A Texas Soldier's Family
Page 1
DON’T MESS WITH THIS TEXAN!
On the last leg of his tour of duty, Captain Garrett Lockhart is summoned home to Laramie, Texas, to handle an urgent family matter—a scandal that could destroy the enduring legacy of the Lockharts. Except it’s already being “handled” by Hope Winslow, a professional crisis manager.
Hope is also the beautiful single mother of the most adorable baby boy the Army doctor has ever seen. Garrett is resisting Hope’s efforts at damage control—and pushing her clearly defined boundaries. Too bad she can’t resist him…and fantasies of a future with her Lone Star soldier!
“Dream on, Alpha Man.”
His eyes crinkled mischievously at the corners. “Alpha Man?”
Had she really said that? She must be punchier than she thought.
“It was an insult. A friendly one.” Hope bit down on an oath. She was just making it worse.
He laughed, his husky baritone like music to her ears. Continued giving her the long, sexy once-over. “Sounded more like a compliment to me.”
He was twisting everything around, embarrassing her and putting her off her game. Indignant, she trod closer. “Of course you would think that.”
He held his ground, arms folded in front of him. Again, that long, steady appraisal. “Because I’m alpha?”
He definitely was not a beta man.
“Can we end this repartee?”
He gathered her in his arms. “With pleasure.”
“What are you doing?”
“What any alpha male would do in this situation.” Grinning, he lowered his face to hers.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Laramie, Texas, for a five-part series about a brand-new branch of the Lockhart family! Lucille Henderson Lockhart and her late husband, Frank Lockhart, both grew up on ranches in Laramie County. Now Lucille plans to return to her roots, and she wants her five children around her.
In this first story, Army physician Captain Garrett Lockhart agrees to help his mother weather a crisis at the family’s charitable foundation. But he does not agree with anything renowned scandal manager Hope Winslow wants to do!
The second book shows us that rancher Chance Lockhart is as bullheaded as the bulls he invests in. And sparks really fly when he goes toe-to-toe with rival Molly Griffin at Christmastime!
No one knows why cowboy Wyatt Lockhart and CPA-turned-riding-instructor Adelaide Smythe broke up years ago. In book three, we see there’s still a lot of history—and a set of twins—between the two of them.
In book four, cowgirl-chef Sage Lockhart returns to Laramie determined to retain her legendary independence, only to fall hard for Western-wear store owner Nicholas Monroe.
And finally, in book five Special Forces soldier Zane Lockhart believes in duty, honor and country above all else, but when he goes after retired fellow military officer Nora Caldwell, he finds much more is expected.
I hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I loved writing it.
Happy reading!
A TEXAS
SOLDIER’S
FAMILY
Cathy Gillen Thacker
Cathy Gillen Thacker is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular Harlequin author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website, cathygillenthacker.com, for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.
Books by Cathy Gillen Thacker
Harlequin American Romance
McCabe Multiples
Runaway Lone Star Bride
Lone Star Christmas
Lone Star Valentine
Lone Star Daddy
Lone Star Baby
Lone Star Twins
McCabe Homecoming
The Texas Lawman’s Woman
The Long, Hot Texas Summer
The Texas Christmas Gift
The Texas Wildcatter’s Baby
Visit cathygillenthacker.com for more titles.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from A Rancher to Love by Trish Milburn
Chapter One
“Welcome aboard!” The flight attendant smiled. “Going home to Texas...?”
“Not voluntarily,” Garrett Lockhart muttered under his breath as he made his way through the aircraft to his seat in the fourth row.
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate spending time with his family, he acknowledged, stowing his bag in the bulkhead and stuffing his six-foot-five-inch body into the first-class seat next to the window. He did.
It’s just that he didn’t want them weighing in on what his next step should be. Or what he should do with his inheritance. The decision was hard enough. Should he sell out or stay and build a life in Laramie, as his late father had wanted?
Reenlist and take the considerable promotion being offered?
Or take a civilian post that would allow him to pursue his dreams?
He had twenty-nine days to decide.
And an unspecified but pressing family crisis to handle in the meantime.
And an expensive-looking blonde in a white power suit who’d been sizing him up from a distance, ever since he arrived at the gate...
He’d noticed her, too. Hard not to with that delicately gorgeous face, a mane of long, silky hair brushing against her shoulders, and a smoking-hot body that just wouldn’t quit.
Two years ago...before Leanne...he might have taken her up on her invitation...
But his failed engagement had taught him too well. He wasn’t interested in any woman hell-bent on climbing her way to the top.
He wanted a partner who understood what was important in life. Not a woman who couldn’t stop doing business even long enough to board a plane. She’d been talking on her cell phone nonstop and was still on it as she stepped into the cabin. With a thousand-watt smile aimed his way, oblivious to the three backpack-clad college boys queued up like dominoes behind her, she continued on down the aisle, checking her ticket for her seat assignment as she walked.
Phone to her ear, one hand trying to retract the telescoping handle of her suitcase while still managing the equally roomy carryall over her shoulder, she said, “...have to go...yes, yes. I’ll call you as soon as I land in Dallas. Not to worry.” She laughed softly, charmingly, while shooting him another glance and lifting her suitcase with one hand into the overhead compartment. “I always do...”
Annoyed, he turned his attention to the tarmac and was
watching bags being loaded into the cargo hold when, in the aisle behind him, commotion suddenly erupted.
“If you-all will just wait until I can—ouch!” He heard the pretty blonde stumble toward him, yelping as her expensive leather carryall tumbled off her shoulder and crashed onto his lap. Her elbow landed hard against his skull, just above his ear, while a pair of sumptuous breasts burrowed into his face. Only the quick defensive movement of his right arm kept the lady exec’s head from smashing into the wall above the airplane window.
However, nothing could be done to stop the off-kilter weight of her from sprawling inelegantly across his thighs, while the trio of impatient college kids responsible for her abrupt exit from the aisle continued unapologetically toward the rear of the plane.
She lifted her head, regarding him with a stunned expression as their eyes met. Heat swept her pretty face. He inhaled a whiff of vanilla and—lavender, maybe? All he knew for sure, he thought, as he heard her moan softly in dismay and felt his own body harden in response, was that everything about this woman was incredibly sexy.
Too sexy...
Too tall...
Too everything...
“Ma’am?” he rasped, trying not to think what it would be like to have this sweet-smelling bundle of femininity beneath him in bed. Never mind just how long it had been...
With effort, he called on every ounce of military reserve he had, sucked in a breath and looked straight into her wide, emerald-green eyes. “Are you all right?”
* * *
THIS, HOPE WINSLOW thought with an embarrassed grimace, was not how her day was supposed to go. Seven months out of the workplace might have left her a little rusty. But completely without social skills or enough balance to stay on her feet no matter how hard she’d been shoved?
Furthermore, it wasn’t as if she had wanted to take that last call from the client. She’d had no choice. She needed the income and acclaim this job was going to bring in, and like it or not, high-paying clients required high-level hand-holding. Plus, she had a soft spot in her heart for this current one...and that made any of Lucille’s requests difficult to resist.
But her quarry—the guy she had accidentally fallen on—would likely not understand any of that.
Resolved to retain whatever small amount of dignity she had left, Hope forced another small—apologetic—smile, inhaled deeply, then put her left hand down on the armrest beneath the window and shoved herself upright. Only it wasn’t an armrest, she swiftly found out. There wasn’t one there. It was the rock-hard denim-clad upper thigh of the man who’d caught her in his arms.
Mortified, she plucked her fingers away before they encountered anything else untoward. Then she promptly lost her balance, fell again and had the point of her elbow land where her hand had been.
Her gallant seatmate let out an oomph and looked alarmed. With good reason, Hope thought.
Another inch to the left and...!
“Let me help you,” he drawled, his voice a smooth Texas-accented rumble. With one hand hooked around her waist and the other around her shoulders, he lifted her quickly and skillfully to her feet, then turned and lowered her so her bottom landed squarely in her own seat. That done, he handed her the leather carryall she’d inadvertently assaulted him with.
Hope knew she should say something. If only to make her later job easier.
And she would have, if the sea-blue eyes she’d been staring into hadn’t been so mesmerizing. She liked his hair, too. So dark and thick and...touchable...
The pictures she had seen of him and his siblings hadn’t done him justice. Or indicated just how big and broad shouldered he was. Enough to make her own five-eleven frame feel dainty...
And heaven knew that didn’t happen every day. Even in Texas.
“Ma’am?” he prodded again, less patiently.
Clearly he was expecting some response to ease the unabashed sexual tension that had sprung up between them, so she tore her eyes from the way his black knit polo shirt molded the sinewy contours of his chest and taut abs, and said the first thing that came into her mind. “Thank you for your assistance just now. And for your service. To our country, I mean.”
His dark brow furrowed. His lips—so firm and sensual—thinned. Shoulders flexing, he studied her with breathtaking intent, then asked, “How’d you know I was in the military?”
* * *
IT WAS A simple question, Garrett thought.
One that shouldn’t have required any dissembling.
But dissembling was precisely what his seatmate appeared to be doing as she discreetly tugged the skirt of her elegant, white business suit lower on her shapely thighs, then leaned forward to place her bag beneath the seat in front of her, as per preflight requirements.
“Um...your hair,” she said finally.
Oh, yeah. Military cut. Made sense.
“Well, that and the duffel in the overhead.” She glanced at the passengers seated across the aisle, a young mother and a child with a Dora the Explorer backpack. The rest of the luggage stored above them was pink. Whereas his, he knew, was army green.
Point made, she sat back and drew the safety restraint across her lap, once again drawing his attention where it definitely should not be. “So, how long have you been in the military?” she asked pleasantly.
He watched as she fit the metal buckle into the clasp, drew it taut. Was there any part of her not delectable? he wondered. Any inch of her he did not want? “Eight years.” And why was it suddenly so hard to get the words out?
She wet her lips. Suddenly sounding a little hoarse, too, she inquired, “And what do you do?”
“I’m a physician.”
She pursed her lips in a way that had him wondering what it would be like to kiss her. “Which must make you a...?”
Not just kiss her. Make love to her. Hot, wild, passionate love, he thought, drinking in the soft, womanly scent of her. “Captain,” he said.
She extended a hand. It was as velvety soft as it looked, her grip warm and firm. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Captain...?”
He let her go reluctantly, the awareness he’d felt when she’d landed in his lap returning, full force. “Lockhart. Garrett Lockhart.”
Her expression turned even more welcoming. She studied him intently. “I’m Hope Winslow.”
Okay, so maybe his first impression of her hadn’t been on point. Even if she wasn’t his type, there were worse ways to pass the time than sitting next to a charming, gorgeous woman. And she was gorgeous, Garrett reflected, feeling a little unsettled and a lot attracted as the plane backed away from the gate and the flight attendants went through the safety instructions.
Tall enough to fit nicely against him. With legs that were made for high heels and curves that just wouldn’t quit pushing against the taut fabric of her sleek summer suit. Honey-blond hair as straight and silky as spun gold brushed her shoulders and long bangs fell to frame her oval face. Her features were elegant, her bow-shaped lips soft, pink and full, her emerald eyes radiating wit and keen intelligence.
He doubted there was anything she set her mind to that she didn’t get. Her ringless left hand said she was single.
It was too bad he wasn’t in the market for a high-maintenance, high-powered career woman.
“So what do you do for a living?” he asked, after the flight attendant had come by to deliver bowls of warmed nuts and take their drink orders. Milk for her, coffee for him.
She picked out an almond. Then a pecan. “I’m in scandal management.”
Okay, he could see that.
She seemed like the type who could take a highly emotional, probably volatile situation and boil it down to something manageable. “I recently started my own firm.” She reached into a pocket of her carryall and plucked out a business card. Winslow Strategies. Crisis Management b
y the Very Best. It had her name featured prominently, printed in the same memorable green as her eyes, and a Dallas address.
He started to hand it back. She gestured for him to keep it, so he slipped it into the pocket of his shirt. “Business good?”
She gestured affably, looking reluctant to be too specific. “There’s always someone in trouble.”
I’ll bet. “But to have to hire someone to get yourself out of it?” He couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice.
“People hire lawyers all the time when they find themselves in a tight spot.”
Imagining that line worked on a lot of very wealthy people, he sipped his coffee. “Not the same thing.”
She turned slightly toward him, tilting her head. “It sort of is,” she said, her voice a little too tight. “Words can hurt. Or mislead. Or falsely indict. So can actions.” She paused to sip her milk and let her words sink in, then set her glass down on the tray. “It’s important when in the midst of a potentially life-altering, and especially life-damaging event, to have someone on your side who isn’t emotionally involved, calling the shots and orchestrating everything behind the scenes.”
Her exceptional calmness rankled; he couldn’t say why. “Creating a publicly acceptable narrative,” he reiterated.
She lifted a delicate hand, gesturing amiably. “I prefer to think of it as a compelling explanation that will allow others to empathize with you. And, if not exactly approve of or condone, at least understand.”
“And therefore let your client off the hook,” he said grimly, reflecting on another time. Another situation. And another woman whose actions he resented to this day. “Whether they deserve to be spared any accountability for what they’ve done or not.”
Taken aback, Hope Winslow squinted at him. “Are you speaking personally?”
Hell, yes, it had been personal! Being cheated on and then backed into a corner always was. Not that he regretted protecting the innocent bystanders in the situation. They’d done nothing to deserve having their names dragged through the mud.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” she said.