Читать онлайн книгу «Cowboy Courage» автора Judy Duarte

Cowboy Courage
Judy Duarte
SHE WAS A WOMAN ON THE RUN…Shattered by her fiancé's betrayal, Lauren Taylor fled California and her society engagement. In a small Texas town, she found a place for herself in the gentle arms of rancher Cole McAdams. He was as honest as the day was long…and as guarded.HE'D GIVEN HER SHELTER FROM THE STORM.Cole had enough problems keeping his ranch afloat and raising his daughter alone. He'd trusted a woman once and been burned, and he knew that Lauren had secrets of her own. But in a time of crisis, could this cowboy find the courage to put the past behind him and finally embrace a future…with her?



“How do you like your women, Cole?”
He studied her. “I like them on the loving side.”
Something in his eyes drew her to him. Admiration, maybe, but attraction for sure. Desire stilled the conversation.
Cole extended a hand to her. “Dance with me.”
She shouldn’t get too close. Touch him. Hold him. She didn’t trust the strength of her own desire. God knew she didn’t need any complications in her life right now. She had to return to California. Soon. But she didn’t have to go anywhere tonight.
Cole couldn’t help but pull her close. Without a doubt, he held more woman than he’d ever held before, but the sooner he let her go, the better. Cole needed a woman who didn’t keep secrets.
He’d seen the passion blazing in her eyes, a raging desire that matched his own. It would be hot, wild and intoxicating. A once-in-a-lifetime affair.
But it would also be wrong.
Dear Reader,
Spring is a time for new beginnings. And as you step out to enjoy the spring sunshine, I’d like to introduce a new author to Silhouette Special Edition. Her name is Judy Duarte, and her novel Cowboy Courage tells the heartwarming story of a runaway heiress who finds shelter in the strong arms of a handsome—yet guarded—cowboy. Don’t miss this brilliant debut!
Next, we have the new installment in Susan Mallery’s DESERT ROGUES miniseries. In The Sheik & the Virgin Princess, a beautiful princess goes in search of her long-lost royal father, and on her quest falls in love with her heart-meltingly gorgeous bodyguard! And love proves to be the irresistible icing in this adorable tale by Patricia Coughlin, The Cupcake Queen. Here, a lovable heroine turns her hero’s life into a virtual beehive. But Cupid’s arrow does get the final—er—sting!
I’m delighted to bring you Crystal Green’s His Arch Enemy’s Daughter, the next story in her poignant miniseries KANE’S CROSSING. When a rugged sheriff falls for the wrong woman, he has to choose between revenge and love. Add to the month Pat Warren’s exciting new two-in-one, My Very Own Millionaire—two fabulous romances in one novel about confirmed bachelors who finally find the women of their dreams! Lastly, there is no shortage of gripping emotion (or tears!) in Lois Faye Dyer’s Cattleman’s Bride-To-Be, where long-lost lovers must reunite to save the life of a little girl. As they fight the medical odds, this hero and heroine find that passion—and soul-searing love—never die….
I’m so happy to present these first fruits of spring. I hope you enjoy this month’s lineup and come back for next month’s moving stories about life, love and family!
Best,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor

Cowboy Courage
Judy Duarte


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Crystal Green and Sheri WhiteFeather, the best critique partners in the world. I cherish your dedication, faith, enthusiasm and friendship.
To Margaret Marbury, who believes in me.
And to Karen Taylor Richman, who believes in this story.
Without you, this book would still be a dream.

JUDY DUARTE
An avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, Judy Duarte always wanted to write books of her own. One day, she decided to make her dream come true.
Her unpublished stories have won the Emily and the Orange Rose, and in 2001, she became a double Golden Heart finalist. She credits her success to Romance Writers of America and two wonderful critique partners, both of whom write for Silhouette Books.
At times, when a stubborn hero and a headstrong heroine claim her undivided attention, she and her family are thankful for pizza delivery and Nintendo. When she’s not at the keyboard or in a Walter-Mitty-type world, she enjoys traveling, romantic evenings with her personal hero and playing board games with her kids.
Judy lives in Southern California and loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at: P.O. Box 498, San Luis Rey, California 92068-0498.



Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
Gray storm clouds loomed overhead as Lauren Taylor peered through the bug-splattered windshield, trying to spot a place to eat, somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized. A place where she could slip in, blend into the scenery and hide.
The darkened sky hid the afternoon sun and chilled the air. For the first time since yesterday, Lauren felt the need to slow her aimless pace and find shelter. She glanced at the gas gauge. Although she had nearly a quarter tank, she decided not to risk being stranded along the road.
Texas had never been her destination. When she’d sped away from the Southern California estate she and Daniel had just leased, she hadn’t been steering toward any place in particular. Heading east on Interstate 10 had seemed as good a direction as any on her trek to nowhere.
She’d never had a hint of a flight plan, but as she crossed the New Mexico border into Texas, a strange but soothing realization had struck. Lauren was going home—home to the state where she’d been born and raised in love, as well as poverty. Where she’d also been orphaned and left to the wolves, so to speak.
Lauren stole a glance in the mirror, in spite of a reluctance to do so. After more than thirty hours without sleep and nearly twenty on the road, she had no doubt that her appearance was far from the usual neat and fastidious image she had always conveyed.
An image, a facade, an act. Funny how she’d never realized it until now.
She sighed, deciding to freshen up once she stopped. A bulging canvas tote rested on the back seat, packed with cosmetics and personal items intended for a trip to the gym she’d never made. Usually, when she’d felt angry or stressed, a good workout did wonders. But yesterday afternoon, nothing would have eased the devastating shock resulting from the telephone conversation she’d overheard.
She’d never meant to eavesdrop, but when she’d heard the sensual tone of a familiar female voice, and then Daniel’s husky whisper, she couldn’t hang up.
I miss you, Daniel.
I miss you, too, baby. When can I see you again?
This evening, if you can get away. Michael will be in surgery all afternoon, and you know how fussy he is about staying at the hospital until his patients leave the recovery room.
I’ll tell Lauren I have to meet with campaign supporters.
I can’t believe she never questions you.
Don’t worry about her. She’ll be a perfect wife.
Lauren’s head had pounded, and her throat constricted. She’d held the phone to her ear until well after Daniel and Denise had hung up, her fingers clutching the cold receiver in a death grip until she heard water run in the upstairs shower.
And that’s when she’d felt the urge to break something, to throw a temper tantrum that would make a spoiled rich child proud.
The roar of a semi barreling down the interstate drew Lauren back to the present, and a rumble in her stomach reminded her why she needed to stop.
Up ahead, she spotted a rundown gas station, the kind she’d seen in old black-and-white movies. A red, restored Chevy pickup parked in front of one of the old pumps added to the nostalgic ambiance.
Lauren clicked on the blinker and checked the rearview mirror before swerving onto the unpaved parking lot. Gravel crunched under her tires and dirt swirled like the first stirrings of the tornado that landed Dorothy in Oz. When the dust settled, she adjusted her sunglasses and surveyed the 1950s surroundings.

Cole McAdams placed the nozzle of the gasoline pump into the tank of his ’53 Chevy, then crossed his arms and leaned against the vintage truck. A white, late-model Ford Expedition pulled in beside him, and he watched a tall, willowy blonde emerge.
Model-thin, with a sophisticated air, she wore tight-fitting jeans that hugged narrow hips. A big brass clip held her golden hair in a twist. Dark glasses hid her eyes.
A classy lady. And definitely out of place in a small Texas town like Tannen.
When she disappeared into the filling-station office, Cole turned his attention to her sports utility vehicle.
Nice set of wheels, and fully loaded, no doubt. He glanced at the out-of-state plates. California. That didn’t surprise him.
Cole replaced the pump and twisted the cap back on his tank. The wind hit the brim of his Stetson, and he adjusted the hat more securely on his head. The rain wasn’t far off and, most likely, would turn into a gully washer. A flash flood warning was in effect, and if the sky was any indication, the boys down at the weather station had called it right.
He reached for the door handle, just as the blonde stepped from the building, opening a road map while she walked. Yep, definitely out of place. And probably lost.
She studied the unfolded sheet while making her way toward the Expedition. A gust of wind caught the paper from her hand and, like a kite out of control, the map flew from her grasp.
Cole wasn’t sure why he went to her aid. He didn’t harbor any unusual sense of gallantry, but the poor thing looked on the verge of tears. He snagged the wayward map and returned it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and caressing.
Where was she headed? Where had she been? He quickly dismissed the curiosity. What did he care? She was a stranger, for Pete’s sake. And on her way down the road. Yet he couldn’t help but offer some minor assistance. “Need directions?”
It seemed like a dumb question, even to Cole and, for some crazy reason, he hoped she didn’t think he was a backwoods cowboy. She looked carefully at him, albeit through dark lenses.
Assessing his trustworthiness, Cole assumed. Still, he wondered about her, too. Like what color eyes those sunglasses hid. And what secrets those eyes held inside.
“Where’s the nearest hotel?” she asked.
Hotel? In this town? He stifled a laugh. “Up the interstate about twenty miles you’ll find a few cheap motels.”
She nodded as though one of those roadside places would suffice, but he doubted she’d ever experienced anything that wasn’t expensive. Her appearance and bearing gave evidence of a wealthy lifestyle. She offered another smile that produced only a single dimple. A man could look forward to making her smile, just to see it.
He chastised himself. This woman was none of his business, nor his concern. He had enough problems of his own, and he sure as hell didn’t need to be thinking about her in any manner other than sending her on her way.
She started toward her vehicle, then paused and turned back to him. “Is there a restaurant nearby?”
He nodded, not sure whether she’d consider the Long Shot a restaurant. “There’s a little hole-in-the-wall just down the road. The atmosphere is lousy, and it’s more of a bar than a diner, but the food is good. Otherwise, you won’t find anything else for the next twenty miles or so.”
“Thanks.” She flashed him another one-dimpled smile and filled her tank.
Cole stood beside his truck and watched until she drove off. Hell, he almost wished he could have done more for her. Then he slowly shook his head and climbed into his truck.
There wasn’t a damn thing Cole McAdams could offer a woman like her.

After pulling onto the highway, Lauren began to search the roadside, trying to find the restaurant the man at the gas station had told her about. She really wasn’t particular. Not today.
Up ahead, a pink neon sign flickered on and off, proclaiming that the Long Shot Bar & Grill had Dang Good Food.
In front of the wood-slatted building, a worn-out Plymouth rested between two pickups, one red and the other a calico combination of rust, turquoise blue and primer gray. He’d called the place a hole-in-the-wall. And he was right. But what did she expect to find in the middle of nowhere?
When Lauren reached across the console for her purse, she discovered the edge of a large, yellow envelope nearly hidden between the seats. It must belong to Daniel. He’d used her car last. She withdrew the envelope and, when she noticed Denise’s flowery script on the front, her heart twisted.
Daniel, I’d rather these be in your records.
Lauren grimaced. Obviously, Daniel hadn’t expected her to trade cars so early, to arrive at the home they would soon share just as the phone rang. To pick up the downstairs telephone as he answered upstairs.
She fingered the sealed flap, flicking her thumb along the edge. She’d always had the utmost respect for a person’s privacy, but curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know the contents, even if it caused her further pain. Of course, she’d have plenty of time to read while she ate.
Lauren slipped the envelope into her oversized gym bag and grabbed her purse. Slinging both straps, one bulky and wide, the other fashionable and narrow, over her shoulder, she slammed the car door, then strode to the entrance of the Long Shot.
The melodic sound of a steel guitar grew louder as she neared the front steps, and when she opened the door, a bell tinkled, alerting a short, stocky bartender and a gray-haired waitress of her arrival. Both eyed her briefly before returning their attention to a couple in the corner booth. Lauren couldn’t help but follow their gaze to an angry man clad in a white T-shirt and jeans and his sad-eyed female companion, but another grumble in her stomach quelled her curiosity as well as her awareness of the dingy room and the scent of stale tobacco.
Instead of a table, she chose a seat at the bar, next to a television with the volume turned down. The music from an old red-and-chrome jukebox filled the room.
“What’ll ya have?” the balding bartender asked, his hooded eyes still glued to the corner booth.
“Ice tea,” she answered. “And a menu, please.”
“Sure.” The bartender furrowed his brow, all the while staring at the couple. He reached beneath the counter and slapped a worn, food-stained menu in front of Lauren.
“Damn it, Kerri-Leigh,” a gruff male voice bellowed, loud and belligerent. “Don’t go tellin’ me what to do. I’m not ready to leave.” Then he hollered at the bartender. “Ben, bring me another beer.”
Unable to help herself, Lauren stole another look at the couple. She studied the woman with the stringy blond hair. Young, was her first observation. Nervous, her second.
“I’m not trying to rush you, Brady,” the woman named Kerri-Leigh said. “I’m just tired. I worked the night shift and I need some sleep.”
When Lauren gazed back at the menu, her sunglasses slipped down the bridge of her nose. Well, no wonder it was so dark in here. But even after she removed the tinted glasses, the Long Shot remained unlit and dingy.
“I’ll have a tuna salad,” she told the bartender, not wanting to take the time to read the menu. He nodded, his attention on neither her nor her order.
She sensed danger. Trouble, like the storm that threatened outside. Maybe she should order a sandwich to go, but before she could speak, the bartender turned to a phone against the wall.
He dialed, then paused. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “Cole, it’s me. Brady’s in here with your sister again. He’s plenty drunk and gettin’ himself worked up. You told me to call you next time.”
Ben nodded his balding head. “Okay, but you’d better hurry. Last time he jerked her into his truck and drove off before I got the chance to call you.” He nodded again. “No problem. I don’t cotton to men gettin’ rough with women.”
Great, Lauren thought. There was going to be a fight of some kind. Well, she wasn’t about to let herself get involved in a public brawl in a honky-tonk that was more of a bar than a diner. She didn’t need the excitement or the danger. “Excuse me,” she told the bartender. “I’ve changed my mind. Make my order a tuna sandwich—to go.”
Ben glanced at the corner booth, then back to her. “Sure thing. That’s probably a good idea.”
When he gazed behind Lauren, she looked over her shoulder and spotted the teary-eyed woman following an arrow that pointed toward the rest room. Not much of a reprieve, Lauren thought. She didn’t want to think about the hard life of the woman who’d made only a temporary escape. Or her own short-term bout of avoidance.
She returned her attention to the television. National news, the caption read. When the camera zoomed in on the parklike yard of the home she and Daniel had intended to share, her mouth dropped. The words were hard to hear over the beat of a country love song blaring in the background, but she strained her ears just the same.
“Lauren Taylor…fiancée…State Senate candidate, Daniel Walker…disappeared…FBI called in…. kidnapping…wealthy socialite.”
Lauren gripped the countertop, knuckles white and aching. Kidnapped? She’d run away, for goodness sake. Hadn’t Daniel realized the shattered Waterford vase and upended table were evidence of her hasty but temperamental goodbye? And surely he’d seen the engagement ring she’d thrown across the room. The rock-sized diamond had bounced along the Spanish-tiled floor and rested in a pool of water, glistening amidst shards of crystal and scattered red roses.
She had the urge to call, to straighten things out but, deep inside, something bruised and vulnerable put her first inclination to rest.
Choices. It was all about having choices, a luxury Lauren never allowed herself. But things were going to change. Lauren Taylor didn’t want to go back. Not now, maybe not ever.
She slipped on her sunglasses, fumbled for her bags, then glanced around the diner. Who else had seen the news broadcast? Maybe no one, but she wouldn’t take the chance. The rest room. She’d slip in there for a while, maybe until her lunch was ready. Then she’d take off—although she had no idea where.
Lauren walked with long, quick strides, then entered the ladies’ room and paused as the door swung closed behind her. The woman named Kerri-Leigh was trying to wiggle through a narrow window. “I don’t think you’re going to fit.”
Kerri-Leigh stopped struggling and slid to the tiled floor. She faced Lauren, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Lauren’s heart went out to the young woman whose life appeared to be in worse turmoil than her own. “I don’t blame you. Can I help?”
“Not without getting your teeth jarred. Brady gets downright ornery when he’s mad.” The young woman leaned against the baby-blue-painted cubicle. “My brother warned me. He said those court-ordered anger management classes wouldn’t help a hardheaded man like Brady, but I disagreed.”
“They didn’t help?”
“Things were better for a while, especially after he quit drinking and went back to AA.” Kerri-Leigh nodded toward the door. “But you heard him yelling at me. And you probably saw him drinking.” She ran her hands along the tops of her arms as though chilled. “You know, it’s gotten to where I can feel a beating coming.”
“So you were going to run away.”
Kerri-Leigh eyed her with a pained intensity. “He won’t let me walk out the front door. I can’t think of a better way, can you?”
“I overheard the bartender call a man named Cole. I think he’s on his way.”
Kerri-Leigh slumped against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.”
“You don’t look too happy about that.”
“I’m not.” Kerri-Leigh sighed heavily. “Don’t get me wrong. My brother is the greatest guy who ever lived. He has a rock-hard sense of right and wrong, especially when it comes to the way people treat each other.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Lauren asked. She could think of a few people she wished were so honorable.
“The last time Brady laid a hand on me, Cole swore he’d kill him if he touched me again.” Kerri-Leigh glanced up, worry etched on her face. “Believe me, Cole will tear into Brady if he thinks I’m in trouble. And then, all heck will break out.” She looked back at Lauren, as though beseeching her to understand. “My brother can’t get involved. And if the police come…” She shook her head and reexamined the small overhead window. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Lauren couldn’t comprehend the brutal life this woman had lived, but God knew she understood the desire to run away, to escape. They both needed to slip out undetected. But how? She bit her bottom lip, then a wild idea came to mind. “How badly do you want to leave?”
“You have no idea.” Kerri-Leigh blew out a heavy sigh, then glanced at the small window. “But it’s impossible.”
Lauren placed an arm around Kerri-Leigh, and drew the stringy-haired blonde to the smudged, bathroom mirror. They stood side by side and stared into the cloudy glass. “What do you see?”
Kerri-Leigh shrugged. “Two women.”
“Two women who could never pass as twins, granted. But with a little work, a bit of makeup and imagination, we just might be able to pass long enough for you to reach the front door.”
Kerri-Leigh shook her head. “Brady might be drunk, but he’s not blind.”
“We won’t let him see your face.” Lauren placed her gym bag on the countertop, then dug inside for her brush, disregarding the yellow envelope she hadn’t taken time to open. “With your hair pulled up and my sunglasses on…”
“It’ll never work.”
“I’m taller, but…” Lauren continued to comb Kerri-Leigh’s yellow-blond hair, noting the shorter woman didn’t pull away.
“And much thinner,” Kerri-Leigh said. “Heck, you look like a New York fashion model and I’m—”
“In trouble,” Lauren reminded her. “Just listen to my plan.” Unclipping her own hair, Lauren shook out the strands. “I’ll wear your clothes, slip out of the bathroom and slide along the wall to the jukebox, my back to everyone in the diner. As I play around with the buttons, you walk out the door, head high.”
“And then run like hell?” Kerri-Leigh arched a brow, then shook her head. “I might want to leave Brady, but I’m not crazy. He’d chase me down in that big old Plymouth of his.”
For a moment, Lauren worried about the wisdom of getting involved, but she couldn’t stand by and let Kerri-Leigh be brutalized by that man. And as for loaning her car to a stranger, she should probably dump the vehicle anyway, especially if her kidnapping had made national news. She dug through her purse and withdrew her car keys and a pen. “I have a Ford Expedition outside.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your car. How will you get home?”
Home? Lauren didn’t know where home was anymore. And she’d like to ditch the car for a few days, just until she was ready to surface. “Don’t worry about me,” she said with a sense of false bravado. She handed Kerri-Leigh the keys. “Leave my car at the nearest bus depot or train station. I’ll find it there. Do you have any money?”
“Only enough to get about ten miles down the road.” Kerri-Leigh’s shoulders slumped. “Not far enough to keep Brady away.”
Lauren reached into her wallet and withdrew a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this.” She watched a moral dilemma cross Kerri-Leigh’s face, but took the worried woman’s hand and pressed the bill in her palm. “I have plenty.”
“I’ll pay back every dime.”
“I know you will,” Lauren said, not caring whether she saw a penny of it. “But listen carefully. Stay off the interstate and don’t drive any farther than you have to.”
If Kerri-Leigh had any suspicions about Lauren’s reason for the instructions, she didn’t let on. “But what about you? How will you get out of here?”
“I’ll call a cab and get a hotel room in the nearest town.”
“You might have a heck of a time finding a cab that will come all the way out to Tannen.”
“Then I’ll hitch a ride,” Lauren lied, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “Don’t worry about me.”
“My brother, Cole, will be here soon. He’ll take you anywhere you need to go, especially since you’ve helped me. He’s honorable about that sort of thing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Laurie said.
“All right,” Kerri-Leigh said as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Brady had just ordered another drink when I excused myself. Maybe he won’t notice at that.”
Within minutes, they exchanged clothing. Lauren did the best she could to pull Kerri-Leigh’s hair into a twist and clip the ends. A quick but thick application of red lipstick, followed by dark sunglasses made Kerri-Leigh appear older, wiser and certainly different.
While the smaller woman admired the makeover, Lauren ran her fingers through her own strands, knowing they’d never look as stringy as her new friend’s had. But then, she just needed to appear similar, at least from the backside, and only for a few minutes. She studied her reflection in the mirror, and a stranger wearing hot pink leggings and an oversized white shirt stared back at her. She garnered a smile. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”
As they stood before the door, Kerri-Leigh paused, then reached for Lauren’s hand. “You’ve been a real friend. And taken on more than most women would. I really appreciate this. What’s your name?”
Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. What was her name? Lauren? Not originally.
Her mother had called her Laurie. The nickname evoked vague memories of love and warmth. Lauren wondered if she might, at some level, try to tap into the person she should have been, instead of the polished, manipulated aristocrat who had tried to please everyone but herself. A woman who had the means to purchase anything her heart desired—except happiness. “Laurie,” she answered, hearing the sweet, simple sound for the first time in years.
Kerri-Leigh smiled. “I won’t forget you, Laurie. You’re a saint.”
A saint? Hardly, she thought. God knew she had tried, but it was never enough. She could still hear the crisp, nasal sound of Aunt Caroline’s voice. Laurie Smith is simply too plain, too common. You’re a Taylor now. You need a name that reflects money, culture and class. Lauren Taylor suits you much better.
And, according to Aunt Caroline, so had a liberal arts degree instead of pre-med.
And blond hair instead of brown.
As Kerri-Leigh reached for the doorknob, Lauren tapped her shoulder. “Wait. Before we go, where’s the nearest hair salon?”
“You mean beauty shop?”
Lauren nodded. “I’d like to have my hair dyed.”
Kerri-Leigh furrowed her brow. “Why? The color is perfect.”
A perfect color? It should be, at the rate she’d paid Jonathan to lighten it. “Thank you, but I want to darken it.”
“It’s cheaper to do it yourself.”
Cost had never been an issue. Jonathan was the best in Beverly Hills, where a simple shampoo and style cost well over a hundred dollars. “I feel more comfortable having a professional do it.”
Kerri-Leigh sighed. “In that case, I’d recommend Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. It’s about five miles down the road on Main Street. Sandy just moved back to town and is trying to establish her clientele. But she’s the best hairstylist around.”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
Kerri-Leigh paused for a moment. “Yes, she’s a good friend.”
“Thanks for the advice. Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. I’ll find it.”
As Kerri-Leigh held open the door, Lauren, or rather Laurie, slipped into the darkened interior of the Long Shot. Wiping her hands on the long white shirt she wore, she took a deep breath, then bellied up to the jukebox, dropped some coins into the slot, and randomly picked number B-16. As the sounds of a somebody-done-somebody-wrong song filled the room, Laurie was faced with a disconcerting, heart-pounding awareness. The first choice she’d made by listening to the whispers of her own heart might have been a big mistake.
The idea to switch places with a stranger had been utter foolishness.
Laurie crossed her fingers and glanced at the front door. She hoped Kerri-Leigh’s brother arrived soon.
And that he was as noble as the woman had implied.

Chapter Two
Cole McAdams slammed his hand on the dashboard of the vintage truck. If Brady Cooper so much as laid a finger on his sister, he’d beat him senseless.
It was a good thing Cole had given Ben and Evie down at the Long Shot his cell phone number. It’s the only way they would have been able to track him down. He hadn’t been home since he took his daughter to the Petersons’ house to spend the day and night.
Thank God. He would have been in a real quandary if Beth had been home. A five-year-old child had no business at a bar fight.
Cole barreled down the long driveway and turned onto the county road that would take him to the Long Shot. He wasn’t about to let Brady Cooper continue to push his sister around.
What made a woman stay with a man who mistreated her? Or leave one who treated her well, for that matter?
Cole’s ex-wife had bailed out on him, and he’d been damn good to her. He would have done anything to make her and their daughter happy. But she’d hightailed it out of town and left little Beth teary-eyed and him feeling betrayed.
And drowning in debt.
Cole gripped the steering wheel tightly, as he thought about the bills that began coming in after she’d gone. Apparently, she’d applied for credit cards he hadn’t known about then run each one to the hilt before taking off. And because Cole had taken a large mortgage on the ranch several years ago to pay off a couple of foolhardy investments his father had made prior to passing away, things looked bleak.
His accountant, a conservative family friend, had suggested bankruptcy as a solution, but Cole wasn’t a quitter. He refused the well-intentioned advice. Instead, he worked out a plan using some creative financial juggling, then sold off most of the stock and some of the finest cutting horses in the state. It nearly killed him to see it all go to auction, but he’d managed to hold the creditors at bay and decrease the mortgage by half.
He had just enough cash left to keep him and Beth afloat until the next yearling auction in the spring. Cutting horses held only a certain value in Texas, where they were considered a useful commodity. But in California, wealthy professionals would pay a dear price to own a high-quality horse, and Cole had quickly cashed in on that trend.
He’d lost nearly everything except ten of his finest brood-mares he’d kept to slowly replenish his stock, including what he believed was his ace in the hole—Sugar Foot, the best little mare ever to run cattle. She was due to foal any day, and his hopes of a comeback rested upon that colt or filly.
It had been a long, hard road back from financial ruin. But Cole was determined to make it, and he wasn’t about to lose anything else. Not his ranch, and not his daughter. He had gathered most of his spare cash to pay a high-priced city lawyer a small fortune to ensure Beth remained with him.
He’d never forgive his ex-wife for leaving. Or for coming back to Tannen, thinking she deserved a relationship with the child she’d abandoned. Kerri-Leigh said the woman had changed, but Cole didn’t believe it. And even if she had, he’d never be able to trust her again. Honesty, like family loyalty, was sacred to him.
The custody fight could get ugly, the attorney had warned him. And more costly. But Cole didn’t care. His ex-wife wasn’t going to slip back into their lives as if she’d only gone to the market. Sure, she’d called him six months before to say she was sorry, but Cole wouldn’t accept her apology. Or let her speak to Beth.
He sighed. For a man who had always tried hard to do the right thing, his life was almost as messed up as Kerri-Leigh’s.
Cole spotted the entrance to the Long Shot and tensed his jaw. He turned into the dusty parking lot just as the white Expedition pulled onto the highway. Apparently, the classy blonde had decided to stop there to eat. He wondered if she had left after seeing the inside of the place, or whether Brady and his big mouth had scared her off. Well, it was for the best. A woman like her didn’t need to see the sordid side of life.
Cole parked behind Brady’s beat-up Plymouth, jumped out of the truck, and marched through the entrance. The front door slammed behind him, nearly jarring the small replica of a cowbell from its overhead perch.
Every head in the diner turned to look at Cole. Every head but Kerri-Leigh’s.
Brady slid from the booth where he’d been hunched over a beer and stood. “What’s your problem? Ain’t you got any manners?”
Cole clenched his fists at his side and narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”
Brady snorted and nodded toward the rear of the bar, where a blonde stood by the jukebox, her back to the room.
The woman fidgeted, then slowly turned around.
When Brady saw her face, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. “You’re not Kerri-Leigh. What in the hell are you doing in her clothes? And where is she?” Brady threw a half-empty bottle of beer against the wall. “Damn it all to hell. She just left wearin’ your clothes!”
Cole was nearly as gape-eyed as Brady when he recognized the lady from the filling station. She’d let down her hair, removed the dark glasses, and changed her clothes, but it was her, all right. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he figured the blond stranger had helped his sister escape. And from the look of fury in Brady’s bloodshot eyes, the woman had set herself up to receive a beating meant for Kerri-Leigh.
As Brady staggered toward her, she swallowed hard.
Cole shook his head, then intercepted Brady in one fluid movement.
Not intimidated, Brady stood tall and doubled up a fist. “Get out of my way, McAdams. I’m gonna find out what’s goin’ on.”
Cole grabbed a handful of Brady’s shirt and jerked him forward. “Don’t even think about touching her.”
“Or what?” Brady bellowed.
Cole smelled the stench of stale alcohol and grimaced. “Don’t push me, Brady.”
The drunk laughed, then swung a meaty fist at Cole. Drunk or sober, Brady wasn’t a match for a man who’d gotten damn tired of seeing his sister bullied. One swift left hook, and the big man staggered, then dropped to the ground. Blood pooled around his mouth, and bloodshot eyes rolled back in his head.
Cole glanced up to see the blonde hand Ben a twenty. “Would you call me a cab?”
“A cab? Out here?” Ben looked out the front window, then shook his head slowly. “Could take the rest of the afternoon, but I’ll give it a try.”
A flash of lightning cracked across the sky, and Cole ambled toward the woman who had helped his sister. “Don’t bother with a cab. I’ll give you a ride.”
When the thunder rolled, she worried her lip.
“I’m Cole McAdams, Kerri-Leigh’s brother. She’d want me to look after you.”
She glanced up at him with expressive green eyes. Worry and relief seemed to battle inside the emerald depths, then she sighed softly. “Kerri-Leigh said you were a nice guy.”
Ben cleared his throat and handed her money back. “Ain’t no one more honorable than Cole McAdams, ma’am. You can trust him.”
She nodded slowly, then tucked a long strand of golden hair behind her ear.
“Where are you headed?” Cole asked, not giving her a chance to change her mind. The sky had been darkening since noon. He could smell the rain coming and sensed an especially fierce torrent.
“To town, I guess. I need a room for the night.”
Another lightning bolt lit the room, followed by the roar of thunder. And as if the sky had opened up, the rain began to pour.
“Storm’s here,” Ben said. “And it’s flash-flood season.”
Cole figured he could get the woman to town before the road washed out, but he doubted he could make it back to the ranch. “I’ve got a spare room. You can stay at my place.”
She seemed reluctant, then looked over her shoulder at the lighted television screen over the bar. She shot a wounded glance his way. “All right. But just for tonight.”
Cole nodded. “I introduced myself, but you haven’t.”
Green eyes, large, luminous and doelike pierced his. “Laurie,” she said softly. “Laurie Smith.”
He sensed a courageous vulnerability about her and wanted to ease her mind. “I appreciate you helping my sister, Laurie.”
She offered a warm but weary smile. “She tried to climb out the ladies’ room window. I couldn’t help her squeeze through, so I came up with another plan.”
“You loaned her your car, too, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “When Brady bellowed at me, I must admit the whole idea seemed more than a little foolish. He’s a pretty scary guy.” She glanced at the prostrate form. “Although he doesn’t look so menacing now.”
“Barroom brawls aren’t anything new to Brady Wilson. He’s been in one scrap or another since he outgrew diapers.” Cole smiled, then nodded toward the door. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here. The rain’s already starting to come down pretty hard.”
“I need to get my bags from the ladies’ room,” she said.
When she returned, a black canvas bag slung over her shoulder, Ben’s wife, Evie, called from the kitchen. “Just a minute. I’ve got your sandwich ready.”
“Thank you.” Laurie collected a brown bag from Evie, and handed the woman a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She followed Cole outside, and they paused under the porch roof, watching the rain stream down.
“Wait here,” Cole said. “I’ll get the door.”
He hurried through the parking lot, climbed into his red Chevy, then leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door for her.
“Nice truck,” she said, climbing inside.
“Thanks.”
As Cole backed out of the parking lot and pulled onto the highway, he turned the radio on low. He slid a glance at Laurie. She sat quietly on her side of the truck, nearly hugging the door as though they’d drawn a chalk line down the center. Awkward and cautious. He figured they both felt the same way.
He stole another glance as she peeked into the brown bag Ben had given her, then folded it shut and leaned against the window. She blinked before slowly closing her eyes.
Too tired to eat, he surmised. There was a lot she hadn’t told him. And probably never would. Of course, her worries and her past weren’t any of his business. But she had stepped in to help Kerri-Leigh in a move that might have saved his sister’s life. When drunk, Brady had leveled men twice Kerri-Leigh’s size. And the last time he’d lost his temper with Kerri-Leigh, she’d ended up in the hospital and he in jail.
No telling what Brady would have done to her this time. Thank God—and the stranded woman sitting beside him— Kerri-Leigh had got away before Brady had the chance to lay a hand on her.
Again Cole studied the pretty woman on the other side of the seat. Thick dark lashes rested upon her cheeks. She didn’t look a thing like his sister—not up close. Kerri-Leigh had freckles across the bridge of an upturned nose and distinct dark brows. Laurie, her complexion soft and flawless, boasted an aristocratic nose and delicate, light brows that arched perfectly.
And where Kerri-Leigh was round and soft, Laurie was long and lean. Too thin, if you asked Cole. Fashionable, maybe, but he’d always liked the soft feel of a real woman, not a willowy, reed-thin model.
The soft feel of a woman? What in tarnation was wrong with him? He had no business even thinking of this woman in a physical sense. Laurie Smith was a stranger, in his life for a day or so, then on her way.
The faint, musky scent of an exotic floral perfume began to fill the cab, drawing his attention to the blond head resting against the passenger window. She had fallen asleep, her breath fogging the glass.
Laurie Smith, she’d called herself, but Cole didn’t buy it. Not for a minute. He tried to remind his skeptical side that this stranger had helped his sister. And if she held on to her own secrets, that was her business. He had his own problems to worry about. He’d won the first round of the custody battle, but according to his lawyer, there were more battles to come.
Rain beat down upon the roof, then streamed along the windows. Cole hoped they could make it through the dry river bottom before the road washed out.
The windshield wipers squeaked and swished back and forth across the rain-sloshed glass. Cole turned up the volume of the radio, and the mournful sounds of a fiddle filled the cab.
Then a slow Southern voice began to sing the praises of a honky-tonk hero.

Laurie felt a tapping on her shoulder and awoke with a jump. She blinked twice before realizing she sat inside Cole McAdams’s truck.
Outside, the rain pelted the exterior, but in the warmth of the cab, he watched her with eyes as clear and blue as a Texas summer. A worn Stetson rode easy on his head, while dark curls peeked out from under the brim. He had a strong, angular face, tanned by the elements. She found his expression hard to read and hoped she hadn’t made a big mistake leaving with him.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice a deep Southern drawl. “We’re home.”
Wherever home was. Laurie tried to peer out the windows of the truck, but even if she could have seen through the fogged glass, the rain blurred her view. “Where are we?” she asked, reaching for her bags.
“My ranch just outside of town. Near the river bottom and close to the foothills.”
Laurie nodded, still unsure of the location. Since yesterday afternoon, she’d passed through so many small towns and cities, she couldn’t remember the name of the last place she’d stopped.
As she fumbled for the door handle, he spoke again. “Just slide out this side. It’s closer, and you won’t get as wet.” His voice was easy on her ears, comforting actually. In fact, his entire being held her attention.
She studied Kerri-Leigh’s brother as he climbed from the truck. Tall, ruggedly handsome, dressed in denim jeans and a chambray shirt, he embodied the image of an American hero. A cowboy, she decided, even though it had been ages since she’d seen one in the flesh.
Oblivious to the rain pelting his hat and spotting his shirt, he flashed her a grin. “I can carry you in, but you’re going to get wet either way.”
Yes, Cole McAdams was a cowboy, through and through.
“Thanks for the offer,” Laurie said. “But I’ll walk.”
As she slid across the seat, he reached for her hand and helped her out. His grip was callused, but gentle. Warm to the touch.
They ran to the porch, but by the time the cowboy opened the door and Laurie stepped inside, they were drenched.
Water dripped upon concrete flooring that looked more like a tawny, earth-toned Spanish tile. Laurie glanced at the puddle at her feet, then caught his eye. “I’m sorry about the mess.”
“It’ll mop up easy enough.”
She scanned the wood-paneled walls of the living room until her eyes lit upon a rock fireplace with an intricate, carved-oak mantle.
Amazing, she thought, as she continued to study the layout of a home that held the charm of a log cabin, the windows of a mountain chateau and the artistry of an architectural showcase. Rough, yet stylish. Spacious, yet intimate. Cole McAdams’s home bore a simple, raw elegance Laurie found appealing.
He must have noticed her fascination. “What’s the matter?”
“Your house is so…interesting.”
He shrugged. “I like it.”
“I do, too,” she said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her reaction. “Who was your decorator?” The question seemed natural to Laurie. Where she’d come from, people paid professionals a small fortune to create a home that reflected the personality and style of the occupants.
“I designed it myself.”
She must have dropped her jaw, because he laughed while hanging his wet hat on a rough-hewn coatrack in the entry.
“Well, shucks, ma’am.” His voice took on a sharp, expressive twang. “Y’all didn’t think we was so backwards in Texas that we thought indoor plumbin’ was as good as it gets, did ya?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to appear surprised that you could have created this. It’s just that I’ve never really cared for Southwestern style, but this is great.”
“This isn’t Southwestern style. It’s just my home.” He took her elbow. “Come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can take a shower, if you’d like. And get out of those wet clothes.”
Laurie allowed him to guide her steps, as she continued her perusal of his home. Even the plain white walls appeared to be a work of art.
He paused at a linen closet and pulled out a towel and washcloth, then ushered her into a spacious bathroom. Clean and neat. Cole may have designed his own home, but Laurie doubted he kept things tidy all by himself. “How will your wife feel about me staying here?” she asked.
His jaw tensed. “I don’t have a wife.” Then, as if realizing she’d caught sight of something he hadn’t meant her to see, he quickly changed the subject. “Do you need anything?”
Laurie glanced down at her purse and the gym bag she’d lugged into the bathroom and placed on the floor. A stripe of yellow inside the tote reminded her of the envelope she’d tucked inside, but she chose to ignore that for now. She didn’t want to be reminded of Daniel or the problems awaiting her in California, if only for a day.
Her immediate concern was to get out of the wet clothes and shower. But all she had to change into was a pair of black leotards and a crop top, which certainly didn’t seem to be appropriate apparel on a stormy evening in a strange house with a man she didn’t know. “Do you have a robe or something I can use until my clothes dry?”
He nodded, set the towel and washcloth on the counter, then reached to turn on the faucets. “It takes a while for the water to heat up. I’ll get you a robe.” His gaze swept the length of her, pausing at her torso. You’ll have to cinch it up some.”
Had she imagined his eyes lingering on her breasts? Surely not, but she suddenly felt self-conscious, lacking something but not sure what. Before she could give it much thought, he handed her a thick, Turkish robe, then eased out of the room and shut the door.
Alone. Laurie sighed and looked through a large picture window that offered a view of a small outdoor garden of jungle-green ferns and red hibiscus. Resting her hands upon the cool tile counter, she stared blankly into the mirror. Who was the woman she saw before her?
Within minutes, hot water sprayed from the shower head while Laurie continued to stand before a fog-enshrouded image. A long-haired, ghostlike figure stared back at her. Fingering the fluffy white towel lying upon the beige countertop, Laurie hid a wry smile. She might look a fright, but there was definitely an upside.
Laurie Smith didn’t look at all like the sophisticated Lauren Taylor.

As Cole stepped onto the bath mat and reached for a towel, he realized that just down the hall, Laurie Smith was in a similar state of undress. He imagined her body, tall and lean, moving sensuously through the fog and steam, water and soap sluicing over bare skin. The erotic image aroused him, reminded him he was not only a single dad, but a man who hadn’t had a woman in a while.
He grumbled. Even though Beth wasn’t home and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, he was a dad first and a man second. Besides, having a houseguest was no big deal. He’d only provided temporary accommodations for Kerri-Leigh’s friend—a woman who had helped his sister when he hadn’t been able to do so himself.
Lightning flashed, and as the thunder began to roll, the light in the bathroom went out.
Damn. He’d better get out the candles. This was going to be one heck of a storm. The sun had yet to go down, but the darkened sky threatened an even darker night, especially without electricity.
Cole grabbed his shirt and jeans from the countertop and slipped them on. He left the steamy room and returned to the kitchen where he kept a flashlight. Within minutes, he had lit candles and placed them throughout the house.
He wondered how many of his neighbors would be without power. Beth was still afraid of the dark. Using the cell phone he wore on his belt, Cole called the Petersons, wanting to assure himself that his daughter was all right.
“Hi, Cole,” Susan Peterson said, when he greeted her with a question. “No, we’re not having a power outage here. I’ve made spaghetti for dinner, and if the girls help with the dishes, we’re going to bake cupcakes.”
He sighed, and gripped the small receiver. “Good. The electricity is out here. Give me a call if you have a problem.”
“You’re not worried, are you?”
Of course, he was worried. He was a father, wasn’t he? And worry was part of the job description. “I know she’s safe with you.”
Susan laughed. “Good. We’ll talk to you tomorrow, Cole.”
“Yeah, right. Goodbye,” he said, as he hung up the phone.
Alone in the house with a strange woman. Heck, he hadn’t even had a familiar woman here since his ex-wife ran off. Other than Susan Peterson, Beth’s preschool teacher, and Consuela, who helped around the house once a week, he didn’t have many chances to speak to women. Not that it mattered. He and Beth did just fine without having one around on a daily basis.
Lightning cracked and flashed. Of all nights to entertain a stranger. No television, no stereo. What were they supposed to do until bedtime? And how was he going to feed her if she was hungry?
He had an old camp stove in the garage. And a lantern. He hadn’t been camping in ages. It might even be fun, assuming Laurie Smith wasn’t one to complain.
She had yet to come out of the bathroom. What took women so long in there?
Cole crouched before the hearth and lit a fire. Thank goodness he had plenty of wood to heat the house and keep them warm throughout the night.
He was just about to rustle up some food from the kitchen when she walked into the living room, barefoot, a towel wrapped like a turban on her head. His oversized robe covered her tall, lithe body, and her skin bore a pink tinge from the heat of the shower.
Even without makeup or any of the usual feminine accessories to accentuate her looks, she emanated an essence of womanly beauty Cole had never seen before. And he felt a stirring he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
She’d taken a shower alone, and he was struck with a sudden pang of longing, wishing he’d been in there with her. Lathered her body with an expensive bar of nature-scented soap. Run his hands over her slick, clean skin.
For Pete’s sake. He didn’t need arousing images plaguing him throughout the evening. He gave his head a mental shake, hoping Laurie didn’t have a clue as to what he’d been thinking. What was the matter with him? He wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. And this woman wasn’t going to be around long enough to see if an attraction was mutual or lasting.
“Electricity went out,” he said, trying to find a safe topic of conversation.
“I noticed.” She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on the candles he’d placed on the mantle and the glass-topped coffee table. “It looks as though you’re prepared.”
“I used to be a Boy Scout,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound trite or…. Or what? Like an adolescent with hormones raging out of control?
She smiled softly. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?” Being a Boy Scout? Or a randy teenager? Cole had a hard time keeping his mind on a decent conversation when his libido wanted to reach for the tie on the robe she wore and pull her to him, open the terrycloth gap and slip his hands—
“Being a Boy Scout,” she said. “Camping, fishing, hiking. Tying knots.”
Knots? Like the loose one that held that robe together? He didn’t answer for fear he’d stammer like a teenager under the influence of testosterone.
“I’d always wanted to be a Girl Scout, but my aunt didn’t think it was appropriate.” She sighed, her eyes wistful and momentarily lighting upon the fire he’d built. Then she returned her gaze to his. “Did you get to go on any camping trips?”
“Quite a few.”
She nodded, a glimmer of admiration in her eye.
When her stomach growled, he remembered she’d carried her lunch out of the Long Shot and felt derelict in his duties as a host. “I left your sandwich in the kitchen. I can get it for you, or you can share my meal. I thought I’d set up a camp stove on the patio and fix something to eat.”
“A camp stove?” Her hand went to her stomach as though she meant to hold back another pang of hunger, but her eyes brightened like a kid’s at Christmas.
Somehow, Cole didn’t think the classy lady he’d seen at the gas station would get excited about cooking over a butane flame. She’d appeared sophisticated, certainly not the kind to like hot dogs stuck on a straightened coat hanger and dangled over a fire. Or to enjoy eating melted s’mores and sipping strong coffee from a tin cup. But apparently, she had a childlike spirit of adventure. He grinned. “I’ll bring in the stove and we can camp out, right here in the living room.”
You’d have thought he’d offered to take her to dinner at the Ritz by the way her smile lit the room. “It sounds like fun.”
And interestingly enough, Cole thought so, too.
In record time, he had the sliding door open, the cook stove lit and two ribeyes sizzling in a cast-iron skillet.
Laurie sat upon the floor in front of the fireplace, legs crossed and her knees peeping out of that darn robe. She’d taken the towel off her head and run a brush through the wet strands, allowing them to dry by the heat of the fire.
The light of the flames glistened off the gold tresses, and when she leaned forward, the robe gaped open, revealing a soft mound of flesh that would fit easily in a man’s hand. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t attracted to model-thin women, that his ex-wife had grown too thin, right before she’d run off. But there was nothing thin or lacking softness in the rounded flesh that was just visible through the robe.
Cole found it nearly impossible to stay on task. Just how on earth was he supposed to watch over two steaks when a nearly naked woman sat just beyond reach? He might have achieved the rank of Eagle Scout, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.
Maybe Kerri-Leigh had been right. She’d once told him he needed to find a woman who would agree to a commitment-free sexual relationship. But Cole was from the old school. He thought sexual relationships should have a few strings attached. And besides, he sure as hell didn’t need to complicate his life with a woman right now. Especially one who was out of his league.
“Cole, are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
Help what? Relieve his crazy longing? No, Laurie Smith could only offer temporary assistance and long-term remorse. He chided himself for letting his mind wander from a polite discussion to thoughts he shouldn’t have. He knew the only help she meant was with the meal. “No, the steaks are done, but you can set the table.” He nodded toward the big glass coffee table in front of the sofa.
Her eagerness surprised him. What was going on in her head? he wondered. Was she some kind of adventuress who had never experienced the reality of middle class? Cole hoped not. He’d tried damn hard to shake a redneck upbringing. Still, he didn’t belong in her world, not even for one rainy night.
“The table’s ready,” she called out happily from the living room.
A candle served as a centerpiece, and paper towels had a double role as place mats and napkins. Her smile appeared sincere, and Cole hoped she wasn’t like Marie Antoinette, who had set up a peasant village in the back of the palace so she could play the part of a milkmaid.
He carried the steaks into the living room on the tin plates he kept stored in the garage with the camping gear.
A battery-operated lantern sat on an end table and cast a soft light around the room, but it was Laurie’s happy glow that drew his attention. “Umm. It looks good,” she said. Her eyes glistened.
For some reason he couldn’t quite figure out, it pleased him to know she found pleasure in the camping ambiance. And it surprised him. He wanted to know more about this woman. “So, what brings you to Texas?”
Her smile waned, and she reached for the paper towel that lined her lap. “Nothing in particular. I suppose I’m just passing through.”
Cole’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like you’re running away from something.”
The childlike pleasure left her face, and she twisted the napkin in her hands. “I guess I am at that.” She glanced up at him, green eyes big, luminous. Waiflike.
Cole wanted to ask, from what? Or from whom? But he wasn’t one to pry. Besides, he valued his privacy and could understand her desire to do the same. Still, he couldn’t help his curiosity. Maybe she would find a lonely, stormy evening conducive to talk.
Rain pounded the roof and windows, the wind blew through the trees, the fire crackled while burning hard oak logs, yet the two strangers continued to eat in silence.
Then, for some reason known only to her, she began to speak. And Cole found himself listening intently.
“I was engaged to be married,” she began, “to a man who thought I’d make a good wife.”
Cole cocked his head to the side, not sure what she was going to say. He hated to think she’d done the same thing to her fiancé as his wife had done to him. “I take it you didn’t want to make him a good wife.”
“Oh, but I did,” she began. “I’d have done anything for him. I’ve always been compliant, easy to get along with. In fact, too compliant and easy to get along with.”
Cole wasn’t following her reasoning, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat there like a high-priced shrink.
“That’s apparently what he liked about me.” She offered a weak smile. “He’s having an affair with a married friend of mine.”
“Ouch,” Cole said.
Laurie set her fork down and placed her elbows on the table. “You know, if I’d been deeply in love with him, it would have been devastating. As it is, I just feel used, betrayed. Taken advantage of.” She searched his face as though looking for understanding, and he hoped she found it. “For fifteen years, I’ve tried hard to do everything expected of me, to show my appreciation to my aunt for adopting me.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“I never knew my dad. When Mom died, I was orphaned and alone. According to Aunt Caroline, she rescued me from foster care. And she never let me forget it.”
Cole wondered how his daughter would feel if something happened to him. He’d done everything in his power to ensure his ex-wife would never have custody of Beth. But, should something happen to Cole, his daughter would most likely end up in the system. Unless, of course, Kerri-Leigh managed to get her life in order first, but that possibility didn’t provide him with much comfort. As much as he loved his sister, she didn’t always make the right choices. Without Cole, Beth’s options were limited. “Foster care must have been tough.”
“Losing my mother was worse. And scary.”
Cole nodded, feeling sorry for another motherless child. But life wasn’t always fair. He’d learned that early.
Laurie stood. “I had hoped Aunt Caroline would be like a mother to me, but it never happened.” As though trying to change the subject, she began picking up the plates and plastic ware. “I’ll wash the dishes.”
“I’ll help.” Cole grabbed the lantern and led the way to the kitchen.
As Laurie followed him, she found it hard to believe she had revealed so much to a man who, only hours ago, had been a complete stranger. He wasn’t much less of one now, but he’d been a good listener, and there weren’t many people who had ever really cared about her feelings or desires. In fact, other than Cole tonight, Michael Harper was the only one in recent years who’d cared. Michael was one of the finest doctors around and a good friend, but she couldn’t very well go to him now. It was his wife who was having an affair with Daniel.
Laurie placed the dishes in the sink and found a bottle of soap on the counter. She turned on the water and watched the bubbles form.
“I was going to take the stove back to the garage,” the tall, lean cowboy said as he sauntered back into the kitchen. “But I had another idea. How about some hot cocoa?”
Laurie looked up, amazed at the way his presence filled the room. Cole McAdams was a striking man, with dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck. Clad in denim, he appeared strong. And heroic. Blue eyes softened his angular features, and Laurie was touched by his suggestion. “I haven’t had hot chocolate in years. It sounds great.”
“Well, it’s standard camp fare, assuming you can handle instant. All we need is hot water.”
“I don’t suppose you have the kind with little dehydrated marshmallows, do you?”
He offered a charming smile. “No, but I’ll get some for next time.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“For promising to get the kind with marshmallows?”
“No. For listening to me wallow in self-pity.”
Cole lifted her chin with the callused tip of his finger, sending a sensual shiver from her head to her toes. “You didn’t wallow. You just explained why you’re passing through.”
His eyes, dark blue pools with a depth she hadn’t expected, studied her intently. Then he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Chapter Three
Laurie wanted to pull away, to place her hands on his broad chest and push him back, but something deep within drew her to him, and she lifted her mouth to reach his.
The kiss began gently, sweetly, his lips tentatively brushing hers. A kiss that promised tenderness and friendship. But suddenly, Laurie wanted more. Needed more. Unable to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Brazen, maybe, but for a single moment in time, she wanted to feel desired. Whole again.
Reason and good sense begged her to stop, but a bruised and battered feminine ego won out. She needed to know she could stir a man with longing. This man, and right now. In a daring move, she opened her mouth, welcoming his entrance. As their tongues began to mate with a deep, vigorous hunger, Cole pulled Laurie flush against him. She felt the hardness of his erection, sensed the depth of his need.
As the kiss intensified, he ran his hand along the side of her neck, his fingers reaching just inside the edge of the robe. His callused hand against her already tingling skin shot a jolt of heat and desire through her, weakening her knees.
This was crazy, foolish, but she’d never felt like this before. Nor had she imagined a physical reaction or yearning so strong. She leaned into Cole, her fingers splaying in his hair and pulling their lips closer yet.
A moan sounded low in his throat, and she realized they could end up on the floor in no time at all. And for some reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted just that. Hot, fast and furious. Something to keep her mind off her damaged pride and lost dreams.
But Laurie knew she needed more than a wild, passionate one-night stand. Reason finally spoke up, reminding her this man was a stranger, someone she wouldn’t see again. And as much as she would like to escape her emotional pain with physical comfort, lovemaking should be something they both chose to do, not a brash decision meant to temporarily mend a broken heart.
Laurie pulled back, breaking the mind-spinning kiss. And in a ragged, husky whisper, she told him to stop. “I’m sorry,” she said as he released her.
He raked his fingers through his thick, dark hair and stepped back. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of your vulnerability.”
She shook her head, unwilling to allow him to take the blame for something she knew she had instigated. “I’m the one who took advantage of your kindness by allowing a friendly kiss to get out of hand. I don’t know what got into me. I’m usually very reserved.”
“It’s hard to predict a person’s behavior when they’ve been hurt by the one human being that should be trusted.” He smiled sagely. “After my wife left, I tried to find healing in a physical relationship.”
“Did it help?” She tugged at the gap in her robe and pulled the sash tight.
“Some, but the pain and anger doesn’t ever seem to go away for long. I’m not sure it ever will.”
Laurie knew what he meant. Her own sense of loss and betrayal went far beyond what Daniel had done to her. In a way, she had betrayed herself by not standing up for her beliefs, her own desires. So she nodded at his comment, then reached into the sink, intent on finishing the dishes.
They worked in silence for a while, but as she rinsed the soap from the pan that had warmed canned pork and beans, she decided to offer Cole the same chance to talk as he had provided her. “How long have you been alone?”
“Nearly two years, but I’m not alone.”
Laurie nearly dropped the slick pan back into the sink. Earlier, she had guessed Cole had a woman living here, someone to help keep the place so neat and clean. Men, by nature, she assumed, weren’t tidy and organized when it came to housework. “Who lives with you?”
“Beth.”
Laurie’s heart fell. She’d been so careful not to mention Daniel by name. Keeping his fame and high profile a secret, perhaps, but also trying to keep him a stranger. But the woman who lived with Cole had a name. She was real, and Laurie had kissed her man.
Shame for the intimacy they’d shared squeezed her conscience. She was no better than Denise, Daniel’s lover and Dr. Michael Harper’s wife. Feeling too much like “the other woman” for her own liking, Laurie offered an apology. “I had no idea you were involved with someone. I never would have kissed you like that.”
Cole’s deep-throated laugh eased the tension. “I’m involved all right. Beth is my five-year-old daughter.”
Relief flooded Laurie’s heart, not just because she no longer felt as though she’d been a part of something sordid, but for some reason, she was glad Cole wasn’t involved with a female older than five, even if she did plan to leave as soon as the rain stopped.
The cleanup was quick and easy, but by the time Cole had put away the last of the plates, Laurie yawned. She’d been without sleep for more hours than she could remember and she half expected to crash the moment her head hit the pillow.
“If you want to turn in, I can show you to Beth’s room.”
“Thank you. I’m ready to drop in my tracks.” As Laurie followed Cole out of the kitchen, she tugged at his arm, and he turned. “Can I have a rain check on the hot cocoa?”
He grinned broadly, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “How about breakfast?”
“Perfect.”
He ushered her down the hall and opened the door to a pink, doll-filled bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Then he set a candle upon the nightstand and left Laurie alone.
She took a slow, deep breath, appreciating the scent of powder and child, and scanned the pretty room. She walked to the bed and carefully pulled back the pink, ruffled spread.
Someday, you’ll have a room of your own, Laurie. A room filled with dollies and teddy bears. Laurie knew her mother had intended to be a part of that promise, but some dreams never did come true.
And although Laurie did get a room of her own in Aunt Caroline’s home, it wasn’t at all like the one she’d imagined. The bedroom boasted a cream-colored satin spread and mahogany antiques. And as Aunt Caroline had expected, Laurie kept it neat and clean. But oh, how she would have loved a room full of little-girl clutter.
When Laurie climbed into bed, still wearing Cole’s robe, she fell fast asleep, her dreams filled with teddy bears and dollies. Bubble gum and hair ribbons. Slumber parties and high-school dances. Dreams of a young girl who grew to be a happy woman.
And of a blue-eyed cowboy with gentle, callused hands.
She slept well, but in the hours before dawn, her dreams took on a more realistic slant. The city council prepared to cast a critical vote on the homeless shelter she had proposed. Daniel and Denise Harper were getting their stories in line, proud of their cunning deceit. Aunt Caroline was beside herself with worry.
And Dr. Michael Harper needed a friend.

Cole had slept like a herd of wild mustangs had dragged him though a rock quarry. But it hadn’t been the electrical storm that could have put a display of fireworks to shame that disturbed him. Or the pounding rain and roaring wind.
Instead, memories of a passionate kiss he hadn’t wanted to end kept him tossing and turning until dawn. And knowing Laurie Smith slept just a few short steps down the hall hadn’t helped him rest any easier.
Unable to sleep, he’d risen before daybreak. After checking Sugar Foot in the barn, he’d trekked through the mud and rain to see how the other horses had fared. By ten o’clock, he’d already had a shower and drunk a half pot of coffee prepared on the camp stove.
He rubbed the dull ache from the back of his neck and glanced out the kitchen window. Since the rain hadn’t let up, he didn’t need to drive out to Old River Road to know he couldn’t make it to the highway. The road always flooded after a rain like this one. He’d used the cell phone to check on Beth, who was thrilled to be able to stay with the Petersons until the water receded.
“Good morning,” Laurie said as she joined him in the kitchen. She wore the same outfit she’d worn yesterday. Apparently, she’d hung it up to dry. It wasn’t nearly as flattering as the oversized robe, but he still had trouble keeping his eyes off her.
“Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”
She held back a yawn. “Great. I was exhausted.”
For someone who claimed to have slept “great,” she didn’t look rested. He wondered if that fiery kiss they’d shared had affected her as much as it had him.
Maybe not, but then again, she probably hadn’t gone without sex as long as he had. She had, after all, been engaged. To a jerk, of course, but even a cheating fool wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off a woman like her.
She never did say what the guy’s name was, but that was just as well. Cole really didn’t want to know.
“Would you like some coffee?” He nodded toward the back porch where he’d placed the stove and tried to be a good host while steering the conversation away from his carnal thoughts. “I can make fresh.”
“Don’t go to any trouble for me. I’ll just have a half of a cup of whatever you have left.” She glanced to the back porch, apparently noting the aluminum coffee pot resting upon the butane stove. “I take it the electricity is still off.”
“Yeah. The rain should let up some by this evening, so I hope the power will kick back on soon.” He didn’t mention the flooded road. No need to worry her. The water would recede in a day or so. It always did.
“I guess we’re in for another camp-out,” she said, offering a shy, one-dimpled smile.
“Looks that way to me.” He attempted to counter with a smile of his own. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable? Toothbrush? Razor?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, then brightened. “Can I borrow one of your old shirts? I have a pair of leggings, but no top I’d feel comfortable wearing.”
“Sure,” he said, trying to imagine the kind of tops she’d brought with her. And wishing she’d wear the robe that had taunted him last night. He couldn’t shake the sensual image and wondered how much of what they’d experienced would be repeated tonight.
Not the kiss, his mind warned him. Laurie Smith would be in and out of his life like this thunderstorm.
And Cole needed more than a quick roll in the hay, no matter how dynamic it promised to be. He had a strong sense of morality. And a one-rainy-night stand wasn’t something he wanted or needed.
But a growing case of lust argued otherwise.

After a lunch of sliced cheese, apples and crackers, Laurie spent a lazy afternoon curled up on the sofa, reading a murder mystery she’d found on a bookshelf near the fireplace. The room, darkened by storm clouds that hid a setting sun, gave a somber and somewhat eerie ambiance to the story.
Several times she had to remind herself that she was safe within the warmth of Cole McAdams’s home. Closing the book’s cover, she let it rest upon her lap as she scanned the room. Unlike the estate she and Daniel had leased, this house had a personality of its own. Even without electricity, Laurie rather enjoyed the semi-rugged living conditions. She wished the peaceful exile would last forever, but knew it wouldn’t.
Soon, when she had pondered her choices and prepared to live with the consequences of her decision, she would return to California. But she had more to consider than her feelings about a disappointing relationship. As far as she was concerned, her engagement was over. That choice had been made when she learned of Daniel’s affair with Denise, but her concerns ran much deeper than Daniel Walker. For, she had also left El Corazón de los Angeles, the Heart of the Angels, a foundation she had developed.
Laurie had fought long and hard to create a homeless shelter in the inner city of Los Angeles. She’d found an old, abandoned warehouse that she was convinced could be brought up to code and transformed into a temporary shelter for single mothers and their children. A place where women could receive job counseling, and their children could be tutored. Where defeated spirits could find hope and pride.
It was a dream she’d worked hard to transform to reality, a dream based on her own early years. Looking back, Laurie knew life had been tough and frightening, at least for her mom. But a mother’s love could blind a child to the harsh realities life presented. Laurie wanted to save other women and children from the same cruel fate. Interestingly enough, Aunt Caroline had encouraged her involvement. It had been the first time Laurie and the older woman had agreed.
Daniel had promised his support of the project by helping to secure the proper zoning and approval. But now, Laurie no longer wanted Daniel’s involvement. His deception only marred her dream. What else had he hidden from her?
Earlier this morning, when she reached into the canvas tote for her makeup bag, she’d found the yellow envelope that belonged to Daniel. She’d nearly opened it then, but had thought better of it.
She’d almost convinced herself that it was because the envelope didn’t belong to her. But she suspected the real reason was that she needed to distance herself from her troubles for a while, to clear her head and her heart.
Obviously, Daniel had intended to use her and their marriage to hide an ongoing affair with a married woman. His political ambitions didn’t stop at the state senate, and the resulting publicity from his role in breaking up the marriage of a prominent surgeon would thwart his campaign efforts.
She had more to consider than just her own pride. Did she wait until the zoning for El Corazón had been decided? And what would Aunt Caroline say? Her aunt adored Daniel and was one of his biggest supporters.
She tried to call home around noon, just to tell her aunt not to worry, but Cole’s phone was dead. And the battery of her cell phone had long since lost power.
Still, she knew exactly what her aunt would say. The election was only weeks away, and Aunt Caroline would undoubtedly instruct Laurie to apologize to Daniel for running off as she had. She’d suggest Laurie beg to be forgiven and be allowed a second chance to become the wife of a state senator. Then, of course, Laurie would be advised to bite her tongue and close her eyes while Daniel continued an affair with Denise Harper. But Laurie wouldn’t do that, no matter how much she owed her aunt.
And unfortunately, Laurie owed Caroline Taylor a lot.
Fifteen years ago, a drunk driver had run a stop sign and crashed into Laurie’s mother’s car, killing her instantly. A social worker had picked Laurie up from school that day, placing her in foster care, leaving her dependent upon strangers for food, shelter and comfort. The loneliness had been almost unbearable. Then, one day a caseworker had told her she was going home to California to live with her mother’s wealthy older sister and would ride on a real airplane.
When Laurie had first entered Aunt Caroline’s sprawling estate on a hill in Bel Aire, she’d met her mother’s sister for the first time. Caroline Taylor had a cool, overbearing manner, but the straitlaced matron tried to welcome the lonely, frightened eight-year-old home. Yet for some reason, Laurie had never been able to completely shake the feeling of being orphaned. Nor could she seem to rid herself of the need to be accommodating and easygoing, in hopes that she would somehow fit in and always be allowed to stay.
Now Laurie wasn’t sure who she was—what she felt or needed, but she did know one thing for certain. When she returned to California, she darn sure wouldn’t be mild-mannered and accommodating.
“How about something to drink before dinner?” Cole’s voice called from the doorway.
Glad to have a respite from her reverie, Laurie searched for a smile. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
He leaned against the doorjamb, a thumb tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. His dark hair curled upon the open collar of a white shirt. Cole McAdams wasn’t at all polished like the men in her elite circle, but he bore a rugged, masculine appeal lacking in those men who wore Armani suits.
He flashed her a charming smile. “I’ve got wine, beer and apple juice in one of those little boxes with a straw.”
It was the most casual announcement of the cocktail hour she’d ever heard. “Actually, a glass of wine sounds nice.”
“White or red?”
“Either.”
“I’ll open a bottle. Then we can decide what we want for dinner.”
Two hours later, Cole and Laurie sat around the coffee table, munching on grilled cheese sandwiches. A blazing fireplace bathed the room in an intimate glow, and a nearly empty bottle of merlot rested between them.
Country and western tunes played softly from a battery-operated boom box Cole had set up in the corner. Although Laurie would have never guessed it could happen, she found herself growing accustomed to upbeat fiddles, lazy guitars and the down-home stories set to song.
“You look like you’re either enjoying the music or reminiscing.”
Laurie glanced up and grinned at the handsome cowboy beside her. “Both, I suppose.”
“When I first saw you at the filling station, I never figured you for a country and western fan.”
“I wasn’t.” Laurie uncrossed her cramped legs and stretched them out in front of her. “But there’s something real and appealing about the words and music, don’t you think?”
His eyes sparkled, and he flashed her a crooked grin. “I play the fiddle in a band on Friday nights down at the Long Shot.”
“No kidding?”
He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I can actually play classical violin, but there aren’t too many orchestras in this part of Texas.”
Envisioning Cole playing the fiddle in a honky-tonk band was surprising enough, but the violin? “That’s amazing.”
“What’s amazing? That a cowboy like me can play a musical instrument?”
“Not at all. Your complexity intrigues me.”
“I don’t know why. You’re not a simple person, yourself.”
“No, I don’t suppose I am.” She glanced out the darkened patio window.
“What talents do you hide?” he asked, apparently not willing to let her dismiss a discussion of herself.
“Talents?” She sighed, not really sure she had any she could honestly claim. “I play piano, although I disliked the regimented lessons.” She caught him eyeing her intently, and she smiled. “Maybe I should have had violin lessons so I could play bluegrass or country whenever I want a change from classical.”
Dark brows furrowed. “The instrument shouldn’t stop you from playing from the heart. Have you ever played a keyboard?”
“No, I’ve never even seen one up close.”
“Maybe you need to loosen up some.”
“Maybe I do.”
He studied her for a while, his gaze seeming to penetrate layers of her facade. She wanted to ask what he saw, but thought better of it. She certainly didn’t want him to think she was that unfamiliar with herself.
“What other abilities do you have?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I had always wanted to be a doctor.” She smiled wistfully. “But my aunt put a damper on that.”
He cocked his head to the side. “How?”
“She had a fit when she found out I’d had a double major.”
“I’d think she would have been proud of your diligence. Having two majors is a lot of work.”
“I majored in liberal studies to please her. The biology was something I wanted for myself. She found out when I made the dean’s list in my pre-med courses and they sent a letter home to congratulate me.”
“She wasn’t happy?”
“She told me I was foolish.” Laurie blew out a sigh and placed her elbows on the coffee table, all of her aunt’s lectures on manners forgotten. “I’ve gone along with everything she’s ever wanted, but dropping out of the medical program is the only thing I actually regret acquiescing to.”
Cole slowly stood and made his way toward a carved oak bar near the kitchen. After opening another bottle of wine, he returned and filled both glasses.
Usually, Laurie didn’t drink more than a glass or two of wine at a time, but this evening had been pleasant and relaxing. And she wasn’t ready for it to end.
“Why don’t you go back to school?” he asked.
The question came as a surprise, yet she had to admit it seemed logical. God knew how much she wanted to. She and Michael Harper had discussed medicine and his practice until the wee hours of the morning, often to the exclusion of Daniel and Denise. Of course, now that she knew of their affair, she understood why neither of them complained. And why they’d always stepped outside together for a walk or a cigarette. What a fool she’d been.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to go back to school?” he asked again.
Laurie glanced up from her introspection, surprised at the simple logic. “No. I suppose there isn’t.”
She really didn’t want to think about medicine right now. It made her think of Dr. Michael Harper, and the normal chain of thoughts ultimately led to Daniel and Denise. As far as Laurie was concerned, those memories didn’t belong in Texas. She turned her attention to the song playing on the all-night radio station.
“Did that guy just say he likes his women a little on the trashy side?” Laurie asked, unable to believe what she was hearing.
Cole grinned. “Yeah, when they wear their clothes too tight, and their hair is dyed.”
Laurie chuckled. “Is that the kind of women cowboys find appealing?”
He stopped smiling, and Laurie realized he might not have known she was only teasing him.
“How do you like your women, Cole?” The minute the words were out, she realized how much like a sexual tease they sounded. Yet she hadn’t meant it that way. She just wanted to… Good grief, she wasn’t sure what she meant to do.
He studied her intently. If he’d taken her comment as light-heartedly as she’d meant it to be, he didn’t give her that impression at all. “I like them on the loving side.”
The room was heavy with feelings shared. Something in his eyes drew her to him, something she could feel. Admiration maybe, but attraction for sure.
They both sat on the floor, facing each other. Laurie, legs folded Indian-style, rested her arms on the coffee table. Cole, legs extended and crossed at the ankles, leaned back, hands braced at his sides. Desire stilled the conversation.
Outside, the rain had softened to a light whisper. Inside, a slow fire continued to flicker and crackle upon oak logs in the fireplace. But it was the storm raging in her soul that concerned Laurie the most.
When an old country love song began to play, Cole slowly rose to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Dance with me.”
She shouldn’t get too close. Touch him. Hold him. She didn’t trust the strength of her own desire. God knew she didn’t need any complications in her life right now. She had to return to California. Soon. But she didn’t have to go anywhere tonight.
As though mesmerized by something in the depth of those blue eyes, Laurie stood and stepped into Cole’s open arms. They fit together perfectly, and swayed in time to the slow, gentle beat of one sweet moment in time.
One hand held hers against his chest, while the other warmed the small of her back and gently pressed her against him.
Laurie rested her head against his cheek, feeling his soft, warm breath upon her neck. She took a deep breath, savoring the scent of nature, musk and man. Closing her eyes, blending into the music playing softly on the radio, she lost herself in thoughts of love and forever. Of magic and dreams.
It was the merlot, she told herself. And the love song. Their hearts beat softly in time with the romantic, soul-stirring ballad. And once again, she blamed too much wine for the stirring in the pit of her stomach, the warmth in her heart.
The wine and the music increased her awareness of his male scent, caused her nipples to tingle against the broad expanse of his chest, her hips to press closer to his.
But try as she might, Laurie couldn’t still the small voice that whispered she was lying to herself. The wine and music had little to do with the intoxicating magic she felt in this cowboy’s arms.

Cole closed his eyes, and fought the urge to nuzzle Laurie’s neck. To pull her close against his heart. To whisper things he couldn’t possibly mean. To make promises they’d never have time to keep.
He’d gone without sex too long, he reminded himself. A man had needs, and lust drew him to Laurie Smith. But any kind of relationship with a woman like her would bring on emotional complications. And neither Cole nor Beth needed any more disillusions or disappointments.
As they swayed to the beat of the music, Cole couldn’t help but pull her close, press the small of her back to hold her flush against him. Without a doubt, he held more woman than he’d ever held before, but the sooner he let her go, the better. Beth needed stability in her life and a mother-figure she could depend upon. And Cole needed a woman he could trust. A stranger passing through couldn’t be either.
When the song ended, Cole released her. Arms, now empty and useless, hung at his sides. He raked a hand through his hair before crossing his arms casually, hiding a momentary sense of unease. “I suppose I’d better turn in. I’ve got a lot of things to do in the morning.”
She nodded. “I’m pretty tired, myself.”
Later, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Cole felt very much alone. He knew he could easily have encouraged Laurie to join him, to spend the night in his arms, to wake in his bed. He’d seen the passion blazing in her eyes, a raging desire that matched his own.
All he had to do was ask with his eyes, take her hand in his, lead her to his bedroom down the hall. If she’d told him no, it would have been with regret.
He closed his eyes, but couldn’t shut out the memory of the passionate kiss they’d shared the night before. Something powerful sizzled between them.
Chemistry, some people called it. Cole grimaced at the apt analogy, and tried to convince himself experimenting with passion might prove to be a big mistake. Especially with a woman who would walk out of his life.
Hell, making love to Laurie might damn near blow the roof right off the house. It would be hot, wild and intoxicating. A once-in-a-lifetime affair. But it would also be wrong.
And Cole had always tried his damnedest to do the right thing. Even when it made falling asleep damn near impossible.

Chapter Four
It had taken Laurie nearly forever to fall asleep last night. Confusion reigned in her mind while desire for Cole McAdams threatened her resolve.
Blaming too much wine and soft music for last night’s magic, she decided she’d have to avoid both today, or she might do something she’d later regret. By the time she finally climbed from bed, the sun had peeked through silver-gray clouds in the east. The rain had stopped. And, her conscience reminded her, she couldn’t stay here forever.
Laurie stood in the kitchen, bare feet upon the cool, pink-and-white checkered linoleum floor, eyes taking in the dark-stained pine cabinets and pink appliances. This room wasn’t at all as modern and impressive as the rest of the house. Apparently, Cole hadn’t begun to remodel in here. She wondered what plans he had to modernize this room and make it as wide-open as the others. A large picture window, she assumed, like those he had in the rest of the house, using the outdoors as a work of art.
She reached for the light switch on the wall and gasped softly when the room lit up. The electricity worked. She glanced quickly at the black, wall-mounted telephone, quickly assuming everything was in working order.
She’d be on her way, wherever that might be. Farther east or back to the west, she hadn’t yet decided, but she needed to go. No telling what she might do if she remained in Cole McAdams’s presence, if she stepped back into his arms, allowed herself one more magical, mind-altering kiss.
Good heavens, she’d been engaged to a man whose kiss had never affected her like that, whose touch had never weakened her knees or driven her senses wild. But Laurie couldn’t stay, couldn’t pursue a relationship with a man who was little more than a stranger, a man who would be a part of her life for a brief moment. Even if he would give her a glimpse of something wonderful, something she might never experience again.
A strange twist in her heart implied she’d miss the handsome, blue-eyed cowboy she’d just met. She quickly brushed off a wave of sadness. Sleep deprivation had surely done a number on her.
She opened and closed cupboards until she found a can of ground coffee in the pantry, then began to prepare a pot in the usual way—with water from the tap and the flip of a switch on the electric coffeemaker.
While the aromatic, dark brown brew dripped into the pot, Laurie returned to the room in which she’d slept and retrieved the gym bag that held the yellow envelope addressed to Daniel. It was time she faced reality. Her days of Texas magic and dreams were coming to an end.
Sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her, Laurie slowly withdrew the envelope from the canvas bag. She held it and struggled with her conscience about opening something not addressed to her.
Yet Denise’s artistic script mocked her, taunted her. Laurie grabbed a table knife, slipped it under the sealed flap and slit the envelope open. She peeked inside, then withdrew the contents.
Three canceled checks lay before her, each from Dr. Michael Harper’s business account to Daniel Walker’s campaign fund, all signed by Denise, the doctor’s wife and office manager. Something struck her as odd.
For a man who didn’t seem to have any more political interest than the norm, why would Michael contribute so much money to Daniel’s campaign? And why in three large increments? Before Laurie could find any reasonable explanation, Cole’s red vintage truck pulled into the drive.
She slipped the checks back into the envelope and braced herself for the morning after.
The morning after what? They certainly hadn’t slept together, although her mind had played and replayed the possibility all night long. They’d only danced.
But they’d held each other close, and the memory of the deep, hungry kiss they’d shared the night before had haunted her sleep. Just the thought of that kiss caused her cheeks to warm as though they’d committed an intimate act.
The knob turned, the back door swung open and a pretty blond child entered the kitchen. Round, blue-rimmed glasses framed expressive blue eyes. A splattering of freckles covered a turned-up nose.
Cole’s daughter, Laurie assumed. She smiled at the little girl.
When she spotted Laurie, she stopped in midstep. Her eyes brightened, and her mouth opened. “Who are you?”
“Hello,” Laurie said, unsure of what else to tell the child. Her eyes instantly sought Cole’s.
“This is my daughter, Beth,” Cole said to Laurie. Then he turned to the child. “This is Laurie. She’s a friend of Aunt Kerri-Leigh.”
And what am I to you? Laurie wanted to ask. Instead, she faced the child and extended her hand in greeting, offering the little girl the same respect and formality Laurie had always received when she’d been introduced to Aunt Caroline’s friends. “I’m happy to meet you, Beth.”
The child took Laurie’s hand and giggled. “I’m glad to meet you, too.”
“Why don’t you unpack your bags and put the laundry in the hamper,” Cole told Beth. “Consuela will be here tomorrow afternoon, and she’ll start the laundry.”
Consuela? Laurie couldn’t hide a grin of her own. So, Cole had a housekeeper. She’d guessed a woman had been responsible for the tidy home, but she just hadn’t known who.
Beth skipped off, long blond curls bouncing along behind her, and left Laurie and Cole alone in the kitchen.
Laurie faced him awkwardly. “I suppose I’d better think about heading back to town.”
“With or without your car?”
For a moment she’d forgotten Kerri-Leigh had the Expedition. “Can you give me a ride to the nearest bus depot? That’s where your sister said she’d park my car.”
“Sure,” Cole said. “But that’s in Clayton, twenty miles from here. I’ve got an appointment I need to take care of in Tannen. Can we make it later this evening?”
“I’m in no hurry to get my car. But if you don’t mind taking me with you to Tannen, I have a few things to do myself.” She didn’t tell him about her plan to find Carla’s Crazy Curl. Or her intent to change her hairstyle.
“Sure, you can ride with me. I’ll be a few hours, though. Do you think you can keep yourself busy in a backwoods community that long?”
Laurie hid a grin and shrugged. “I’ll think of it as an adventure.”
Cole chuckled. “I’ve got some chores to do around here. How about if we leave about noon?”
“All right.” Laurie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and wondered what Cole would say when he saw what she planned to have done to her hair. But she supposed it really didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though she and Cole had any kind of real friendship. Besides, she wouldn’t be around much longer.
She felt a brief moment of sadness, and tried to understand why. Did she mourn leaving a life of obscurity, or did she dread returning to face the problems of her past?
“Beth!” Cole called. “Do you want to go out in the pasture with me?”
The little girl came bounding back into the kitchen. “Is the lady going, too?”
“Not into the pasture,” Cole said. “It’s muddy. But you can put on some old clothes and—”
Beth slid up next to Laurie. “I’ll stay with the lady.”
“Not without asking her permission,” he said.
Big blue eyes, appearing larger through round lenses, pleaded for permission. “Can I stay with you, Laurie?”
“Certainly.” Laurie glanced at Cole. “If it’s all right with your dad.”
“It’s okay with me,” he said.
Beth clapped her hands in excitement. “Maybe we can make cookies. I like to make cookies!”
“Beth,” Cole admonished. “She doesn’t have to entertain you.”
“Oh, on the contrary,” Laurie said with a broad smile. “I think Beth will do the entertaining.”
“All right, then.” Cole turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in the time it takes to make a dozen cookies or answer a hundred questions—whichever comes first.”
Laurie laughed. “Either option is fine with me.”
“Or we can play,” Beth suggested. “I’ll get some toys.”
Cole shook his head while reaching for the back-door knob. “I hope she doesn’t drive you crazy. She can play and talk for hours on end.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Laurie said. All she needed to do was make a quick phone call to Aunt Caroline. Then she’d be happy to do whatever Beth wanted to do: play house, bake cookies or chat away for hours. She actually looked forward to spending time with the little girl.
When Cole had gone outside, and Beth into her room for some dolls to help make cookies, Laurie picked up the telephone and dialed her aunt’s number.
The maid answered the phone. “No, Mrs. Taylor isn’t at home. May I tell her who’s calling?”
“It’s Lauren,” she said, a bit surprised the older woman hadn’t recognized her voice. “Tell her not to worry about me. I’m spending some time alone, and I’ll call her later.”
Before the woman could answer, the phone line crackled with static.
“Goodbye,” Laurie said, assuming her message had gone through. She hung up the telephone, just as Beth raced back into the room with an armload of baby dolls.
“This is Mary,” Beth said, propping a dolly on the table. “And this is Susan. She has a cold.” Beth introduced each one. “Josie, Christie. And this one is Margo. She’s my favorite because Pammy gave her to me for my birthday.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Laurie said, taking each small hand into hers.
“Let’s play house,” Beth said. “I’ll be the mother.” Then she paused, eyes wide and enthusiastic. “Or do you want to be the mother? I’ll let you be her, if you want. Pammy lets me be the mommy a lot, so you can have the first turn, if you want. It’s okay, as long as one of us is. All dollies need a mommy.”
“You can be the mother,” Laurie said, her voice catching. She swiped at her eye with the back of a hand. Dollies weren’t the only ones who needed a mommy.
The morning passed in record time, with Beth enchanting Laurie with her precocious wit and insights.
As they used forks to press peanut-butter-cookie dough onto a cookie sheet, Beth paused and grimaced. “My head hurts again.”
Laurie glanced up. Tears welling in the little girl’s eyes convinced her the child’s complaint was real. “Again?”
Beth nodded. “It hurts bad.”
“Did you bump it?”
Beth shook her head. “It just hurts sometimes.”
Laurie glanced out the window. Cole wasn’t around to ask, but she wanted to give the child some relief. “Does your daddy know about the headaches?”
Beth nodded, her lip quivering. “He gives me medicine, but it tastes yucky.”
“What kind of medicine?”
“The purple stuff.” Beth pointed toward the top of the refrigerator. “It’s up there.”
When Laurie reached for the half-empty bottle, she read the label. Grape-flavored children’s non-aspirin pain reliever. As Beth began to whimper, Laurie checked the dosage. What would it hurt? She hated to see the girl in such obvious pain.
Taking the small, plastic measuring cup that had been placed beside the bottle, Laurie poured the proper amount and gave it to Beth. For a moment, she worried that she might have overstepped her boundaries, but when Beth continued to whine, Laurie decided she hadn’t.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/judy-duarte/cowboy-courage/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.