Читать онлайн книгу «Wes Stryker′s Wrangled Wife» автора Sandra Steffen
Wes Stryker's Wrangled Wife
Sandra Steffen
Bachelor GulchTHE BACHELOR: Wes Stryker, notorious rogue. His carefree life suddenly changed with the arrival of two young orphans in need of a family.THE BRIDE: Jayne Kincaid, happily single. Until a blue-eyed cowboy wooed her with a sultry "Howdy, ma'am."The ex-rodeo rider's sweet talk about children that needed raisin' and his lonely heart that needed healin' almost had city gal Jayne running for the altar. But Wes needed to understand the importance of three little words and wrangle them from his charming lips before Jayne would agree to become Stryker's wife!This little town wanted womenbut are these bachelors ready for marriage?
Jayne was perfect for him. (#u45b46128-2cdd-5e24-938f-2eecc843c646)Letter to Reader (#ub67eb2c9-10ca-5699-9ce6-01c9401f8ed3)Title Page (#uae1f83ee-2082-50c9-9f22-babaae40c9aa)Dedication (#u6c873d44-525a-5b80-b5b9-865a862eef9d)SANDRA STEFFEN (#ue21f1cb4-322f-5ad4-9c0f-dd6deb347315)Chapter One (#u8dd71de1-9435-560b-a310-79337ba249b5)Chapter Two (#u82ec75c4-542c-5661-8e45-ffc4cb4b94c7)Chapter Three (#u92d44c9c-4d09-5a90-83a9-938c92ab2311)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Jayne was perfect for him.
She could match his wit, and give snide comment for snide comment. She could kiss like a dream. Hell, she could even swear. There was only one little problem. She wasnt ready for children.
And Wes Stryker had just petitioned for custody of not one, but two.
Thank goodness he hadnt already fallen in love with her, he told himself. He just had to put her out of his mind.
Hed put women out of his mind before. He could do it again.
By the time hed pulled his truck between the fence posts lining his driveway, hed decided it was a good thing hed discovered this now. A good thing, hell. If it was so good, why did he feel like starting a fight? And why could he still smell the heady scent of her perfume?
Dear Reader,
This April, Silhouette Romance showers you with six spectacular stories from six splendid authors! First, our exciting LOVING THE BOSS miniseries continues as rising star Robin Wells tells the tale of a demure accountant who turns daring to land her bossand become mummy to The Executives Baby.
Prince Charmings Return signals Myma Mackenzies return to Silhouette Romance. In this modem-day fairy-tale romance, wealthy FABULOUS FATHER Gray Alexander discovers he has a son, but the proud mother of his child refuses marriageunless love enters the equation.... Sandra Steffens BACHELOR GULCH miniseries is back with Wes Strykers Wrangled Wife! In this spirited story, a pretty stranger just passing through town cant resist a sexy cowboy struggling to raise two orphaned tykes.
Cara Colter revisits the lineup with Truly Daddy. an emotional, heartwarming novel about a man who learns what it takes to be a fatherand a husbandthrough the transforming love of a younger woman. When A Cowboy Comes a Courting in Christine Scotts contribution to HES MY HERO!, the virginal heroine whod sworn off sexy, stubborn, Stetson-wearing rodeo stars suddenly finds herself falling hopelessly in love. And FAMILY MATTERS showcases Patti Standards newest novel in which a man with a knack for fixing things sets out to make a struggling single mom and her teenage daughter His Perfect Family.
As always, I hope you enjoy this months offerings, and the wonderful ones still to come!
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Wes Strykers Wrangled Wife
Sandra Steffen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Sally Bulgarelli:
You give great advice. Better yet, you listen (sometimes)
to my great advice. We laugh at the same jokes, cry at
the same injustices and know whats important. Were we
sisters in another lifetime? Maybe. Friends in this one?
Certainly. Im so glad.
SANDRA STEFFEN
Her fans tell Sandra how much they enjoy her fictional characters, especially her male fictional characters. Thats not so surprising, because although this awardwinning, bestselling author believes every character is a challenge, she has the most fun with the men she creates, whether theyre doctors or cowboys, toddlers or teenagers. Perhaps thats because shes surrounded by so many menher husband, their four sons, her dad, brothers, in-laws. She feels blessed to be surrounded by just as many warm, intelligent and funny women.
Growing up the fourth child of ten in a family of ambitious and opinionated people, she developed a keen appreciation for laughter and argument, for stubborn people with hearts of gold and intelligent people who arent afraid of other intelligent people. Sandra lives in Michigan with her husband, three of their sons and a blue-eyed mutt who thinks her name is No-Molly-No. Sandras book, Child of Her Dreams, won the 1994 National Readers Choice Award. Several of her titles have appeared on national bestseller lists.
Chapter One
Wes Stryker spread the crinkled sheet of paper out on the small table in front of him. The words, written in fountainpen ink in an old womans shaky scrawl, swirled before his eyes. He blinked to bring them into focus, although he knew them by heart. Annabell wanted him to take the kids. Kate and Dustys kids. The thought of Kate and Dusty, and the accident that had taken their lives, sent a stabbing pain all the way through him.
The blinking lights on the Christmas tree in the corner reflected off his glass of beer. Very festive. Ho. Ho. Ho. Wes folded the letter and very carefully slid it into his pocket. Now and then one or two of the local ranchers who were huddled in the bar made an attempt at small talk, and every five minutes Forest Wilkie deposited more coins in the jukebox. Wes wondered how many times hed heard Elvis Presleys rendition of Blue Christmas tonight. Five? Six? It didnt matter, because he was pretty sure that if he heard it one more time, he was going to have to hit somebody.
Slow night, Butch Brunner mumbled from a table nearby.
Wes acknowledged the statement, but he didnt look up from the beer in front of him. It was a slow night, all right. Christmas Eve. The longest, slowest, dreariest night of the year.
Snows really coming down out there.
Wes cast a cursory glance out the window. Yeah.
You doin anything tomorrow?
Nope. You?
Nope.
Silence. Ah, blessed silence. Unfortunately, it only lasted until Forest deposited more coins.
For cryin out loud, one of the other area ranchers grumbled. Cant you play anything else?
Ignoring the criticism, Forest settled himself back at his table. Wes continued staring into his beer, wondering what a down-on-his-luck ex-rodeo champion with a bum knee could offer his dead best friends kids. Children, especially orphaned children, needed a womans touch, didnt they? He could think of at least one down-on-his-luck ex-rodeo champion who could have used the same thing.
All in all, he figured hed done a halfway decent job reminding himself that life wasnt so bad. So what if the woman hed set his sights on had just married somebody else? He liked Louetta Graham. Hed even go so far as to say he liked her a lot, but he hadnt been in love with her. Good ol Louetta. had known it and had proceeded to let him down in a manner that had left his pride intact. And so what if his rodeo days were over? Hed given bronco riding everything he had. The last couple of years, that had become harder and harder to do. Wes knew timing was everythingit was one of the reasons hed taken so many trophies over the years. And it had been time to get out. Start over. Come home.
That was what hed done.
It wasnt as if he didnt have anything to come home to. He had the ranch, such as it was. Aside from stiff joints and a limp that probably wouldnt be getting a whole lot better, he had his health. He supposed he might as well be thankful that he had the town of Jasper Gulch to come back to, not to mention the Crazy Horse Saloon where he could nurse a beer along with a handful of other men who had no better place to be on Christmas Eve. Now, if Forest would stop playing that danged song, they all might make it through the long, gloomy night.
With that in mind, Wes picked up his beer and downed a good portion of it. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he realized that what he needed was some excitement. A barroom brawl or a warm, willing woman. An intense game of poker or a warm, willing woman. Unfortunately, women were hard to come by in Jasper Gulch, South Dakota. Since the men werent in the mood to play poker, and the fact that Forest had played Blue Christmas sevengood grief, make that eighttimes in a row wasnt really a good enough reason to start a barroom brawl, Wes placed his glass on the table and continued to stare into what was left of his beer.
Suddenly the sleigh bells, hanging from the back of the door, jangled up a storm. It wasnt surprising that every man in the room glanced up at the commotion, and it stood to reason that each and every one of those men would perk up considerably. After all, the person whod entered was a woman, and a damned attractive one, at that. Wes, however, was the only man in the room who didnt duck back behind the safety of his beer. He happened to think their reactions were mighty interesting, not to mention worthy of a little healthy speculation on his part. Evidently the area bachelors knew something he didnt.
Mighty interesting, indeed.
Wes waited to rise to his feet until after the woman had read the card the bars owners had left on the counter, a card wishing everyone a merry Christmas and a drink or two if they wanted to help themselves. Hooking his fingers loosely over the top of his glass, he moseyed a little closer, reaching the row of bar stools about the same time the woman carried a long-necked brown bottle to the counter and started to wiggle out of her coat.
Holy-moly. Now there was a sight for sore eyes, not to mention a sure cure for boredom. And this was a lot better than a game of poker or a barroom brawl.
Hed seen women in leather coats and suede coats with fringe. Hed seen them in plastic rain slickers and wool and fleece and down-filled jackets. Once hed even kissed a woman who-was wearing mink from head to toe, but hed never seen a coat quite like the one sliding from this womans shoulders. He couldnt tell what it was made of. This close, he only knew it was fuzzy looking and had what appeared to be red and purple reindeer, some upside down, some right side up, prancing across it.
She hooked a foot on the bottom rung of the bar stool closest to her and hoisted herself onto the seat. Like a man in a trance, Wes watched as she made herself comfortable. He had a hazy impression of long legs encased in dark brown jeans, ankle-high boots, slight hips and round breasts, recently chilled. In his younger days, Wes would have been tempted to chew on his fist. At thirty-five, he realized there was more to a woman than a good body. It just so happened that once a man got past this particular womans truly amazing body, he could spend an equal amount of time on her face, which was exactly what he was doing when he found himself looking into electric blue eyes that were looking right back at him.
Coming to his senses enough to realize that it wasnt polite to stare, and because he still considered himself a gentleman, no matter where his gaze had gotten stuck and his thoughts had wandered, he removed his cowboy hat with his left hand and said, Evening, maam.
The only indication she gave that shed heard him was a slight lift of one perfectly arched black eyebrow. Since it was all the encouragement he needed, what with the way the blood was zinging through his body, he sidled a little closer. Mind if I sit down?
She took her time looking him up and down. Seemingly altogether unfazed by his rapt attention, she raised the beer bottle halfway to her lips. On one condition, she said, holding the bottle in midair.
Wes hitched his weight to one foot and settled his hand, hat and all, to one hip. He waited as long as he could and finally said, You care to name your condition, or do you want me to guess?
She eyed the tilt of his head and the half-empty glass held loosely in his right hand, only to catch him red-handed, or red-eyed, or whatever a woman called it when she caught a man peering below her shoulders. Shoot. He wouldnt blame her if she gave him the boot. Sorry, maam. I dont mean to stare. Its just that I dont believe Ive ever laid eyes on a woman as exotic looking as you.
She appeared totally unaffected by the compliment Worse, she looked bored, but she did finally say, Take a picture. Itll last longer. For the record, in order for me to be exotic looking, my eyes would have to be green, not blue.
Wes disagreed, but was too intrigued to argue. About that condition you mentioned.
With a shudder, she motioned toward the jukebox. If youd ask that man in the brown cowboy hat to play something other than Blue Christmas, youd be doing me a huge favor. I mean, isnt Christmas depressing enough?
Wes felt a hundred-watt grin coming on. A woman after his own heart. Placing his beer and cowboy hat in the empty space next to her, he turned on his heel and dug deep into his pockets for change.
Jayne Kincaid lowered her beer to the counter, untouched. She didnt mind the curiosity coursing through her, but she had a far-too-difficult time dragging her eyes away from the seat of the cowboys pants. Rats. Her peace of mind was in serious trouble. The man would have been on the tall side even without the scuffed heels of his worn cowboy boots. He was wearing a plain green shirt, the cuffs rolled up, the collar open. Like most of the other men shed met out here, he wore very little in the way of adornment. No gold chains, certainly no earrings. This cowboy didnt even sport the usual eighteen-pound belt buckle. His belt was plain brown leather, and held up a pair of low-slung blue jeans. At least theyd probably been blue once. Now they were faded, the knees and fly nearly white. For heavens sake. What was she doing looking at his fly?
Until shed arrived in this godforsaken town, where her brother had chosen to set up his new medical practice, she hadnt given much thought to cowboy brawn. But she couldnt help wondering where this particular cowboy had gotten the little hitch in his stride. Not that she was interested. Oh, no. She didnt care if his hair did have at least four shades of brown, every one lighter than the last, or that his voice held just enough Western drawl to be interesting. Shed sworn off men for good this time, and from the looks of things, in the nick of time.
She forced her eyes away about the same time coins jangled into the jukebox. Within seconds the twangiest country-western song shed ever heard wafted through the air.
Better? he asked, joining her at the bar.
Whoever that musician is, Im a huge fan.
He slid onto the stool with the ease of a man who was accustomed to spending time in bars. This guys been dead for twenty years, but Im a fan of the yodel, myself. You really are a woman after my own heart.
Through the mirror behind the bar, she assessed the other patrons sitting at various tables throughout the room. It didnt take long to size them up as lonely hearts, not troublemakers. The man sitting next to her wasnt quite so easy to categorize. She lifted the bottle to her mouth and took a small swallow. Licking the taste of foam and barley from her lips, she said, Im not after your heart, cowboy. Im not after anything, not from you, not from anyone.
Wes took a moment to digest the information, then slowly extended his right hand. You can call me cowboy if you want to, but my names Wes Stryker.
I know.
You know?
She took another drink, shrugged. Cletus McCully pointed you out to me at Burke and Louettas wedding earlier. You owe the man a dollar for all the praises he sang. Unfortunately he wasted his breath. Oh, my names Jayne Kincaid.
I know.
She watched him closely, then slowly shook her head. Cletus McCully?
Wes rested his forearms along the bars smooth surface, swirling the beer in his glass while thoughts swirled in his head. Leaning closer, he whispered, It seems he sang a few of your praises to me, too. He mentioned that you like men with blue eyes. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but mine are blue.
Jayne would have liked to be able to dismiss the whole topic with a quick, unaffected glance at his face. But his wasnt the kind of face that allowed easy dismissals or quick glances. His four-shades-of-brown hair was brushed straight back. There were two long lines in his forehead, from concentrating or scowling, she couldnt tell. His eyebrows were thick and had been bleached nearly blond. And he was right. His eyes were blue, and it just so happened that they were the kind of eyes a woman could lose herself in if she wasnt careful. From now on Jayne planned to be very careful.
Look, she said. You seem like a nice enough guy, but youre wasting your time. I was partial to blue eyes . once. My ex-husband has blue eyes.
Jayne watched for a sign that hed accepted the fact that she just plain wasnt interested. He appeared to be studying the warm beer in his glass. After a long stretch of silence, he cupped his chin in his hand and turned to look at her. Touching his glass to her bottle of beer, he said, To blue eyes, yours and mine, and to Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve, she said with a shudder. The longest night of the year.
Wes saw a spark of some indefinable emotion in Jaynes eyes. It hinted of battle scars and kindred spirits, and it made him even more curious. You dont have much in the way of family, either? he asked. Why else would she be spending Christmas Eve in a hole-in-the-wall bar with a garish Christmas tree in one corner and a mechanical bull strung with white lights in another?
To his surprise she said, Oh, I have tons of family. Besides my brother, Burke, and my brand-new sister-in-law, Louetta, and little Alex, I have one half brother, two half sisters, oodles of stepbrothers and stepsisters, two parents, several sets of stepparents, one she cocked her head at him blue-eyed ex-husband and a partridge in a pear tree.
She lifted her beer to her lips again, shrugging as if her brand of humor wasnt unusual. In actuality, there was nothing ordinary about her. Her hair looked thick, the tendrils surrounding her face blunt-edged, the rest unruly. The style shouldnt have looked so damned pretty, when pretty was the last word he would use to describe her Exotic, gorgeous, sexy. Now those were words that were synonymous with Jayne Kincaid. He noticed that her hands were soft and smooth looking, and he wondered what she did for a living. She knew her way around a bar, but she was no barfly. And no matter how much family she claimed to have, she didnt have any better place to be on Christmas Eve than he did.
Do you want to get out of here? he said. Maybe go for a drive?
Or back to my place? went unsaid between them.
Jayne came out of her double take shaking her head. She was thirty-two years old, and shed been away from the game for a long time. She was rusty, and she planned to stay that way. Look, she said, I dont mean to sound cold or impersonal, but Im not looking for a relationship. Im not even looking for a fling. Im finished with men.
Youre going to let one loser taint your view of all men? he asked.
First of all, my husband wasnt a loser. And secondly, my view of men isnt tainted. Jayne nearly bristled. She hadnt meant to sound as if she wasnt completely over Sherman. Maybe she wasnt, but she didnt want anybodys pity.
Then you dont really dislike us? he asked with a half smile.
Good grief. She couldnt believe she was having this conversation. All shed wanted to do was get out of the house for a little while. Oh, Burke and Louetta. had both assured her that she was welcome to spend the evening with them, but this was their wedding night, and there were just some things that sisters, particularly newly divorced sisters, were better off not witnessing or hearing or imagining.
Look, she futally said, I dislike a few, but no, I dont dislike all men. Im just not going to get attached to any more of you, thats all.
Youre not?
No, Im not. Raising one hand, she began listing on her fingers all the benefits to remaining single. No more wondering if a man is really attending a business meeting at 1:00 a.m. No more picking up heavy suits from the dry cleaners. No more rushing home from work to spend time with a man whos made other plans for the evening. No more trying to appease an unappeasable man, or understand an irrational one, or try to plan a meal around a picky mans tastes. I can eat chicken seven days a week if I want to. I can sleep in the middle of the bed, and there are no whiskers in my sinks. I dont need a man to define me, and I can open my own jars, thank you very much. And perhaps best of all, the toilet seats are always down.
Jayne almost felt smug. Festive, thats what she felt. Buoyant. Shed never put it into words before, and it sounded good. It felt good. She truly didnt dislike men. At least not most of them. She loved her brother, her half brother and stepbrothers and nephew, and her father, and stepfathers, although she had issues with a few of them. Men had interesting voices and broad shoulders and comical habits. But she didnt need a man to define her. She didnt need a man for anything.
Jayne?
She turned her head at the sound of her name. While shed been lost in thought, Wes had inched closer. She could see the tiny lines feathering his eyes, the crease lining one lean cheek, the light brown whisker stubble on his cheeks and jaw. His eyes held her spellbound, his gaze dipping to her mouth and back again as he said, What about sex?
The song on the jukebox ended, causing the entire room to become so quiet a person could have heard a pin drop. All Jayne could hear was the pounding in her ears, and the catch in her voice as she asked, What about it?
He leaned in, slow and easy. Are you planning to do without that for the rest of your life, too?
The deep timbre of his voice reminded her of a guitar string stretched tight and slowly strummed. She had no doubt the man could sweet-talk with the best of them. She should know. Shed been sweet-talked by pros. Shed also been lied to and cheated on and tossed aside, and not only by her ex-husband.
In the background, coins jangled into the jukebox. Within seconds the first strains of Blue Christmas started all over again.
She could feel Wes Strykers eyes on her. She knew she could have said something blunt and sassy to put him in his place, but for some reason she didnt. It was his eyes. The rest of him exuded smugness, but those blue eyes of his were tinged with sadness. The man had troubles, and she didnt see any reason to add to them. She picked up the bottle in front of her and took a hardy swallow.
Well? he prodded.
Sex, she said, reaching for her coat and sliding off the stool, is highly overrated.
She held up her hand, anticipating his protest. Trust me on this, Wes. Or simply agree that we disagree. Oh, and merry Christmas. Without another word she walked to the door, gave it a yank and strode out into the cold.
The room remained quiet until the last bell hanging on the hook on the back of the door had stopped jingling. And then it seemed that every spectator had something to say.
Oooo-eee, Butch Brunner exclaimed. That womans definitely an eyeful.
She is that, Forest agreed. But shell give you an earful without even trying.
Why, one of the other men said, she practically singed the hair in the ears of every man in the diner the first time she set foot in the place.
I dont think shes the kind of woman the Carson brothers had in mind when they decided to advertise for women to come to Jasper Gulch a few years back.
No sirree, Bob.
Wes listened, but he didnt add to the conversation flowing through the saloon. An eyeful? An earful? Hed bet his last trophy shed be a handful in bed.
The woman had certainly packed a wallop in the short amount of time shed spent in the Crazy Horse. Hed known people who talked for hours but said less than Jayne Kincaid had said with two words, a wry twist of her lips and a slight thrust of her chin. Shed been married, divorced and hurt. And she thought she wasnt looking for a man. Wes happened to believe that everyone was looking for a partner, the other half of a whole, someone to share this messy journey humans called life. And sex wasnt overrated, no matter what shed said. It was one of lifes most pleasurable, not to mention its most powerful, driving forces. It was like a tidal wave or a hurricane or the rotation of the earth around the sun. A man could ignore it, but he couldnt pretend it didnt exist.
And neither could Jayne Kincaid.
Jayne Kincaid. He let her name roll around in his mind, along with the image of her sky blue eyes and that cockamamy way she wore her short, dark hair. Butch was right. She had a helluva body. Yet she did nothing to draw attention to it or detract from it. She wasnt a flirty little rodeo bunny or a city-wise coquette or an ice queen, for that matter. This was a warm-blooded woman who knew the ropes and wouldnt hesitate to hang a man on them. Dang. Women like that were few and far between.
Merry Christmas, shed said. Wes still wasnt sure about the merry part, but it had turned out to be an interesting Christmas Eve, that was for sure. He rose to his feet slowly. Taking his time buttoning his sheepskin jacket, he wondered how long he should wait before he paid her a little visit.
Ya leaving, Wes? Forest called gloomily from the back of the room.
Yeah. I think Ill call it a night. Wes said goodbye to the men who were still huddled inside the Crazy Horse Saloon. Whether any of them noticed or not, he was feeling a sight more amicable leaving the bar than hed been going in. Even the sting of the wind and the blinding snow didnt dampen his mood. He simply punched on the lights, turned up the heat and switched on the windshield wipers in his shiny silver truck. He was halfway home when he noticed that he was whistling to a Christmas song about a rusty Chevrolet. It had been a long time since hed felt like whistling about anything.
His first glimpse of the dilapidated fence posts lining his driveway drew the whistle from his lips. The rundown old house had little appeal in the light of day. At night, it was downright depressing. He should have remembered to turn a light on before he left. Not that he was accustomed to being greeted by lighted windows. It was just that this was the first Christmas Eve hed spent on the ranch since hed buried his father a few years back. And it was the first Christmas Eve to come and go since Dusty and Kate had died.
Wes pulled his fancy pickup truck into the barn and got out. The bucking bronco emblem on the doors had been Dustys idea. It seemed that Carlin Dusty Malone had always had some grand scheme up his sleeve, most of which had gotten the two of them into trouble.
Wes closed the heavy barn door, latched it and headed for the house. He was chilled by the time he shut the back door behind him, but although his knee ached a little, he didnt experience that knife-in-the-gut feeling thoughts of Dusty usually evoked. Tonight the memory of Dustys crooked smile made Wes smile a little himself.
He hung his hat and coat on a hook by the door, ran a hand through his hair and wandered to the bedroom where hed spent most of his youth planning his escape from Jasper Gulch. His leaving hadnt bothered his father. By that time, Sam Strykers only love was for the bottle he curled up with every night, and maybe the fleeting memory of the woman hed buried when Wes had been five.
Wes barely remembered his mother, but hed always thought she would have liked Dusty Malone. He and Dusty had started on the rodeo circuit the same year. Dusty had ridden bulls, while bucking broncos had been Wess specialty. Nothing had come between them, not winning, or losing, not barroom brawls, not even falling for the same girl. When that girl had married Dusty, Wes had been the best man. Although Dusty had insisted that he would always be the best man, Wes had always known that Dusty would have done the same for him if the tables had been turned and Kate had married him, instead. Friends like that didnt come along every day. Kate used to say that all the time. She also used to say shed married one of the only two men on the planet who put the toilet seat down. Obviously, putting the toilet seat down was a big deal with women. It had certainly been an issue with Jayne Kincaid.
Wess right boot hit the floor about the same time thoughts of Jayne Kincaid jump-started his heart. He took the letter out of his pocket and placed it on the stand next to his bed. He knew he had a decision to make regarding Dustys two kids, but it wasnt the kids he was thinking about as he turned back the covers. He was thinking about Jayne, and he wished to high heaven he wasnt crawling into bed alone.
Wes opened his eyes slowly. He wasnt sure what had awakened him. It wasnt quite daybreak, but it was close, the color of the sky on the other side of his wavy windowpanes somewhere between black and gray. He felt a smile pulling at his face, not because it was Christmashe didnt have a tree or even a stocking, after allbut because he had a woman on his mind. Thats what had awakened him. Hed been dreaming, and while the remnants of the dream werent clear in his mind, they were evident on his body.
He wondered if Jayne was awake yet. And he wondered what she would say if he called on her so early in the day. While he was at it, he wondered how she would react if he told her he was going to petition for guardianship of Kate and Dustys two kids and raise them the best way he knew how. Would she say he was nuts? Maybe he was. But other than their fathers eighty-two-year-old great aunt, Annabell, who lived in a two-bedroom house southeast of Sioux Falls, two hundred and twenty miles away, and Kates long-lost sister who could be dead for all anybody knew, Wes was all those two kids had.
He made quick use of the facilities, layered on his clothes and hiked out to the kitchen. Shivering, he made a mental note of all the things he had to do to get the place ready for Logan and Olivias arrival. He could have lived in the barn, but a five-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother needed heat and windows with glass instead of plywood. They needed good food in their stomachs. Most of all they needed to know he wanted them.
Picking up the old black telephone from the place it had sat for as long as he could remember, he dialed the number Annabell had listed in her letter. Her answering machine clicked on after the fourth ring. Wes smiled, remembering some of the messages shed left on that thing. Most folks her age didnt even bother with the contraptions, but Annabell Malone wasnt like most folks her age. She welcomed challenges, and wasnt afraid to try new things. For an eighty-two-year-old woman she was very young at heart.
Figuring they were all probably in church, Wes followed the instructions Annabell recited in her feeble-sounding voice and left a message. He took a minute to start the coffee, then donned his sheepskin jacket and his favorite cowboy hat. At the last minute, he went in search of the cellular phone. Tucking it into his pocket just in case Annabell returned his call any time soon, he headed outside to feed and water the horses.
Maybe hed hook the trailer up to his truck and haul Stomper and the sleigh into-town in a little while. He was in the process of imagining Jaynes reaction to such an old-fashioned activity when he lowered his right foot to the first step.
Whoosh.
He was airborne. His arms flailed, his feet flew out from under him. He landed on the icy ground five steps below, in less time than it had taken High Kicker to buck him off that time down in Santa Fe. He was gasping for breath and in too much pain to be dead, so the fall couldnt have killed him. He couldnt tell if hed damaged the ribs that had started to heal, and his knee was aching pretty badly again, but it was the searing pain in his left shoulder that kept him very still. Damn. Hed dislocated it again.
Clutching his shoulder with both hands, he picked up one boot, gritted his teeth and tried to roll onto his side. His foot slid on the ice, his bad knee crashing onto the hard surface so fast he saw stars. He tried rolling the other way, but he almost passed out from the pain slicing through his shoulder. He tried several other maneuvers. The results were the same.
He should have known his father wouldnt have had the downspout fixed, thereby routing the rainwater to a less hazardous spot. From the look of the place and the back taxes that had to be paid, it was obvious that his father hadnt taken care of much of anything these past several years. It looked as if it was up to him to make the place operational again. First, he had to figure out a way to get up.
Think, Stryker, think.
He considered whistling for Stomper, but Wes had closed the stall door himself yesterday, and although Stomper could finagle an apple or a carrot out of anybodys pocket, he wouldnt be able to unlatch the stall. It was fifteen miles to town, two miles to his nearest neighbor. It was also Christmas morning, and not too many people would be out and about, and if they were, they wouldnt be driving past this old place on Old Stump Road.
Wes was breathing easier and thinking clearly. A lot of good it did him. Between the ice and the pain, he was stuck on his back, staring at a sky as dull as the old steel sink in his kitchen, cold seeping into his coat and jeans as he tried to decide how to keep from freezing to death. His fingers were already starting to tingle. He slid them into his pockets, paused. What the
He took a careful breath and he almost smiled.
Lo and behold, the cellular phone.
Chapter Two
Look, Alex! A huck! And a doctors kit. Can you tell Aunt Jayne thank you?
Tanks, Aunie Jayne. Aunie Jayne!
Jayne?
Sis, are you all right?
What? Jayne came out of her musings with a start, only to find Louetta, Burke and Alex staring at her from the living room floor where wrapping paper and ribbons were strewn everywhere.
Alex said thanks, Burke said, watching her closely.
Oh, youre very welcome, Alex.
Alex went back to his new truck, but Burke and Louetta continued looking at her strangely. Normally, it wouldnt have bothered Jayne. People looked at her strangely all the time, but Burke and Louetta looked concerned, and that made Jayne uneasy.
You were a thousand miles away, Burke said, handing Alex another package.
Jayne pulled a face.
Is everything all right? he asked, obviously reluctant to let the subject drop.
My mind wandered, thats all.
Were you daydreaming or reminiscing? Louetta asked in that quiet, knowing way she had.
Unwilling to admit just how close Louetta had come to the truth, Jayne stifled a yawn and gestured to the two-year-old, who was tearing into another package with obvious glee. The ploy worked: Burkes and Louettas attention strayed to Alex and then met over the top of his dark, little head. Louetta was wearing a pale pink robe shed bought especially for her new husband, and although Burke had pulled on a cable-knit sweater and a pair of navy chinos, they were obviously having a difficult time keeping their hands off each other. Theyd been married less than a day, which made the open longing in their expressions perfectly understandable.
Jayne was happy for them, but she felt restless. She had last night, too. Shed slept with a pillow over her head to muffle the constant sigh of the wind. She yawned again because she hadnt slept well, and she couldnt blame it entirely on the wind.
This was just great. She hadnt had an honest-to-goodness dream in over three years, and then out of the blue, last nights sleep had been filled with hazy, erotic images of spurs and lassos and hair four shades of brown. One of her closest friends back in Seattle happened to be a therapist, and would have been intrigued, although what Jayne had been doing to that pillow upon awakening might have made the by-the-book therapists blue blood turn as bronze as the naked chest in her dreams.
Oh, for heavens sake, she thought as warmth inched through her body. It wasnt as if shed actually done any of the things shed dreamed she was doing. Er, that is, she hadnt really slid a rope around Wes Strykers shoulders and drawn him to her, hand-over-hand, and she certainly hadnt...
She jerked her attention back to the present and caught Burke looking at her again. She didnt want him to worry. After all the agony he and Louetta had both suffered these past two and a half years theyd been apart, they deserved every bit of happiness they were experiencing.
Although she and Burke didnt share many physical characteristics, other than their dark hair, their stubborn streaks were evenly matched. Shed planned to spend Christmas morning in her room, but hed insisted, in no uncertain terms, that nobody was going to open a package until Jayne had joined them at the tree. So shed pulled a brush through her short hair and quickly pulled on the first skirt and sweater shed come to in the tiny closet. Shed joined Burke, Louetta and Alex for the Christmas-morning chaos, watching from a distance, in the room, but not too close to the tight little circle the new family was quickly forming.
She tried not to recall all the Christmases shed spent just outside the warm glow of real family. Strangely, another kind of warm glow kept filtering into her mind.
The phone rang in the kitchen, bringing Jayne back to reality with a jolt. She was on her feet, relieved to have something constructive to do, and was halfway to the kitchen before the second ring. Grabbing the receiver, she said, Dr. Kincaids residence.
For a moment there was only silence, and then a deep, husky voice reached her ear through the phone line. It just dawned on me that this is exactly the way you sounded in my dreams last night. Breathless and full of restless energy.
Her ear tingled, and she felt a strange fluttering sensation where her heart used to be before it had twirled down into her stomach. Who is this? She knew, but Wes didnt need to know that.
Im hurt.
Ill bet
No, really. Im hurt. I fell.
Oh, my God. Ill get Burke.
No. Jayne. Wait. I was a little afraid Id freeze to death, but the sound of your voice is working wonders in that department.
She smelled a rat. Turning her back on the intimate little scene in the next room, she said, Whats going on, Stryker?
I need you to come out to the ranch and help me up.
Excuse me?
He chuckled. You sound very suspicious and very sexy, and for the record, I dont need help for what youre thinking.
You couldnt possibly know what Im thinking.
Wanna bet?
Its all in your mind.
It was all in my dreams last night. You were in my dreams last night.
She wished he would stop mentioning dreams. What do you really want, Wes?
Thats a question I wouldnt mind discussing at great length, but for now, I slipped on some ice. I didnt know the snow had turned to sleet over night. You could say I discovered it the hard way. Anyway, Im stuck on my back like a turtle. My shoulders dislocated, and the ice, my bad knee and the ribs I busted a few months back have rendered me immobile for the time being.
Jaynes mind reeled. Dammit, Wes, why didnt you say so? Burke! Come quick!
She could hear Wes protesting as she handed the phone to her brother. Its Wes Stryker. It seems hes fallen. We should call an ambulance.
Burke took the phone. After a few pointed questions and a series of Uh-huhs and I sees, he covered the mouthpiece with one hand and spoke softly to Jayne. He says he doesnt need an ambulance, and I believe him.
But...
Burke shrugged. I know it sounds strange, but most of the ranchers and cowboys Ive treated out here can diagnose their conditions as well as I can. Often the examination is just a technicality. Wes says all he needs is a helping hand getting to his feet. Hed like that someone to be you.
Jayne glanced at Louetta as if to ask if the cowboy was for real and if he could be trusted. At Louettas small nod, Jayne shook her head. I dont believe this. Yanking the phone out of her brothers hand, she said, If I find candlesticks and a table set for two, youre dead meat, Stryker.
When his deep, throaty chuckle reached her ear, she muttered something very unladylike, slammed the phone down and reached for her keys, sputtering under her breath that he was going to get her help, all right. And then he was going to get a piece of her mind.
Jayne hated country roads. Given a choice, shed take a five-lane freeway during rush-hour traffic over these curving back roads that were chock-full of chatter bumps and potholes. Burke had wanted to drive her to Wess place, but shed wanted to come alone. For reasons she preferred not to explore, shed needed to escape the intimate atmosphere in her brothers house on Custer Street.
She glanced at her car phone, turned the defrosoer up a notch and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. Who in their right mind would set up a medical practice on Custer Street, anyway? Custer died, big-time, didnt he? The names of some of the roads shed taken this morning werent much better, but it was the layer of ice covering them that made them truly treacherous, which was why the fifteen-mile trek out to the Double S Ranch had already taken thirty-five minutes. Although it seemed more like forever, Jayne spent the time contemplating what she would say if this was all a hoax and what she would do if it wasnt.
Her fingers cramped from squeezing the steering wheel so hard; her eyes burned from squinting into the sun that had started to shine halfway into the trip. Thankful to have been born with a good sense of direction, she followed the course Louetta had recited, passing sheds and piles of rocks that served as landmarks. It was a relief when she finally found Old Stump Road. Within minutes she pulled into a driveway, her tires sliding to a stop. It required a conscious effort to peel her fingers off the steering wheel. Honestly, if Wes wasnt at least half-dead, he was going to be sorry.
At first glance out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw him by the barn, but it turned out to be an old barrel. With a sweeping gaze she took in a pair of discarded tires, a roll of rusty wire fence and a stack of hay covered with ice. Shading her eyes with one hand, she peered in the other direction.
Oh, my God, Wes. She froze: her gaze, her mind, everything.
The next thing she knew, she was slipping and sliding up the slight hill that led to the side of the house where a lone figure lay perfectly still, his cowboy hat upside down a few feet away Wes! Are you all right?
Silence.
Are you dead? If youre dead Im never going to forgive you. She was leaning over him now, gazing at a face that had been rugged looking last night but now had a deathly pallor. Wes, say something. Anything.
His eyes opened slowly, his dark blue irises tinged with gray. Honey, I didnt know you cared.
She sputtered the same four-letter word shed used at Burke and Louettas earlier. One corner of Wess mouth lifted in a half smile. And to think you eat out of that mouth. Really, I love it when a woman talks dirty to me, but Id enjoy it more if I were mobile, if you dont mind.
If he hadnt tried to roll over, the action having elicited a pain-filled groan that made her wince and him swear, she would have told him what he could do with his mobility. Dammit, Wes. I knew I should have called an ambulance.
His face relaxed, his eyes closing. I hate ambulances. Besides, I dont need an ambulance. I need you.
Her silence must have drawn his attention, because he looked up at her and said, What, no scathing comeback?
Hesitating, she measured him for a moment. I was just wondering how hard you hit your head.
Dont worry. My ribs and shoulder took the brunt of the fall.
And youre sure nothings broken?
As sure as I can be at this point. What are you doing?
A moment later shed shrugged out of her fire-engine red coat and very carefully slid it underneath his head. Wes couldnt come up with a reasonable explanation for the warmth that suddenly wrapped around him. He only knew he wanted to pull Jayne down on top of him and explore this living, breathing thing that had started to come to life the moment shed set foot inside the Crazy Horse last night.
Jayne, youll freeze.
She stood up and promptly began to slide down the gradual decline. Slowly making her way back to Wes, she said, Only if you dont shut up and help me figure out a way to get you to your feet.
Theres a can of ground coffee sitting on the counter.
You want me to make coffee? Now?
He almost grinned. The coffees already made. I was thinking that maybe we could use the coffee in the can for traction.
Traction, she said, a dawning look of realization crossing her features a split second before she rose carefully to her feet. Of course we need traction. Something for me to stand on to get a foothold, and something for you to use to keep from slipping. Dont move. Ill be right back.
Since Wes couldnt move, he did as she said. He watched her until she half slid, half skated beyond his peripheral vision, listening intently to the sound of her footsteps and the string of expletives she muttered when she almost fell. The screen door creaked open, followed by a stretch of silence Wes couldnt measure. And then she was back, a can of salt in one hand, his brand-new tin of coffee in the other. She sprinkled them both on the ground all around him, taking extra care to grind the concoction into the ice. Seemingly satisfied that neither she nor Wes would slip as long as they were careful, she glided down to her knees.
Do you think you can move now? she asked.
Wes gritted his teeth, bent both knees and rolled to his side. Her hands circled his upper arm, flitting to his back and down around his waist as if she didnt know where to put them. He wouldnt have minded the opportunity to enjoy this. Unfortunately it required all his concentration to keep from passing out as he pushed himself to his knees. Stars flashed before his eyes. Pain shot through his shoulder, biting, searing, cutting. His ears were ringing by the time he found his feet, and sweat had broken out on his upper lip.
He took a few moments to catch his breath. When the world came back into focus, he held his left arm close to his body and staggered two steps.
Wes, where are you going?
He started to slip, jerked, then regained his balance. Help me get closer to the house.
She did as he said.
Okay, now stand back.
What are you going to
He closed his eyes and slammed his shoulder against the siding. There was a roaring din in his ears and unbearable pain. He heard Jayne swear, but as if from a great distance. Moment by moment, inch by inch, the pain drained out of him, the blood slowly returning to his head. He opened his eyes, tried his shoulder and slanted her a cocky grin. There. Im as good as new.
She seethed.
Next time you decide to body slam a house, would you give me a little warning?
Im hoping there isnt going to be a next time. Being careful not to put all his weight on his bad knee, he tested it. Satisfied that it wouldnt give out on him, he took a shuddering breath and checked his ribs. Although a couple of them ached, he didnt think they were broken.
Well?
The edge in Jaynes voice brought his head around and his eyes open. She was looking at him, her chin raised slightly, her lush lips pursed haughtily, despite the way she was shivering.
Aw, she was shivering. Of course she was shivering, he thought, coming to his senses. She wasnt wearing a coat. She was wearing a high-necked sweater and a skirt in bold colors that nobody in their right mind would put together. And yet on her it looked good. Maybe it was the fit, not the stylehe bent over, stiffly scooping his hat off the ground, then proceeded to take a step toward heror maybe she would look good no matter what she was wearing. Or wasnt wearing.
Jayne didnt know what to make of the expression on Wess face, but the careful, deliberate way he was walking toward her had masculine intent written all over it. She would have backed up, except her feet seemed to be frozen to the ground. Only her eyes had the ability to move, and they were trained on the man who was advancing with quiet purpose.
What do you think youre
Without warning, he bent at the waist, snagged her coat from the ground and very carefully placed it on her shoulders. There was warmth in the hand resting lightly on the back of her neck. Another kind of warmth darkened the color of his eyes as he said, What did you think I was going to do?
She relaxed her shoulders, but not her guard. Not one to invite trouble, she refrained from telling him that if she were a betting woman, she would have laid ten-to-one odds that he was going to kiss her.
He stared at her through narrowed eyes and slowly eased closer. Make that a-hundred-to-one odds. His face hovered inches from hers, not close enough to kiss her, after all, but close enough to make her slightly uncomfortable and very aware. Of him as a man and of herself as a woman, and of what the two of them could do together. It made her wonder if his chest was really as tanned as it had been in her dreams and if his stomach really had those washboard ripples...
Jayne blinked against the image and told herself to get a grip. What she had to do was get out of there before she did something she would regret. Its time I was going. I cant say this has been fun, but it has been interesting.
He looked at her long and hard, but he made no reply.
You are okay, arent you?
He turned without a word, heading for the barn.
Jayne had to force her mouth closed and felt herself bristling all over again. Did the man have no manners?
Driving on those silly old icy roads was no trouble, really, she called to his back. Theres no need to thank me. It was nothing, honest
He didnt so much as shrug, although she was sure he looked right at her after hed unlatched a weathered barn door and had slowly pushed it open far enough to slip through.
The wind was cold at her back, and her feet were freezing inside her thin boots, yet she didnt make a beeline for her car. Something didnt add up. Shed been around men all her life. Shed been yelled at by a few and tiptoed around by several, but men rarely ignored her. Wes Stryker had been a perfect gentleman the previous night, with his evenin, maam and his slow, easy smile. So what was this silent treatment all about?
She supposed it was curiosity that had her skating toward the barn and slipping inside. Stryker? she called, wrinkling her nose at the smell of horses and hay and something she hoped she hadnt already stepped in. If I ruin this pair of boots, Im going to hold you personally responsible. Where are you, anyway?
Im right here.
She jumped at his sudden appearance in a doorway a few feet away. When he disappeared again, she followed, striding past a row of dark stalls and into an area that was divided into two sections by a wooden fence. Why is it, she said as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light spilling through three high windows, that you only answer half my questions?
Wes waited to breathe a sigh of relief until after hed returned the scoop to the barrel of oats. She hadnt left. Hallelujah, she hadnt left.
Hed almost kissed her out in the yard. A tiny thread of self-preservation had stopped him at the last minute, because something had warned him that if he kissed her, she would hightail it out of there. And he didnt want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, and that wanting scared him more than he cared to admit.
Being careful of his left shoulder, he carried the bucket of oats to a far corner and emptied it into the feeder. Three horses immediately started eating. Smoothing his hand over the middle horses gray muzzle, he said, Ive always been a firm believer in letting actions speak for themselves.
Jayne strolled a little closer, thinking about Wess answer. She didnt know what to make of him. What, exactly, were his actions saying right now? He was looking at a horse, stroking its muzzle with his right hand. His hand was broad and tanned, his fingers blunt tipped and slightly crooked, as if theyd been broken a time or two. It was a masculine hand, but not a terribly attractive one, and yet there was something very attractive about the way it moved up and down the horses head.
Is he your favorite horse? she asked in a quiet voice.
He was my best friends favorite horse.
The current in his voice drew her gaze. Does he have a name?
My friends name was Dusty. This is Gray.
How long ago did Dusty die?
Wess hand went perfectly still. How did you know he died?
She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. Hed done it again, hadnt answered her question. I guess bleeding hearts recognize each other.
She strolled a little closer, drawing a line in the dust on the top board of the stall with a finger. I spent the first few months after Sherman moved out wondering if I was going crazy. I couldnt eat, I couldnt sleep, I couldnt concentrate. A friend of mine convinced me to enroll in an art class. Another friend suggested yoga. Jayne shook her head. I have no artistic talent, and all that breathing and chanting didnt relax me. It drove me crazy. I know death and divorce arent the same things, but theyre both losses. I wont say something trite, trying to minimize your pain, but time has helped me.
She glanced up from the dust on her finger and found him looking at her. She hadnt realized shed moved so close to him, and she certainly hadnt intended to tell him about something as personal as her divorce. It was still a touchy subject, but if her experience eased his sorrow in some tiny way, she wasnt sorry shed bared a small corner of her soul.
Jayne?
She stared at him, patiently waiting for him to pour a little of his own heart out to her.
You were married to a man named Sherman?
Jayne blinked. Shed unearthed her soul, and his only comment pertained to her ex-husbands name?
Did he have no feelings? Okay, he hadnt laughed, but there had been incredulity in his voice. What? Hadnt he ever known anyone named Sherman? There had been plenty of emotion in his voice when hed mentioned his best friend. In some perverse way, she was glad he hadnt turned all maudlin on her. Still, it made her curious. Just what was Wes Stryker made of? He was a mana very private one. She doubted he enjoyed having someone traipse through his thought processes. In that respect he wasnt so different from the men shed known in Seattle.
The men back home wore expensive suits for work and designer sportswear for play. Wes was wearing a sheepskin jacket, the collar turned up, jeans that had seen better days and a faded shirt that looked as soft as butter. His skin had acquired a permanent tan, and there was whisker stubble on his cheeks and jaw. Shed never been a fan of facial hair and yet his did nothing to detract from the hollows, planes and angles of his rugged face. For all his faces interesting contours, she was most interested in the depth and intensity of his eyes.
Crossing her arms, she said, Youre something else, Stryker, do you know that?
A smile found its way to his mouth much the way a cloud drifted over the face of the sun. Youre not so bad yourself.
Jayne could count on one hand the times in her life shed been speechless, and yet in the tight space so near him, she couldnt think of a single thing to do or say. He had no such problem, reaching for her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Shed thought he was going to kiss her earlier. Now she was sure. She knew she should try to fight it, but as he lowered his face, she lifted hers, his features blurring before her eyes, his breath a soft rasp on her cheek, her heartbeat a slow stutter in her chest.
Something streaked past her ankles, fluttering the hem of her skirt. She jerked, shrieked and jumped. Her clamber to the top of the gate might not have been graceful, but it was certainly fast.
A cat hissed. A dog whined. Jayne screamed again.
Its all right, Wes said. It was just a cat. Marilyn wont hurt you.
Jayne turned her head slowly. Holding on to the top board with one hand, she peered over her shoulder where a scruffy-looking, half-grown kitten stood in a corner, back arched, fur on end. A dog that must have weighed at least seven times more seemed to be trying to decide how to get closer to the kitten. The kitten swiped and spat, sending the dog reeling backward.
Come on, Marilyn. Be nice.
Jayne loosened her grip on the gate with utmost care. You have a problem with my ex-husbands name, and yet you named a kitten Marilyn?
I never said I had a problem with your ex-husbands name. What dont you like about Marilyn?
She used the time it took to get her breathing and heart rate under control to look around. The horses were still eating, Marilyns back was still arched, and two other kittens were watching from the hayloft. You have to admit its an unusual name for a cat. What do you call them?
He looked over his shoulder, but he didnt turn around.
The calico one is Carolyn, the butterscotch-colored one is Sherilyn.
Carolyn, Marilyn and Sherilyn? Theyre all females?
I havent had the heart to check.
Another time Jayne might have laughed. As it was, she could only shake her head. Being careful not to get her feet tangled up in the folds of her brightly colored skirt, she climbed down from the gate and put a little distance between her and Wes.
One of the horses nickered, and the one named Gray tossed his head and snorted. Marilyn, the kitten, joined her sisters, if they were indeed all females, the dog watching silently.
Its quite a menagerie of pets you have here, Stryker, she said, pulling up the zipper tab on her coat.
Wes pulled the brim of his cowboy hat lower on his forehead, watching as Jayne prepared to leave. She was putting on a pair of bright green gloves, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. If it hadnt been for two of those pets shed mentioned, he would have known how her lips felt and tasted.
He wished...
He didnt know what he wished anymore. He only knew that this woman had driven out here when hed needed her, and he didnt want her to go. Not yet, not until theyd talked a little more and maybe hed kissed her very thoroughly. Maybe not even then.
Well, she was saying, backing up. I guess Ill leave you to your assorted pets.
By the time his gaze made it back to her face, he found her looking at him, waiting for him to say something. During the seventeen years hed spent on the rodeo circuit hed made small talk with just about everybody hed seen, from rodeo clowns to judges to buckle bunnies. And here he was, standing before a woman he wanted to impress, as tonguetied as a teenager with a new pair of boots and his fathers car, trying to work up his courage to talk to the prettiest girl in school.
Youre right about the animals, he finally managed to say as he shortened the distance between them. Theyre all misfits in one way or another. By rights, kittens born so late in the year shouldnt have survived. The dog came limping into the barn a week ago, hungry and half-frozen, no collar, no tags. I asked around, but nobody seems to know who he belongs to.
Jayne looked at him and then at the dog. Whats his name?
Wes shrugged. I thought Id wait and see if he decides to stay before I name him.
He wondered if she would say something negative about the animal. He wouldnt have blamed her if she had. The dog was a mongrel, not quite brown, not quite black, ugly by most peoples standards. He had a dull coat, a cropped tail and a slight limp, not at all unlike Wess.
Wes wondered which of those features Jayne would comment on. She leaned down and held out the back of her hand, letting the dog sniff. He has soulful eyes.
Wes swore the beating rhythm of his heart changed tempo. Nothing about the conversation should have aroused lust, yet his desire for her was strong. The entire time it was wrapping around him, soft-touched thoughts were shaping his smile. So do you, Jayne. So do you.
He could tell by the way she shook her head very slowly, very precisely and rose stiffly to her feet that he probably shouldnt have said it. But hell, it was true. He strolled closer, intent upon convincing her to stay. She shook her head again. Look, she said, just so you dont get the wrong idea. I didnt come out here to start something. I meant what I said last night. Im finished with men. All men.
You cant deny the attraction thats between us.
Her eyes narrowed. Wanna bet?
He took another step in her direction. He liked the way her chin came up and her shoulders went back. He especially liked the way his blood was heating as it made its way to the very center of him. Ignoring the hand she held up to ward off his advance, he said, I want you. And I think you want me.
Her blue eyes narrowed, flashing with insolence. You must have hit your head earlier.
I dont think so.
Looking him up and down in a manner that would have made a lesser man crumble, she said, If you tell me you have an itch and a hankering, Ill be forced to clobber you.
He eased closer. Thats one way to put it.
It was the way my ex-husband put it when I confronted him with my suspicions that he was seeing another woman. He said the affair meant nothing, hed had an itch, thats all, and a hankering. I told him to scratch the itch and shove the hankering. The same goes for you.
She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Since Wes didnt want her to leave, period, and he especially didnt want her to leave angry, he followed her outside. Jayne? he called when she was halfway to her car.
Jayne came to an abrupt stop. Although it went against her better judgment, she turned around. She found herself looking across the expanse of yard where the barn stood in stark contrast to the snow and the sky. If there had ever been any paint on the old building, it was long gone, the boards weathered to a dull, dark gray. Wess cowboy hat was gray, too, but a lighter shade, and although she couldnt see his eyes from here, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.
I was thinking, he called, holding very still.
In her experience a woman had to beware of a man whod been thinking. About what? she asked.
Maybe youd like to name the dog.
The suggestion caught her off guard. Youd really let me choose a name for your dog?
He didnt set any records closing the barn door, but he ambled toward her, his limp all the more noticeable since it slowed down a man who was so naturally made for strength and speed.
She wasnt a mystical, whimsical woman, or a particularly romantic one. She knew herself inside and out, her limits and goals, her strengths and weaknesses. She was a modern-day woman with a smart mouth, a sore heart and an honest soul. And she honestly didnt know what to do about Wes Stryker.
A friend of mine gave her dog her middle name, although now that I think of it, her mother had a fit, she said. You could do that, I suppose. What is your middle name, anyway?
He grimaced. You dont want to know.
Now I have to know.
Resting his hands on his hips, he lifted one shoulder sheepishly. Youll laugh. Everyone laughs.
I wont, I promise.
He hesitated a little longer, and then, in a voice so quiet she had to strain to hear over the crunch his boots made on the crusty snow, he said, Engelbert.
She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. Your parents named you Wesley Engelbert Stryker?
His nod was accompanied by a sigh. My mother was a huge fan of Engelbert Humperdinck.
She had to turn around to hide her grin, but she was pretty sure he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, That dog doesnt really look like an Engelbert.
Who does?
Her smile grew. Ill see what I can do about coming up with something else.
I would appreciate that.
Neither of them said goodbye, but Jayne glanced toward the house after shed backed from the driveway. Wes hadnt moved and was watching her from underneath the brim of his worn Stetson. He looked down suddenly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a portable phone.
Before she drove away, she saw him raise the antenna and say something into the mouthpiece. She couldnt see his expression, but his head was tilted slightly, one knee bent, a hand in one pocket. He didnt seem to mind the cold or the fact that he was all alone on Christmas morning. Wesley Engelbert Stryker appeared relaxed and comfortable talking to whoever was on the other end of that phone.
Wesley Engelbert Stryker. Lord, what a name.
What a man.
Chapter Three
The phone rang just as Wes was taking a frozen dinner out of the microwave. It was the third phone call hed had since talking to Annabell earlier that morning. The kids were excited and nervous and curious, not to mention a little afraid of yet another change in their lives.
He left the dinner on top of the stove. Leaning a hip against the counter, he listened intently to the tiny voice on the other end of the line.
Yes, Olivia, honey. Youll have your own room... Of course you can bring all your stuff.... Even Snuggles the goose...especially Snuggles the goose.... Uh-huh. And all your pictures of your mommy and daddy.... Yes, you have to bring Logan, too. Hes your brother. No, Olivia, you cant
There was a screech that put Wes in mind of permanent hearing loss. A scuffle followed, and then a young boys voice claimed the line. Its me, Uncle Wes. Logan.
As if there were forty other ten-year-old boys who called him Uncle Wes. What did you do to your sister? Wes asked calmly.
I didnt do anything to her. Well, hardly anything. Shes such a baby. Ouch. She pinched me.
Im sure she didnt...Logan...
Olivia screeched again, which made Wes wonder what kind of retaliation Logan had inflicted upon his little sister. Logan. Logan? Stop bugging your sister and listen to me for a minute... What?... I know... Yeah, Ill teach you to ride your dads horse. Tell Olivia Ill teach her, too.
The boy did as he was instructed. Olivia stopped crying in the background, and for the moment at least, peace reigned in a tiny two-bedroom house two hundred and twenty miles away.
The next voice he heard was old and as raspy as if shed just knocked back a shot of whiskey. Annabell hadnt, of course. She hadnt drunk anything stronger than tea since her seventy-fifth birthday. That, she said, clearly referring to the little skirmish that had just taken place in her living room, is why I need your help, Wesley. These children pick on each other worse than two roosters in one henhouse.
Wes grinned at the analogy. While the eighty-two-year-old woman talked about aching joints and brittle bones, Wes pictured her in his mind. She was probably sitting in a chair that was older than he was, ankles crossed, her prim-and-proper dress hanging limply on a body that had always been small but had grown gaunt these past several months.
I know it was my idea to take the kids, she said. With Kate and Dusty gone, theyre all the family I have left, except you, of course. Why, remember that time you and Dusty showed up on my doorstep three sheets to the wind?
Could you narrow it down a little, Annabell? he asked. When Dusty and I first hit the rodeo circuit we used to show up on your doorstep three sheets to the wind every time we passed through Sioux Falls.
She practically cackled. Those were the days, werent they?
Her cough didnt fool Wes into believing that the sudden thickness in her voice was anything other than tears. Being the tough old bird she was, Annabell recovered and said, Those were the days then, and these are the days now. I spoke to a judge friend of mine, discreetly, mind you. He says he doesnt foresee any major problems or obstacles with placing the children with you. It would be easier if you were blood related, but you are their godfather, after all. Youre going to have to go through the proper channels, though.
What channels? Wes asked, uncrossing his ankles and standing up straighter.
Youll have to show the system that you can provide for Logan and Olivia, that you have a suitable place for them to live, that sort of thing. Therell be some paperwork involved, but isnt there always? Stanley said that in a perfect world the state would prefer to place children in two-parent homes. Im telling you, if I were twenty years younger, Id move out there and marry you myself.
Wes smiled to himself. If Annabell Malone were twenty years younger, she would still be twenty-seven years older than he was.
I know theres been a noted lack of women in Jasper Gulch these past several years, Annabell said. But can you think of a woman who stirs your juices, so to speak, and who might take to these two corkers?
.
.
, (https://www.litres.ru/sandra-steffen/wes-stryker-s-wrangled-wife/) .
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Sandra Steffen
Bachelor GulchTHE BACHELOR: Wes Stryker, notorious rogue. His carefree life suddenly changed with the arrival of two young orphans in need of a family.THE BRIDE: Jayne Kincaid, happily single. Until a blue-eyed cowboy wooed her with a sultry "Howdy, ma'am."The ex-rodeo rider's sweet talk about children that needed raisin' and his lonely heart that needed healin' almost had city gal Jayne running for the altar. But Wes needed to understand the importance of three little words and wrangle them from his charming lips before Jayne would agree to become Stryker's wife!This little town wanted womenbut are these bachelors ready for marriage?
Jayne was perfect for him. (#u45b46128-2cdd-5e24-938f-2eecc843c646)Letter to Reader (#ub67eb2c9-10ca-5699-9ce6-01c9401f8ed3)Title Page (#uae1f83ee-2082-50c9-9f22-babaae40c9aa)Dedication (#u6c873d44-525a-5b80-b5b9-865a862eef9d)SANDRA STEFFEN (#ue21f1cb4-322f-5ad4-9c0f-dd6deb347315)Chapter One (#u8dd71de1-9435-560b-a310-79337ba249b5)Chapter Two (#u82ec75c4-542c-5661-8e45-ffc4cb4b94c7)Chapter Three (#u92d44c9c-4d09-5a90-83a9-938c92ab2311)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Jayne was perfect for him.
She could match his wit, and give snide comment for snide comment. She could kiss like a dream. Hell, she could even swear. There was only one little problem. She wasnt ready for children.
And Wes Stryker had just petitioned for custody of not one, but two.
Thank goodness he hadnt already fallen in love with her, he told himself. He just had to put her out of his mind.
Hed put women out of his mind before. He could do it again.
By the time hed pulled his truck between the fence posts lining his driveway, hed decided it was a good thing hed discovered this now. A good thing, hell. If it was so good, why did he feel like starting a fight? And why could he still smell the heady scent of her perfume?
Dear Reader,
This April, Silhouette Romance showers you with six spectacular stories from six splendid authors! First, our exciting LOVING THE BOSS miniseries continues as rising star Robin Wells tells the tale of a demure accountant who turns daring to land her bossand become mummy to The Executives Baby.
Prince Charmings Return signals Myma Mackenzies return to Silhouette Romance. In this modem-day fairy-tale romance, wealthy FABULOUS FATHER Gray Alexander discovers he has a son, but the proud mother of his child refuses marriageunless love enters the equation.... Sandra Steffens BACHELOR GULCH miniseries is back with Wes Strykers Wrangled Wife! In this spirited story, a pretty stranger just passing through town cant resist a sexy cowboy struggling to raise two orphaned tykes.
Cara Colter revisits the lineup with Truly Daddy. an emotional, heartwarming novel about a man who learns what it takes to be a fatherand a husbandthrough the transforming love of a younger woman. When A Cowboy Comes a Courting in Christine Scotts contribution to HES MY HERO!, the virginal heroine whod sworn off sexy, stubborn, Stetson-wearing rodeo stars suddenly finds herself falling hopelessly in love. And FAMILY MATTERS showcases Patti Standards newest novel in which a man with a knack for fixing things sets out to make a struggling single mom and her teenage daughter His Perfect Family.
As always, I hope you enjoy this months offerings, and the wonderful ones still to come!
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Wes Strykers Wrangled Wife
Sandra Steffen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Sally Bulgarelli:
You give great advice. Better yet, you listen (sometimes)
to my great advice. We laugh at the same jokes, cry at
the same injustices and know whats important. Were we
sisters in another lifetime? Maybe. Friends in this one?
Certainly. Im so glad.
SANDRA STEFFEN
Her fans tell Sandra how much they enjoy her fictional characters, especially her male fictional characters. Thats not so surprising, because although this awardwinning, bestselling author believes every character is a challenge, she has the most fun with the men she creates, whether theyre doctors or cowboys, toddlers or teenagers. Perhaps thats because shes surrounded by so many menher husband, their four sons, her dad, brothers, in-laws. She feels blessed to be surrounded by just as many warm, intelligent and funny women.
Growing up the fourth child of ten in a family of ambitious and opinionated people, she developed a keen appreciation for laughter and argument, for stubborn people with hearts of gold and intelligent people who arent afraid of other intelligent people. Sandra lives in Michigan with her husband, three of their sons and a blue-eyed mutt who thinks her name is No-Molly-No. Sandras book, Child of Her Dreams, won the 1994 National Readers Choice Award. Several of her titles have appeared on national bestseller lists.
Chapter One
Wes Stryker spread the crinkled sheet of paper out on the small table in front of him. The words, written in fountainpen ink in an old womans shaky scrawl, swirled before his eyes. He blinked to bring them into focus, although he knew them by heart. Annabell wanted him to take the kids. Kate and Dustys kids. The thought of Kate and Dusty, and the accident that had taken their lives, sent a stabbing pain all the way through him.
The blinking lights on the Christmas tree in the corner reflected off his glass of beer. Very festive. Ho. Ho. Ho. Wes folded the letter and very carefully slid it into his pocket. Now and then one or two of the local ranchers who were huddled in the bar made an attempt at small talk, and every five minutes Forest Wilkie deposited more coins in the jukebox. Wes wondered how many times hed heard Elvis Presleys rendition of Blue Christmas tonight. Five? Six? It didnt matter, because he was pretty sure that if he heard it one more time, he was going to have to hit somebody.
Slow night, Butch Brunner mumbled from a table nearby.
Wes acknowledged the statement, but he didnt look up from the beer in front of him. It was a slow night, all right. Christmas Eve. The longest, slowest, dreariest night of the year.
Snows really coming down out there.
Wes cast a cursory glance out the window. Yeah.
You doin anything tomorrow?
Nope. You?
Nope.
Silence. Ah, blessed silence. Unfortunately, it only lasted until Forest deposited more coins.
For cryin out loud, one of the other area ranchers grumbled. Cant you play anything else?
Ignoring the criticism, Forest settled himself back at his table. Wes continued staring into his beer, wondering what a down-on-his-luck ex-rodeo champion with a bum knee could offer his dead best friends kids. Children, especially orphaned children, needed a womans touch, didnt they? He could think of at least one down-on-his-luck ex-rodeo champion who could have used the same thing.
All in all, he figured hed done a halfway decent job reminding himself that life wasnt so bad. So what if the woman hed set his sights on had just married somebody else? He liked Louetta Graham. Hed even go so far as to say he liked her a lot, but he hadnt been in love with her. Good ol Louetta. had known it and had proceeded to let him down in a manner that had left his pride intact. And so what if his rodeo days were over? Hed given bronco riding everything he had. The last couple of years, that had become harder and harder to do. Wes knew timing was everythingit was one of the reasons hed taken so many trophies over the years. And it had been time to get out. Start over. Come home.
That was what hed done.
It wasnt as if he didnt have anything to come home to. He had the ranch, such as it was. Aside from stiff joints and a limp that probably wouldnt be getting a whole lot better, he had his health. He supposed he might as well be thankful that he had the town of Jasper Gulch to come back to, not to mention the Crazy Horse Saloon where he could nurse a beer along with a handful of other men who had no better place to be on Christmas Eve. Now, if Forest would stop playing that danged song, they all might make it through the long, gloomy night.
With that in mind, Wes picked up his beer and downed a good portion of it. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he realized that what he needed was some excitement. A barroom brawl or a warm, willing woman. An intense game of poker or a warm, willing woman. Unfortunately, women were hard to come by in Jasper Gulch, South Dakota. Since the men werent in the mood to play poker, and the fact that Forest had played Blue Christmas sevengood grief, make that eighttimes in a row wasnt really a good enough reason to start a barroom brawl, Wes placed his glass on the table and continued to stare into what was left of his beer.
Suddenly the sleigh bells, hanging from the back of the door, jangled up a storm. It wasnt surprising that every man in the room glanced up at the commotion, and it stood to reason that each and every one of those men would perk up considerably. After all, the person whod entered was a woman, and a damned attractive one, at that. Wes, however, was the only man in the room who didnt duck back behind the safety of his beer. He happened to think their reactions were mighty interesting, not to mention worthy of a little healthy speculation on his part. Evidently the area bachelors knew something he didnt.
Mighty interesting, indeed.
Wes waited to rise to his feet until after the woman had read the card the bars owners had left on the counter, a card wishing everyone a merry Christmas and a drink or two if they wanted to help themselves. Hooking his fingers loosely over the top of his glass, he moseyed a little closer, reaching the row of bar stools about the same time the woman carried a long-necked brown bottle to the counter and started to wiggle out of her coat.
Holy-moly. Now there was a sight for sore eyes, not to mention a sure cure for boredom. And this was a lot better than a game of poker or a barroom brawl.
Hed seen women in leather coats and suede coats with fringe. Hed seen them in plastic rain slickers and wool and fleece and down-filled jackets. Once hed even kissed a woman who-was wearing mink from head to toe, but hed never seen a coat quite like the one sliding from this womans shoulders. He couldnt tell what it was made of. This close, he only knew it was fuzzy looking and had what appeared to be red and purple reindeer, some upside down, some right side up, prancing across it.
She hooked a foot on the bottom rung of the bar stool closest to her and hoisted herself onto the seat. Like a man in a trance, Wes watched as she made herself comfortable. He had a hazy impression of long legs encased in dark brown jeans, ankle-high boots, slight hips and round breasts, recently chilled. In his younger days, Wes would have been tempted to chew on his fist. At thirty-five, he realized there was more to a woman than a good body. It just so happened that once a man got past this particular womans truly amazing body, he could spend an equal amount of time on her face, which was exactly what he was doing when he found himself looking into electric blue eyes that were looking right back at him.
Coming to his senses enough to realize that it wasnt polite to stare, and because he still considered himself a gentleman, no matter where his gaze had gotten stuck and his thoughts had wandered, he removed his cowboy hat with his left hand and said, Evening, maam.
The only indication she gave that shed heard him was a slight lift of one perfectly arched black eyebrow. Since it was all the encouragement he needed, what with the way the blood was zinging through his body, he sidled a little closer. Mind if I sit down?
She took her time looking him up and down. Seemingly altogether unfazed by his rapt attention, she raised the beer bottle halfway to her lips. On one condition, she said, holding the bottle in midair.
Wes hitched his weight to one foot and settled his hand, hat and all, to one hip. He waited as long as he could and finally said, You care to name your condition, or do you want me to guess?
She eyed the tilt of his head and the half-empty glass held loosely in his right hand, only to catch him red-handed, or red-eyed, or whatever a woman called it when she caught a man peering below her shoulders. Shoot. He wouldnt blame her if she gave him the boot. Sorry, maam. I dont mean to stare. Its just that I dont believe Ive ever laid eyes on a woman as exotic looking as you.
She appeared totally unaffected by the compliment Worse, she looked bored, but she did finally say, Take a picture. Itll last longer. For the record, in order for me to be exotic looking, my eyes would have to be green, not blue.
Wes disagreed, but was too intrigued to argue. About that condition you mentioned.
With a shudder, she motioned toward the jukebox. If youd ask that man in the brown cowboy hat to play something other than Blue Christmas, youd be doing me a huge favor. I mean, isnt Christmas depressing enough?
Wes felt a hundred-watt grin coming on. A woman after his own heart. Placing his beer and cowboy hat in the empty space next to her, he turned on his heel and dug deep into his pockets for change.
Jayne Kincaid lowered her beer to the counter, untouched. She didnt mind the curiosity coursing through her, but she had a far-too-difficult time dragging her eyes away from the seat of the cowboys pants. Rats. Her peace of mind was in serious trouble. The man would have been on the tall side even without the scuffed heels of his worn cowboy boots. He was wearing a plain green shirt, the cuffs rolled up, the collar open. Like most of the other men shed met out here, he wore very little in the way of adornment. No gold chains, certainly no earrings. This cowboy didnt even sport the usual eighteen-pound belt buckle. His belt was plain brown leather, and held up a pair of low-slung blue jeans. At least theyd probably been blue once. Now they were faded, the knees and fly nearly white. For heavens sake. What was she doing looking at his fly?
Until shed arrived in this godforsaken town, where her brother had chosen to set up his new medical practice, she hadnt given much thought to cowboy brawn. But she couldnt help wondering where this particular cowboy had gotten the little hitch in his stride. Not that she was interested. Oh, no. She didnt care if his hair did have at least four shades of brown, every one lighter than the last, or that his voice held just enough Western drawl to be interesting. Shed sworn off men for good this time, and from the looks of things, in the nick of time.
She forced her eyes away about the same time coins jangled into the jukebox. Within seconds the twangiest country-western song shed ever heard wafted through the air.
Better? he asked, joining her at the bar.
Whoever that musician is, Im a huge fan.
He slid onto the stool with the ease of a man who was accustomed to spending time in bars. This guys been dead for twenty years, but Im a fan of the yodel, myself. You really are a woman after my own heart.
Through the mirror behind the bar, she assessed the other patrons sitting at various tables throughout the room. It didnt take long to size them up as lonely hearts, not troublemakers. The man sitting next to her wasnt quite so easy to categorize. She lifted the bottle to her mouth and took a small swallow. Licking the taste of foam and barley from her lips, she said, Im not after your heart, cowboy. Im not after anything, not from you, not from anyone.
Wes took a moment to digest the information, then slowly extended his right hand. You can call me cowboy if you want to, but my names Wes Stryker.
I know.
You know?
She took another drink, shrugged. Cletus McCully pointed you out to me at Burke and Louettas wedding earlier. You owe the man a dollar for all the praises he sang. Unfortunately he wasted his breath. Oh, my names Jayne Kincaid.
I know.
She watched him closely, then slowly shook her head. Cletus McCully?
Wes rested his forearms along the bars smooth surface, swirling the beer in his glass while thoughts swirled in his head. Leaning closer, he whispered, It seems he sang a few of your praises to me, too. He mentioned that you like men with blue eyes. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but mine are blue.
Jayne would have liked to be able to dismiss the whole topic with a quick, unaffected glance at his face. But his wasnt the kind of face that allowed easy dismissals or quick glances. His four-shades-of-brown hair was brushed straight back. There were two long lines in his forehead, from concentrating or scowling, she couldnt tell. His eyebrows were thick and had been bleached nearly blond. And he was right. His eyes were blue, and it just so happened that they were the kind of eyes a woman could lose herself in if she wasnt careful. From now on Jayne planned to be very careful.
Look, she said. You seem like a nice enough guy, but youre wasting your time. I was partial to blue eyes . once. My ex-husband has blue eyes.
Jayne watched for a sign that hed accepted the fact that she just plain wasnt interested. He appeared to be studying the warm beer in his glass. After a long stretch of silence, he cupped his chin in his hand and turned to look at her. Touching his glass to her bottle of beer, he said, To blue eyes, yours and mine, and to Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve, she said with a shudder. The longest night of the year.
Wes saw a spark of some indefinable emotion in Jaynes eyes. It hinted of battle scars and kindred spirits, and it made him even more curious. You dont have much in the way of family, either? he asked. Why else would she be spending Christmas Eve in a hole-in-the-wall bar with a garish Christmas tree in one corner and a mechanical bull strung with white lights in another?
To his surprise she said, Oh, I have tons of family. Besides my brother, Burke, and my brand-new sister-in-law, Louetta, and little Alex, I have one half brother, two half sisters, oodles of stepbrothers and stepsisters, two parents, several sets of stepparents, one she cocked her head at him blue-eyed ex-husband and a partridge in a pear tree.
She lifted her beer to her lips again, shrugging as if her brand of humor wasnt unusual. In actuality, there was nothing ordinary about her. Her hair looked thick, the tendrils surrounding her face blunt-edged, the rest unruly. The style shouldnt have looked so damned pretty, when pretty was the last word he would use to describe her Exotic, gorgeous, sexy. Now those were words that were synonymous with Jayne Kincaid. He noticed that her hands were soft and smooth looking, and he wondered what she did for a living. She knew her way around a bar, but she was no barfly. And no matter how much family she claimed to have, she didnt have any better place to be on Christmas Eve than he did.
Do you want to get out of here? he said. Maybe go for a drive?
Or back to my place? went unsaid between them.
Jayne came out of her double take shaking her head. She was thirty-two years old, and shed been away from the game for a long time. She was rusty, and she planned to stay that way. Look, she said, I dont mean to sound cold or impersonal, but Im not looking for a relationship. Im not even looking for a fling. Im finished with men.
Youre going to let one loser taint your view of all men? he asked.
First of all, my husband wasnt a loser. And secondly, my view of men isnt tainted. Jayne nearly bristled. She hadnt meant to sound as if she wasnt completely over Sherman. Maybe she wasnt, but she didnt want anybodys pity.
Then you dont really dislike us? he asked with a half smile.
Good grief. She couldnt believe she was having this conversation. All shed wanted to do was get out of the house for a little while. Oh, Burke and Louetta. had both assured her that she was welcome to spend the evening with them, but this was their wedding night, and there were just some things that sisters, particularly newly divorced sisters, were better off not witnessing or hearing or imagining.
Look, she futally said, I dislike a few, but no, I dont dislike all men. Im just not going to get attached to any more of you, thats all.
Youre not?
No, Im not. Raising one hand, she began listing on her fingers all the benefits to remaining single. No more wondering if a man is really attending a business meeting at 1:00 a.m. No more picking up heavy suits from the dry cleaners. No more rushing home from work to spend time with a man whos made other plans for the evening. No more trying to appease an unappeasable man, or understand an irrational one, or try to plan a meal around a picky mans tastes. I can eat chicken seven days a week if I want to. I can sleep in the middle of the bed, and there are no whiskers in my sinks. I dont need a man to define me, and I can open my own jars, thank you very much. And perhaps best of all, the toilet seats are always down.
Jayne almost felt smug. Festive, thats what she felt. Buoyant. Shed never put it into words before, and it sounded good. It felt good. She truly didnt dislike men. At least not most of them. She loved her brother, her half brother and stepbrothers and nephew, and her father, and stepfathers, although she had issues with a few of them. Men had interesting voices and broad shoulders and comical habits. But she didnt need a man to define her. She didnt need a man for anything.
Jayne?
She turned her head at the sound of her name. While shed been lost in thought, Wes had inched closer. She could see the tiny lines feathering his eyes, the crease lining one lean cheek, the light brown whisker stubble on his cheeks and jaw. His eyes held her spellbound, his gaze dipping to her mouth and back again as he said, What about sex?
The song on the jukebox ended, causing the entire room to become so quiet a person could have heard a pin drop. All Jayne could hear was the pounding in her ears, and the catch in her voice as she asked, What about it?
He leaned in, slow and easy. Are you planning to do without that for the rest of your life, too?
The deep timbre of his voice reminded her of a guitar string stretched tight and slowly strummed. She had no doubt the man could sweet-talk with the best of them. She should know. Shed been sweet-talked by pros. Shed also been lied to and cheated on and tossed aside, and not only by her ex-husband.
In the background, coins jangled into the jukebox. Within seconds the first strains of Blue Christmas started all over again.
She could feel Wes Strykers eyes on her. She knew she could have said something blunt and sassy to put him in his place, but for some reason she didnt. It was his eyes. The rest of him exuded smugness, but those blue eyes of his were tinged with sadness. The man had troubles, and she didnt see any reason to add to them. She picked up the bottle in front of her and took a hardy swallow.
Well? he prodded.
Sex, she said, reaching for her coat and sliding off the stool, is highly overrated.
She held up her hand, anticipating his protest. Trust me on this, Wes. Or simply agree that we disagree. Oh, and merry Christmas. Without another word she walked to the door, gave it a yank and strode out into the cold.
The room remained quiet until the last bell hanging on the hook on the back of the door had stopped jingling. And then it seemed that every spectator had something to say.
Oooo-eee, Butch Brunner exclaimed. That womans definitely an eyeful.
She is that, Forest agreed. But shell give you an earful without even trying.
Why, one of the other men said, she practically singed the hair in the ears of every man in the diner the first time she set foot in the place.
I dont think shes the kind of woman the Carson brothers had in mind when they decided to advertise for women to come to Jasper Gulch a few years back.
No sirree, Bob.
Wes listened, but he didnt add to the conversation flowing through the saloon. An eyeful? An earful? Hed bet his last trophy shed be a handful in bed.
The woman had certainly packed a wallop in the short amount of time shed spent in the Crazy Horse. Hed known people who talked for hours but said less than Jayne Kincaid had said with two words, a wry twist of her lips and a slight thrust of her chin. Shed been married, divorced and hurt. And she thought she wasnt looking for a man. Wes happened to believe that everyone was looking for a partner, the other half of a whole, someone to share this messy journey humans called life. And sex wasnt overrated, no matter what shed said. It was one of lifes most pleasurable, not to mention its most powerful, driving forces. It was like a tidal wave or a hurricane or the rotation of the earth around the sun. A man could ignore it, but he couldnt pretend it didnt exist.
And neither could Jayne Kincaid.
Jayne Kincaid. He let her name roll around in his mind, along with the image of her sky blue eyes and that cockamamy way she wore her short, dark hair. Butch was right. She had a helluva body. Yet she did nothing to draw attention to it or detract from it. She wasnt a flirty little rodeo bunny or a city-wise coquette or an ice queen, for that matter. This was a warm-blooded woman who knew the ropes and wouldnt hesitate to hang a man on them. Dang. Women like that were few and far between.
Merry Christmas, shed said. Wes still wasnt sure about the merry part, but it had turned out to be an interesting Christmas Eve, that was for sure. He rose to his feet slowly. Taking his time buttoning his sheepskin jacket, he wondered how long he should wait before he paid her a little visit.
Ya leaving, Wes? Forest called gloomily from the back of the room.
Yeah. I think Ill call it a night. Wes said goodbye to the men who were still huddled inside the Crazy Horse Saloon. Whether any of them noticed or not, he was feeling a sight more amicable leaving the bar than hed been going in. Even the sting of the wind and the blinding snow didnt dampen his mood. He simply punched on the lights, turned up the heat and switched on the windshield wipers in his shiny silver truck. He was halfway home when he noticed that he was whistling to a Christmas song about a rusty Chevrolet. It had been a long time since hed felt like whistling about anything.
His first glimpse of the dilapidated fence posts lining his driveway drew the whistle from his lips. The rundown old house had little appeal in the light of day. At night, it was downright depressing. He should have remembered to turn a light on before he left. Not that he was accustomed to being greeted by lighted windows. It was just that this was the first Christmas Eve hed spent on the ranch since hed buried his father a few years back. And it was the first Christmas Eve to come and go since Dusty and Kate had died.
Wes pulled his fancy pickup truck into the barn and got out. The bucking bronco emblem on the doors had been Dustys idea. It seemed that Carlin Dusty Malone had always had some grand scheme up his sleeve, most of which had gotten the two of them into trouble.
Wes closed the heavy barn door, latched it and headed for the house. He was chilled by the time he shut the back door behind him, but although his knee ached a little, he didnt experience that knife-in-the-gut feeling thoughts of Dusty usually evoked. Tonight the memory of Dustys crooked smile made Wes smile a little himself.
He hung his hat and coat on a hook by the door, ran a hand through his hair and wandered to the bedroom where hed spent most of his youth planning his escape from Jasper Gulch. His leaving hadnt bothered his father. By that time, Sam Strykers only love was for the bottle he curled up with every night, and maybe the fleeting memory of the woman hed buried when Wes had been five.
Wes barely remembered his mother, but hed always thought she would have liked Dusty Malone. He and Dusty had started on the rodeo circuit the same year. Dusty had ridden bulls, while bucking broncos had been Wess specialty. Nothing had come between them, not winning, or losing, not barroom brawls, not even falling for the same girl. When that girl had married Dusty, Wes had been the best man. Although Dusty had insisted that he would always be the best man, Wes had always known that Dusty would have done the same for him if the tables had been turned and Kate had married him, instead. Friends like that didnt come along every day. Kate used to say that all the time. She also used to say shed married one of the only two men on the planet who put the toilet seat down. Obviously, putting the toilet seat down was a big deal with women. It had certainly been an issue with Jayne Kincaid.
Wess right boot hit the floor about the same time thoughts of Jayne Kincaid jump-started his heart. He took the letter out of his pocket and placed it on the stand next to his bed. He knew he had a decision to make regarding Dustys two kids, but it wasnt the kids he was thinking about as he turned back the covers. He was thinking about Jayne, and he wished to high heaven he wasnt crawling into bed alone.
Wes opened his eyes slowly. He wasnt sure what had awakened him. It wasnt quite daybreak, but it was close, the color of the sky on the other side of his wavy windowpanes somewhere between black and gray. He felt a smile pulling at his face, not because it was Christmashe didnt have a tree or even a stocking, after allbut because he had a woman on his mind. Thats what had awakened him. Hed been dreaming, and while the remnants of the dream werent clear in his mind, they were evident on his body.
He wondered if Jayne was awake yet. And he wondered what she would say if he called on her so early in the day. While he was at it, he wondered how she would react if he told her he was going to petition for guardianship of Kate and Dustys two kids and raise them the best way he knew how. Would she say he was nuts? Maybe he was. But other than their fathers eighty-two-year-old great aunt, Annabell, who lived in a two-bedroom house southeast of Sioux Falls, two hundred and twenty miles away, and Kates long-lost sister who could be dead for all anybody knew, Wes was all those two kids had.
He made quick use of the facilities, layered on his clothes and hiked out to the kitchen. Shivering, he made a mental note of all the things he had to do to get the place ready for Logan and Olivias arrival. He could have lived in the barn, but a five-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother needed heat and windows with glass instead of plywood. They needed good food in their stomachs. Most of all they needed to know he wanted them.
Picking up the old black telephone from the place it had sat for as long as he could remember, he dialed the number Annabell had listed in her letter. Her answering machine clicked on after the fourth ring. Wes smiled, remembering some of the messages shed left on that thing. Most folks her age didnt even bother with the contraptions, but Annabell Malone wasnt like most folks her age. She welcomed challenges, and wasnt afraid to try new things. For an eighty-two-year-old woman she was very young at heart.
Figuring they were all probably in church, Wes followed the instructions Annabell recited in her feeble-sounding voice and left a message. He took a minute to start the coffee, then donned his sheepskin jacket and his favorite cowboy hat. At the last minute, he went in search of the cellular phone. Tucking it into his pocket just in case Annabell returned his call any time soon, he headed outside to feed and water the horses.
Maybe hed hook the trailer up to his truck and haul Stomper and the sleigh into-town in a little while. He was in the process of imagining Jaynes reaction to such an old-fashioned activity when he lowered his right foot to the first step.
Whoosh.
He was airborne. His arms flailed, his feet flew out from under him. He landed on the icy ground five steps below, in less time than it had taken High Kicker to buck him off that time down in Santa Fe. He was gasping for breath and in too much pain to be dead, so the fall couldnt have killed him. He couldnt tell if hed damaged the ribs that had started to heal, and his knee was aching pretty badly again, but it was the searing pain in his left shoulder that kept him very still. Damn. Hed dislocated it again.
Clutching his shoulder with both hands, he picked up one boot, gritted his teeth and tried to roll onto his side. His foot slid on the ice, his bad knee crashing onto the hard surface so fast he saw stars. He tried rolling the other way, but he almost passed out from the pain slicing through his shoulder. He tried several other maneuvers. The results were the same.
He should have known his father wouldnt have had the downspout fixed, thereby routing the rainwater to a less hazardous spot. From the look of the place and the back taxes that had to be paid, it was obvious that his father hadnt taken care of much of anything these past several years. It looked as if it was up to him to make the place operational again. First, he had to figure out a way to get up.
Think, Stryker, think.
He considered whistling for Stomper, but Wes had closed the stall door himself yesterday, and although Stomper could finagle an apple or a carrot out of anybodys pocket, he wouldnt be able to unlatch the stall. It was fifteen miles to town, two miles to his nearest neighbor. It was also Christmas morning, and not too many people would be out and about, and if they were, they wouldnt be driving past this old place on Old Stump Road.
Wes was breathing easier and thinking clearly. A lot of good it did him. Between the ice and the pain, he was stuck on his back, staring at a sky as dull as the old steel sink in his kitchen, cold seeping into his coat and jeans as he tried to decide how to keep from freezing to death. His fingers were already starting to tingle. He slid them into his pockets, paused. What the
He took a careful breath and he almost smiled.
Lo and behold, the cellular phone.
Chapter Two
Look, Alex! A huck! And a doctors kit. Can you tell Aunt Jayne thank you?
Tanks, Aunie Jayne. Aunie Jayne!
Jayne?
Sis, are you all right?
What? Jayne came out of her musings with a start, only to find Louetta, Burke and Alex staring at her from the living room floor where wrapping paper and ribbons were strewn everywhere.
Alex said thanks, Burke said, watching her closely.
Oh, youre very welcome, Alex.
Alex went back to his new truck, but Burke and Louetta continued looking at her strangely. Normally, it wouldnt have bothered Jayne. People looked at her strangely all the time, but Burke and Louetta looked concerned, and that made Jayne uneasy.
You were a thousand miles away, Burke said, handing Alex another package.
Jayne pulled a face.
Is everything all right? he asked, obviously reluctant to let the subject drop.
My mind wandered, thats all.
Were you daydreaming or reminiscing? Louetta asked in that quiet, knowing way she had.
Unwilling to admit just how close Louetta had come to the truth, Jayne stifled a yawn and gestured to the two-year-old, who was tearing into another package with obvious glee. The ploy worked: Burkes and Louettas attention strayed to Alex and then met over the top of his dark, little head. Louetta was wearing a pale pink robe shed bought especially for her new husband, and although Burke had pulled on a cable-knit sweater and a pair of navy chinos, they were obviously having a difficult time keeping their hands off each other. Theyd been married less than a day, which made the open longing in their expressions perfectly understandable.
Jayne was happy for them, but she felt restless. She had last night, too. Shed slept with a pillow over her head to muffle the constant sigh of the wind. She yawned again because she hadnt slept well, and she couldnt blame it entirely on the wind.
This was just great. She hadnt had an honest-to-goodness dream in over three years, and then out of the blue, last nights sleep had been filled with hazy, erotic images of spurs and lassos and hair four shades of brown. One of her closest friends back in Seattle happened to be a therapist, and would have been intrigued, although what Jayne had been doing to that pillow upon awakening might have made the by-the-book therapists blue blood turn as bronze as the naked chest in her dreams.
Oh, for heavens sake, she thought as warmth inched through her body. It wasnt as if shed actually done any of the things shed dreamed she was doing. Er, that is, she hadnt really slid a rope around Wes Strykers shoulders and drawn him to her, hand-over-hand, and she certainly hadnt...
She jerked her attention back to the present and caught Burke looking at her again. She didnt want him to worry. After all the agony he and Louetta had both suffered these past two and a half years theyd been apart, they deserved every bit of happiness they were experiencing.
Although she and Burke didnt share many physical characteristics, other than their dark hair, their stubborn streaks were evenly matched. Shed planned to spend Christmas morning in her room, but hed insisted, in no uncertain terms, that nobody was going to open a package until Jayne had joined them at the tree. So shed pulled a brush through her short hair and quickly pulled on the first skirt and sweater shed come to in the tiny closet. Shed joined Burke, Louetta and Alex for the Christmas-morning chaos, watching from a distance, in the room, but not too close to the tight little circle the new family was quickly forming.
She tried not to recall all the Christmases shed spent just outside the warm glow of real family. Strangely, another kind of warm glow kept filtering into her mind.
The phone rang in the kitchen, bringing Jayne back to reality with a jolt. She was on her feet, relieved to have something constructive to do, and was halfway to the kitchen before the second ring. Grabbing the receiver, she said, Dr. Kincaids residence.
For a moment there was only silence, and then a deep, husky voice reached her ear through the phone line. It just dawned on me that this is exactly the way you sounded in my dreams last night. Breathless and full of restless energy.
Her ear tingled, and she felt a strange fluttering sensation where her heart used to be before it had twirled down into her stomach. Who is this? She knew, but Wes didnt need to know that.
Im hurt.
Ill bet
No, really. Im hurt. I fell.
Oh, my God. Ill get Burke.
No. Jayne. Wait. I was a little afraid Id freeze to death, but the sound of your voice is working wonders in that department.
She smelled a rat. Turning her back on the intimate little scene in the next room, she said, Whats going on, Stryker?
I need you to come out to the ranch and help me up.
Excuse me?
He chuckled. You sound very suspicious and very sexy, and for the record, I dont need help for what youre thinking.
You couldnt possibly know what Im thinking.
Wanna bet?
Its all in your mind.
It was all in my dreams last night. You were in my dreams last night.
She wished he would stop mentioning dreams. What do you really want, Wes?
Thats a question I wouldnt mind discussing at great length, but for now, I slipped on some ice. I didnt know the snow had turned to sleet over night. You could say I discovered it the hard way. Anyway, Im stuck on my back like a turtle. My shoulders dislocated, and the ice, my bad knee and the ribs I busted a few months back have rendered me immobile for the time being.
Jaynes mind reeled. Dammit, Wes, why didnt you say so? Burke! Come quick!
She could hear Wes protesting as she handed the phone to her brother. Its Wes Stryker. It seems hes fallen. We should call an ambulance.
Burke took the phone. After a few pointed questions and a series of Uh-huhs and I sees, he covered the mouthpiece with one hand and spoke softly to Jayne. He says he doesnt need an ambulance, and I believe him.
But...
Burke shrugged. I know it sounds strange, but most of the ranchers and cowboys Ive treated out here can diagnose their conditions as well as I can. Often the examination is just a technicality. Wes says all he needs is a helping hand getting to his feet. Hed like that someone to be you.
Jayne glanced at Louetta as if to ask if the cowboy was for real and if he could be trusted. At Louettas small nod, Jayne shook her head. I dont believe this. Yanking the phone out of her brothers hand, she said, If I find candlesticks and a table set for two, youre dead meat, Stryker.
When his deep, throaty chuckle reached her ear, she muttered something very unladylike, slammed the phone down and reached for her keys, sputtering under her breath that he was going to get her help, all right. And then he was going to get a piece of her mind.
Jayne hated country roads. Given a choice, shed take a five-lane freeway during rush-hour traffic over these curving back roads that were chock-full of chatter bumps and potholes. Burke had wanted to drive her to Wess place, but shed wanted to come alone. For reasons she preferred not to explore, shed needed to escape the intimate atmosphere in her brothers house on Custer Street.
She glanced at her car phone, turned the defrosoer up a notch and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. Who in their right mind would set up a medical practice on Custer Street, anyway? Custer died, big-time, didnt he? The names of some of the roads shed taken this morning werent much better, but it was the layer of ice covering them that made them truly treacherous, which was why the fifteen-mile trek out to the Double S Ranch had already taken thirty-five minutes. Although it seemed more like forever, Jayne spent the time contemplating what she would say if this was all a hoax and what she would do if it wasnt.
Her fingers cramped from squeezing the steering wheel so hard; her eyes burned from squinting into the sun that had started to shine halfway into the trip. Thankful to have been born with a good sense of direction, she followed the course Louetta had recited, passing sheds and piles of rocks that served as landmarks. It was a relief when she finally found Old Stump Road. Within minutes she pulled into a driveway, her tires sliding to a stop. It required a conscious effort to peel her fingers off the steering wheel. Honestly, if Wes wasnt at least half-dead, he was going to be sorry.
At first glance out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw him by the barn, but it turned out to be an old barrel. With a sweeping gaze she took in a pair of discarded tires, a roll of rusty wire fence and a stack of hay covered with ice. Shading her eyes with one hand, she peered in the other direction.
Oh, my God, Wes. She froze: her gaze, her mind, everything.
The next thing she knew, she was slipping and sliding up the slight hill that led to the side of the house where a lone figure lay perfectly still, his cowboy hat upside down a few feet away Wes! Are you all right?
Silence.
Are you dead? If youre dead Im never going to forgive you. She was leaning over him now, gazing at a face that had been rugged looking last night but now had a deathly pallor. Wes, say something. Anything.
His eyes opened slowly, his dark blue irises tinged with gray. Honey, I didnt know you cared.
She sputtered the same four-letter word shed used at Burke and Louettas earlier. One corner of Wess mouth lifted in a half smile. And to think you eat out of that mouth. Really, I love it when a woman talks dirty to me, but Id enjoy it more if I were mobile, if you dont mind.
If he hadnt tried to roll over, the action having elicited a pain-filled groan that made her wince and him swear, she would have told him what he could do with his mobility. Dammit, Wes. I knew I should have called an ambulance.
His face relaxed, his eyes closing. I hate ambulances. Besides, I dont need an ambulance. I need you.
Her silence must have drawn his attention, because he looked up at her and said, What, no scathing comeback?
Hesitating, she measured him for a moment. I was just wondering how hard you hit your head.
Dont worry. My ribs and shoulder took the brunt of the fall.
And youre sure nothings broken?
As sure as I can be at this point. What are you doing?
A moment later shed shrugged out of her fire-engine red coat and very carefully slid it underneath his head. Wes couldnt come up with a reasonable explanation for the warmth that suddenly wrapped around him. He only knew he wanted to pull Jayne down on top of him and explore this living, breathing thing that had started to come to life the moment shed set foot inside the Crazy Horse last night.
Jayne, youll freeze.
She stood up and promptly began to slide down the gradual decline. Slowly making her way back to Wes, she said, Only if you dont shut up and help me figure out a way to get you to your feet.
Theres a can of ground coffee sitting on the counter.
You want me to make coffee? Now?
He almost grinned. The coffees already made. I was thinking that maybe we could use the coffee in the can for traction.
Traction, she said, a dawning look of realization crossing her features a split second before she rose carefully to her feet. Of course we need traction. Something for me to stand on to get a foothold, and something for you to use to keep from slipping. Dont move. Ill be right back.
Since Wes couldnt move, he did as she said. He watched her until she half slid, half skated beyond his peripheral vision, listening intently to the sound of her footsteps and the string of expletives she muttered when she almost fell. The screen door creaked open, followed by a stretch of silence Wes couldnt measure. And then she was back, a can of salt in one hand, his brand-new tin of coffee in the other. She sprinkled them both on the ground all around him, taking extra care to grind the concoction into the ice. Seemingly satisfied that neither she nor Wes would slip as long as they were careful, she glided down to her knees.
Do you think you can move now? she asked.
Wes gritted his teeth, bent both knees and rolled to his side. Her hands circled his upper arm, flitting to his back and down around his waist as if she didnt know where to put them. He wouldnt have minded the opportunity to enjoy this. Unfortunately it required all his concentration to keep from passing out as he pushed himself to his knees. Stars flashed before his eyes. Pain shot through his shoulder, biting, searing, cutting. His ears were ringing by the time he found his feet, and sweat had broken out on his upper lip.
He took a few moments to catch his breath. When the world came back into focus, he held his left arm close to his body and staggered two steps.
Wes, where are you going?
He started to slip, jerked, then regained his balance. Help me get closer to the house.
She did as he said.
Okay, now stand back.
What are you going to
He closed his eyes and slammed his shoulder against the siding. There was a roaring din in his ears and unbearable pain. He heard Jayne swear, but as if from a great distance. Moment by moment, inch by inch, the pain drained out of him, the blood slowly returning to his head. He opened his eyes, tried his shoulder and slanted her a cocky grin. There. Im as good as new.
She seethed.
Next time you decide to body slam a house, would you give me a little warning?
Im hoping there isnt going to be a next time. Being careful not to put all his weight on his bad knee, he tested it. Satisfied that it wouldnt give out on him, he took a shuddering breath and checked his ribs. Although a couple of them ached, he didnt think they were broken.
Well?
The edge in Jaynes voice brought his head around and his eyes open. She was looking at him, her chin raised slightly, her lush lips pursed haughtily, despite the way she was shivering.
Aw, she was shivering. Of course she was shivering, he thought, coming to his senses. She wasnt wearing a coat. She was wearing a high-necked sweater and a skirt in bold colors that nobody in their right mind would put together. And yet on her it looked good. Maybe it was the fit, not the stylehe bent over, stiffly scooping his hat off the ground, then proceeded to take a step toward heror maybe she would look good no matter what she was wearing. Or wasnt wearing.
Jayne didnt know what to make of the expression on Wess face, but the careful, deliberate way he was walking toward her had masculine intent written all over it. She would have backed up, except her feet seemed to be frozen to the ground. Only her eyes had the ability to move, and they were trained on the man who was advancing with quiet purpose.
What do you think youre
Without warning, he bent at the waist, snagged her coat from the ground and very carefully placed it on her shoulders. There was warmth in the hand resting lightly on the back of her neck. Another kind of warmth darkened the color of his eyes as he said, What did you think I was going to do?
She relaxed her shoulders, but not her guard. Not one to invite trouble, she refrained from telling him that if she were a betting woman, she would have laid ten-to-one odds that he was going to kiss her.
He stared at her through narrowed eyes and slowly eased closer. Make that a-hundred-to-one odds. His face hovered inches from hers, not close enough to kiss her, after all, but close enough to make her slightly uncomfortable and very aware. Of him as a man and of herself as a woman, and of what the two of them could do together. It made her wonder if his chest was really as tanned as it had been in her dreams and if his stomach really had those washboard ripples...
Jayne blinked against the image and told herself to get a grip. What she had to do was get out of there before she did something she would regret. Its time I was going. I cant say this has been fun, but it has been interesting.
He looked at her long and hard, but he made no reply.
You are okay, arent you?
He turned without a word, heading for the barn.
Jayne had to force her mouth closed and felt herself bristling all over again. Did the man have no manners?
Driving on those silly old icy roads was no trouble, really, she called to his back. Theres no need to thank me. It was nothing, honest
He didnt so much as shrug, although she was sure he looked right at her after hed unlatched a weathered barn door and had slowly pushed it open far enough to slip through.
The wind was cold at her back, and her feet were freezing inside her thin boots, yet she didnt make a beeline for her car. Something didnt add up. Shed been around men all her life. Shed been yelled at by a few and tiptoed around by several, but men rarely ignored her. Wes Stryker had been a perfect gentleman the previous night, with his evenin, maam and his slow, easy smile. So what was this silent treatment all about?
She supposed it was curiosity that had her skating toward the barn and slipping inside. Stryker? she called, wrinkling her nose at the smell of horses and hay and something she hoped she hadnt already stepped in. If I ruin this pair of boots, Im going to hold you personally responsible. Where are you, anyway?
Im right here.
She jumped at his sudden appearance in a doorway a few feet away. When he disappeared again, she followed, striding past a row of dark stalls and into an area that was divided into two sections by a wooden fence. Why is it, she said as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light spilling through three high windows, that you only answer half my questions?
Wes waited to breathe a sigh of relief until after hed returned the scoop to the barrel of oats. She hadnt left. Hallelujah, she hadnt left.
Hed almost kissed her out in the yard. A tiny thread of self-preservation had stopped him at the last minute, because something had warned him that if he kissed her, she would hightail it out of there. And he didnt want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, and that wanting scared him more than he cared to admit.
Being careful of his left shoulder, he carried the bucket of oats to a far corner and emptied it into the feeder. Three horses immediately started eating. Smoothing his hand over the middle horses gray muzzle, he said, Ive always been a firm believer in letting actions speak for themselves.
Jayne strolled a little closer, thinking about Wess answer. She didnt know what to make of him. What, exactly, were his actions saying right now? He was looking at a horse, stroking its muzzle with his right hand. His hand was broad and tanned, his fingers blunt tipped and slightly crooked, as if theyd been broken a time or two. It was a masculine hand, but not a terribly attractive one, and yet there was something very attractive about the way it moved up and down the horses head.
Is he your favorite horse? she asked in a quiet voice.
He was my best friends favorite horse.
The current in his voice drew her gaze. Does he have a name?
My friends name was Dusty. This is Gray.
How long ago did Dusty die?
Wess hand went perfectly still. How did you know he died?
She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. Hed done it again, hadnt answered her question. I guess bleeding hearts recognize each other.
She strolled a little closer, drawing a line in the dust on the top board of the stall with a finger. I spent the first few months after Sherman moved out wondering if I was going crazy. I couldnt eat, I couldnt sleep, I couldnt concentrate. A friend of mine convinced me to enroll in an art class. Another friend suggested yoga. Jayne shook her head. I have no artistic talent, and all that breathing and chanting didnt relax me. It drove me crazy. I know death and divorce arent the same things, but theyre both losses. I wont say something trite, trying to minimize your pain, but time has helped me.
She glanced up from the dust on her finger and found him looking at her. She hadnt realized shed moved so close to him, and she certainly hadnt intended to tell him about something as personal as her divorce. It was still a touchy subject, but if her experience eased his sorrow in some tiny way, she wasnt sorry shed bared a small corner of her soul.
Jayne?
She stared at him, patiently waiting for him to pour a little of his own heart out to her.
You were married to a man named Sherman?
Jayne blinked. Shed unearthed her soul, and his only comment pertained to her ex-husbands name?
Did he have no feelings? Okay, he hadnt laughed, but there had been incredulity in his voice. What? Hadnt he ever known anyone named Sherman? There had been plenty of emotion in his voice when hed mentioned his best friend. In some perverse way, she was glad he hadnt turned all maudlin on her. Still, it made her curious. Just what was Wes Stryker made of? He was a mana very private one. She doubted he enjoyed having someone traipse through his thought processes. In that respect he wasnt so different from the men shed known in Seattle.
The men back home wore expensive suits for work and designer sportswear for play. Wes was wearing a sheepskin jacket, the collar turned up, jeans that had seen better days and a faded shirt that looked as soft as butter. His skin had acquired a permanent tan, and there was whisker stubble on his cheeks and jaw. Shed never been a fan of facial hair and yet his did nothing to detract from the hollows, planes and angles of his rugged face. For all his faces interesting contours, she was most interested in the depth and intensity of his eyes.
Crossing her arms, she said, Youre something else, Stryker, do you know that?
A smile found its way to his mouth much the way a cloud drifted over the face of the sun. Youre not so bad yourself.
Jayne could count on one hand the times in her life shed been speechless, and yet in the tight space so near him, she couldnt think of a single thing to do or say. He had no such problem, reaching for her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Shed thought he was going to kiss her earlier. Now she was sure. She knew she should try to fight it, but as he lowered his face, she lifted hers, his features blurring before her eyes, his breath a soft rasp on her cheek, her heartbeat a slow stutter in her chest.
Something streaked past her ankles, fluttering the hem of her skirt. She jerked, shrieked and jumped. Her clamber to the top of the gate might not have been graceful, but it was certainly fast.
A cat hissed. A dog whined. Jayne screamed again.
Its all right, Wes said. It was just a cat. Marilyn wont hurt you.
Jayne turned her head slowly. Holding on to the top board with one hand, she peered over her shoulder where a scruffy-looking, half-grown kitten stood in a corner, back arched, fur on end. A dog that must have weighed at least seven times more seemed to be trying to decide how to get closer to the kitten. The kitten swiped and spat, sending the dog reeling backward.
Come on, Marilyn. Be nice.
Jayne loosened her grip on the gate with utmost care. You have a problem with my ex-husbands name, and yet you named a kitten Marilyn?
I never said I had a problem with your ex-husbands name. What dont you like about Marilyn?
She used the time it took to get her breathing and heart rate under control to look around. The horses were still eating, Marilyns back was still arched, and two other kittens were watching from the hayloft. You have to admit its an unusual name for a cat. What do you call them?
He looked over his shoulder, but he didnt turn around.
The calico one is Carolyn, the butterscotch-colored one is Sherilyn.
Carolyn, Marilyn and Sherilyn? Theyre all females?
I havent had the heart to check.
Another time Jayne might have laughed. As it was, she could only shake her head. Being careful not to get her feet tangled up in the folds of her brightly colored skirt, she climbed down from the gate and put a little distance between her and Wes.
One of the horses nickered, and the one named Gray tossed his head and snorted. Marilyn, the kitten, joined her sisters, if they were indeed all females, the dog watching silently.
Its quite a menagerie of pets you have here, Stryker, she said, pulling up the zipper tab on her coat.
Wes pulled the brim of his cowboy hat lower on his forehead, watching as Jayne prepared to leave. She was putting on a pair of bright green gloves, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. If it hadnt been for two of those pets shed mentioned, he would have known how her lips felt and tasted.
He wished...
He didnt know what he wished anymore. He only knew that this woman had driven out here when hed needed her, and he didnt want her to go. Not yet, not until theyd talked a little more and maybe hed kissed her very thoroughly. Maybe not even then.
Well, she was saying, backing up. I guess Ill leave you to your assorted pets.
By the time his gaze made it back to her face, he found her looking at him, waiting for him to say something. During the seventeen years hed spent on the rodeo circuit hed made small talk with just about everybody hed seen, from rodeo clowns to judges to buckle bunnies. And here he was, standing before a woman he wanted to impress, as tonguetied as a teenager with a new pair of boots and his fathers car, trying to work up his courage to talk to the prettiest girl in school.
Youre right about the animals, he finally managed to say as he shortened the distance between them. Theyre all misfits in one way or another. By rights, kittens born so late in the year shouldnt have survived. The dog came limping into the barn a week ago, hungry and half-frozen, no collar, no tags. I asked around, but nobody seems to know who he belongs to.
Jayne looked at him and then at the dog. Whats his name?
Wes shrugged. I thought Id wait and see if he decides to stay before I name him.
He wondered if she would say something negative about the animal. He wouldnt have blamed her if she had. The dog was a mongrel, not quite brown, not quite black, ugly by most peoples standards. He had a dull coat, a cropped tail and a slight limp, not at all unlike Wess.
Wes wondered which of those features Jayne would comment on. She leaned down and held out the back of her hand, letting the dog sniff. He has soulful eyes.
Wes swore the beating rhythm of his heart changed tempo. Nothing about the conversation should have aroused lust, yet his desire for her was strong. The entire time it was wrapping around him, soft-touched thoughts were shaping his smile. So do you, Jayne. So do you.
He could tell by the way she shook her head very slowly, very precisely and rose stiffly to her feet that he probably shouldnt have said it. But hell, it was true. He strolled closer, intent upon convincing her to stay. She shook her head again. Look, she said, just so you dont get the wrong idea. I didnt come out here to start something. I meant what I said last night. Im finished with men. All men.
You cant deny the attraction thats between us.
Her eyes narrowed. Wanna bet?
He took another step in her direction. He liked the way her chin came up and her shoulders went back. He especially liked the way his blood was heating as it made its way to the very center of him. Ignoring the hand she held up to ward off his advance, he said, I want you. And I think you want me.
Her blue eyes narrowed, flashing with insolence. You must have hit your head earlier.
I dont think so.
Looking him up and down in a manner that would have made a lesser man crumble, she said, If you tell me you have an itch and a hankering, Ill be forced to clobber you.
He eased closer. Thats one way to put it.
It was the way my ex-husband put it when I confronted him with my suspicions that he was seeing another woman. He said the affair meant nothing, hed had an itch, thats all, and a hankering. I told him to scratch the itch and shove the hankering. The same goes for you.
She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Since Wes didnt want her to leave, period, and he especially didnt want her to leave angry, he followed her outside. Jayne? he called when she was halfway to her car.
Jayne came to an abrupt stop. Although it went against her better judgment, she turned around. She found herself looking across the expanse of yard where the barn stood in stark contrast to the snow and the sky. If there had ever been any paint on the old building, it was long gone, the boards weathered to a dull, dark gray. Wess cowboy hat was gray, too, but a lighter shade, and although she couldnt see his eyes from here, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.
I was thinking, he called, holding very still.
In her experience a woman had to beware of a man whod been thinking. About what? she asked.
Maybe youd like to name the dog.
The suggestion caught her off guard. Youd really let me choose a name for your dog?
He didnt set any records closing the barn door, but he ambled toward her, his limp all the more noticeable since it slowed down a man who was so naturally made for strength and speed.
She wasnt a mystical, whimsical woman, or a particularly romantic one. She knew herself inside and out, her limits and goals, her strengths and weaknesses. She was a modern-day woman with a smart mouth, a sore heart and an honest soul. And she honestly didnt know what to do about Wes Stryker.
A friend of mine gave her dog her middle name, although now that I think of it, her mother had a fit, she said. You could do that, I suppose. What is your middle name, anyway?
He grimaced. You dont want to know.
Now I have to know.
Resting his hands on his hips, he lifted one shoulder sheepishly. Youll laugh. Everyone laughs.
I wont, I promise.
He hesitated a little longer, and then, in a voice so quiet she had to strain to hear over the crunch his boots made on the crusty snow, he said, Engelbert.
She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. Your parents named you Wesley Engelbert Stryker?
His nod was accompanied by a sigh. My mother was a huge fan of Engelbert Humperdinck.
She had to turn around to hide her grin, but she was pretty sure he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, That dog doesnt really look like an Engelbert.
Who does?
Her smile grew. Ill see what I can do about coming up with something else.
I would appreciate that.
Neither of them said goodbye, but Jayne glanced toward the house after shed backed from the driveway. Wes hadnt moved and was watching her from underneath the brim of his worn Stetson. He looked down suddenly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a portable phone.
Before she drove away, she saw him raise the antenna and say something into the mouthpiece. She couldnt see his expression, but his head was tilted slightly, one knee bent, a hand in one pocket. He didnt seem to mind the cold or the fact that he was all alone on Christmas morning. Wesley Engelbert Stryker appeared relaxed and comfortable talking to whoever was on the other end of that phone.
Wesley Engelbert Stryker. Lord, what a name.
What a man.
Chapter Three
The phone rang just as Wes was taking a frozen dinner out of the microwave. It was the third phone call hed had since talking to Annabell earlier that morning. The kids were excited and nervous and curious, not to mention a little afraid of yet another change in their lives.
He left the dinner on top of the stove. Leaning a hip against the counter, he listened intently to the tiny voice on the other end of the line.
Yes, Olivia, honey. Youll have your own room... Of course you can bring all your stuff.... Even Snuggles the goose...especially Snuggles the goose.... Uh-huh. And all your pictures of your mommy and daddy.... Yes, you have to bring Logan, too. Hes your brother. No, Olivia, you cant
There was a screech that put Wes in mind of permanent hearing loss. A scuffle followed, and then a young boys voice claimed the line. Its me, Uncle Wes. Logan.
As if there were forty other ten-year-old boys who called him Uncle Wes. What did you do to your sister? Wes asked calmly.
I didnt do anything to her. Well, hardly anything. Shes such a baby. Ouch. She pinched me.
Im sure she didnt...Logan...
Olivia screeched again, which made Wes wonder what kind of retaliation Logan had inflicted upon his little sister. Logan. Logan? Stop bugging your sister and listen to me for a minute... What?... I know... Yeah, Ill teach you to ride your dads horse. Tell Olivia Ill teach her, too.
The boy did as he was instructed. Olivia stopped crying in the background, and for the moment at least, peace reigned in a tiny two-bedroom house two hundred and twenty miles away.
The next voice he heard was old and as raspy as if shed just knocked back a shot of whiskey. Annabell hadnt, of course. She hadnt drunk anything stronger than tea since her seventy-fifth birthday. That, she said, clearly referring to the little skirmish that had just taken place in her living room, is why I need your help, Wesley. These children pick on each other worse than two roosters in one henhouse.
Wes grinned at the analogy. While the eighty-two-year-old woman talked about aching joints and brittle bones, Wes pictured her in his mind. She was probably sitting in a chair that was older than he was, ankles crossed, her prim-and-proper dress hanging limply on a body that had always been small but had grown gaunt these past several months.
I know it was my idea to take the kids, she said. With Kate and Dusty gone, theyre all the family I have left, except you, of course. Why, remember that time you and Dusty showed up on my doorstep three sheets to the wind?
Could you narrow it down a little, Annabell? he asked. When Dusty and I first hit the rodeo circuit we used to show up on your doorstep three sheets to the wind every time we passed through Sioux Falls.
She practically cackled. Those were the days, werent they?
Her cough didnt fool Wes into believing that the sudden thickness in her voice was anything other than tears. Being the tough old bird she was, Annabell recovered and said, Those were the days then, and these are the days now. I spoke to a judge friend of mine, discreetly, mind you. He says he doesnt foresee any major problems or obstacles with placing the children with you. It would be easier if you were blood related, but you are their godfather, after all. Youre going to have to go through the proper channels, though.
What channels? Wes asked, uncrossing his ankles and standing up straighter.
Youll have to show the system that you can provide for Logan and Olivia, that you have a suitable place for them to live, that sort of thing. Therell be some paperwork involved, but isnt there always? Stanley said that in a perfect world the state would prefer to place children in two-parent homes. Im telling you, if I were twenty years younger, Id move out there and marry you myself.
Wes smiled to himself. If Annabell Malone were twenty years younger, she would still be twenty-seven years older than he was.
I know theres been a noted lack of women in Jasper Gulch these past several years, Annabell said. But can you think of a woman who stirs your juices, so to speak, and who might take to these two corkers?
.
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