by Tina Leonard
“Hey, pretty lady,” a deep voice said next to her ear
“Don’t take your mask off, Momma,” Minnie said. “Guess who’s come to watch your act?”
Her heart sank. He’d spoken the exact words she’d imagined him speaking. And his husky voice sent chills down her spine. Truly, this cowboy was a player at the master level.
“Minnie,” she said, her voice warning her daughter to remember the rules—no cowboys. “Go sit in the stands, please.”
“Now it’s just the two of us,” he said. “Clever of you to think of a way for us to be alone.”
She ripped off her mask, ready to dispel his overwhelming appeal. The huge grin on his face stopped her.
He winked, slowly and sexily.
Her breath caught inside her chest.
Oh, no. She’d told the kids about cowboys. She’d told herself.
And this man might be the best reason she’d ever met to keep saying no to cowboys…if she could.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime, Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her stories. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance!
Books by Tina Leonard
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
748—COWBOY COOTCHIE-COO
758—DADDY’S LITTLE DARLINGS
771—THE MOST ELIGIBLE…DADDY
796—A MATCH MADE IN TEXAS
811—COWBOY BE MINE
829—SURPRISE! SURPRISE!
846—SPECIAL ORDER GROOM
873—HIS ARRANGED MARRIAGE
905—QUADRUPLETS ON THE DOORSTEP
977—FRISCO JOE’S FIANCÉE†
981—LAREDO’S SASSY SWEETHEART†
986—RANGER’S WILD WOMAN†
989—TEX TIMES TEN†
1018—FANNIN’S FLAME†
1037—NAVARRO OR NOT†
1045—CATCHING CALHOUN†
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
576—A MAN OF HONOR
CATCHING CALHOUN
Tina Leonard
THE JEFFERSON BROTHERS OF MALFUNCTION JUNCTION
Mason (38), Maverick and Mercy’s eldest son—He can’t run away from his own heartache or The Family Problem.
Frisco Joe (37)—Fell hard for Annabelle Turnberry and has sweet Emmie to show for it. They live in Texas wine country.
Fannin (36)—Life can’t be better than cozying up with Kelly Stone and his darling twins in Ireland.
Laredo (35), twin to Tex—Loves Katy Goodnight, North Carolina and being the only brother with a reputation for winning his woman without staying on a bull.
Tex (35), twin to Laredo—Grower of roses and other plants, Tex fell for Cissy Kisserton and decided her water-bound way of life was best.
Calhoun (34)—Doesn’t want the family mantle passing to him.
Ranger (33), twin to Archer—Fell for Hannah Hotchkiss and will never leave the open road without her.
Archer (33), twin to Ranger—Talking with a faraway woman in Australia by e-mail is better than having a real woman to bother him.
Crockett (31), twin to Navarro—Paints portraits of nudes, but never wants to see a woman fully clothed in a wedding gown saying, “I do” to him.
Navarro (31), twin to Crockett—Fell for Nina Cakes when he was supposed to be watching her sister, Valentine, who is carrying Last’s child.
Bandera (27)—Spouts poetry and has moved from Whitman to Frost—anything to keep his mind off the ranch’s troubles.
Last (26)—The only brother who finds himself expecting a baby with no hope of marrying the mother. Will he ever find the happy ending he always wanted?
To Texas Readers Dawn Nelsen, Sarah Procopio, April Massey, Pat Wood, Cheryl Chan, Joanne Reeson, Marcy Shuler, Melissa Lawson, and Denise Renae Vellek. You ladies have meant so much to my career and my life. Thank you so much.
Lisa and Dean—you are now fifteen and eleven. I started writing when Lisa was two and a half years old, and I went to my first writers’ meeting when I was pregnant with Dean. Many thanks to you both for supporting my career, and for always being proud of me. Mimi, thank you for believing in my talent. Fred Kalberer and Kim Eickholz—I was lucky when God gave me you.
Georgia Haynes—thank you for everything.
Last, but certainly not least, many thanks to Stacy Boyd and Paula Eykelhof and all the wonderful people at Harlequin who make Tina Leonard a success. I have loved writing this cowboy series for the best house—and surely the most patient editors—in the world.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Prologue
The treasure lies within.
—Mason to his sons when they wanted to know if there was such a thing as fairy dust on butterfly wings and a box of Civil War gold in the well on Widow Fancy’s farm.
At exactly midnight, as a chilly November turned into a stormy, cold December, Mason Jefferson walked back into the main ranch house at Union Junction, wondering if he was ready to return home after being gone for so many months.
There were ten women in sleeping bags around the fireplace, where the fire had burned nearly to embers. His jaw dropped and he felt a sweat break out along the back of his neck. There were pretty faces, openmouthed faces, snoring faces, faces mashed into pillows.
Clearly nothing had changed around Malfunction Junction. Possibly the situation had worsened.
It gave a man pause about the reason he’d stayed gone so long: Mimi Cannady, his next-door neighbor and wife to another man.
If women were so easily found around his fireplace, if they dropped easily into a man’s life like blossoms from a cherry tree, if there were always many unattached females hanging around the Jefferson ranch, then why couldn’t he get over the woman he thought he could only love like a meddlesome baby sister?
I came home too soon, Mason thought.
A crash sounded upstairs and a baby wailed. Mason closed his eyes. I stayed gone too long.
And after all his journeys he still had not a single lead on what had happened to Maverick, the father of the twelve Jefferson brothers.
“Hi, Mason.” One of the women raised her head. It was Lily of the Union Junction hair salon in Union Junction. He and his brothers had helped her and her co-stylists set up shop in town, after Delilah Honeycutt had to let them go from the salon in Lonely Hearts Station.
“Hey, Lily,” he said. “Go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He jerked his head toward the ceiling. “Think I’ll go scare my brothers and see whose baby they’re torturing.”
Lily sm
iled. “Welcome home.” She put her head down and Mason saw her eyes close. Sighing, he headed up the stairs.
In the second-floor family room, there were five brothers and a baby. A sweetly chubby baby, maybe a year old, he guessed, from the three tiny blond curls on the back of her head and her consciously erect posture. The brothers were arranged in a semi-circle, all of them flat on their chests staring at her as she stared back at them. It was like a Mexican standoff, and the baby was winning, clearly bemusing her older companions.
It wasn’t worth wondering whose baby it was. What mattered was that it seemed nothing had changed around Malfunction Junction. Still fun and games. “Howdy.”
His brothers looked up and stared at him. Calhoun was the first to jump to his feet. “Mason!”
Mason tossed his hat onto the sofa. “I wasn’t gone long enough for any of you to have a baby.”
The other brothers halted, midrise.
“True,” Calhoun said. “And this is not our baby, per se.”
The baby turned her head to look up at him, and Mason felt his heart stop inside his chest. He would know that baby in a field of children; he could pick her out with ease. Fair, fine blond curls, big blue eyes that were her mother’s, the sparkle of mischief in her expression as she’d enjoyed commanding the attention of her covey of “uncles.”
“It’s Nanette,” Bandera said. “We’re helping Mimi out ’cause she’s been cooking for all of us and the ladies downstairs.”
“Heat went out over the salon. Been out for three days,” Last said. “Seemed the right thing to do to bring Lily and her crew here.”
Crockett nodded. “They stood it as long as they could. We found out they weren’t telling us, and had Shoeshine bring them over here in his bus.”
Mason ignored his brother’s blabbering, bending instead to scoop up Nanette and hold her to him. She didn’t cry out at the chill in his fingers. Instead, she touched his face, patting it with curiosity, though he told himself she touched him because she recognized him.
“Been a long time since I held you,” he murmured to her, so that his brothers couldn’t hear. “You can sit up now. When I last saw you, you were just a tiny potato. I didn’t know you would grow so fast,” he said, nuzzling her. “You weren’t supposed to grow up without me. I missed you.” She patted his face again, and his eyes welled up with tears he wouldn’t let his brothers see. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
The softness of her skin and her instant trust of him shattered his barely healed heart. Being gone hadn’t solved a damn thing. He still loved Mimi, in a way he knew he should not. And he loved her child, the child he’d helped deliver, as if she were his very own.
In his heart, she was his very own.
Mason gruffly cleared his throat, aware that his brothers were uncomfortably silent. “What else did I miss?” he demanded.
The brothers glanced at each other. Last looked ill.
“How about we talk later?” Calhoun asked.
“We can talk now,” Mason said.
“Not really,” Calhoun said, glowering. “We’ve been amusing twelve months of dynamite. We’re torn between using pacifiers, sippie cups, back rubs and guitar lullabies as good-luck charms to ward off the displeasure this child seems to feel at being out of her element. She doesn’t like us, and quite frankly, we’re beginning to wonder why babies aren’t stored in pods until they ripen.”
“We’ve had some ripe occasions,” Archer said. “That one, delicate flower that she may be, can put forth some really ripe diapers.”
“What we’re trying to say, Mason,” Bandera said, “is that we’re tired. We’re actually ragged. Let’s get one thing straight from the start. You left. You took your bad moods and your broken heart and you deserted us. We’ve handled everything while you were gone. Now, we’re of no mind to have you walk in here demanding answers.”
“That’s right,” Crockett said, “we get first shot at Answer Number One.”
Calhoun stood tall, crossing his arms. “Exactly. And our first question is, what in the hell do you think gave you the right to disappear like that?”
Mason stiffened. He’d had no right; it was just something he’d had to do. But he couldn’t explain that to his brothers. What did they know of broken hearts, except when they were haphazardly doing the breaking?
Calhoun looked at him curiously. “Yeah, and while you’re thinking of the answer, Mr. Wandering Foot, you might be interested to know that Mimi’s filed for divorce from Brian.”
Mason instantly went cold.
Chapter One
Nudes. Calhoun Jefferson loved painting nudes, he loved the color of bare skin and he loved women who were willing to get naked. That was a bounty for the eyes: women in the flesh—the different, varying skin tones that harmonized with the female personality. Dark, light, medium—he loved all the colors under the sun.
Particularly nude.
Some men saw heaven in a sunset. Some found God in the ocean’s waves and secretive depths. “Ah, for me, it’s the color of a nipple shadowed against the velvet of a rounded breast, the shades contrasting and yet complimenting, so tantalizing in hue,” Calhoun explained to his brothers.
“Oh, God,” Last said on a moan. “He’s been to Hooters again.”
“I have not,” Calhoun said, indignantly slinging a saddle over a wooden rail. “I’m trying to explain my latest work of art to you undercultured dunces. I’m calling it ‘Hues from Heaven.’”
“I feel more cultured already,” Crockett said. “And my IQ has risen commensurately.”
Calhoun sighed. “I’m heading over to Lonely Hearts Station for the rodeo. Anybody interested in going?”
“What for?” Archer asked. “Wait a minute, are you paintin’ hooves again?”
Calhoun stood straight, staring at his brothers. “It just so happens that, this time, I’m entered, thank you very much.”
“Entered as what?” Bandera asked. “Rodeo clown?”
“Rider,” Calhoun said, deciding he wasn’t going to let his brothers’ jiving get to him. He had a mission today, and that was to advertise his afternoon art showing of first-class nudes by riding in the rodeo.
Of course, his show wasn’t anything he wanted Mason to know about. Or his other brothers. They simply did not understand his love of artistic nudity.
“What I just can’t get,” Last said, “is if you like nekkid women so much, why don’t you just get you one? We got about ten sleeping in our house this week, if you were too scared to notice. Just a set of jammies or a big sleep shirt between you and heaven’s bounty. I say, pick one already.”
Calhoun felt heat color his neck and rise up under his hat. “Have you been too scared to tell Mason that you have a woman living at the ranch who’s expecting your child?” he asked, his tone deliberate and mild.
Every brother went still. Not even a jaw moved as they stared at Last.
“He just got home yesterday,” Last said. “And he’s been hiding from Mimi. I think I’d better give him a few more days to settle back in.”
His point made, Calhoun walked from the barn. He wasn’t scared of women! He revered women. And that was his brothers’ problem, one of a thousand. They didn’t understand that a man didn’t necessarily have to sleep with his passion.
Of course, it was nice when he could.
But sleeping around had gotten some of the brothers married lately, and one of them was now expecting a child. “I’m figuring on keeping my jeans zipped, a lesson no one else around here seems to want to learn,” he muttered, getting into his truck. “Broken hearts, babies, wedding rings—I’d say that nude women on canvas are a helluva lot safer than women in the flesh.”
OLIVIA SPINLOVE knew about broken hearts and broken homes. She knew about cowboys and broken promises. She also knew about breaking bad patterns—and when her children, Minnie and Kenny, dragged the long, lean, hotly handsome cowboy toward her, Olivia defiantly crossed her arms over her chest.
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��Hello,” she said, her voice chilly. “I must apologize if my children have been bothering you.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” he said, lifting his hat and showing a toothy grin. “I find them charming.”
“We got lost,” Kenny said.
Sure they did, Olivia thought. They’d been raised on the rodeo circuit. They knew where their grandfather was and where the trailer was. “Thank you for escorting them back to me,” Olivia said. “Sometimes they can be quite the handful.”
“No, we’re not,” Minnie said. “We’re angels.” And she grinned up at the cowboy.
Olivia shivered. “Excuse us.” She took the children by their hands and led them back to the trailer. Once inside, she sat them on the bed. “Minnie, Kenny,” she began, “no. No, no, no.”
The children looked at her woefully. “We need help,” Minnie pointed out. “Grandpa’s getting too old to do the act.”
They were speaking of Grandpa Barley’s knees being too arthritic to allow him to jump in and out of barrels these days. Olivia knew the kids were right, but that didn’t mean they were going to interview cowboys at every rodeo in the United States until they found one suitable for their act.
“Your grandfather is fine, for now,” she told them. “Please don’t worry so much.” She hugged them to her. “Really. It’s going to be fine.”
“How?” Minnie asked. “How is it going to be fine when we don’t have an act?” Her large eyes were too old for her nine years and too worried. So little childish spirit lingered in Minnie’s gaze.
Olivia smiled at her daughter, kissing her forehead. “Trust me, it’s going to be fine.”
Kenny began to bite at a hangnail. “It’s not fine. I could get in the barrels, and Gypsy could find me instead of Grandpa.”