." "Peanut butter?" His mouth watered. "Looks like the kind my mom made." "Frieda taught me how." Megan slid the pan into the oven and set the timer. "Want some coffee? You can sample my baking." She grinned. "If you're brave." "Why not? Told you I like to live dangerously." Lounging at the cleared end of the table, he chose a large oatmeal cookie and bit into it. "Not bad." "Damned by faint praise." She poured a mug for him, refilled her own, and sat across from him. He ate a second and took a handful. Almost like a married couple. "I've been thinkin' about our plan to marry." "Having second thoughts?" Megan's smile faded. "I won't hold you to our agreement," she said hurriedly. "Hey, don't worry, I'm not going back on my word." Walking around to her side of the table, he hunkered down in front of her. 142

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She pushed back her chair and faced him. "What are you doing?" "Making it official." He retrieved the box from his pocket and opened it. "Great grandma's engagement ring. She left it to me for the woman I marry." "It's beautiful, Travis." She studied him, somberly. "But I can't take it." "Why not? Too old-fashioned? The diamond too small?" "Of course not." She pressed her fingers against the side of his hand holding the jeweler's box. "It's perfect, delicate. I love the gold filigree and heart setting. I can't accept it because you'll want to give it to the woman you marry for love." "I'm marrying you. Wear it." He slid the ring onto her finger and stood. "A perfect fit. From photos I've seen, she was slender like you." Megan rose gracefully from the chair and kissed his cheek. "I'll take good care of the ring. When we separate—" She cleared her throat. "When we're not together anymore, I'll give it back. It's an heirloom. You should keep it." Travis corralled his impulse to grab her and kiss her boots off. He'd made a deal, but his libido was playing hell with him, and his Wranglers were suddenly too damned tight. The buzzer sounded. Megan placed the ring on the table, picked up two potholders, and opened the oven on a wave of peanut butter aroma. Very carefully he sat and let the table hide his too-obvious reaction to her lips. He set the velvet-covered box beside the engagement ring. 143

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As she scooped up cookies and put them to cool, she said, "I didn't want the ring to get damaged. I'll take good care of it, Travis." "I guessed that." He watched her fill another baking sheet. "Why all the cookies?" She smiled wryly. "One of my quirks. When I'm worried or tense, I like to bake cookies." "Do I make you nervous?" He inhaled the delicious aromas filling the kitchen. "I'll remember that when we're married." "The thought of my wedding makes me jumpy." He caught her hand. A jolt of electric tension arced between them, and he quickly dropped her fingers. She stared at him, her eyes glowing with some indefinable emotion. Cold showers, he thought. For how long? **** Once they decided to marry, the arrangements had been quickly completed. The justice of the peace, Henry Drummond, lived in an old, restored stone-and-timber house on the banks of Silver Creek five miles south of Grizzly. It was evident to Megan that her marriage to Travis was a nice Friday evening's entertainment for the retired judge and his tiny wife. He greeted them with a paternal smile and handshake. His wife hovered at his side, fluttery with excitement. She took Megan's hand and led her to a plant-filled solarium with a marvelous view of the mountains by sunset. "My dear child, don't be nervous. Henry and I have been 144

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married forty-three years, and our love has grown sweeter and deeper than I ever could've imagined." "This is a beautiful place for the ceremony." To distract her thoughts from the idea of a temporary marriage, Megan made a show of examining the small altar set with three candles in a silver candelabra. "A unity candle," Lily Drummond explained. "My Henry and I think it's a good symbol for a wedding. Two people joining their lives to make a future." "It's a nice touch." Mentally, she sighed. At least she and Travis were united to protect the children. Lily gave her a sweet smile. "My dear, you're a beautiful bride. Your dress is perfect." "It's a favorite of mine." Megan glanced down at her classic, cream colored, silk dress. She'd left her more expensive clothes behind, but had packed just this one when she'd driven away from her father's estate. She certainly had never expected to wear it as a bride. If she'd married a man of her father's choice, her father would've insisted on a designer gown. He'd also have chosen a prestigious church and a country club reception filled by his friends and business associates—opportunities for him to wheel and deal million-dollar ventures. A simple ceremony in this beautiful, intimate setting was, to her, the best. Frieda had brought the children in a separate car. She and Lucy entered—Lucy holding Ryan's hand and Frieda carrying Katie. They each settled in chairs set out for them. 145

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Travis followed. He'd driven in shirtsleeves. Now he put on his black sports coat. He looked so handsome wearing it with his gray slacks, white dress shirt and red-and-gray tie that her pulse raced. Since that night in the kitchen, they'd been caught up in making arrangements—blood tests, getting a license, and buying rings. Travis had worked even longer days, staying away from the ranch until after dark. In the evenings, he practically fell asleep at the table. And he was always careful not to touch her when they were alone. She'd thought about their impending loveless wedding night and the consequences of marrying him. Could she protect her heart from falling more deeply in love with Travis? Was he having second thoughts about the commitment? "Penny for your thoughts, Megan," he whispered. She tingled at the sound of her name on his lips. It's all for show, she reminded herself. Aware of their small audience, she kissed his cheek. "I was thinking about us tonight." She heard a couple of sympathetic laughs. Chuckling, Henry Drummond clapped his hands together. "That's what I like to see. A bride and groom eager to get hitched." Lily bustled up with a florist's box. "Here's what you ordered, Mr. Knight." He took it from her with a smile of thanks. "For you, Megan." Opening it, she unfolded the green florist's tissue and felt a warm glow as she lifted out the bride's mixed bouquet of 146

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delicate white and pink roses, and fragrant stephanotis. "Travis, it's lovely." "Like you," he said in a warm, intimate tone. Lily Drummond clasped her hands and beamed at them. "Isn't that sweet?" She led them to the beginning of the short aisle flanked by chairs. Their handful of guests waited. Megan felt Travis's muscular arm under her hand. Assailed by sudden doubts, she murmured low enough only Travis could hear, "Last chance. Are you sure?" With a serious expression, he covered her fingers and glanced at the children. "I want to do this, Megan." Lily lit the outer two candles. The justice of the peace finished the first part of the ceremony, and invited Megan and Travis to light the central candle from the other two. Megan's hand shook. It's not really a lie that we're united as one, at least for a while, she reminded herself. Henry Drummond called on them to repeat their vows. As Travis looked down on Megan, who would soon be his wife, he felt a surge of pride. She looked delicate, feminine, shy. He slipped the ring onto her finger. She'd be his, if only for a few months, a year. Would she want to stay with him longer? She licked her lips, gave him a faint smile, and slid the broad, gold ring onto his finger. He had a quick, hot image of sliding up over her, of her cries of desire, of slipping into her welcoming heat. Drummond said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife." 147

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Travis didn't wait for the formal instruction to kiss the bride. He took Megan into his arms. She looked hesitant and vulnerable, and he gentled his kiss, settling into it softly, savoring the warmth of her lips. Someone cleared his throat. Travis pulled back, still holding his new wife. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked at him questioningly. "I won't forget my promise," he whispered. Before she could respond, the justice of the peace said, "It's my pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Travis Knight." Ryan evaded Frieda's hold and ran to them. He tugged on Travis's wrist. "You married my Auntie Megan. Does that mean you're my uncle?" "Sure does, pardner." "Oh, boy!" Ryan reached up to hug him, and Travis crouched down, embracing the little guy, knowing he'd made the right decision for Ryan, Katie, and Megan. And himself. Looking at his new wife, his Montana bride, and Katie, he ruffled Ryan's hair. After all, wasn't this his dream to have a family? **** An hour later, the wedding reception at Silvertip was going full blast. Boards had been laid for a dance floor beside the front porch. Lanterns had been strung and refreshment tables were groaning with food. Chairs and benches rimmed the dance area. The night was clear. Moonlight and starlight glowed through the trees. 148

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To the command of, "Grab yer filly," The Red River Rogues, a country western band, was beginning another tune. Megan fanned her face and pasted a smile on her lips for the benefit of John Grey, owner of the town general store. "I'll sit this one out, thanks." The brawny, middle-aged man had been surprisingly light on his feet, but after dancing almost non-stop with one partner after another, she needed a break. "Miz Knight, it's purely a pleasure dancin' with you. Want some refreshment?" "Think I'll just rest my feet a while." After John walked away, she scanned the crowd for her new husband and found him with a cluster of ranch owners. As if feeling her gaze on him, he turned and their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat at the impact of his hot stare. One of the ranchers made a comment. Travis laughed, and his expression eased into a smile. Lucy sat beside her with a sigh. "My feet are fair to falling off. I swear, the old coots around here dance harder'n the young ones." She nodded toward Travis. "That nephew of mine has stared holes in every man who's danced with you tonight. And I can tell you he weren't too pleased by the men who tried holding you too tight." "Then he should've cut in if he didn't like it." "Good thing he didn't." Lucy laughed. "It could've started a fight. Child, it does my heart good to see two people so in love." "Why else would we get married?" 149

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"No reason. It's as plain as the nose on your face he loves you." Lucy patted her hand. "But some might think it was to help you keep Ryan and Katie. A detective has been nosin' around the town, askin' questions about you and Travis." "My father's doing." "Don't you worry none. Anyone who sees you two young folks together know you love each other, just like Adam and me." Megan laid her hand on Lucy's. "You still miss him." "Every day. We were childhood sweethearts and got married when I finished high school. Circle S was our dream and we worked the land together." "I've come to love my spread, too." "So does Travis, and I'm glad." Lucy smiled. "As long as I can remember, he's wanted a ranch, even saved most of his rodeo winnings to buy one. But when it looked like I'd lose Circle S, he sent me money until all his ranch savings were gone." She lowered her voice. "He doesn't know it, but I've left Circle S to him in my will. After I'm gone, he can join the two spreads into one operation." And someday I'll have to see him with his new wife, Megan thought sadly. She glanced at Travis and found him watching her intently. He stood and moved in long, purposeful strides toward her. People called to him, but he ignored them. The smoldering desire she saw in his eyes startled her. "I've come to claim another dance with my wife." Travis tugged her to her feet and settled her in his arms as the band switched to a slow, dreamy number. A mild breeze fluttered 150

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the fabric of her dress. Through the silk, she felt the heat of Travis's hands pressing her closer. People nearby chuckled. A male voice said, "Can't keep a good man down." A woman responded, "Hush, Jed. They're newlyweds." Travis fingered a loose tendril of hair on Megan's cheek, and she realized how much she craved his touch. "I've neglected you," he said in a low, seductive voice. His hand brushed the back of her hair, then cradled her head, as he bent and caught the tip of her earlobe in his teeth. "Travis," she choked, trying to push him away. His hot mouth slid down to the base of her neck. He kissed the pulse point in her throat and whispered, "Play along with me." It's only for show, she thought, blushing, and buried her face in his shoulder. He stroked her spine. In spite of her resolve to keep emotionally separate from him, desire weakened her knees. She clung to him and reminded her traitorous body it was only to convince other people that she'd married Travis for love. His strong arms guided her through the dance, while her heart pounded in her chest. Would this reception never end? Suddenly, she remembered they'd be sharing one room, one bed. Better it didn't end too soon. ****

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An hour later, people collected their sleeping children and bundled them out to the cars. Ryan and Katie had fallen asleep earlier in the evening. And Frieda had gone to bed. Travis and Megan walked their guests out to the cars and pickups, calling goodbyes, and reminding everyone to drive safely. Then they were alone. Megan lingered downstairs, gathering empty glasses and dishes, anything to prolong going up to her ... their room. Silently, Travis worked beside her. When she opened a utility closet to get out the vacuum, he closed the door. "Leave the rest 'til morning. It's time to go upstairs." She looked up into his eyes and saw the desire carefully banked. He folded his arms and leaned against the door, studying her. "Megan, we already discussed the sleeping arrangements and agreed to share the master bedroom. When we go for the hearing, you can be sure O'Connor's attorney or the judge will ask Ryan and Frieda questions about our relationship." She gave a tense nod, knowing what he said was true. He straightened and gently took her hand. "Do you trust me to keep my word?" "Of course. I married you." She knew he was a good man. A strong man. One who kept his word. But her resistance to him was weak. She reminded herself he was also one who issued orders left and right, like her father had. She had to protect her independence. She had to protect her heart. "Megan, it's time to go to our room." 152

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"I know." She headed toward the stairs, her heart fluttering in her throat. He followed close enough for her to hear the deliberate tread of his booted feet. She was already thinking about him beside her in bed; already gathering her defenses. **** Travis stepped into the shower, thinking about Megan sliding into the queen-size bed. After showering ahead of him, she'd walked barefoot into the bedroom wrapped in her thick terrycloth robe. Her tantalizing fragrance lingered in the steamy bathroom, a combination of soap, rose lotion, and her unique scent. An image formed of her in the shower, water sluicing down her curves, dripping off her breasts, bathing her feminine secrets, and his arousal rose to salute the picture. Damn. He switched the water to a cold blast, swearing at his randy imagination. The scene had changed to Megan in bed, her auburn hair fanned across the pillow, her arms open, welcoming him. "In your dreams," he growled, and applied the washcloth with harsh strokes. She trusted him not to make love. He could only hope she would change her mind. After toweling off, he stepped into the bottom half of pajamas he'd never worn. Sleeping beside Megan in his usual naked state might upset her. She'd certainly yelped that time she'd burst into his cabin. He grinned at the memory. Her outraged expression was replaced by the image of her clothed in a thin nightgown and moonlight, and his smile faded. It 153

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was going to be a long night.

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CHAPTER 12 Megan woke toward dawn to find Travis lying on his stomach, his muscular arm encircling her waist. His soft breath washed across her cheek. She struggled with the uncertainty of being so close to him in bed. Faint light, creeping in between open drapes, touched his cheeks and settled in the masculine planes and shadows of his nose, chin, and sensual lips. Pale gold lashes were closed against his tanned skin. His nearness made her senses more acute. She felt the rhythm of his breathing and smelled the evocative scent of soap and male. Lying on her back, she stared at the shadowed ceiling and daydreamed of making love with him. Would he be a gentle lover, or burn them both up in the fires of passion? His arm around her waist became a band of fluid heat, running like a river through her blood. Her breasts grew sensitive, their tips brushed by the sheer batiste nightie. She yearned for him to strip away the thin cotton. She wanted his hands, his lips and tongue on her naked skin, stroking, tasting, teasing. Her flesh grew warmer. A liquid ache gathered between her legs. She moved them restlessly, knotting a fold of the top sheet in her fist. Without conscious direction, her legs spread. How easy it would be to turn to him and beg— What am I thinking? Guiltily, she started to ease out from under his hand. 155

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Travis opened his eyes and gazed at her. "Good mornin', wife." His voice, husky with sleep, deep and richly sensual, woke images of that night in his cabin—the tender fire of his kiss, the heat of his mouth on her breast, the shattering pleasure that had swept through her. Yielding to temptation, she brushed back a lock of his hair, trailed her fingers down his temple to his cheek and felt the stubble across his jaws and chin. "Good morning, husband." His fingers curled around her waist possessively. She was shocked at the impact of his gentle grip, and her heartbeat quickened. She felt her face color. "I didn't mean to crowd you. I must've been cold in the night." He raised up on his elbows, a solid shadow against the pale dawn, and looked down at her. "You tellin' me I was a substitute for another blanket?" "Not exactly." "I'll be your blanket anytime." Beguiled by his nearness, his scent, she pressed her hand against his bare chest and felt the hard muscles under springy hair. At her touch, he shuddered and caught his breath. Blushing, she jerked her hands away and sat on the edge of the bed. He rolled onto his back with a groan, one knee bent, and flung an arm across his eyes. "Lady, you're temptation in a nightgown." "I shouldn't have touched you. I know you're trying to keep our agreement." 156

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"You got that right." Leaving the bed, he grabbed up the blue jeans and shirt he'd left folded on top of the storage chest, and marched toward the bathroom. "I'll dress and get out of your way." With that parting shot, he slammed the door. Frustrated, she stared at her wedding band. It was for the best, wasn't it? Right now, she couldn't be sure. Her breasts ached and her body cried for Travis's touch, for him to fill her, satisfy her, make love. **** The seductive pleasure of waking up beside Travis stayed with Megan all morning. When she groomed the pregnant mares, his image lingered in every stroke of the brush. Harvesting carrots and spinach for supper reminded her of the day they'd corralled the goats. His sun-warmed skin had teased her. And his mouth ... the memory was so vivid, so tantalizing, she licked her lips. Later, she joined Frieda in the kitchen. "Katie's down for her afternoon nap, and Ryan's helping Bill with the goats." She spotted the steel Thermos and insulated bag. "Who forgot lunch?" "Travis. He was in a big hurry this morning. Only had coffee and took biscuits with him." Frowning, Frieda shaped the dinner rolls. "That man works too hard." "It doesn't mean he should skip lunch. I'll check the schedule and take the food and coffee to him." A few minutes later, Megan put the insulated sandwich and salad carriers and the Thermos into the twin saddlebag 157

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pouches, lashed the rolled picnic quilt behind Foxfire's saddle, and headed toward the northwest corner of Silvertip. Away from the ranch buildings, the land held the wild, primitive beauty Lewis and Clark had seen on their expedition to explore the great unknown. Squirrels dashed along tree branches, storing food for the long winter ahead. Birds sang. The air was fragrant with the sharp scent of pine and mellow loam under Foxfire's hooves. She loved this part of her ranch where the land climbed through the timbered foothills with the solid bulk of the Rockies rising behind them. Patches of snow showed on the higher peaks. Fall was coming and nights were growing cooler. She smiled. She sure hadn't been cold last night, not with Travis's great body radiating masculine warmth. Not with his strong arm tucking her close to his side. Her smile faded. "Am I being fair to him?" she asked Foxfire. "What's he getting out of this marriage?" Her mount's ears twitched as if listening. She patted the chestnut's neck, her thoughts filled with Travis's face, his hands, his tall, straight body. He'd talked about them being sexually attracted to each other, and promised to be faithful. From what she'd seen, that was more than a lot of people had. But she'd set the limits of no sex, and he'd agreed because of Ryan and Katie. The children. They clung to Travis like they had to Kyle. Travis was thoughtful and patient with them, just as he'd been to her at their wedding. Their wedding. Married. She studied the dainty band on her left hand. She didn't wear the engagement ring when she 158

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worked, but the image of it and the night he'd brought it to her were part of the precious memories she'd keep forever. A light wind lifted her hair and rustled the newly-fallen, dry leaves. Fall meant October was coming, the time set for the final adoption hearing. Once that was settled, would it also mean the end of her marriage? **** The afternoon sun beat down on Travis. He'd stayed away from the ranch house and Megan all day. Breakfast had been a hurried cup of coffee and cold biscuits. Then he'd ridden to check on the fences in this distant corner of the ranch. But the image of Megan pursued him. Every time he touched her, caught her sweet scent, even thought of her, he wanted her in his arms. He took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and studied the stand of oaks and poplars at the base of the nearby mountain that hid a spring-fed pool. Chief shifted under him. Idly, Travis patted the stallion's neck. From behind him came the sound of hoof beats. He turned in the saddle to look, and his senses went on alert. Megan. She rode toward him on Foxfire. Sunshine highlighted the dark sparks in her auburn hair. Her hat dangled over her usual neat braid. She rode with a pliant grace that reminded him of a free-running deer. And he wanted to drag her off the saddle onto the ground to make love. She reined in. "You took off without lunch." He adjusted the brim of his hat to hide the longing in his eyes. "I'm not wasting away." 159

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"Just grumpy." She moved closer and put a hand on his arm. Drawing in a breath, he hid his desire behind a gruff voice. "Got work to do." He signaled Chief to head toward the grove and pool. "I brought lunch," she called. The sound of Foxfire's hooves told Travis Megan was following him. At the thought, his libido kicked up another notch. Ignoring her, he threaded through the trees until he reached the small pool hidden in a cup of water-smoothed boulders. Sunlight sparkled off the surface. He dismounted under an ancient cottonwood and led Chief to the stream pouring over one lip of the pool. While his horse drank, Travis watched Megan swing out of the saddle and lead Foxfire a few yards farther downstream. After loosening the saddle, she ground-tied her mount and brought the saddlebags and roll that'd been tied behind the cantle. "Here's your lunch, husband," she said cheerfully. He tipped his hat back and strolled to where she was spreading an old quilt under the tree. "Your wifely duty?" "Something like that." She knelt on the bright cover and opened an insulated bag. "Come and eat." He dropped down beside her, fighting for control. He was close enough to catch her scent, close enough for his blood to heat and stir. "I've been thinking about us," she blurted out. Making love? 160

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She offered him a sandwich. He eyed the roast beef on whole wheat roll. "And?" "We should spend more time together, get to know each other better." She gave him an assessing look. "In case the judge asks a lot of questions." "What do you want to know?" He bit into the sandwich and reminded himself she was off limits. "For starters, what do you like to read?" "Biographies, ancient history, cowboy poetry." "Cowboy poetry?" "Yep, been a lot handed down from one cowpoke to another around campfires. Gail Gardner's one of the most famous cowboy poets today." He took a bite and swallowed. "And you?" She handed him a container of potato salad. "I like natural history books—you know, Jacques Cousteau, Jane Goodall's work with chimps, and romances. "Romances?" He grinned. "Give me a book by Nora Roberts or Catherine Snodgrass any day." She helped herself to one of his potato chips. "Awhile back, you said you had two brothers and a sister. Are they younger? Older? Inquiring minds want to know." "Younger." He finished the sandwich and rummaged in the bag for another. "My sister Mary's the youngest. Before you ask, they're all married and have kids." "The sister who told you about teething babies and frozen waffles?"

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"Right." He poured coffee for both of them. "How about you, Megan? You said Kyle was your only brother. Any sisters?" "Just Kyle and me until he started dating Alice. She was only a year older than me, and we became good friends, more like sisters. My last two years at Foxdale I'd gone from being a shy debutante to doing anything to make my friends laugh." She wrinkled her nose. "My father thought I was an airhead, just another spoiled rich kid." "Not now. Not here at Silvertip." She traced the rim of the plastic cup, then looked up. "Thanks to Alice. She made me see it was all a way to get my dad's attention. The ribbons and trophies for riding weren't enough anymore." She chuckled wryly. "I had enough blue ribbons to make a blanket for Foxfire." Digging into the saddlebag, she brought out two apples. "Mind if I share?" "Help yourself." She took a bite and waved one hand to indicate their location. "This is nice. A lot of guys say a picnic is wasting time unless they're fishing or hunting." He corralled an apple for himself. "Not me. After a picnic's when I had my first kiss." She grinned. "Who was the lucky girl?" "Emma Sue Long, prettiest girl in the ninth grade. We kissed behind the campground cookhouse. I was in teen heaven." He bit into the apple and munched meditatively. "I've never told anyone else the rest of the story. When I 162

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learned she'd gone out with another guy after our kiss, I thought my life was over." Megan's smile faded. She reached out and covered his hand. "She was a fool." "Nope. Her new Romeo's dad owned the local ice cream shop." Megan's eyes sparkled. "Lost out to a banana split?" "I think it was the hot fudge with nuts." He shifted and stretched his arms above his head, hoping Megan didn't notice how being so close to her affected him. The longer they sat here, the greater his urge to stretch out with her, to strip her clothes away, to map her female hills and valleys with his hands and lips. "I'd better clean up and go." Megan gathered their wrappers into an empty plastic sack and started placing containers in the twin pouches. Pursing her lips, she frowned. "Why can't I get them all back in they way they were packed?" He knelt in front of her and studied the arrangement of various holders. "Sometimes things aren't the way they seem at first glance." He changed the position of two plastic boxes. "See, things do fit together." Their eyes met. "Like you being my foreman and helping make a go of Silvertip?" "Like that." He watched her eyes darken and knew she was affected by his closeness. She pressed her fingers on his. "Like our friendship?" "Our friendship." He fought the impulse to pull her into his arms. 163

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She looked down at their hands. Travis followed her gaze. Was it his imagination her wedding band glowed? "Like our marriage?" she whispered. He swallowed and clutched the quilt to keep his hands off her. "Like our marriage," he agreed. "Travis, do me a favor. Please hold me." "Thought you'd never ask." Fighting his own needs, he held her quietly, feeling the beat of her heart, the silk of her cheek. A mountain breeze swirled around them, but all he knew was her rose and feminine fragrance. Her sun-warmed scent made his brain spin, made him think of long nights on tumbled sheets, of making love. A meadowlark sang. One of the horses stamped and brought Travis back to reality. He'd promised no lovemaking. Reluctantly, he released her and eased back. His body howled for more. Megan made a small sound of protest. Their eyes met. "We had a deal, Megan." "I know." She dragged in a breath, rubbed her face, and painted on a half-smile. "You're potent stuff, Megan." Afraid to lose his self-control, he marched to the small pool and splashed water on his face, anything to cool his hunger for his wife. With jerky movements, Megan closed both sides of the saddlebag and put it aside. Why had she made the condition of no sex in their marriage? She loved Travis. Could love override a deal that no longer made sense? 164

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She looked at him where he knelt on the grassy bank with his back to her. The muscles rippling under his cotton shirt kicked her pulse to a gallop. Her skin grew hot. The splash of cool water drew her, and she followed her need and her heart. Kneeling beside Travis was a gamble. She knew that the moment she settled there, knew it by the way her blood sang. Did he still want her? "Megan." His smoky voice sent ripples across her skin. She swallowed, made her voice steady. "What?" And she waited. Would he kiss her? "Don't drink the water." "Don't drink—" She wanted to shove him into the pool. Don't drink the water. "Giving orders again? I already knew that." He mopped his face with his bandana. "Good," he drawled. "Can't be too careful." "Too true," she said in an overly-sweet voice. Curving her hand, she scooped up water and splashed him in one fast motion. "Hey, dammit!" He caught her wrists. "Why the hell did you do that?" "Guess." The flare of lust in his gold-flecked eyes sent a mad rush of desire through her whole being. He wanted her. Her lips formed his name, but no sound came. "Megan?" His large hand cradled her chin. Their eyes locked. Her heart jolted. 165

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"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes. I want to make love to you." "Here? Now?" "Here." She laid a finger on his lips. "Now." Surging to his feet, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the quilt. He laid her there with gentle strength, and came down beside her. "My wife." His mouth covered hers hungrily. She speared her fingers through his hair and gave herself to the passion of the kiss. It felt right. He was right for her. His tongue traced her lips, and she opened her mouth, hungry to taste him. His fingers unfastened the buttons of her blouse, and she tore at the snaps on his shirt, peeled it away from his shoulders. Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he shrugged out of his clothes. He opened her blouse, unsnapped her bra, and both were gone. Another deep kiss, and she was naked. She'd never gone topless—even at the nude beaches in Europe—but with Travis it was right, natural. "One more thing," he muttered. Hands with the strength and power to ride a wild horse or tame a bull, gently unbraided her hair and fanned it out around her head. The cotton quilt was cool against her back. A breeze danced across her warm skin. Sunlight shining through the tree dappled the quilt, touching her with golden drops of heat. Her heart soared with love. Kneeling, Travis studied her with hot eyes. Slowly, seductively, his gaze roamed across her body. 166

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She watched him from under heavy lids, her heart swelling with anticipation. Desire raced through her bloodstream and fluttered in the back of her throat. He touched her breast with an unsteady finger and, with eyes darkened by passion, he let out a long breath. "God, Megan, you're beautiful. I want you like I've never wanted anyone." "Why wait?" She held out her arms. Bracing himself on his arm, he spread one hand below the curve of her breast, teasing the crest with his thumb, and settled his mouth on hers in a deep kiss. She made little sounds of pleasure and slid her fingers up the nape of his neck into his hair. He shivered at her touch and closed his hand over her breast, driving her higher. Breaking the kiss, he gently nibbled his way down to the hollow of her throat and lingered there at the sensitive skin. Chills raced across her body, followed by a flash of heat. He lapped at her neck with his wickedly talented mouth and, at the same time, tweaked her nipple. All she could do was whimper, "Yes, oh, yes," as the fires built higher. "Megan," he said huskily, "so sweet, so soft." His fingers touched and pressed, and slipped across her body, callused skin against delicate flesh. She felt him reach the nest of curls at the top of her thighs, then his finger slipped in and she writhed at the pleasure. "So warm, so wet for me." He leaned down to her ear and whispered hot, erotic words. She burned, hungered for him. "Travis, please, don't make me wait any longer." 167

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He straddled her legs, wrapping her in his male heat, folding her in his scent. "Not yet, honey." He buried his face between her breasts, and fanned the crests with his fingers. His arousal pressed against her tummy. Blind with the ecstasy of his body, his touch, she did something, she'd never done before—she reached down and cradled his shaft in her hands. It was warm and smooth, pulsing with life. "That's it, Megan. That's what I want." Gently, she squeezed. Entranced by his moans of sexual need, passion thundered through her blood. "Can't take any more, or it'll be over." Clasping her wrists, he moved them to her sides, and slowly eased partway into her feminine sheath. Suddenly, his head came up and he gazed at her. "Honey? You're untouched. How?" "No other man was right." She moved her hips, hungry to continue—to reach that undefined goal just out of reach. "You are the right one." "Sweetheart." Lowering his head once more, he kissed her nipples, then laved them with his tongue. Spears of electricity sizzled to her womb. A heavy pressure between her thighs ached for him to fill her completely. As he eased farther into her passage, she felt the sharp twinge, then a new wave of desire erased any discomfort. Instinctively, she arched, taking more of him. "Megan, you're purely heaven," he said on a groan. Then he was in all the way. 168

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She dug her fingers into his back. "More. Please!" "Yesss." He stroked, moving in a quickening tempo. She matched him. Her hands fastened at his hips. She wanted this oneness, this building rapture to never stop. Her skin grew damp. His body was slick against hers. She didn't know where he ended and she began. She felt him thrust deeper than before. His fingers dug into her hips. Groaning her name, he emptied himself. She called, "Travis!" Her muscles contracted, quivered. Through every part of her body, every cell, pleasure exploded.

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CHAPTER 13 Travis eased to one side of Megan and tucked her close. She'd been as responsive to his touch as a well-trained mare, quick and earthy. His pulse still galloped from making love. A cool breeze chilled their bodies. Reaching across her slick breasts, he grabbed a fold of quilt and covered them. She snuggled closer, and he felt his heart leap. Damn, he wasn't, would not fall in love with her. It was lust, pure and simple. "Travis, you're wonderful." She nuzzled his neck, kissed the hollow of his throat, and cuddled against his chest. "Honey, we burned each other up on this quilt." Tipping her head, she smiled saucily. "Should I hang it on the wall of our bedroom as a memento?" "I have a better idea." He rolled her onto her back and cradled one breast in his hand. "Let's use it." A bright flame of desire glowed in her eyes. "I like your plan." With his lips, he teased a rose-pink nipple, and she buried her fingers in his hair, holding him tight. Easing away, he began a new journey to explore her body. He kissed and tasted the sweet and salt of her velvety skin until he reached the satin of her inner thigh. Feasting there, wrapped in the musky scent of lovemaking, he felt her tremble, heard her cries of delight.

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Hot blood pumped through his veins. Already aroused, he grew heavier. "Meg," he whispered, "you turn me on like hell on fire." "Good," she purred, and pushed against his shoulder. Bemused, he stretched out. She rose over him and trailed her fingers across his chest, branding him as surely as a heated iron scorched the rocking S into Silvertip stock. "No touching," she demanded. "It's my turn." He groaned. His skin rippled beneath her hands. His gut clenched. He wanted to slide her under him and fill her, but he waited, drowning in the sensual journey. Bending down, she peppered him with kisses from his temples, across his cheeks and jaw, down to his throat. He moved his head to catch her mouth. She evaded him and inched lower to kiss his shoulder where it curved into his neck. He clenched his fists to keep his promise. Her hair veiled them, the tips brushing his body in erotic waves. "Megan," he said, tightly, "I have to—" "Touch me, Travis." "God, yes." He stroked the soft lines of her back and cupped her rounded bottom. Her mouth settled on his and he returned the kiss with raging hunger. Her tongue teased his, mating and twining. Sensation spiked into driving need. Blindly, he found her womanly petals and plunged in one finger, simulating what he wanted as their mouths danced together. In a fever, he pressed and stroked until her inner muscles rippled around his finger and he knew she was close to her climax. 171

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He swooped her under him and drove in, catching her up to the peak, sending her over. She cried his name and clung to him. Shuddering, he collapsed a fraction above her, barely remembering in time to brace himself with his forearms. "Travis," she said in a voice husky with passion. "I never knew it could be this good." Her words shook him, made him proud he'd given her pleasure. Lovemaking with her had been richer, more compelling than he'd ever known. He brushed a limp strand of hair from her forehead and kissed her gently. "My sexy wife." "Sexy husband." Languidly, she touched her lips and laid her fingers on his mouth. He kissed her palm. "Honey, you're pure temptation. We'll save more for later." Rolling to his knees, he gathered her clothes and gave them to her. She held her shirt in front of her body like a shield as a warm blush spread across her throat and face. "Feelin' shy? Now?" She nodded. "You're still new to me." Quickly dressing, he walked away a few steps and turned his back to give her privacy. He heard the rustle of her slipping into the panties and jeans. He pictured her covering her tantalizing breasts with the bra, and pulling on her shirt, and he cursed his aching body. Damn, he wanted her again. "Travis, I'll pack up and return to the ranch house." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she kept her head down as she rolled up the quilt. 172

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Retracing his steps, he hunkered down beside her. "Hey, Meg, don't be embarrassed. We're married." "I know, but—" "We married in a rush. It'll take time to get used to being husband and wife." She gave him a grateful smile. He draped the saddlebags over his shoulder and took the bundled quilt. As they walked to where Foxfire grazed, he recalled his words when he'd helped rearrange the saddlebags' contents. Sometimes things aren't the way they seem at first glance. The first time he'd seen Megan, he'd thought she spent more money on herself than on necessary ranch repairs. How could he have been so wrong? He lashed the roll behind the gelding's saddle. Then he took Megan in his arms. "Chicken," he said softly. "Aren't you the gutsy woman who pushed a pain-in-the-butt dude into the horse trough and bossed a bunch of rowdy cowhands? Now you're as skittish as a wild mare in foal." "You're right." She wrapped her arms around his neck and melted against him. Tenderly, he settled his lips on hers and held her tight, savoring the press of their bodies, her delicate frame against his hard strength. The time was coming when he would have to stick to their agreement and walk out of her life, no matter how much it hurt. A deep sadness slowly coiled in his gut. **** 173

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Megan finished unsaddling Foxfire, and turned him into the pasture next to the one occupied by the pregnant Appaloosas and the bay Morgan. She recalled the first time she'd seen Travis with her mares. He'd been gentle with them and she'd cautioned herself against the Travis effect. That was months ago. She smiled and stretched, feeling some stiffness around her thighs. Now she knew the real Travis effect and it was wonder-ful. Collecting the rolled quilt and lunch containers, she walked toward the house, while images of her afternoon with Travis made her heart beat faster. After today, she'd never look at this quilt without recalling his tenderness, his fire, his strength. The sound of two trucks interrupted her pleasant reverie. She arrived at the same time a delivery truck and a pickup pulling a horse trailer stopped in front of the ranch buildings. Ryan flew out of the house and screeched to a halt beside her. "What's in the trailer with windows?" "That's what I want to know." Frieda came out more slowly, holding Katie's hand. Megan smiled. Since her little niece had learned to walk, she usually insisted on toddling instead of being carried. A short, burly man with a handlebar moustache stepped out of the pickup. He hitched up his Levi's, and grabbed a clipboard.

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Smiling, he touched the brim of his Stetson. "Howdy, ma'am. I'm Walt Tanner of Tanner Trucking. You Miz Megan O'Connor, owner of Silvertip?" "It's Mrs. Knight now." He winked at Ryan. "You must be the birthday boy, Ryan O'Connor." "That's me! That's me!" He bounced up and down, hands flying, red hair blazing in the sun. "I'm gonna be five years old." He held up one hand, fingers spread. "Next week," Megan said. "Right." He nodded his head vigorously and hopped on one foot. "Next week." "Well, Ryan Kyle O'Connor, here's some early gifts from your grandfather Burke O'Connor." "Grandpa?" Ryan's smile vanished and he crowded against her with his thumb in his mouth. The lanky driver of the delivery truck had joined them. He touched the bill of his John Deere cap to Megan and hunkered down in front of Ryan. "Hey, little fellow, don't you want to see what your grandpa sent?" Ryan nodded, tightening his hold on Megan's leg. Opening the back of the horse trailer, Tanner expertly backed a brown-and-white pony down the ramp. "A pony? For me?" Ryan looked up at Megan, then at Tanner. "Got it in one." Walt Tanner grinned. "This Shetland pony's for you from your grandpa. He comes with all the tack."

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Cautiously, Ryan stepped closer to the pony and put out one hand for it to snuffle the way Megan had taught him. The Shetland gently touched the small hand with his lip. Ryan grinned at Megan. "Look. He likes me. Can I keep him? What's his name?" Mentally, she sighed. Of course her father had sent the pony to win Ryan over, but how could she refuse? "You choose a name. Will you feed him and give him fresh water every day? Take care of him?" "I promise." Ryan's eyes sparkled. "An', an' I'll brush him the way you and Travis brush the horses, an', an' if he gets lonely, I'll sleep with him." Megan laughed. "I get the picture." Tanner gave the pony's lead rope to Megan. "I'll collect the other presents." He opened a storage bay at the side of the trailer, lifted out an assortment of packages, and walked back to them with a miniature saddle. "Here you go, little guy, a fancy saddle with your name on it." As he examined the saddle, Ryan kept one hand on the pony's shoulder. "Look, Auntie Megan, it says Ryan on the back." She read aloud, "Ryan Kyle O'Connor." He pointed to his chest. "That's my name." "Sure is." But it'll be Knight if the adoption goes through, she thought. Bill limped up from the barn and offered to show Ryan where to keep the pony. They led him away, discussing names. 176

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The other driver stepped forward. "I have a delivery for Kathleen Elizabeth O'Connor." "For Katie?" What now? "Yes, Miz Knight. Big packages. Show me where to put 'em." "Stack them in the front room." Frieda and Katie followed the delivery man into the house. After unloading all the boxes, the tall man handed Megan a manila envelope. "From Burke O'Connor." She took it, curious about what else her dad might try. When Megan joined them, Frieda was unwrapping a fivefoot teddy bear, and Katie happily tore open a smaller package. The floor was heaped with gifts, all bearing the label of FAO Schwartz. Stuffing the letter in a pocket, Megan sat beside Katie and helped her open the presents. The letter from her father worried Megan the rest of the day and into the evening and bedtime for the children. "Night, night, Katie." Megan kissed her niece's soft cheek and moved aside for Travis. Gently, he brushed back the baby-fine hair, and tucked Katie's soft doll under the covers with her. She smiled drowsily and closed her eyes. He followed Megan out of the room, commenting, "Looks like a toy store in there. Ryan's room, too." "I know. Dad pretty much ignored her birthday." Megan waved her hand. "Now all this. He's really pouring on the pressure. He sent a photo of him and the giant teddy bear for Katie, and a photo of him beside the pony for Ryan." "Wants to be sure they know who sent the gifts." 177

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She sighed. "More than that. He sent a photo of a stable he added at his estate just for the pony. He seems pretty sure of winning the adoption case." Gathering her into his arms, Travis held her securely. "He's running a bluff like a rodeo-wise bronc who looks half-asleep until the gate opens, then takes off jumpin' like his tail's on fire." She chuckled. "What a picture. Dad, snorting and spinning like a bronc." Travis squeezed her. "That's what I like to hear ... you laughing." "Better than tears." Pressing against his rugged body, she heard the strong, steady beat of his heart, and quivered with the heat of his touch. He kissed the top of her head. "Wanna go to bed early?" She wound her arms around his neck and gave him a sexy grin. "Wanna coax me?" He swept her up in his arms and strode toward their room. "We'll start in the shower."

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CHAPTER 14 A light rain tapped at the bedroom window and gray clouds filtered morning light. Megan stared through the glass at the changes September had brought to Silvertip. The muted gold and red of cottonwood and aspen leaves contrasted to the jade of heavy pine and firs. In the three weeks she and Travis had been married, the land had switched from summer to fall. Gloomy skies matched the worry coiling through her stomach. The adoption hearing was only two weeks away. Turning from the scene, she opened the long velvet jeweler's case and fingered the pearl necklace. She'd have to drive into Helena and sell the necklace and earrings. They needed money for the trip to New York. She heard the bedroom door open, and Travis came up behind her. Slipping his arms around her waist, he kissed the back of her neck, and electricity raced down her spine. "We going to a fancy party?" he murmured. She shook her head. "I'm making plans for the trip to the adoption hearing." "To celebrate after we win?" "To pay for the trip." He turned her in his arms. "You won't sell any more of your jewelry." He leaned closer, his hazel eyes darkening to old gold. "I'll raise what we need." "How?" "Sunday there's a regional rodeo in Grizzly sanctioned by the PRCA. A lot of top broncs and bulls will be there gettin' 179

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ready for the Grand National." He kissed her forehead. "Top animals mean top dollar for the riders." Her stomach knotted with worry. Stepping away from him, she folded her arms. "After you made the last payment on Lucy's taxes, you said no more rodeoing." He frowned. "It's the best way to earn quick cash. I won't have travel expenses, so I'll only need entry fees." "But it's too dangerous." Hurriedly, she searched for a way to talk him out of the plan. "What if you don't place or win? You said it was a cowboy crap shoot and depended on what horse or bull you drew." "Honey, life is a crap shoot." He reached for her, but she backed away until stopped by the bed. "Don't you try to sweet-talk me, Travis. You told me every time a rough stock rider flies out of the pen he risks breaking his head or his wallet. It isn't worth the risk, dammit. I'll sell the O'Connor pearls." He moved closer until she was trapped. "Keep the damned pearls. Give them to Katie when she's older. I'm your husband. I'll raise the money if I have to sell Chief." Before she could answer, he strode out of the room and closed the door. She dropped to the bed, her mind churning with apprehension. **** Now, three days later, Megan was still worried about Travis as she zipped up her jacket. Rodeo day had turned sunny, cold, and crisp. From her place in the stands, she'd watched the parade and opening events, but saddle-bronc riding was 180

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next on the program, and she wanted to give Travis one more kiss for luck. She found her way to the holding corrals and chutes. Over the PA system came "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys," and Megan's thoughts flashed back to the last rodeo she'd seen. She'd vowed never to watch another one, but Travis was putting himself on the line for her and the children. This time she'd swallow her fear and watch every event he entered. When she found her husband, he was rosining his gear and glove. Puffs of the white powder drifted in the air. His red embroidered, dark blue western shirt made his blond hair glow brighter in the sunshine. His short, fringed chaps drew her gaze to his most male part hidden behind the fly. Three buckle bunnies watched him. A redhead, Megan recognized as Rita, walked her fingers up his arm. "Travis honey, there's a dance tonight. You comin'? I'll save you as many dances as you want." He brushed her hand away, leaving a white streak. "I'm off the market." She pouted. "Say it isn't so, big boy." Megan slid an arm around Travis's waist and kissed his cheek. "Sure is. Go make eyes at someone else." The brunette, Taffy, moved to his other side and caught up his left hand. "A fake wedding band. Travis, I swear, you're the worst bullrider for practical jokes I ever saw." "It's real." He tucked the rosin bag under his belt and embraced Megan, one hand at the small of her back. The 181

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warmth of his arms was so male, so reassuring, she nestled against his chest and looked daggers at the rodeo groupies. His arms tightened possessively. "My wife, Megan. And she's plenty real." With a gentle knuckle under her chin, he tipped her head up. His mouth pressed hers softly. She parted her lips to him and drank the sweetness of his kiss. Wolf whistles and a raucous cheer penetrated her consciousness. She opened her eyes. The buckle bunnies were gone, but a group of grinning cowboys lounged against corrals and chutes watching. "Hey, Knight, that's a mighty fine filly wearin' your brand." A lanky, dark-haired cowboy ambled toward them. "Gonna introduce us?" "Rob, you old brush popper, still dodgin' the sheriff?" "Damn straight. Learned everything I know from you." The two men shoulder-punched each other, then shook hands. Travis put a proprietary arm around her and made the introductions. Flashing her an easy-going smile, Rob touched the brim of his hat. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. Trav 'n' me go back to Arizona days chasin' beeves through the brush." "Now he's chasing horses and a few other things through the trees." Travis whispered, "Especially other things," and made her blush. The announcement came over the PA system for the first rider to take his mount. Rob asked, What's your draw, Travis?" 182

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"Sierry Pete." "Oh, man, a pile driver." "Yeah." Travis grinned. "It's gonna be a great ride." Megan didn't trust his expression of gleeful anticipation. "What's that mean, a pile driver?" Travis sifted more rosin onto his glove. "A terrific bucker who'll give me a damned good ride." "Sure," Rob added. "If you don't mind havin' your teeth rattle. He jumps high and comes down stiff-legged." "Travis?" She couldn't keep the concern out of her voice. "Honey, don't worry. He's not a blind bucker who'll crash into anyone or anything. He'll give me a decent ride and make me look good." "That, and a bucket of luck," Rob said, helpfully. "My luck's right here." Travis raised her left hand, placed a kiss in her palm, and folded her fingers over the spot. "I have my wife and this..." Pulling his key ring out of one pocket, he displayed a chunk of fool's gold held in a brass coil attached to the ring. "Ryan gave this to me for luck." Megan bit her lip, determined not to sound negative. "I'll watch from the stands, Travis, and keep the liniment ready." "You offerin' a massage?" he drawled seductively. She smiled from under lowered lashes. "Tonight." "Wait ... I damned near forgot." He took off his wedding band and gave it to her. For a moment she felt confused and a little hurt. Why didn't he want to wear this evidence he was married? The buckle bunnies? Then she realized he always left the band on the dresser when he worked around the ranch. Slipping it 183

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onto her thumb to keep it safe, she said, "Don't want to snag your ring when you ride?" He folded his hand over hers. "Don't want to lose a finger." The unseen crowd erupted into cheers and Travis glanced at the board. "He made an eighty-one. Leaves room for me. One more rider, and it's my turn. I'm last in this go-round." Megan blew him a kiss and hurried to her seat in the stands. Travis clapped Rob on the back. "How soon do you think she'll discover my brand?" "The print of your big paw on her back?" He took off his Resistol, smoothed his hair, and resettled the hat. "Someone's bound to tell her." "I wanna be there when she finds out." "Think she'll blow?" "Maybe, but she doesn't hold a grudge, and making up is fun." Rob slugged his shoulder. "Lucky dog." "You've got that right. Think I'll buy her some new Wranglers so I can tear the tag off with my teeth." "One thing to remember, Knight." "What's that?" "Riding a bronc is like dancin' with a girl. Just match your partner's rhythm." Chuckling, his friend sauntered away in the direction of the bull pens. "You're on, Knight," the chute boss called. Travis climbed over the rail and settled onto Sierry Pete's broad back. Rodeo personnel and cowboys soothed the mount 184

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and offered advice. "Out of the chute, he crow-hops and breaks to the left," one rider said. Nodding his thanks, Travis reflected that Pete wasn't a chute fighter. The bronc stood placidly amidst the swirling crowd, but Travis knew the peaceful appearance was deceptive. He pulled his hat lower, grasped the single rein, and lifted his left hand. When the chute boss looked at him, signaling the arena was clear, he fastened his gaze on the spot on the bronc's shoulders where he'd begin raking. The flank man tightened the strap and the bronc grunted. At Travis's nod, the gate clanged open. Sierry Pete exploded toward freedom. He leaped into the air and came down stiff-legged. Travis's teeth clicked together with stunning force. His head whipped back and forth. He heard the crowd gasp, but his concentration was focused on keeping his balance and completing each spurring pattern. Before he could take a breath, Sierry Pete jumped again and twisted to the left. Ready for the tactic, Travis kept his seat and swung his feet, taking his licks. The crowd cheered as Sierry Pete changed to a series of head-snapping jolts, but couldn't shake his rider. When the whistle sounded, Travis felt certain he'd scored high. The bronc kicked up his back hooves and took off running past the pick-up rider. Travis bailed off, landing on his feet. A roar went up from the crowd as the score was posted, an eighty-five, top score so far for the day.

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He limped out of the arena, grinning in spite of a headache and aching knees. By day's end, he'd be in the top money. There'd be enough for the New York trip. New York. Adoption. Their marriage agreement. He refused to explore that road right now. Megan raced toward him shouting, "You won, you won." She threw herself into his arms, and he held her close. Why would he have to let her go? Nothing said she couldn't change her mind. **** After the rodeo, the two weeks leading up to their flight to New York had passed far too quickly, Megan decided as she sat in a cushioned leather chair with Katie on her lap. In spite of Megan's efforts to keep a cheerful expression, Ryan and Katie had apparently sensed her worry in those weeks. Ryan's little brow would wrinkle, and he'd say, "Auntie Megan, you won't leave me alone with Grandpa, will you?" How could she answer, "No," when she wasn't sure of the court's decision? She'd hold him, swallow the lump in her throat, and repeat how much she loved him. When her nephew asked Travis the same question, the big cowboy would lift up the child, and take him for a walk to see the horses or the goats. By the time they'd return to the house, Ryan would be laughing and back to his carefree ways until something once more reminded him of the trip. 186

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Now they were here, in Judge Hamilton's chamber waiting for the final adoption hearing to begin. The dark-haired judge with gray dusting his temples looked imposing behind his carved walnut desk. He quietly talked to his court clerk who busily made notations on her clipboard. Megan slipped off Katie's new winter jacket, tucked it into the top of the diaper bag, and gave her niece a set of plastic keys. Where was her father? Was he trying some new ploy to delay the hearing? By time they paid for a motel room for Frieda and one for them and the children, and food, the money Travis had earned and the amount she squeezed out of the ranch budget wouldn't last more than a week. Was that her father's intent? As Katie played with the keys, Megan looked at Ryan and Travis. Their heads nearly touching, they both studied a transformer type of toy dragon. Seeing them together, a stranger would've thought they were father and son. Travis's strong, tanned hand held the bright orange futuristic beast while Ryan explained, "See, move the tail an', an' the dragon man's head pops out." "Like this?" Smoothly, he pressed the section into place, and smiled at Ryan's excited, "Yes." An image of her and Travis in bed flashed into Megan's brain. Two nights earlier, at Silvertip, he'd touched and stroked her, seeking all her pleasure spots. "Like this?" he'd asked in a low seductive voice. And she'd urged him with cries of, "Yes, oh, yes." 187

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Just the memory made her breasts tighten. She shifted Katie on her lap, thankful nobody could see her physical reaction. The door opened and her father stalked in, followed by James Grover, the family lawyer. Scowling at Travis, her dad said something to Grover, who shook his head. "How are you, Dad?" Megan asked quietly. "Better once this hearing is settled and your husband gets lost." Grover put a restraining hand on him, but her father shook it off. "Everyone knows this Knight person just married my daughter for what he can get." Travis rose to his feet, his face set in contempt. "My wife's too smart for—" Her father jumped to his feet. "If I were younger, I'd take you out in the hall and beat the crap out of you." "No. No." Ryan pushed in between the two men, and stood with his small hands knotted into fists. He tipped his head back and glared. "You're a mean grandpa. Don't you hurt my Travis." "Ryan?" O'Connor said, uncertainly. Travis knelt beside his small champion and put an arm around him. "Everything's all right, little guy." Ryan turned and sobbed into Travis's shoulder. "I don't want to leave you and Aunt Megan. Grandpa says mean things and he wants to send me far away." Judge Hamilton interrupted. "Ladies, gentlemen, enough. We're here for an adoption hearing, not hurling charges. If 188

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Ms. Haag will take the children to another room, we can start." As Megan lifted Katie to Frieda, the toddler raised her arms to Travis, calling, "Dada, dada." Travis dropped a kiss on Katie's forehead. "Go with Frieda," he said gently. Ruffling Ryan's hair, he added, "You too, champ." The court clerk offered to show Frieda a place where she could make the children comfortable, and they left. Megan's throat closed. Would she get to take the children home again or was this the end of her dream to raise them? Travis moved his chair closer to hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hang on, honey," he whispered. "Your dad's actin' like he was raised on sour milk, but he'll come around when you get the final adoption." She clasped his hand and said in a low voice, "I'm scared." He kissed her knuckles. "Hamilton looks like he knows what he's doing. Nothing's final until the tally man closes his book." The judge opened a thick file of papers, and Megan gripped Travis's hand, reminding herself a tally man was known for honesty and fairness. "I've read all the papers pertaining to this case," Hamilton stated. "First, according to procedure I have to ask, do you, Megan Marie O'Connor Knight wish to make the adoption of Ryan Kyle O'Connor and Kathleen Elizabeth O'Connor final?" "Of course, Your Honor. Yes, with all my heart." She winced at the nervous quaver in her voice. 189

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He gave her a faint smile. "That's a definite yes." Tapping the top sheet on his desk, he said, "Burke O'Connor states that Travis Knight married Megan O'Connor in order to get ownership of Silvertip Ranch and half her fortune." Megan felt Travis quiver with the effort to stay in his chair. Her father said, "That's correct. He's a conniving bastard who took advantage of my daughter." She brushed off Travis's hand and jumped to her feet. "You've got it wrong, Dad. I asked him." "No, I asked her." Travis held up her left hand. "My greatgrandmother's engagement ring and the wedding band I purchased." Judge Hamilton fixed them with a stern look. "Neither the ownership of Silvertip nor Mrs. Knight's money hold any merit in this discussion. She and Mr. Knight signed a prenuptial agreement. If the marriage ends, he won't get property or money." Burke O'Connor began, "Judge—" "Silence. This may appear informal, but it's still a hearing before a judge and I will have order." Glaring at Megan and Travis, her father settled back in the chair. Hamilton said, "According to Ms. Blair's second report, the children appear happy, well-cared for, and comfortable with both Megan and Travis Knight." He paused and his stern expression lightened. "I observed the same thing a few moments ago here in chambers." Megan's heart beat faster. Her hopes rose. 190

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Gathering the papers, he continued. All these reports confirm the children are thriving where they are. Their biological parents arranged for Megan O'Connor, now Mrs. Knight, to have legal custody. I see no reason to change that." She struggled to hide her smile and look appropriately serious for the occasion. Judge Hamilton gave her the file. "Check these documents." She blocked out the low, urgent conversation between her father and his lawyer, and focused her attention on this allimportant reading. Beside her, she felt Travis's silent support. Finished, she returned the file, and following the judge's directions, swore they were accurate to the best of her knowledge. Judge Hamilton picked up his pen. Her father shifted in his chair. Travis laced his fingers with hers. The judge signed the papers. "This will be duly recorded and new birth certificates issued." He smiled at her. "Your adoption of the children is final."

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CHAPTER 15 Megan gave Ryan and Katie hasty kisses, then left them with Travis and Frieda. She followed her angry father out of the court. Red-faced and sweating, he braced one fist against the faux-marble paneling and with the other hand, hammered on the elevator call button. "Dad. Dad. This isn't good for you. Remember your blood pressure." "Screw the blood pressure, and you can drop the loving daughter act now. You got what you wanted." "You know that was what Kyle and Alice wanted." He wiped his face with a shaking hand. "Hell, I'm too old for all this brouhaha. He gave her a faint smile. "Meggie, my dear, we never used to fight. Can't we patch it up? Smoke the peace pipe?" She eyed him suspiciously. "I'd like to, but—" "Come home. Stay around a few days. Give an old man a chance to enjoy the grandchildren he may never see again." "Dad, you know—" "We'll even get some of your old friends together and have a party. Give you the opportunity to catch up on all the gossip." "Megan, give him a chance." Travis offered his hand to her father and they shook. Travis slid an arm around her waist and whispered, "He lost, honey, and you won. It doesn't hurt to humor him." 192

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Reluctantly, she said, "All right, Dad. We'll stay until Sunday, but no more trying to bribe the children with expensive toys." Burke rocked back on his heels with an expansive smile. "That's more like it. I'll make the arrangements for Friday night. Black tie." He slanted her a calculating look. "Take my credit card. Get yourself a new gown, shoes, whatever you want. While you're at it, get Travis some clothes, too. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends." Beside her, Travis stiffened and tightened his fingers on her waist. She touched his hand reassuringly. "Just like old times, Dad?" "Right, right, like old times. Nothing but the best for my little girl." "I'm not your little girl anymore. I'm a grown, married woman. My husband and I will take care of our clothes." **** After stopping at the motel to collect their things and check out, Travis drove the rental sedan up toward the O'Connor mansion. In the back, Katie slept in her car seat and Ryan dozed, belted in securely. Frieda sat between them. "It's been a long day. How are you doin', Frieda?" he asked. He heard her yawn. "Mine—my eyes are tired. Think I'll take a little nap." "Almost there," Megan said in a low voice beside him. "The children are exhausted from this morning." 193

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"It was a helluva strain on all of us." He glanced at her, and looked back at the road. "I thought you'd be happy when O'Connor suggested the party." "He gave in too easily to the judge's decision." "What else could he do?" "My father's pretty devious. He could give lessons to mama goat on trickery." "You're his daughter. Maybe he means it when he says he'll stop interfering in your life." Megan laughed. "That would be a new experience." "Wait and see." **** A half hour later, they went through a tunnel of fall-colored trees, and reached the entrance to the mansion grounds. Keying the code provided by O'Connor into the security box, Travis watched the ornate, wrought iron gates swing open. As he drove up the curving private road, he was reminded again of the wide differences between his background and hers. He'd never be able to match what she took as a matter of course. "Back again," Megan said. "I'll be glad when we can go home to Silvertip." Home to the ranch, Travis thought. But for how long? They'd agreed to stay married until the adoption was final and the kids safely with Megan. A cold fist tightened in his gut. Time was running out. **** 194

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After the kids were tucked into the nursery beds that evening, Travis and Megan returned to their suite of rooms. "Black tie, Megan? That mean a tuxedo?" "I can hardly wait to see you in one. You sure won't need padded shoulders like a lot of the guys." "Hell, I never owned one in my life. A sports jacket, bolo tie, or the tie I wore for our wedding, and a Stetson were as dressy as it got for me." "I'll ask my father to change the invitation to informal dress." "And give him something to gloat about? I'll rent one." **** Friday night had come too soon for Travis as he examined his tuxedoed reflection in the mirror. "Damned monkey suit makes me look like a waiter," he muttered tugging on the ends of the dangling black bow tie. "Trouble?" Megan asked in an amused tone. "It's this tie. Can't get it right." Her reflection joined his, and his heart swelled with pride. The dark green heavy silk gown she wore deepened the jade of her eyes. Her auburn hair was coiled on top of her head in some complicated knot never seen on any rope. A few loose curls danced against her cheeks whispering, Kiss me. He turned and took her into his arms. "Meg, honey, you're more beautiful than any princess." "My prince," she murmured, offering her lips. A knock sounded on the door. "Daughter, I have a gift for you." 195

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"My father," she groaned, pulling away from Travis. "If I don't answer, he'll make a racket until I do." She opened the door and O'Connor stood there decked out in a fancy, hand-tailored tuxedo, holding a flat jeweler's box. He glanced at Travis, then dismissed him with a look. "Megan, I brought you some real jewelry to wear. Since you insist on that old dress, here's something new." "Dad, I've only worn this once. But thank you for the gift." She opened the box and whispered, "It's stunning. Look." Reverently, she held it up for Travis's inspection. His gut clenched. The necklace of gold flowers with emerald centers and the matching earrings were beautiful, elegant, and probably cost more than a horse wrangler could earn in ten years. While she traced the edge of a golden petal, and kissed her father's cheek, Travis thought, bleakly, that it was one more example of their different backgrounds. Megan was used to beautiful clothes, expensive jewelry, and an easy life. What the hell was he, a bunged-up rodeo rider and cowboy, doing here married to her? "Travis, will you fasten this?" She stood in front of him, holding out the necklace. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Beyond her, O'Connor watched with a sly smile. Damn him. He closed the clasp and placed a deliberate kiss on the tender skin behind her left ear. Humming with pleasure, she tipped her head to give him easier access. Her delicate tea rose fragrance swirled around him. His pulse raced. He touched his tongue to her earlobe and, trapped by her spell 196

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and his own sensuality, forgot O'Connor, forgot the party, forgot the world. "Travis," she whispered. "I'll see you downstairs." Burke's harsh voice brought them back to cold reality. The door snapped shut. "Old goat," Travis muttered. Megan chuckled. "He did put a damper on things." She laced her fingers with his and led him to the delicate chair in front of the vanity. "Sit. I'll fix your bow tie. Then I'll put on my new earrings." **** As they left their rooms and started down the curving stairway to the party below, happy tears collected in Megan's eyes. Not for the party, but for her handsome, manly husband. His strong, tanned hand under her elbow held her securely. He seemed a little withdrawn, unusually reserved, but she put that down to the elegantly dressed mob of people who watched their progress down the stairs. The lilting strains of chamber music made a gentle background to the hum of conversation. Fragrances from exclusive lines vied with the spicy aroma of hot canapés. Lila, known for her collection of desirable men, met them at the bottom of the steps. "Megan, darling." She kissed the air beside Megan's cheek. "How smashing you look in your gown. It's ever so pretty. I thought so the first time I saw you wearing it at the Hunt Club Ball two years ago." "You're looking good, too. Added to your trophies lately?" 197

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The bottle-blonde predator turned her dazzling smile on Travis. "And who is this devastating man? Never say he's the cowboy you married." "Lila, my husband, Travis Knight." "Oh," she pouted. "Married. Never mind. Come along, I'll get you a drink." She tugged him toward the bar set up in one corner of the glassed-in, heated terrace. He glanced back at Megan and she smiled. If Travis could handle buckle bunnies in a pack, he could easily deal with a single vixen. Her old roommate from Foxdale met her with a well-bred yelp of delight. "Aren't you the sly one? Married ... and to a dishy hunk." She lowered her tone to a confidential level. "Is it true what they say about cowboys in bed? Wild and woolly?" "Bitsy, what a question." "Just satisfying my curiosity. Your blush says it all, you lucky girl." Megan looked toward the terrace and saw Travis in conversation with Lila and two men. "I am lucky." "He's put a new glow in your smile." Bitsy hugged her. "I don't have to ask if you're happy away from your father and married. It's obvious." "Best thing I ever did." "Do you ever think about the days at Foxdale? We had some great times there." "Getting into trouble, you mean." Megan thought back to those wild times and mentally winced. "I can't believe some of the dumb things we did." 198

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"Like you climbing the flag pole on the roof, and hanging the dummy dressed in your brother's clothes." "Kyle chewed me out for doing that, but he never did admit they were his pants and shirt to anyone, not even Dad." "Good thing. Your father would've paddled you into next week." Bitsy caught up two crystal glasses of champagne from the tray of a circulating waiter and gave her one. Automatically, she accepted the drink. "Looking back, I can see why. It's a wonder I didn't fall and kill myself climbing that pole." "And old lady Spencer was just waiting for an excuse to boot you out of school." Megan smiled wryly. "She didn't like it when I rode my horse through the Senior Quad to celebrate our equestrian team winning the regional meet." Bitsy laughed. "That's because she stepped in a pile of fresh—" "You don't have to paint a picture. I remember." "Oh, oh, Lila's talking to my new guy. I'd better protect him before she gets her claws in him. See you later." Watching her friend slip through the crowd toward the terrace, Megan remembered a few of the other stunts she'd pulled at school and camp. She flushed, embarrassed by uncomfortable memories. No wonder her father had thought she lacked good judgment. "Hello, Megan. Caught yourself a fortune-hunting cowboy, I see." 199

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"Broadhurst, I have nothing to say to you." She started to leave, but several people stared at her and her ex-suitor as if waiting for a scene. She heard laughter and stage whispers about water and a horse trough. Her fingers curled tighter around the stem of the tulip glass. The old Megan would've emptied it over his head. "Keep out of my life." "Not before I have my say." He laughed bitterly. "You dumped me for that common cow puncher. Made me the laughing stock of our set. Well, Mrs. Knight, how long do you think your husband will stay when he learns you used him?" He stalked away. Travis joined her and she quickly composed her expression. How much had he heard? "Old friend?" Travis said with a cynical laugh. "Last time I saw him he was mad as a wet hen and stomping toward his car." "He's Dad's friend, not mine." Lila slithered up beside Travis, handing him a frosty mug. "Here's your Bud. You just have to know who to ask." She saluted Megan with a martini. "I saw you talking to Broadhurst. He told the most delightful story about you pushing him into a horse bathtub when he proposed to you. Same old Megan." "It was a horse trough, and he wouldn't believe I meant no." Lila's escort laughed. "I've heard you were a real prankster, Megan."

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Bitsy, with her date's arm around her waist, giggled and said, "She was the best. The girls at Foxdale were always wondering what Megan would do next." Hoping to stop her, Megan said, "Bitsy, we were kids. Nobody wants to hear that story." Lila's date said, "I do." Bitsy grinned. "Once, the two of us found a pregnant mutt in the woods behind school. Miss Spencer, the headmistress, told us to get rid of it. But we hid her in the boiler room and bribed the custodian to let us keep her there. We managed to smuggle food to her. After the puppies were born and weaned, we gave them away to students going home on the winter break." Megan, resigned to finishing the story, said, "Miss Spencer caught us in the act and called in our parents. My father ended up donating a new wing to the library so I could finish school there." The crowd laughed. "And I was grounded for six months." Her laugh faded when Felix Langston joined the group. "Reminiscing about old times?" He patted his thin mustache. "Up to your usual jokes, Megan?" Megan felt Travis stiffen. She took his arm. Coyly, Lila touched Felix's hand. "I heard the most delicious story that Travis here actually chased you off Megan's ranch. And you without your martini!" "Too true, my dear. Don't you know our little Megan was doing her hard-to-get act, and he played the hero and ousted me?" 201

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Megan tightened her fingers on Travis's arm to hold him back, and managed an icy smile. "Felix, that's history. Travis and I are married." "My dear, you're the same old Megan. You'll never grow up." He swept the gathering crowd with a glance. "Married to a cowboy. Really, Megan, this is the best joke yet." "Felix, I've always known you were a user, living off other people's charity. Now you've proved you're also a fool. I have grown up. Certainly enough to recognize a man. Yes, my husband's a cowboy, the toughest you'll ever find." Turning her head, she smiled at Travis and saw his grim expression soften. She looked back at the group of people she'd once called friends, recognizing their shallowness and envy. "My cowboy is smarter, stronger and faster than you'll ever dream of being. I love him and I'm lucky to be his wife." She squeezed Travis's arm and turned. Silently, he followed. Tall, brawny, scented with the openness of Montana, as out of place as any Appaloosa at a tea party. And she loved him as passionately as she loved the Big Sky Country. She'd severed her last ties to this, the old life. Would the man she loved stay with her in the new life at Silvertip?

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CHAPTER 16 Travis studied the bottom line on the computer screen. They'd been back at the ranch a month. Silvertip was in good shape. Buyers were lined up for the foals after they were weaned. He didn't know whether to feel satisfied at a job well done, or cuss. It sure as hell didn't rate a celebration, not when it marked the end of his deal with Megan, and the end of their marriage. He'd known it was coming from the moment he'd driven past the open gates of her father's estate, but it still tangled his guts into a knot. Travis recalled the last scene at the party O'Connor had given in his luxurious home. Megan had been comfortable there among all that wealth and power. The dark chasm between his background and hers had never been so clear. A soft glimmer caught his attention and he looked at the source—the fool's gold from Ryan, now in a metal coil on the key ring, shone dully where Travis had left it on the desk. Fool's gold. Like me, he thought bitterly. The painful memory of the last time he'd seen the wealthy Pamela surfaced with a sickening jolt. He'd been hot under the collar when he'd learned she'd played him for a fool. She'd fluffed her hair, had blown a kiss to him, and said, "You're so darling, but can you imagine tromping into the Four Seasons in New York in your dusty boots?" Travis cursed. His appearance at Burke's party had been like him marching into a swank place straight from mucking 203

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out stables. Sure, he'd been dressed in formal clothes like the other men, but he was still a rough rodeo rider, a cowboy who knew how to repair fences, round up strays, use a dally rope, or his fists. He sure as hell didn't fit into the way Megan had been raised. The yahoo, Felix, had obviously expressed the opinion of everyone else at the party when he'd said, "Married to a cowboy. Really, Megan, this is the best joke yet." A joke. Travis shook his head, but he couldn't deny the facts—Felix had been right. Recalling Megan's defense of him, Travis gripped the fool's gold until the protective coil bit into his skin. Hell, he didn't care. Megan's words had hit him deeper than anything else he'd ever experienced. She'd become a strong woman. One who could stand alone. It was time for him to move on and let her find someone more suitable for her—someone she could love with her whole being and not have to defend. Dipping a hand into his pocket, Travis pulled out his wallet and looked at the photo of Megan and the kids. He placed it on the desk top and studied the picture for the last time. Megan held Katie and looked straight into the camera, smiling at him. A whole world of joy had been captured in her face. Katie held out one little hand to him, her new teeth proudly on display. Ryan, snuggled against Megan, held a coil of rope with a lasso loop at one end. Since the time the kid had chased the bay colt, Travis had started lessons in using a lasso—not on horses or cattle, but on a wooden horse he'd hammered together. Ryan practiced 204

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everyday. When he did, Wolfie and Sam disappeared until the kid got tired and carefully hung the coiled rope with the others, on a peg set low enough for him to reach. Travis picked up the photo and carefully slipped it into his wallet again. This he'd take with him tomorrow. He stared out the window at the snow-covered land sleeping under a quarter moon. Dark and cold, he thought, the way his life was going to be without Megan. O'Connor had kept his promise and released Megan's accounts. She had money for now and investments for the future, and her adoption of Ryan and Katie had been final for over a month. She didn't need him any more. It was time to keep his end of the bargain, keep his word. Bill limped in and eased into a chair. "Workin' late, boss?" "Yeah." He made a back-up copy and switched off the computer. "All done." In more ways than one, he thought. Turning in his chair, he faced the old cowpoke who'd become his friend. "If I have to leave, can you run Silvertip again?" "Easy as flies on honey. Truth is, Miz Megan don't need me to give orders. The hands'll listen to her and follow orders." He gave Travis a keen look. "Goin' on a business trip?" "Something like that." "Hope you ain't gone long. Ryan and Katie'll miss you and Miz Megan'll be plumb lonely." "I'll remember." Did Bill suspect what was really happening? "Ryan's learning how to ride faster'n most kids his age. Will you keep teaching him?" 205

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"Until you hightail it back here?" The old cowboy shot him a narrow look. "Yeah. Until I return." Liar, he told himself. Bill heaved to his feet. "That's settled. Gotta get my beauty sleep, not that anyone'll notice." The door closed and Travis knew he was going to bed with Megan for the last time. He rearranged pencils, torn between delaying the final hours—like saving the last poem in a book— and running to take her in his arms. As he left the ranch office, light spilled from the living room. He found Megan curled up on the couch, reading. She was still dressed in jeans and a pale green sweater. Lamplight coaxed the dark fire in her auburn hair. Smiling, she asked, "Ready to go up? It's lonely without you." He held out a hand. She closed her book and laced her fingers through his. At the foot of the staircase, she gently tugged loose and started up, trailing a veil of tea rose fragrance. He followed, wishing there'd be other times, other nights. But he had only the next few hours to make memories for a lifetime. The thick socks on her feet were soundless on the polished wood steps. Her hips swayed. Her long, graceful legs were well-toned from riding. He swallowed hard, picturing those legs wrapped around him, her husky cries urging him on. The short distance between the top step and their room seemed to last forever. She laced her fingers with his again, and they seared him. Heat pooled in his groin. 206

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After closing the bedroom door, he kissed the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist "Meg, when you undress tonight, do it slow." "Like a woman who loves you?" She took two steps away, gave him a flirty smile over one shoulder, then presented her profile. Slowly, she crossed her arms and grasped the hem of her sweater. "Go on," he said with rough urgency. She skimmed the sweater up over her head and dropped it. Her bra followed. She shimmied out of jeans and panties, then caressed her hips, watching him under half-lowered lashes. A neat triangle of curls hid her feminine heat, but he knew the hot velvet waiting for him. He yanked a dally rope on his desire so their lovemaking wouldn't end too soon. Hoarsely, he said, "Raise your arms again." "Like this?" Gracefully, she lifted her hands in a high arc. Light from the bedside lamp traced her skin in warm ivory and deepened the shadowed curves under her breasts. Her dusky nipples invited his mouth. Damn, she was all pink and cream, and desirable woman, and he couldn't wait any longer. Crossing the short space between them, he traced her breast with a finger, circling closer to the rosy crest. Swaying toward him, she unbuttoned his three top shirt buttons and slid one hand inside. Her fingers brushed his nipple, already sensitive from anticipation. Travis froze. Expelling his breath in a hiss, he tore open the shirt, dropped it onto the floor, and shucked boots and remaining clothes. 207

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He turned her and pulled her close, arms around her, hands fondling her breasts. The feel of Travis's hard body pressed against her back sent another spiral of longing through Megan. His skilled fingers coaxed new sensations from her already overloaded senses. She felt his hot breath stir the fine hairs at her nape. He stroked the tender skin with his tongue, then gently nipped her neck, and a thousand volts raced down her spine. Her knees weakened, but he held her securely in his powerful grip, and slid his fingers along her tummy to the top of her thighs while he scattered kisses across the back of her neck. Sensual shock raced through her on shimmering wires of heat. His hot mouth on her vulnerable nape stirred primitive images of a wild stallion taking a mare. She writhed, wanting to turn and touch him. Tightening his hold on her waist, he plunged one finger into her feminine heat. She gasped, struck by a flood of fierce pleasure. His sensual assault of lips, mouth, fingers built in wave upon wave. Desire writhed and coiled tighter in her womb, wound like a metal spring, to the breaking point. Then it sprang free, and she rose in an upward spiral of blind pleasure that shattered to leave her hanging limp in her husband's arms. Travis murmured in her ear, "Thrill number one, Meg, and we still have all night." He swept her up and carried her into the shower. With warm water sluicing over them, he smoothed the rose208

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scented soap down her body, caressing her with hands that knew all her pleasure points. She shampooed his hair, then spread soap across his taut muscled chest. She followed the lines of his strong spine and measured the sinewy length of his legs with her fingers. He was magnificent, and he was hers. And she'd never needed anyone as much as she needed, wanted him. **** The edges of the dream hovered in Megan's mind when she woke. She'd been riding across the valley with Travis at her side. Ryan and Katie loped ahead on bay Appaloosas. Between them rode a younger brother and sister. "Travis," she whispered, and stretched with the sense of well-being that came from their night of making love. Rolling onto her side, she reached for him, but the bed was empty and cold. A drawer opened. Startled, she watched Travis carry an armload of cotton briefs and thermal tops to an open duffel bag. Sitting up, she asked, "Going somewhere? Did I forget you had a trip coming up?" He paused. "Goin' to Arizona, to Rainbow Valley Ranch." He packed the briefs and tops, went to the closet and started pulling out shirts. She swung her legs out of bed and reached for her heavy robe. He gave it to her, then returned to the dresser to grab socks. 209

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"How soon will you be back? My dad's coming for Christmas, you know." "I won't be here." He folded and packed his clothes with quick efficiency while she watched, stunned by his announcement. A dark, aching void opened in her soul. "You won't be—I get it. Our agreement." His expression had settled into implacable lines. "Right. I gave my word. A man who doesn't keep his promises is nothing." He closed the bag. "I've left my forwarding address in the office. If something comes up, you can call and leave a message." It was obvious he wanted to go. Her stomach did a slow roll. How could she have been so foolish as to fall in love with him? She struggled to hide her anger and sadness. "First, you should eat breakfast." "I'll get it in town." "At least tell Ryan goodbye." He picked up his duffel bag and stopped at the door. "I'll see him after I stash this in the truck." The moment the door closed, she threw on her clothes and hurried downstairs. She'd have to deal with her aching heart later. Ryan would be upset by Travis leaving. From the living room window, she watched her husband lash a tarp over the load. His shearling jacket was buttoned against sub-zero cold, and his breath swirled like white smoke in the air. His boots sank in snow from the new storm they'd had overnight. My husband. For a long moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't move at the thought of never seeing him again, 210

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never hearing his lazy drawl as he teased her or Frieda. Never sit across the kitchen table and watch his smile brighten, hear him laugh. While she'd slept, he'd hitched up the horse trailer. The last thing left was to load Chief. Her throat clogged. She swallowed against the lump. He was really going, and she couldn't stop him when it was obviously what he wanted. He paused and stared up at their bedroom window. For an unguarded moment, she saw regret in his expression. Then he tugged his hat lower and tightened the ropes on the pickup. Megan heard childish shouts of, "Don't go. Don't go." In red Spiderman pajamas, Ryan dashed toward Travis, his sock-covered feet sinking in the new snow. Alarmed, she rushed out to the porch calling the boy to come back into the house. Travis had already pulled off his heavy jacket and was wrapping it around the little body. Ryan clung to his neck, sobbing. "Don't come any farther, Megan. You're not dressed for the cold." Travis carried Ryan across the porch into the house, and tried to hand him to her, but the little guy had a grip on the tanned neck and refused to let go. Megan sighed. Don't do this to me. She held back her tears. She wouldn't show Travis how difficult it was to tell him goodbye. And she grieved for her son. He loved and worshipped the big man holding him so tenderly. 211

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"Come on, little champ," he said quietly, rubbing Ryan's back. "I have to go now." "Why?" Ryan demanded. Travis looked at her. Some indefinable emotion smoldered in his eyes, and hope leaped in her heart. Did he really want to leave? She folded her arms. "Answer our son's question. Explain why you have to leave us and Silvertip." "Hell, Megan, you know why. We had a deal. I gave my word." He glanced at the child in his arms. "Everything's settled and you don't need me anymore." "But I do." Ryan raised his head and looked from one adult to the other. "Are you fighting? You gonna kiss and make up?" He wriggled to get down. Travis set him on his feet. "I gotta tell Katie you're gonna kiss and make up." He dashed from the hallway. Travis shrugged into his heavy jacket, and Megan's heart gave a painful jolt. "So you're really going." His expression went hard. "Got that right. We had a deal. I said I'd help you adopt the kids, then I'd get out of your life." Without another word, he turned and went out the door. She stood frozen, heard his heavy footsteps cross the porch, heard Wolfie's bark of greeting go silent. Minutes later, the tailgate rattled on the horse trailer as Travis secured Chief. The truck door slammed and the engine revved. Then the sound was gone.

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Utterly miserable, she stepped outside. The only sign Travis had been there was the fresh tracks in the snow made by his truck and horse trailer. Wolfie hobbled up the stairs, ears drooping, tail down, and thrust his muzzle into her hand for comfort as if he, too, realized Travis had gone ... forever.

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CHAPTER 17 Wolfie whined and crowded closer. Megan ruffled his ears, and stroked his snow-dampened fur. The jagged pain pouring through her body pushed her beyond tears. "Why, Travis, why?" she whispered. As if in pity, the dark clouds overhead opened and fresh snow fell on the tracks left by Travis's departure. Gone. Megan drew in a ragged breath. Suddenly, she recalled the indefinable emotion she'd seen in his eyes—a mixture of regret and yearning. He'd said he was leaving because they had a deal. A deal. Last night his lovemaking had carried a hint of desperation. Now she realized why. He'd known he was leaving today, and didn't want to go. Wait! Why stand here like a fool while Travis drove away out of her life? She rushed back into the house, grabbed her winter jacket out of the closet, and hurried down the hall to the kitchen. There, in the cheerful room, Ryan at the table, and Katie in her high chair, nibbled on banana slices and watched Frieda prepare their breakfast. "Frieda, I'm going after Travis." "Of course. Go with God." The motherly woman looked down at Megan's sneakers. "And wear your boots." "No time." Megan pulled on her green winter jacket and jammed a knitted cap over her loose-hanging hair. "I'll ride over the ridge and catch him before the main highway." 214

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On the last word, she flew out the side door and raced across the snowy yard to the stable. With every step, the words, Hurry, hurry, hurry, beat through her mind. Her pulse kicked into high. Her mind worked faster and she planned. It would take too long to saddle Foxfire. She'd ride bareback with just a bridle. As she mentally plotted her route, she slipped the bridle over the gelding's head, then led him out of the stable. Wind-driven snowflakes pelted them. She swung onto Foxfire's back, settled in place, holding the reins, and turned him toward the long rise of timbered land to the south. Once they left the yard, she sent him into a ground-eating lope across the familiar land. The sub-zero air stung her cheeks. Snowflakes clung to her jacket and eyelashes. Heat from Foxfire's great body warmed her legs and thighs where she gripped his sides, but the wind bit through her jeans and chilled the front and outsides of her legs. His breath rose in white plumes only to be snatched away by the wind and snow. Once she reached the thick stands of aspen, juniper, and pine, she slowed and directed Foxfire between the trees, climbing higher up the ridge, always moving southeast to the point where the road made a sharp bend just before the wood bridge crossed Fireweed Creek. The snowfall was less between the thick stand of trees, but freshly broken branches on the ground showed they had snapped under the weight of the snow. She ducked as another branch above her groaned and dipped, releasing its load of snow beside her. Foxfire shied. 215

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She tightened her legs around his body, and a long finger of wood swept off her knitted cap. Then he lunged forward just as another branch bent, releasing its frigid, heavy load. **** Travis slowed his pickup, watching the outline of the road as the snowfall grew heavier. His heater labored to keep the temperature inside the cab above freezing, but nothing would ever thaw the ice in his gut. The shock and grief in Megan's eyes as he'd walked out of her life would haunt him forever. "Dammit, we had a deal." He thumped one fist on the steering wheel, but the pain only echoed his misery. Sure, they'd had a deal, but that was cold comfort. He winced at the unintended pun. Already, he missed her and Ryan and Katie—but especially Megan. Well, hell, he'd just have to get used to living without her. Images of Megan paraded through his mind; their first ride together up into the mountains behind the ranch. He recalled the graceful way she rode, her gentle mastery of Foxfire or any other horse at Silvertip. When they'd dismounted and strolled to where they could see the ranch far below, she'd held his hand trustingly while the wind played with her hair. "Trust," he muttered, swerving to miss a fallen branch. How much trust had he given to her? 216

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In spite of the way she'd done her share and more in cleaning stables, gardening, and learning to cook, her wealth had stuck in his craw. Hadn't he learned anything when they'd stayed at the O'Connor mansion? Her father had offered a credit card to Megan to buy herself and Travis any clothes they'd needed. Had she jumped at the chance? Hell, no. She'd given her father a cool look and said, "I'm not your little girl anymore. I'm a grown, married woman. My husband and I will take care of our clothes." Last he remembered the scene at the party when Megan had said to her wealthy friends, "My cowboy is smarter, stronger and faster than you'll ever dream of being. I love him and I'm lucky to be his wife." I love him. Travis groaned in frustration. Why hadn't he let himself believe she'd spoken from her heart? A burst of wind from the north, punched the side of the horse trailer and truck, and jerked his attention back to driving in the storm. He fought to keep the whole rig on the narrow road, while redoubling his scrutiny of the winding lanes ahead. This road was usually deserted, but it paid to be on guard. Something flashed to one side of the steering wheel. He glanced down then looked back up at the road, but that one brief look was burned into his brain. Fool's gold. Like me. Ahead, the snow-covered road made a ribbon of white through a tunnel of dark green firs and pines with snow piled against their brown trunks. Over the reality lay the transparent image of Ryan's eager, trusting expression as he held the white quartz with its brassy fool's gold and said, 217

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"Look! I found gold..." Then the little guy had offered what he thought was a treasure to pay Aunt Lucy's taxes. Ryan, generous like Megan. The truck jounced through a rough patch of road. Every mile he drove was taking him farther away from her, and he wanted to howl his frustration. Why had he made that stupid deal, promising to get out of her life when she decided it was time for him to go? "Wait," he muttered, sorting through his memory of that conversation. Somehow, that didn't make sense with what he'd said just before he'd driven away for the last time. The last time. His muscles tensed as a wave of loss and sorrow rolled through his chest. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. Why had he left Silvertip when his heart had stayed there? As if to stop him, a small avalanche swept down from the ridge to his right and blocked the road. With it came two figures, a horse and its rider—Megan on Foxfire. He jammed on the brakes and was out of the truck, afraid she was injured, and wondering by what miracle she'd kept her seat in that chaos of snow and splintered wood. "Megan," he shouted, tossing branches out his way and wading through the knee-deep snow toward her. Before Travis could reach her, she slipped off the horse's back. Murmuring encouragement, she worked to free Foxfire's legs. The gelding's head hung low. His sides heaved. In spite of the frigid air, flecks of foam spattered his coat, and he trembled. 218

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The icy fear in Travis's chest eased. Reaching Megan's side, he searched for signs of injury. Her face was ashen, but she looked alert. He knew she'd resist any effort to get her into the shelter of the truck's cab until her horse was safe. Silently, he turned to help her finish digging out the chestnut. When Foxfire was released, Travis hunkered down near Megan. While she checked the gelding's front legs, he carefully slid his hands along the back legs, discovering some minor cuts and one tender spot in the curve of the hock. Megan straightened, one hand braced on the gelding's side. Raw pain shadowed her eyes. "He's hurt. I never should've taken him down that slope." The fear he'd held back while they released Foxfire, exploded. "What were you doing out here in a snowstorm, looking for strays? That's the men's job, not yours." "It looks like I was wrong ... about everything." Her expression grew bleak. Travis saw that hopeless expression and heard the selfcondemnation in her voice. He'd stood when she had. Now he closed the short distance between them and fought his desire to draw her into his arms. Instead, he brushed one finger down the side of her chilled face. "Don't be so hard on yourself. The snowpack on the slopes around here is pretty unstable. Sometimes, a sneeze is enough to set it off. Other times, not even a cannon would jar it loose." "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Travis. The bottom line, I took him down a dangerous place." She shivered and 219

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folded her arms against her body. "I'll ask one more favor of you. Will you help me lead him out of this? Then you can go." "You're not riding Foxfire back to Silvertip." Her lips tightened. "Of course not. He's hurt. I'll lead him back." "The hell you will! I'll load him into the horse trailer beside Chief. Go ahead. Get into the cab out of the cold. I'll take care of Foxfire." "We'll both take care of him." She gripped the bridle and slowly led the limping horse out of the snowpack. **** Shivering and exhausted, Megan trudged up the stairs and onto the front porch. All the way back to Silvertip, Travis had kept the conversation on neutral subjects. Her heart had ached at being so close to him, while separated by an unseen barrier. His anger when he saw her on the road and his reserved attitude on the way back, proved she'd been foolish to think he wanted to remain as her husband. They'd unloaded Foxfire and saw him settled in the barn with Bill and Travis fussing over the chestnut's minor injuries. She'd headed for the house before Travis could see how desperately she wanted to beg him to stay. She heard his firm tread on the porch behind her as he followed her into the house. Holding his hat in his long, strong fingers, he said, "The gelding will heal with no problem. Bill knows his stuff." Travis gazed at her with an unemotional expression. "You okay?" 220

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"Nothing a hot bath won't fix." Liar. She wanted to close her eyes in despair, but she forced herself to give him a steady look in spite of the grief ripping at her heart. Lord, it's beyond pain to say good-by a second time. The sound of Katie's chatter and Ryan laughing floated down the hallway. Travis stared in that direction. His grip tightened on the brim of the Resistol. And Megan took one last chance. In a tight voice, she said, "Come into the living room. I have something to say." Before he could object, she opened the door and waited for him. Slowly, he entered then turned and faced her, feet apart, hands braced on his lean hips. "Say your piece." She stood with her back against the wooden barrier. "You broke our deal." He straightened as if jabbed with a hot branding iron. His eyes flashed. "The hell I did. I kept my part and left when the adoption was final and you had your money." "You promised to help adopt the children and get out of my life when I decided it was time for you to go." She watched the fire in his eyes soften. "I want you to stay, Travis." He shook his head. "Meg, you know I'm not wealthy like you. Never will be." "You're my husband. That's what matters." His jaw set in a stubborn line. "It'll never work." "Travis..." Lurching away from the door, she fumbled for the arm of the couch to steady her shaky legs. "You said I 221

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don't need you, but you're wrong. Sure, I can take care of the kids and boss the hands. But who'll take care of me?" In the silence, she heard the crew outside going about their chores. A horse whinnied and another answered. Here, inside, she saw Travis's struggle in the way his chest rapidly rose and fell, in his clenched jaw and white-knuckled fists. He stepped closer, smelling of warm male and the cold Montana country. "Want me to apply for the job?" "Yes." She closed her eyes for just a moment to hold the image of him in her memory. "Who else will help me when mama goat breaks loose. Who'll follow me across the valley to be sure I'm okay. Who'll try to boss me? Who'll hold me and make love until I go up in flames?" She reached for him. "I love you, Travis, and I think you've begun to care a little for me." "Care for you?" His large hands took her face and held it gently. "Megan Marie Knight, the time comes when a man has to swallow his pride if he doesn't want to lose the woman he loves." He tugged her into the circle of his arms, and she snuggled against his heart. "Honey, I've loved you from the moment you pushed that dude into the horse trough, but I was too damned stubborn to admit it to myself. I want to stay with you and the kids. We have a family, but I'd like to watch you grow round with another child." Her heart leaped. "I want that, too ... husband." He tightened his hold until she could barely breathe. "Megan, I'll love you always." 222

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And he sealed his vow with a kiss for her, his Montana Bride.

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Barbara Clark "All dreams lie beyond defeat." That quote by an unknown author has inspired Barbara Clark to keep writing and creating new stories set in a variety of locations. Her multiple award-winning books range from the coast of southern California to a glittering penthouse in New York city, a working cattle ranch in Arizona, the romance and challenge of the Sahara Desert, and the heat and danger of a Brazilian Rain Forest. Happy childhood memories of the two years she lived in Arizona inspired the setting for Rainbow Valley. With her scientist husband, she's attended seminars at the California Institute of Technology (Cal Tech.) and explored many of the beaches, mountains, canyons, and deserts of the Southwest. When she's not writing or reading, she quilts, gardens, or plays with their grandchildren. Barbara is also part of the writing team—collaboratively known as T. C. Jilké—for Amber Circle, the 1st E-Soap for the CyberAge! You can visit Barbara's website at: www.barbaraclarkbooks.com **** Don't miss Rainbow Valley, by Barbara Clark, available now from Amber Quill Press, LLC 224

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EPPIE finalist—Best Romance! When gourmet chef, Annie Reed, takes the job of cook on a working cattle ranch, she fights her attraction to her hardheaded cowboy boss, Jake Stone. But, she's learning to ride the mare, Sage, and the valley feels more like home every day. Jake battles his attraction to the lively young city woman he's hired, in desperation, as cook. He has a ranch to run and a mortgage to beat. Even more, his deceased wife had taught him a bitter lesson of mistrust. Will betrayals from his past force Annie to leave him and Rainbow Valley?

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AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC Quality Books, Print And Electronic Horror Romance Fantasy Mainstream Young Adult Science Fiction Suspense/Thriller Action/Adventure Non-Fiction Paranormal Historical Western 226

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Mystery Erotica Buy Direct And Earn Free Books! www.amberquill.com

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