Читать онлайн книгу «Twins For The Texan» автора Charlene Sands

Twins For The Texan
Charlene Sands
Twins…and another baby on the way for this cowboy from USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands!After Wyatt Brandt rescues Brooke McKay en route to a Texas wedding, they spend one hot night together before going their separate ways.Now Brooke’s back with news she isn't sure the wealthy rancher is ready to hear—especially when she discovers he’s already a father…of twins!Being a single dad is a full-time job Wyatt can’t do alone. He doesn’t expect the ideal nanny to be the beauty who briefly shared his bed. But he accepts her help gladly—not knowing her little secret will change his family forever…



Wyatt’s eyes twinkled. “We’re a proud lot.”
“I’ve heard as much.”
With his finger, he pushed a barrel curl resting on her cheek behind her ear. From the second his finger glided across her skin, ridiculous yearning reared up again, putting a halt to their pleasant banter. He gazed at her with dire want, his eyes dipping down to her mouth.
“Brooke,” he rasped. There was a distinct hitch in his voice that touched something powerful inside her quivering belly.
“It’s okay, Wyatt,” she said. Whatever he wanted, she was ready for.
A groan rose from his throat and he began shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. One of his hands wrapped firmly around her waist, his fingers inching her closer, while the other hand was lifting her chin. His lips met hers. She felt instantly safe with Wyatt, and it wasn’t borne by his saving her from empty gas tanks or pesky older men. It was something more, something she’d never experienced before. Utter trust.
* * *
Twins for the Texan is part of Harlequin Desire’s No 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men…wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

Twins for the
Texan
Charlene Sands


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHARLENE SANDS is a USATODAY bestselling author of more than forty romance novels, writing sensual contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favourite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter, write to her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com (http://www.charlenesands.com).
To my sweet mother-in-law, Nancy, with love.
Thanks for having twins, inspiring this story and giving me a great husband!
Contents
Cover (#u34e0bcab-c4c4-5fa1-8d80-c081bc73cee2)
Introduction (#uda7871b6-d985-525f-9a4a-a9bda2ec03ce)
Title Page (#u34964a7b-ab7e-50af-9e95-e1a6aaf961af)
About the Author (#u35b442f9-e760-530b-8216-44978aa91fc0)
Dedication (#u6d3302d8-7a0a-58e7-ad66-25dc2dca43c8)
One (#u4e1c6b8a-0c8a-5726-b3db-eb7f8d613c67)
Two (#u2126721e-fc49-5200-9d29-1d54bb686093)
Three (#u079b7ad2-fbe4-5a4a-ba92-d008761d2316)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_a3991d61-6cff-594b-9241-e6582c346f99)
Brooke McKay had no clue where this deserted Texas road was taking her. Gazing past a dozen squished bugs on the rental car’s windshield, she saw flatland stretching before her for miles and miles. After living in California near mountains and beaches, this kind of vast flatness was foreign to her.
Red warning lights blinked from the car’s dashboard. She looked down at the indicator. Her gas tank was nearing empty. “Don’t do it, don’t do it.”
Decked out in her best black lace dress with all the necessary trimmings and red heels so high they’d put the balls of her feet to the test in the walking-to-the-next-gas-station department, Brooke pushed the car to its limit.
She spotted something lying in the middle of the road. “Oh!”
Roadkill.
Apparently someone had driven on this road recently. It was good news for her, but not for the poor possum.
As she drove on, she removed her sunglasses and squinted into the afternoon sun searching for a miracle. A gas station would be nice, with an attendant who knew where in heck she was.
The car sputtered, the engine wringing out its last breaths.
She sucked in oxygen, praying that her worst nightmare wasn’t coming to life.
And then the car crawled to a stop.
She pumped the gas pedal, but there was no more wringing to be had.
Oh, boy. Not only wouldn’t she make it to Heather’s wedding on time, she might have to camp out here in the wilderness for heaven knew how long.
She stared at her cell phone lying beside her on the seat. She already knew that miracle wasn’t happening. She had no cell service. She hadn’t for the last ten miles. She knocked her head against the leather steering wheel a few times and decided it made a good pillow, a place to rest her head and close her eyes while she thought of a way out of this predicament. She didn’t have many choices. She’d have to get out and start walking.
“Excuse me, miss,” came a deep voice from out of nowhere. “Are you okay?”
Her head popped up, and she looked into the bone-melting blue eyes of the man standing beside her driver-side door. Her heartbeat immediately picked up speed. There in the flesh was a dauntingly handsome, iron-jawed cowboy.
Her miracle.
“I, uh, I didn’t hear anyone drive up.” She glanced in her rearview mirror and sure enough, a shiny black Cadillac SUV was parked behind her car. “Yes, yes. I’m okay.”
She took a closer look at him. Goodness, they grew them tall in Texas. Her miracle wore a black Western suit, a sterling silver belt buckle and one of those sexy string ties. “I th-think I took a wrong turn somewhere. Now I’m out of gas.”
He nodded and scrubbed at the dark blond facial hair on his jaw. “Not a good thing to do on this road. There isn’t a gas station for at least ten miles or so. I’m Wyatt Brandt, by the way.” He stuck out his hand and she took it. It was a little awkward shaking hands through the car window, but his firm grip, beautiful eyes and rich Texas drawl put her at ease.
He could be a serial killer.
That thought flittered through her mind, but she dismissed it. The butterflies winging around in her stomach as he enveloped her hand, ever so briefly, told a different story. “I’m Brooke. I was heading to a friend’s wedding, and now I’m afraid I’ll never make it.”
“Nice meeting you, Brooke,” he said. “You wouldn’t by any chance be heading to Blake and Heather’s shindig, would you?”
Her eyebrows drew up. How did he know? Serial killer flashed in her mind again. Had he been stalking her? Her brother Dylan had almost lost his life to a stalker out to get revenge. Luckily, he’d survived the murder attempts and decided to get his wife away from the Hollywood scene for a while. Emma, Dylan and Brooke were all in Texas now, while Dylan was shooting a movie. She still had stalker on the brain but immediately dismissed the notion where Wyatt was concerned. How many stalkers drove Cadillacs and dressed like GQ models? No, Wyatt Brandt either was psychic or had been invited to the wedding, too. “Yes, that’s the one. The GPS told me to take this road. I was running late, and this is supposed to be a shortcut to their wedding venue. Do you know them?”
“Sure do. I’m on my way to the nuptials, too. Blake’s a friend of mine.”
She smiled. This miracle was getting better and better. “Heather and I went to college on the West Coast together. I’ve never met Blake.”
“He’s a great guy. Just so you know I’m not anyone you have to worry over. I own the Blue Horizon Ranch, about fifteen miles back that way.” He pointed behind them. “And yes, this is a shortcut, if you know the roads. I’d be happy to give you a lift. I was running a bit late, too, and if we hurry, we’ll make it before the ceremony begins.”
“Gosh, that sounds great.”
He opened the door for her and she got out. Their size difference was immediately evident. Even wearing three-inch heels, the top of her head reached his chin. His very rugged, strong chin.
“What about your car?” he asked.
“It’s a rental.” He closed the car door for her and she went on to explain, “I’ve been a little distracted lately, and forgot to fill the tank when I took off earlier. I’ll lock it up and leave it here for now. I don’t have much choice if I want to make the wedding.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Just let me get my bag.” She clicked a button and the trunk popped open. He followed behind and before she could reach for her bag, he stretched a long arm around her, grazing her waist, and grabbed her suitcase. Warm shivers cascaded down her body from the contact. It was ridiculous how instantly attracted she was to him. She knew nothing about him other than his left hand was bare of a wedding ring and he had incredible eyes and pretty great manners.
“Anything else?” Her pink Gucci bag looked tiny in his grasp.
She’d heard about Southern charm, but experiencing it firsthand was refreshing. The men in other parts of the country could take a lesson from Wyatt Brandt. “No, that’s it. Thank you.”
“So you’re staying overnight?” he asked as he guided her to his SUV.
“Yes. I figured the reception might go late, and I didn’t think I’d be any good driving these roads at night. I’m not too great on them during the day either, apparently.”
Rich laughter rose from his chest. “Probably a smart move.” He opened the passenger-side door and she climbed into the seat.
Once she had settled in, she caught him gazing at her legs. A wave of heat passed through her as his eyes lingered just long enough not to be creepy.
After he put her suitcase in the back end, he took his seat behind the steering wheel and gave her a smile. “Do you have a last name?” he asked matter-of-factly as he started the engine. “Or are you just Brooke?”
Goodness, she didn’t want to be Brooke McKay, not today, not with Wyatt. As soon as a guy got wind of who she really was, the sister of ultra-famous movie star Dylan McKay, he began treating her differently. She loved Dylan to pieces, but she’d had enough of that role, and it had caused her too much heartache with men who’d played her fast and loose just to get close to her famous brother.
Maybe it would be different in Texas than it had been in Los Angeles, where everyone it seemed, was trying to break into the movie business. But Brooke was too scarred now to test out that theory. “I’m Brooke Johnson.”
The fib fell easily from her lips. For just one day. Was that asking too much?
“Okay, Brooke Johnson. Are you ready?”
“I think I was born ready,” she said.
He laughed and they took off, leaving her little white Ford Escort in the dust.
* * *
Wyatt hadn’t had a one-on-one conversation with a woman since his wife, Madelyn, had died some nine months ago. He wasn’t including Henrietta in that, since his housekeeper was nearing retirement age, and besides, he was never really alone with her. Either Brett or Brianna or both of his eighteen-month-old twins were usually with them when they spoke, or rather when they tried to have a conversation. Raising twins was chaos in motion most of the time.
Yet Wyatt wasn’t one for parties anymore. He preferred staying on the ranch, working long hours while trying to be a good father. But even he recognized his grief needed a swift kick in the ass, and his best friend Johnny Wilde had been the one to deliver it. “Go to that weddin’, man. What you need is to get out and start livin’ again.”
Now he was wearing a monkey suit and heading for Blake’s wedding, making conversation with a dark-haired woman with a sultry voice, great legs, and dark chocolate eyes with lids heavily shadowed and rims outlined in black.
“You’re not from Texas, are you?” he asked.
“What was your first clue?”
He’d gotten a load of clues: the raven hair curling wildly down her back, the red painted lips, the dark made-up eyes and the manner of her dress. Sexy as it was, no woman in Texas would wear a skintight black lace dress to a wedding. At least none of the weddings he’d ever attended. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a hunch.”
“I’m from Los Angeles.”
Her lips puckered as if she expected him to make some comment about her appearance. He wouldn’t disrespect her that way. She was different from Madelyn, who’d been the epitome of Texas style and grace with sweet features, rosy cheeks and soft blond hair. Brooke certainly had her own style, but he wouldn’t say she was unattractive. Quite the opposite, and he wished to hell he wasn’t constantly noticing.
“So, you’ve come all this way for the wedding?” he asked.
“Yes, and for a little vacation. It just sort of worked out that I’d be able to attend Heather’s wedding. I haven’t seen her in years, but we’ve kept in touch. I’ll be here for the rest of the summer.”
“Where are you staying?”
“With a friend just outside of Beckon.”
He nodded. “Nice.”
“Yeah, it would be, but I co-own a business and I’ve put it in the hands of a new manager while I’m gone. It’s a little nerve-racking.”
“What kind of business?”
“It’s called Parties-to-Go. We do all sorts of party and event planning. My partner is pregnant and well, it’s a little complicated, but we both decided we needed a break. So we’re here, enjoying the muggy end of the summer.”
And he was enjoying her.
“What do you do, Wyatt? If you don’t mind me asking? You said you owned Blue Horizon Ranch? Does that mean cattle?”
“Sure does. I’ve been raising cattle nearly all of my life. When my granddaddy started the ranch back in the forties, it was a small operation. My daddy built it up some, and then I took over when my folks moved to the East Coast. Blue Horizon’s success had always been a dream of mine.”
That and living to a ripe old age with his high school sweetheart, Madelyn.
“And now you’re seeing it through.”
“I am. The ranch does well, but I tinker in other things, too.”
“Ah, you’re an entrepreneur?”
“I suppose some might call me that.”
He took pride in the investments he’d made in other companies that had paid off well. He’d made his first million before his twenty-seventh birthday, and he’d worked hard ever since to ensure a comfortable future for his family. Now he had all the money he’d ever need. Without Madelyn to share in his success, all of his hard work would’ve seemed pointless, but for his twins.
That was what getting off the ranch this weekend was about, him trying to move on with his life.
Start livin’ again.
He glanced at Brooke, her red-lipped mouth in a pout as she tried to catch some cell service by waving her phone up in the air, putting it out the window for a few seconds. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. She was a breath of fresh air and that alone stirred his juices. She was different and, he supposed, a lot of fun if he’d ever let himself find out.
“Nothing?” he asked once she gave up with her phone.
“Nope, not a blasted thing.”
“We’ll be at the hotel soon,” he said.
The Inn at Sweetwater was known for lush gardens and scenic bridges along a natural lake. It was the destination spot for lovers and known as the ultimate venue for a romantic wedding. It was like the cherry topping on a hot fudge sundae for a bride and groom to speak their vows there. And it was why he’d resisted coming to this wedding.
Not on this day, of all days. It was Madelyn’s birthday.
Hell, it was the exact reason Johnny insisted on his getting off the ranch. Wyatt needed the distraction, the time away. Wyatt had been restless and pensive and even Henrietta, bless her soul, had insisted he needed time to clear his head and gain some perspective. He’d be leaving his kids in her care overnight. Something he’d never done before, so with Johnny on his back and Henrietta pushing him, he’d accepted the invitation.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.
He turned to look into her pretty brown eyes. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Because I know you so well,” she replied, grinning.
He laughed. “Sorry, just deep in thought.”
“No apologies necessary. Aha! Finally, I’m getting bars on my cell. We must be nearing civilization. Excuse me while I call a tow service for my car.”
“No problem.” Wyatt listened to the deep, sensual lilt of her voice and tried to keep his eyes focused on the highway—not on Brooke Johnson, the engaging woman he’d picked up along the road.
* * *
As they drove through the intricate wrought iron gates of the venue, they entered a vibrant world of golf-course-green grass and tall swaying willows shading the lane leading up to the hotel. The Inn at Sweetwater was a plantation-style structure with palatial columns and snow-white shutters on every window. The gardens were ablaze with purple azaleas, pink peonies and stargazer lilies, and bluebonnets were interwoven among the stepping-stones. The paths all led to picturesque bridges arching over placid ponds. Off to the right fifty yards away, Sweetwater Lake sparkled in the late-afternoon sun.
“It looks like something out of a painting,” Brooke said, hearing awe in her voice. She had an eye for creativity, and whoever landscaped these grounds knew how to set the mood. “Have you ever been here before?”
“No,” Wyatt said. “But I’ve heard about it enough. It’s my mother’s favorite place. She’d have luncheons here with her friends.”
“I can see why she’d like coming here.”
Close to the lake’s bank, there was a flowered canopy with descending wisteria vines waiting for the bride and groom. Hundreds of chairs tied with delicate satin bows were lined up in rows. Most of the guests were already seated.
Wyatt pulled the car up to a valet. And once they climbed out, he asked, “Want to make a run for it?”
“I think we have to. The wedding is supposed to start any minute.”
“Okay, after you,” he said, gesturing for her to take the lead.
She trotted along on her high heels, not an easy task even though the lush grass was as thick as a carpet. But after a few strides her heel dug into the rich earth and got stuck. Her leg twisted and she tipped sideways, stumbling. “Oh!”
Wyatt reached out and snagged her waist, catching her fall just in time.
“I’ve got you,” he said, confidently. “You okay?”
They were locked together now, and her sensitive skin prickled under his touch. She liked being in his arms, and he seemed reluctant to let her go. A few seconds ticked by before he did.
“How many times are you going to save me today?” she asked breathlessly.
“As many as it takes,” he offered, his blue eyes sparkling. She didn’t know what to make of her miracle cowboy who’d caused her body to heat up with just one playful look. Was he teasing or flirting?
“I’ve got a solution to this problem,” she said, snapping out of her insanity.
She slipped a finger into her shoes to pull at the straps and then wiggled out of them. Straightening, she came up holding her scarlet-red sandals between her fingers and nodded. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
He blinked, grinned at her bare feet and then offered her his hand. They took off at a very brisk walk, making it to the last row of seats just seconds before the bridesmaids began their trek down the aisle.
Brooke sighed in relief and sat back. A few minutes later, everyone in attendance rose to their feet as Heather glided down the aisle in an ivory satin wedding gown, her father walking beside her wearing a proud tearful smile. She held a gorgeous bouquet of new roses and fresh natural greenery that looked as though it had been handpicked just moments ago.
She met her handsome groom under the canopy, love shining in her eyes. Brooke looked on, happy for her friend who’d found love here in Texas. She’d probably start a family soon. Brooke’s future wasn’t quite so rosy. She didn’t begrudge her friends, who’d already found happiness, but she’d always wondered what it was about her that seemed to repel any form of long-lasting relationship with a man. Being Dylan McKay’s younger sister was like a noose around her neck. Just hang me now, she’d say to herself, whenever a man she’d dated starting hinting at meeting her celebrity brother. Of course, then came the teeny favors they’d ask of her.
Would your brother mind reading my script? I know it’s gonna be a blockbuster.
I’m writing an autobiography and your brother would be perfect to star in the movie.
I’m starting a new business venture. I’m sure Dylan would love to get in on the ground floor once you tell him about it.
Riiiight.
Brooke was fed up with men who used her for their own personal gain. Leaving LA when she did had been a necessity. After the debacle with Royce Brisbane, who’d kept his cards close to the vest, and only showed his hand once she’d fallen in love with him, she’d written off relationships for the extended future. She’d been convinced her Wall Street–type boyfriend didn’t give a lick about Dylan, until he handed her three scripts for her to show him. Three, for heaven’s sake!
No man would ever use her that way again.
And then there was Wyatt Brandt, the polite, mannerly cowboy whose presence beside her made her heart pound in her chest. She didn’t want to be Brooke McKay today, not while Wyatt Brandt was stealing glances at her when he didn’t think she was looking. But she’d noticed, and it boosted her deflated ego to have a gorgeous hunk of a man checking her out without an ulterior motive. And if the tingles she was experiencing now weren’t one-sided, this wedding could prove intriguing.
The I do’s were said with a flourish, and Brooke teared up as she witnessed these two people in love speak vows of undying commitment to each other. She felt Wyatt’s eyes on her as a sole tear dripped down her cheek. Did he think her foolish for crying at a wedding? How cliché. Brooke wasn’t a traditional kind of girl, yet weddings always seemed to get to her.
Wyatt gently placed a handkerchief in her hand. As she dabbed at her eyes, she sent him a silent nod of thanks. He gave her a brief smile.
After the vows were spoken, the loving couple garnered a round of applause as they marched down the aisle hand in hand, newly married. Row upon row of guests made their way from their seats to head toward the tented area where the cocktail hour was about to begin.
Brooke and Wyatt, seated in the back row, stood up and waited patiently for their turn. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” she said, handing him his handkerchief.
“It was. But it made you cry.”
She shrugged and slight embarrassment heated her skin. “I’m silly that way. Most people don’t think of me as the sentimental type, but I guess I am when it comes to weddings.”
“Maybe that’s why you enjoy your business so much. You like seeing other people happy.”
She stared into his eyes. Was he for real? How did he know that about her, after only meeting her two hours ago? Was he psychic after all? “You amaze me,” she blurted.
“I do?” He rubbed at the scruffy dark blond hairs on his chin. “Well, now, it’s been a while since I’ve amazed a woman.”
“Don’t stop on my account. It’s been too long since I’ve been amazed by a man.”
The look in his eyes suddenly grew dark and intense. “You flirting with me, Brooke Johnson?”
Yes. It was hard not to.
She glanced away for a second, making note of the two-hundred-plus guests milling about the large white wedding tent, and suddenly all she wanted was to be alone with Wyatt Brandt again.
“Just stating a fact, Wyatt.”
“C’mon,” he said, tamping down a smile and taking her arm gently. “Let’s see if Blake and Heather had the good sense to seat us together.”
She liked the sound of that.
A lot.
Two (#ulink_8be311ee-a77c-5d7d-b56a-1c6ecc6eccc1)
Brooke wasn’t seated with Wyatt. She sat between two of Heather’s female cousins she’d met once or twice back in college. Two other male cousins and their wives rounded out the table. Everyone was pleasant. The ladies, dressed in florals and pastels appropriate for a late-afternoon wedding, were doing their best to make small talk. Brooke engaged in conversation with them and sipped white wine while giving the entire lakeside reception a cursory scan, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of Wyatt.
During the cocktail hour, she’d spent time with him, munching on appetizers and enjoying Sweetwater Lake until dinner had been called and they’d had to go their separate ways. She sensed that Wyatt had been just as disappointed as she was to discover that not only weren’t they seated together, but their tables were separated by twenty others.
She spotted Wyatt standing just outside the perimeter of the decorated tent, sipping whiskey from a tumbler as he spoke to the groom. The sight of Wyatt shouldn’t have made her heart race, and yet it was sprinting as if in an Olympic event. The two men shook hands and then Blake took off, most likely in search of his bride. Two women took Blake’s place, sidling up next to Wyatt with giddy smiles on their faces.
She felt something possessive deep in her belly. He wasn’t her date, but he seemed to want to spend more time with her, and now it didn’t look as if that was going to happen.
Brooke’s attention snapped back to her table when Connie, the younger of Heather’s cousins, asked her a question. “Yes, I’m enjoying my stay in Texas so far,” Brooke replied. “And I’m happy I was able to attend Heather’s wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Heather’s very happy with Blake. He’s one of the good guys.”
“There are so few of those,” Brooke said, recognizing her tone was too cynical for a wedding.
Luckily, Connie chuckled. “I know what you mean. My mama says if you find a good one, land him and never let him go.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
“She should know, she’s been married three times. She kicked two losers to the curb before marrying my daddy. They’ve been married twenty-eight years now.”
“I like your mother more and more.”
“What about your folks?” Connie asked.
“Oh, my biological parents have issues. I don’t see them much, but I was raised by foster parents and they were awesome. Without them, my life wouldn’t be what it is today.”
“So there’s hope out there. I shouldn’t be so skeptical—especially at my cousin’s wedding—but my boyfriend and I have just broken up and it still stings.”
She caught sight of Wyatt finally taking his seat for dinner. “I get the stinging part, Connie. I’ve been there.” More than once. “It gets better, believe me. Just concentrate on what you enjoy doing most. That’s what I do.”
“Heather said you could’ve put this wedding together without blinking an eye.”
“Heather is too kind, but if I lived here, yes, I would’ve loved to work on this event. There’s so much natural beauty that only the fine points need accenting, and the event planner did a terrific job of not going overboard. I would’ve done the same.”
“I guess that’s the reason the inn is perfect for a wedding. It doesn’t need too many added frills.”
Dinner was served, toasts were given and the reception continued on smoothly. Brooke dug into her meal, enjoying the perfectly seasoned and cooked salmon, quinoa salad and freshly grilled veggies. The meal was light and tasty, and after she was finished and her plate was being cleared, a band began to make noises as they set up on a platform stage.
“Excuse me,” she said to the guests at the table. She rose and walked over to the sweetheart table. This was the first chance she’d gotten to congratulate Heather and her new groom. After the ceremony, they’d been inundated by a swarm of well-meaning guests and Brooke hadn’t entered the fray, deciding to bide her time until she could have a quiet conversation with the newlyweds.
“Heather, congratulations!” Brooke’s friend rose and they immediately embraced.
“Brooke, my goodness, I’m so glad you were able to make it to our wedding. Blake,” she said, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my friend from Los Angeles. We went to UCLA together, back in the day.”
Blake stood up and took her hand. “Nice meeting you, Brooke, and thanks for being here.”
“It’s a special day and I’m glad I could make it. Heather has been trying to get me to make a trip to Texas for years.”
“Oh, yeah? I hope you’re getting a big Texas welcome.”
“I am. Everyone’s been gracious and nice. I’m on vacation, staying with friends in Beckon, so I’ll be here for several more weeks.”
“That’s wonderful,” Heather said. “Maybe we can get together when Blake and I get back from our honeymoon.”
“I’m taking her on a cruise of the Mediterranean. We’ll be gone ten days.”
“Sounds perfect. And I’d love to see you when you return. Heather, you look stunning and it’s not just the gown...you’re glowing. Blake must be doing something right,” Brooke said, giving him a wink.
“You know it.” Blake took Heather’s hand. “I like your friend already.”
“I told you you would,” Heather said.
The master of ceremonies called for the newlyweds’ first dance. “Well, I guess you’re on, you two. Congratulations again. I’ll speak to you later.”
A crowd formed around the parquet dance floor set up under the glorious white tent. Brooke took a position in the outer circle as the two lovebirds danced to a George Strait ballad. The lights were dimmed, and a sole spotlight shone on them like a halo. Heather really was glowing now.
Once the dance was over, there was a round of applause, and the bandleader urged the guests to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Brooke headed to her table. Before she reached her seat, a man approached. He was in his midforties, she guessed, his tie crooked, his entire body seemingly angled to the left, as if he’d fall over any second. “W-would...you like to d-dance?”
His breath reeked of alcohol. “Uh, no thank you.”
“Just one dance, missy, is all I’m asking.”
“No, thank you,” Brooke said as politely as she could manage. She turned away from him and started for her table again. But he snagged her arm from behind, thick fingers digging deep into her skin. She whirled on him and yanked her arm free. “What part of no don’t you get?” she said quietly. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene at Heather’s wedding.
“You’re a f-feisty little th-thing.” He reached for her again and it was easy to step out of his grasp.
“And you’ve obviously had too much to drink.”
“Is there a problem here?” Wyatt got between her and the pesky man, towering a good six inches above the guy. Wyatt’s glare made it clear he wasn’t one to mess with.
The man leaned way over, nearly toppling, and Wyatt quickly caught him.
“No p-problem. Nope. N-not a one,” he said, chuckling.
“I think you need some air.” Wyatt held the man upright and turned to Brooke, his mouth twisting in a smirk. He winked at her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He escorted—or rather supported—the guy out of the tent and Brooke returned to her seat. The man was probably harmless, but Brooke didn’t like being manhandled that way. She’d been ready to raise her voice and call security, which would’ve dampened the festive mood. Once again, Wyatt was there, stepping in to save the day.
A quiet hum strummed through her body and she smiled.
“That’s weird Uncle Hal,” Connie said into her ear as Brooke lowered down into the chair beside her. “I caught some of what happened out there and my whole family apologizes to you.” Connie made a face. “Hal likes to drink...when the liquor is free. Heather almost didn’t invite him to the wedding. She was afraid he’d cause a scene. But he seems to have been neutralized.”
“Neutralized?”
“Yeah, once he’s been set straight, he doesn’t cause any more trouble. He’ll probably come over to say he’s sorry.”
“I hope not.” Brooke shivered.
“Who was that hunk who took him outside?”
“Oh, um, he’s a friend of the groom’s. I met him earlier today.”
“Does he have a younger brother, if you know what I mean?”
Brooke sighed. “Yeah, I do know what you mean. And honestly, I don’t know.”
* * *
“You’re three for three, Wyatt,” Brooke said.
Wyatt held her at arm’s length as they danced to a light and breezy love song. His touch, though highly appropriate, thrilled her from head to toe. There was something steady and sturdy about him. He made her feel female, which seemed silly, but those deep blue eyes studied her with keen intent, as if she were a secret art treasure or a delicious hot fudge sundae. Either way, she was happy to be the object of his attention.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“You saved me thrice, my lord,” she said with a mock curtsy. “The last time with big Uncle Hal.”
He laughed. “You were handling the situation just fine.”
“You think so?”
“I do. But I also saw the indecision on your face. Where I come from, a man doesn’t lay a hand on a woman ’less he’s invited. When he didn’t back down I figured you didn’t want to make a scene.”
“You’re right about that. I don’t like to draw attention to myself.”
He drew her closer and spoke into her ear softly, “Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress.”
His gaze dipped past the lace on her scooped neckline and touched upon her breasts. From under the material, her nipples tightened. Wyatt could do that to her with one look.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, a little uncertain. “Or was that a compliment?”
Emma, her bestie, business partner and sister-in-law, was always telling her to put some color in her wardrobe, but black was her thing. She wasn’t a floral kind of girl.
“Every guy in this place has his sights set on you. And I’m the one dancing with you.” Appreciation shone in his eyes and she almost forgot all about Royce what’s-his-name. “I like it, all right.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” His hands snaked around her waist, and the space between them lessened to inches. Brooke wasn’t complaining. He smelled like whiskey and something woodsy and natural. She took deep breaths of him, drinking in his scent and enjoying the way his dark blond hair curled at his collar.
“I have a confession,” he said in a quiet rasp. “I’m glad your car ran out of gas today.”
Something broke apart inside her then, and her cynicism crumbled away. At least for the present, she wasn’t going to question her actions. Or his. This perfect guy seemed to come straight out of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to play it safe tonight. Not with Wyatt. She brought her fingers to the curls at the back of his neck and smiled, titling her chin up. Her eyes had to be gleaming now. “I’m glad, too,” she said.
Wyatt’s gaze heated. Thrills ran up and down her spine as she waited for him to do something bold, something daring.
He brought his head closer, never losing eye contact with her. “Are you inviting me?” he said, but he didn’t wait for her answer. The connection they had was real and happening fast. He had to feel it, too.
His lips brushed hers softly, once, twice. Shock waves traveled the length of her body. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this, how much she’d missed the simple reality of connecting with a man on an elemental level. The pure masculine taste of him washed completely through her, and a soft purr escaped her lips. She kissed him back and things got hot and heavy really fast. He cupped the back of her head, weaving fingers through her long, wild hair. “Oh, man,” he murmured, pressing his lips more forcefully to hers, making exquisite demands on her. Demands she was eager to answer.
Was it lust? She’d been attracted to Wyatt from the second she’d laid her eyes on him. And now he was kissing her as if he’d been starving, and let’s face it, she hadn’t even nibbled in a very long time. Now she was ravenous.
Wyatt broke off the kiss before things got completely out of control on the dance floor and sighed loud enough for her to hear his frustration. Her ego was lifted to new heights as he tugged her tightly into his embrace, pressing their bodies closer. The slow ballad continued, but she barely heard the music. All she knew, all she felt, was her connection to Wyatt. They were so close, so incredibly in tune with each other.
Tension sizzled between them in a crazy way that upset her newly regained balance. She wasn’t ready for this, for him. But when the dance ended and he stared into her eyes, she was lost.
“Let’s get some air, darlin’.”
She gave him a tiny nod, and he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the edge of the draped tent that led to the lake.
Soft blades of grass tickled her ankles as Wyatt wove a path to the bank of Sweetwater Lake. Moonlight reflected off the rippling waters now, the sun having long ago bid farewell to the day. The air was still damp with humidity, but since sunset the temperature had cooled considerably. They stood facing the lake.
“Better,” he said, taking gulps of air into his lungs. “It got a little heavy in there.”
He dropped her hand, seeming to compose himself.
“It did.”
“You surprised me, is all,” he said, looking away from the lake to connect with her again. “I mean, I didn’t expect...”
“I know. I’m different.” He didn’t have to say it. He didn’t expect to be attracted to her. “I’m no Texas girl. I dress weird most of the time. Believe it or not, I toned it down for the wedding.” No leather wrist bracelets, giant hoop earrings or multiple long chains around her neck for this shindig. As a matter of fact, she’d left most of that stuff back home in LA. Maybe she was entering a new phase in her life.
“I like your style, Brooke. There’s nothing weird about you.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I mean it. When I saw you with Uncle Hal on the dance floor, I had an irrational urge to knock his block off.”
“Is that equivalent to punching his lights out?”
“It is,” he stated plainly.
“Why, Wyatt, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, grinning. It felt good to break the tension and get back to easy conversation with him.
He laughed loud and deep and she joined in, too.
“I like you, Brooke,” he said easily.
“Feeling’s mutual,” Brooke said. “Isn’t that how they say it out here?”
“Stop poking fun at Texans.” Wyatt’s eyes twinkled. “We’re a proud lot.”
“I’ve heard as much.”
A wicked Texas breeze blew strands of hair into her face.
With his finger, Wyatt innocently pushed a barrel curl resting on her cheek behind her ear. From the second his finger glided across her skin, the ridiculous yearning reared up again, putting a halt to their pleasant banter. Her laughter died in her throat, and as she focused on the man touching her tenderly, his smile changed into something less animated and playful. He gazed at her with dire want, his eyes dipping down to her pursed and needy mouth.
“Brooke,” he rasped. There was a distinct hitch in his voice.
“It’s okay, Wyatt,” she said. Whatever he wanted, she was ready for.
A groan rose from his throat and he began shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Brooke was in the same boat. They were sailing along at breakneck speed. She wasn’t about to throw down the anchor; she wanted the wind at her back taking her wherever this was leading.
Wyatt wrapped one of his hands firmly around her waist, his fingers inching her closer, while he lifted her chin to meet his beautiful giving mouth with the other. The kiss was sweeter, more leisurely than before. She instantly felt safe with Wyatt; it wasn’t about his saving her from empty gas tanks or pesky older men. It was something more, something she’d never experienced before. Utter trust.
The little voice in her head said, It’s because he doesn’t know who you really are.
But that wasn’t it. A Texas rancher couldn’t care less about her being a celebrity’s sister. Wyatt had no agenda in that regard, and this uncanny faith she had in him came from a deeper, more soulful place within her.
Only seconds later, Wyatt whispered a curse over her lips and deepened the kiss, making it hard for Brooke to think straight. Helpless to curtail the sizzling connection between them, she flung her arms around his neck and his kisses immediately became inferno hot. Her lips were on fire, set ablaze by this amazingly strong, gorgeous man. He walked her backward until she met with the solid breadth of a cottonwood tree. She leaned against it, out of view of the wedding tent and the two hundred other guests.
He urged her mouth open and their tongues tangled. Explosive sensations rocked her back and a potent stream of desire coursed through her body, making her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time. Wyatt had her trapped, his arms on either side of the thick tree. There wasn’t any place else she’d rather be.
He brought his arms down to cup her face and tilted her head at an angle that was to his liking. His kiss was more deliberate this time, packed with intensity and precision. Oh, he was a yummy kisser.
He began an exploration of her body with both hands grazing her shoulders and traveling down her sides, along the inward curve of her torso and caressing the slight flare of her hips. She could tell he wanted to touch her in more intimate places but his keen sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it. She wanted more, but couldn’t deny how incredibly sweet and sensitive he was to her.
They came up for air a minute later, both shaking, both completely turned on. The music inside the tent stopped and the bandleader’s gleeful voice carried over the microphone, announcing it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake.
“Brooke.” He whispered her name on a sigh and touched his forehead to hers, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “We should really go back inside.”
“Mmm.” He was right, of course, but how on earth would she stop her legs from trembling, her body from quivering? “I think so, too.”
“You go first,” he said, encouraging her with a nod. “I’ll need a minute. Oh, and be sure to save the last dance for me.”
She straightened her disheveled dress, took a swallow, steadied her out-of-whack nerves and then headed up the embankment toward the tent. Halfway there, she swiveled her head around to find Wyatt’s discerning eyes still on her.
She turned to continue her trek, purring with quiet delight like a kitten lapping up a bowl of rich cream.
* * *
“Here you go,” Wyatt said so quietly she barely heard him. He set her luggage down outside her hotel room door as she slid the key card into the lock.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him. “I, um, had a great time tonight. The wedding was pretty cool.”
“I had a good time, too. Thanks to you.”
She stared at him, quaking inside. She didn’t want to make another mistake. But looking into Wyatt’s eyes, she didn’t believe him to be one. “You give me too much credit.”
“I don’t think so. I was dreading coming here today. And then I met you.”
She blinked. He had a way of saying the right things. He wasn’t a clever charmer, but he was charming. And he was a gentleman, in every way that counted. “Why were you dreading it?”
Pain entered his eyes. “Let’s just say I’m new to bachelorhood and leave it at that.”
“Oh.” She got that. She didn’t want to rehash her past relationships, either. One of the best parts of meeting Wyatt tonight was not having to think about the Royce Brisbanes of the world. She was fine with forgetting all about her own lousy relationships. “Okay.”
Wyatt tilted his head. “You’re not like most women.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Wyatt.”
“Believe me, it is. Most women want to nose around and fix what’s broken, but I’m not into that right now.”
He was broken? Now that was a revelation, because from where she stood all of his parts seemed to be in excellent working order. “Wyatt,” she said softly. She didn’t want him to leave. Gosh, how she didn’t want to say good-night to him.
“I’d better get to my room.”
She didn’t miss the reluctance in his voice. “Okay. Thanks for being my miracle cowboy today.”
He blinked, seemingly surprised at her comment.
She smiled and lifted up on tiptoes to brush a soft kiss to his cheek.
He kissed her back, a gentle peck on the mouth. “Welcome.”
She loved the taste of him, the way he smelled, the sturdy breadth of him.
He gazed at her mouth, his eyes holding a lingering dark gleam as if he wanted more. As if he wanted to devour her. The bone-melting effect reached all the way down to the tips of her toes. If he touched her again, she would be lost.
And then he did just that. He splayed his hands on her waist and drew her closer. “I need one more kiss, Brooke.”
His rich baritone voice did crazy things to her, especially when he was asking to kiss her again. Oh, man. “Anything you need.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.
And then their mouths came together in an amazing onslaught of potency and possession. Heat immediately rose up and flared like a lit match. It was as if everything fell into place again. His hands wound tighter around her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lips smacked, and moans and sweet sighs of pleasure surrounded them.
“Take it inside, you two,” a passerby said, chuckling as he headed down the hallway, obviously having had one too many.
“Good idea,” Wyatt stated softly over her lips.
“Yes, Wyatt. Yes.”
With one hand, he pushed the heavy door open and then lifted her luggage and plunked it down just inside the room. Then the door closed behind him and they were alone in the dark hotel room.
“Just tell me you want this,” he said, bracing her against the wall.
“I want this.”
“God, Brooke. You’re the one who’s the miracle.”
It was the sweetest, most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. She squeezed her eyes closed briefly and drank it all in. She drank him all in, too. His kisses set her body on fire, and now that they were out of the public eye, they were free to unleash their passion full force.
“I need to touch you,” he whispered.
“Touch me.”
His palms traveled over the slopes and curves of her body. His hands were large and rough, but he was gentle in his approach, making her want him all the more. He lifted her leg up under the knee, and she gasped as he slid his hand under the tight confines of her dress, stroking her thigh back and forth, over and over. “You’re soft,” he murmured between kisses. His body pressed to hers was a wall of granite, so big and hard, and she was overwhelmed with sensation after sensation. Between her thighs, pulsing heat gathered and her breaths came in short, rapid bursts.
He lowered her leg to the floor and flipped her around to face the wall, her back to his front. He probed her backside, skimming his hands over black lace. Through the material of her dress, the heat of his palms scorched her skin and she sighed, surrendering her body to him.
Finally, he inched the zipper of her dress down. She felt the cooling fresh air on her skin as he pushed her dress away. Planting kisses on her shoulders, he undid her bra and then reached around to cup her breasts. He filled his hands, massaging and caressing her until she could barely stand the pleasure, tiny moans escaping her lips.
He skimmed his hands down her torso and back up again, navigating her body as if he were exploring points on a map. “You’re soft everywhere.”
She loved the quiet words he spoke over her shoulder and the way he held her so preciously. She breathed in the aroused scent of him as he reclaimed her aching breasts, his body pressed to hers, fully aroused, his scent intoxicating.
“We need to move this onto the bed,” he said. “Unless you like—”
“No, the bed is fine,” she managed.
He helped her remove the remainder of her clothes and then lifted her into his strong arms. He carried her to the turned-down bed and laid her there carefully.
Without saying a word, he kicked off his shoes and undressed for her, undoing his string tie, removing his jacket, shirt, belt and pants.
From what she could see from the sliver of moonlight streaming into the window, Wyatt met and exceeded her expectations. God, he was glorious above the waist, with brick shoulders and hard abs. And below, well, she took a huge gulp. He was definitely all man.
“Don’t ask me why,” he said, quite earnestly, “but I have protection.”
“That’s a relief,” she said softly. “I don’t.”
She hadn’t exactly planned on hitting the jackpot tonight, but she thought it odd that he would be apologizing for carrying protection. He’d said he was new to bachelorhood. She assumed he was divorced, yet she needed to ask. “Wyatt, just tell me one thing. You’re not married, are you?”
He stared into her eyes for a beat of a second and then shook his head. “No, I can promise you that.”
Relief took on a new meaning with that promise. “Then, as much as I like looking at you, I’d like to touch, too.”
He sighed, perhaps equally relieved. “Absolutely, darlin’.”
* * *
The first time Wyatt made love to her, it was an exploration of newness. They were careful with each other as she learned what he liked, while he provided what she wanted. There was heat and pleasure and a development of trust. She did trust Wyatt. She knew he wouldn’t abuse her in any way; he was far too much of a gentleman for that. But now, after a short respite, Wyatt was pulling her atop him, kissing her senseless again, and this time both of their guards were down.
“I want you again.” The urgent plea tore from his throat.
“I’m here,” she whispered, climbing up his body and giving him access to her breasts.
“I’m glad you are,” he said, tickling her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Both peaks pebbled up immediately, and wild stirrings began at the apex of her thighs.
Wyatt was the best lover she’d ever had. He could take her from zero to ninety with just a heated look or a bold caress. And he was doing just that with exquisite strokes of his tongue on her breast, the full circle of his mouth drawing her out, making every nerve ending ping and jump.
When he was through making her squirm in delight, he moved down her body, his hand gliding past her waist and his fingers tucking into her sensitive folds. He knew exactly how to caress her. He knew where she needed to be stroked and oh, he was merciless. She cried out, the pleasure so exquisite it was almost painful. Electric sensations rocked her back and forth until she could barely take it another second.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
And just as their tongues met, her body splintered apart, the amazing orgasm rocketing through her body with enough force to jerk her off the bed. She came down panting, the effects of her release almost mystifying her until she opened her eyes and saw Wyatt staring at her, his darkened gaze hot as fired metal.
He rolled her over onto her back and lifted her hips, positioning her. And then he was inside her again, this time without hesitation. He began thrusting, his erection hard and thick, pulsing with new life. He moved deeper and harder and brought her to the brink of insanity once more. “Come with me this time,” he rasped, his throat thick.
And they moved together, arching, aching, a beautiful joining of bodies in complete sync with each other. And when she was primed and eager and staring into his eyes, he tipped his head in acknowledgment. He knew she was ready. Then they rose up and bucked and cried out, her sighs meeting his groans. Her body shattered, just as his came apart.
It was glorious.
She was in heaven.
And she stayed up there awhile before slowly easing down.
Her limbs were weightless now. She felt like a sated rag doll, too limp to move. Wyatt scooped her up in his strong arms and surrounded her with his hot, perfect body. He kissed her cheeks, wove his fingers through her hair.
“Brooke,” he whispered over her lips.
“Mmm.” She’d never been happier. Or more tired.
“Sleep, darlin’.”
“Sorry, can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
Wrapped up in his arms, she closed her eyes.
* * *
Wyatt opened his eyes to a dawn that had long ago broken through the shuttered windows of Brooke’s hotel room, streaming bright light inside. The digital clock read eight o’clock and he cursed silently as he untangled himself carefully from Brooke. His heart thumped in his chest as he glanced down at her, looking so peaceful, her eyes closed, that mane of raven hair falling down her back. His body strummed to life again, but he had no time to indulge or to say goodbye to Brooke. No time to look into those pretty brown eyes or hear the sultry tone of her voice.
He should’ve been on the road an hour ago. He was late, and he’d made Henrietta a promise. He couldn’t take advantage of her good nature. Weekends were precious to her.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he scrambled to step into his clothes. He hated leaving this way. There was a reason widowers shouldn’t have one-night stands. He was out of his element here. He had seconds to make a decision and God only knew if it was the right one, but time was wasting. He scribbled a note to Brooke and left it on the nightstand.
He had nothing to offer Brooke. He was still in love with Madelyn and he had no room for another woman in his life. Not that Brooke seemed to want anything but this one night together. She hadn’t asked him a bunch of questions the way women tended to do, and she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She was vacationing in Texas and had a life and a business on the West Coast.
The thoughts crowded his mind as he gave her one last glance.
He’d be forever grateful to her for this night. Brooke had helped him get through a tough day and they’d had a good time.
Actually, they’d had multiple good times during the evening.
End of story.
He walked to the door, not surprised by the regret burning a hole in his stomach. He didn’t usually walk out on women. But he couldn’t stay, either. It was better this way. For her. For both of them.
He turned the doorknob and strode out of the room, leaving Brooke and the Inn at Sweetwater behind.
More than an hour later he’d reached the gates of Blue Horizon Ranch. He was home, back where he belonged. But he’d thought about Brooke most of the way and he’d cursed his best friend, Johnny Wilde, for practically daring him to go to the wedding. Now he had guilt. And memories he couldn’t wash from his mind.
Was he a fool to think he was betraying his late wife by enjoying himself with another woman? Johnny would certainly think so. But then, what did he know? He’d been with too many women to count and he’d never found the right one, while Wyatt had met the love of his life and had married her. For that short time—only five years—they’d had together, he’d been happier than he thought possible.
And now he had his precious twins to think about.
He parked the car in front of the house and gave it a quick glance, just as a wave of pain jabbed his gut. He’d never quite gotten over the fact that Madelyn wouldn’t be here, greeting him after a trip. That her birthday had come and gone yesterday and there would be no more sweet kisses between them, no emerald sparks of joy in her eyes when he surprised her with a gift. “Sorry, Maddy.”
That day nine months ago had ripped his gut in two. Seeing the sheriff at his front door, hat in hand, his face solemn. Madelyn’s had an accident. I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt.
Wyatt shook off the memory. He had to get his ass inside the house. Henrietta’s youngest niece was coming to help him with the twins, so Henrietta could spend the weekend camping in their fifth wheel camper up at the river. Ralph, her husband, wasn’t a patient man. He’d been pressing her to retire, and she’d promised him she would as soon as Wyatt found a suitable nanny for the twins. Henrietta was as loyal as they came, and she was good with his kids, but she was exhausted lately. He’d catch her rubbing at her back and taking short naps in those rare times when the twins were both asleep. She’d been here since his folks lived at the ranch, and she was more like family than the help. Clearly, she didn’t want to leave Wyatt in the lurch without someone he trusted to care for his children, but the search wasn’t going well.
He entered his house and stood in the foyer, listening for baby sounds. “I’m home,” he said quietly, just in case Brett and Brianna were napping. And then he heard their voices coming from the great room, which substituted now as a giant playroom, and strode in that direction. His heart warmed immediately when he spotted his kids. The twins were toddling around on the floor, paying Carly no mind as she read them their favorite book, Goodnight Moon.
“Hi, Carly,” he said to the teenager.
“Oh, hi,” she said, glancing at him through her black-rimmed glasses.
At the sound of his voice, Brett, who was scooting a Lego truck along the hardwood floor, and Brianna, who was clutching her doll, abandoned their toys, flapped their arms excitedly and toddled over to him, their smiles lighting him up inside. He scooped both twins up in his arms. “Hello, my babies.”
He gave each a kiss on the cheek.
Brianna was more vocal than little Brett. “Daddy! Home. Daddy kisses.”
Brett stared at his sister first and then hugged Wyatt around the neck. Nothing was sweeter. Nothing helped his healing more than their unconditional love. He was constantly enveloped in sadness thinking that Madelyn would never know her children. And that his twins had been cheated out of a wonderful mother.
Henrietta walked into the room. Her sturdy build and cinnamon red hair piled in a tight bun atop her head gave her the appearance of a stern woman, but nothing was further from the truth. She was an old softy at heart. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, feeling like a heel.
“Not a problem, Wyatt. I hope you had a nice time at the wedding.”
An image of Brooke Johnson, naked and asleep in the bed he’d just left, popped into his head. “I did. It was good to see Blake again.”
“That’s nice. My Ralph is on his way. Carly’s been here, playing with the kids. She’ll help with feeding them later, and getting them down for their naps. I’ve got the weekend’s meals ready for you in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Etta.”
Carly stood, picking up a few toys from the floor as she rose. “I can stay overnight if you need me to, Mr. Brandt.”
“Thanks, Carly. Let’s see how the day goes. I might just need you to come back tomorrow, if you can.”
“I can do that, too,” she said.
“Okay, great.” Wyatt set the kids down and squatted onto the floor next to them. It was a tough balancing act, being in charge of a huge ranch corporation and being Daddy to his children. But he couldn’t let them down. They needed the stability of having him here most of the time, knowing that they came first, no matter what.
After Madelyn’s death, he’d relied heavily on Henrietta for support with the kids. But if he didn’t find a suitable nanny soon, old Ralph would march in here one day and threaten to knock his block off...with a shotgun.
He had three interviews with potential nannies later this week.
He could only hope.
Three (#ulink_50c8d352-f084-5865-a7c1-fc7f144ea8cf)
Brooke
You’ll never know how much last night meant to me. If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch. Thank you.
Wyatt
Brooke sat on her bed in the guest room of Zane Williams’s brand-new gorgeous ranch estate and reread the note for the tenth time this month. She hadn’t been able to toss it away. The paper was crumpled and creased, but the words rang out loud and clear. Wyatt had blown her off.
The morning after the wedding, when she’d woken up alone at the inn, she’d read his words and been baffled. She’d been certain Wyatt wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. She’d been certain they’d wake up together and exchange phone numbers, at the very least. Maybe have breakfast together. Their connection had been powerful, so strong, in fact, it sort of scared her. She’d been sure it wasn’t one-sided. Had her BS meter gone on the fritz?
After what Royce Brisbane did to her, she’d turned on her protective radar with all shields up. She’d come to Texas partly to forget about men and romance. And then Wyatt appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and gave her one miraculous day...and night.
Maybe that’s all there’d ever be for her, snippets of passion, spread out here and there, but nothing real, nothing permanent. Oddly enough, it was the “thank you” at the end of the note that pissed her off more than anything. As if she’d done him a service.
If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch.
Hell, yeah, she needed him. But right now, her pride interfered with good judgment. Tears entered her eyes. Tears she didn’t want. Tears that embarrassed her. She wasn’t a teary-eyed romantic fool, but her hormones were out of whack and had been pretty much since she’d missed her last period.
She knew what it meant. She’d taken the test yesterday. She was going to have Wyatt’s baby—a result of too much passion and not enough good sense.
She’d slept on the news last night, hoping when she woke up today it would’ve all gone away, like a bad dream you eventually forget. She hadn’t told a soul, but Emma was raising her eyebrows at her lately, asking her why she was tired and looking pale. She blamed it on the Texas heat and humidity. She wasn’t used to the sweltering temperatures, but Emma was five months pregnant and having just gone through these early months, she knew the signs all too well.
Dylan popped his head into her room. “Are you gonna come out to the set today, sis?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. But thanks.”
“What are you gonna do? Stay alone here all day?”
Zane and his new wife, Jessica, had graciously offered for the three of them to stay as his houseguests in the glorious new home Adam Chase had designed as a wedding present, while Dylan shot a Western movie here. Zane had been a neighbor for a time back in Moonlight Beach, California, and Dylan, Zane and Adam were all good friends now. But newlyweds Zane and Jessica were inseparable, and a few days back, they’d left on Zane’s spectacular tour bus, heading toward New Orleans to do a round of country music concerts.
Now Dylan, Emma and Brooke had the house all to themselves for the next few weeks.
Emma barged into the room, her growing belly covered by a breezy floral handkerchief dress. “No, she’s not spending the day alone. She’s going to help me pick out baby girl clothes!”
Brooke forgot about her own problems and jumped up. “You’re having a girl?”
Emma nodded, her laughter infectious. She lifted the pointed hem of her dress with both hands, and danced around the room singing, “Yes, yes, we’re having a baby girl.”
Brooke caught her midstride and hugged her tight. “Oh, this is wonderful. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, but now we know!”
She peered over Emma’s shoulder at her brother. His eyes were gleaming with love for his wife and new child. One would never know the child Emma carried wasn’t his. But he loved both mother and child with all of his heart. And that’s all that mattered.
Brooke stepped away from Emma and with arms reaching up, walked over to Dylan to give him a giant warm hug. Her big brother was happier than she’d ever seen him. “Congratulations.”
Dylan kissed her forehead. “Thanks. We’re excited.”
“You’re going to be outnumbered, you know, with all these women around.”
“He’s used to it,” Emma said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That’s right, the big mega movie star has women falling at his feet,” Brooke said.
“Not anymore. They know I’m taken.” Dylan went to Emma and took her hand. She smiled and then both of them looked Brooke’s way. “So, you’ll drop by the set with Emma later?” he asked.
“Sure, we’ll come by and see you.”
She couldn’t burst his bubble. She’d been a downer lately, and hadn’t been able to concentrate on having a good time. They sensed something was up with her, but hadn’t pried. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t want to raise any more suspicion. She was having enough trouble accepting the fact that Emma wouldn’t be the only new mother around here. And she had no clue of how or when to tell Wyatt Brandt he was going to be a father.
* * *
Wyatt sat upon a black gelding with white socks named Oreo and faced the rushing waters of the Willow Springs River. Twenty miles north of Beckon and even farther from his ranch, he was doing Johnny a favor today by coming here. Aside from Johnny Wilde, no one else in the area had as much commonsense knowledge about horseflesh and cattle as Wyatt did. Not that he’d wanted this job. Hell, he was no consultant, but his friend had called him in a panic. Johnny had come down with the flu, hopefully just the twenty-four-hour kind, and he’d needed a replacement, pronto. “You’re the only one I trust to do the job,” he’d said.
It wasn’t the plea, but the weakness in Johnny’s voice that had Wyatt agreeing to haul his butt away from Blue Horizon Ranch and his kids today.
He glanced at the men milling around, decked out in fringed leather chaps, Stetsons and snakeskin boots. Actors.
Dressing room trailers—honey wagons, Johnny had called them—were set up in the outlying area and a crew of about fifty were pulling wires, setting up cameras and shouting orders. He’d already spoken with the director today about the scene they were to shoot along the river’s edge. The horses and cattle would be crossing in shallow waters, but it was a key concern that no animals or actors be hurt in the highly technical shot.
From a distance, he spotted the star of the movie, Dylan McKay, stepping out of his trailer decked out in a chambray shirt, jeans and a red paisley kerchief around his neck. And then Wyatt froze. He blinked and refocused.
Yep, he wasn’t imagining it. Dylan was with a woman.
It was her.
Brooke Johnson.
What was she doing here? She looked awfully chummy with Dylan, laughing at something he’d said and walking along with him as though she was accustomed to being close to the mega superstar.
Seeing her again sent blazing fireworks off in Wyatt’s head. “Uh, Tony?” He took his eyes off Brooke for a second to get the assistant wrangler’s attention. “Do you know who that woman is walking with Dylan McKay?” He pointed. “Is her name Brooke Johnson?”
The wrangler scrubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing a bit to gain a good look. “It’s Brooke all right. All the single guys on the crew have been eyeing her. But her name’s not Johnson. That’s Mr. McKay’s sister, Brooke McKay.”
“She’s Dylan McKay’s sister?”
“Yep, that’s what they tell me. She’s a looker, but she’s not the friendly type, if you know what I mean.”
No, he didn’t know what Tony meant. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The woman he’d met on the road had been friendly and fun and sassy. He’d never describe Brooke as unfriendly. But then, he hadn’t known the real Brooke, had he? She’d given him a fake name. Now that wasn’t cool.
And just like that, Brooke turned her head and met his gaze. She halted abruptly, her face going as white as newly plowed snow. Dylan kept walking, but Brooke stood there, some twenty feet away, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe it. As if she wanted to hide under a rock.
God, when had his effect on women taken a turn for the worse?
She said something to her brother, and then did a one-eighty and hightailed it back to the trailer. Before stepping inside she glanced in Wyatt’s direction. To see if he was watching? Their eyes met again and for all he was worth, he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop looking at her. Then she was gone, the trailer door slamming shut behind her.
“Crap,” he muttered, climbing down from his horse. He planted his feet on solid ground and held the reins in his hand, trying to decide what to do. He’d worked hard to put Brooke out of his mind, and now here she was infiltrating, invading and trying her best to take up space again.
He was so busy being in his own head, he didn’t notice Dylan McKay until he was standing right in front of him. “Hello, I’m Dylan. I understand you’re taking over for Johnny Wilde today?”
“Yes,” Wyatt said, distracted. He got it together enough to refocus and pay the star some attention. “Wyatt Brandt.”
Dylan put out his hand. “Nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
They shook hands. “I understand you think the river’s too fast to do the crossing scene today?”
“That’s right. I told the director we should wait. I know the area, and that current is only going to get stronger as the day progresses. It’s not safe for the animals. Clouds are starting to gather and those breezes are gonna turn ugly in a few hours. The winds will only complicate things. Sorry, I know it’s not the news you hoped to hear.”
“No need to apologize. We can shoot around it. Keeping the animals and crew safe is a priority. I just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Sure thing.”
“So, you’re from around here?”
“I’ve lived in Texas all my life. I own Blue Horizon Ranch some twenty-five miles from here.”
“Horses?”
“Cattle, but we have a string of Arabians and cutting horses on the ranch, too.”
They spoke about horses and Texas for a while, and Wyatt came away thinking that Dylan McKay wasn’t a stereotypical prima donna celebrity. It was on the tip of his tongue during the conversation to ask him about Brooke. But that didn’t happen. Dylan had been called away. Just as well. Wyatt had come to the conclusion that he needed to speak to Brooke himself.
Sure, she’d lied to him about who she was.
But he’d left her alone in a hotel room after a wild night of sex, without much of an explanation.
He marched over to the honey wagon with a clear vision of what needed saying, but as he came close to knocking on the trailer door, his mind began to blur. Visions of Brooke slapping his face a good one flashed in his head. She might call security to toss him off the property.
He’d like to see them try.
But his hand clenched into a fist and he rapped on the door regardless. Things needed saying. It was as simple as that.
The door opened, and he was shell-shocked when a pretty, pregnant redhead stood facing him. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Uh, sure. I wanted to speak with Brooke. I’m Wyatt Brandt.”
“Okay, Wyatt. Let me see if Brooke is available. What can I tell her this is about?”
Hell, the wagon wasn’t that big. Brooke was probably hearing this whole conversation. “Just mention my name. Tell her I hope she’ll see me.”
“I’ll see him, Emma.” Brooke said, her voice stony. And then she appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t happy about seeing him, yet her beautiful brown eyes widened a bit when she looked at him, turning his brain to mush. The words he wanted to say fled him faster than a jackrabbit running from a hound.
“Hello, Brooke.”
“Wyatt.”
Emma gave them both a curious glance. “You know, I just remembered I have an errand to run.”
Out here? There wasn’t a town for miles.
“You don’t have to leave, Emma. This won’t take long,” Brooke told her.
“No, no. I’ve really got to, to, uh...talk to Dylan. He’s waiting on me to meet him down by the river.”
Emma ducked her head and scooted down the steps quickly, giving them privacy.
Brooke’s curvy body blocked the doorway. “I’m not inviting you in.”
“There’s no need for that. I just wanted to say...” Brooke’s arms were folded and any minute now, she’d be tapping her foot, schoolteacher style. “Listen, I have some explaining to do. But so do you. You lied to me.”
“About what?”
“About your name. You faked your identity.”
“I have my reasons for that. But you skipped out...and oh, never mind.”
“Can we talk?”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing.”
“No, I mean really talk. I feel badly about how I had to leave you that morning. I do, and I want to make it up to you.”
If body language had anything to do with it, she’d surely refuse him, but something stopped her. Instead, she seemed to be considering it. “What did you have in mind?”
“Come out to the ranch and have dinner with me. We can talk there, uninterrupted.” Well, that depended on two little rascals and their sleep schedule, but he couldn’t offer her anything more right now. His sense of honor was at stake. He didn’t usually treat women the way he’d treated Brooke, and he wanted to make amends. “I can pick you up later and take you to the ranch.”
“No. I don’t think so,” she said, and he felt the disappointment all the way to his toes. “I’ll drive out. Just give me directions...easy directions, or I may not find it,” she said.
She was agreeing? Why was he so damn happy about that?
“Great. It’s about half an hour’s drive from here and it’s practically a straight run. I’ll write down the directions. But I’d be happy to pick you up.”
“No, I’ll drive to you,” she said, in a tone that meant business.
He got it. She wanted to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. He didn’t care. At least the nagging thoughts plaguing his mind would be put to rest after he explained the whole one-night-stand business.
The trick was trying to sort it all out in his own head first.
* * *
With her windows rolled down and a light drizzle dotting her windshield, Brooke was actually enjoying the ride. The muggy Texas day had given way to an evening of fresh scents and cooler temperatures. Her windshield wipers clicked on and off and her driving arm was hit with an occasional raindrop as she steered over remote terrain toward Wyatt Brandt’s ranch.
If it weren’t for the baby she was carrying, she wouldn’t be making this drive, but the opportunity to tell Wyatt the truth presented itself today when he shown up on the set of The Price of Glory. Seeing pigs fly would’ve shocked her less than having Wyatt Brandt appear at the river.
But as luck or bad karma would have it—she wasn’t sure which—Wyatt had come out of nowhere again, her not-so-miraculous cowboy. Talking to him had become inevitable. She certainly couldn’t speak with him on Dylan’s set; there were too many opportunities to trigger gossip and speculation. And at Zane’s home, there’d be too many eyes and ears around to have a private conversation, namely her brother’s and Emma’s.
Country music filled the silence of the road. Brooke sang along with Reba to keep her mind off what she was about to do. The words of “Cowgirls Don’t Cry” poured out of her as she traveled over a lovely wooden bridge, the creek below surging with water. Alongside the water’s edge, a carpet of healthy bluebonnets stretched out as far as the eye could see.
The picturesque image stayed with her and gave her a sense of peace. Soon white fences lined with Mexican oaks standing tall and probably designed for privacy came into view. Long branches with leathery leaves waved at her as she drove by. Within a minute, she came upon brick columns and iron gates and a pretty metal sign embossed with the sun rising over the land, welcoming her to Blue Horizon Ranch.
She sighed. Grateful to have made it without getting lost or running out of gas, she now had to contend with the fact that she was here. And one way or another, her life was going to change forever when she revealed her pregnancy to Wyatt Brandt.

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