Harlequin is thrilled to welcome Vicki Lewis Thompson back to Blaze.
Look what people are saying about this talented author’s latest works.
“Vicki Lewis Thompson gives readers a sexy, funny tale.”
—Romance Reviews Today on Better Naughty than Nice
“Hang on for the ride of your life…I could not put this book down!”
—Night Owl Reviews on Blonde with a Wand
“If you thought Over Hexed was phenomenal, wait until you read Wild & Hexy!…A rip-roaring good time.”
—Romance Junkies
“The same trademark blend of comedy and heart that won Thompson’s Nerd series a loyal following.”
—Publishers Weekly on Over Hexed
“Thompson mixes magic, small-town quirkiness and passionate sex for a winsome effect.”
—Booklist on Over Hexed
Dear Reader,
Summer nights are cool in Wyoming, but the right cowboy can raise the temperature in no time! And I have just the cowboy for you. Join me while we follow Jack, the oldest Chance brother, as he calls “on his ex-girlfriend, Josie, owner of the Spirits and Spurs Saloon.
The bar is closed and Shoshone’s Main Street is deserted. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear the hoot of an owl perched on a nearby lamppost. The moon peeks out from a passing cloud, but Jack doesn’t need its light to find his way. It’s been ten long months since he climbed the stairs to Josie’s apartment above the bar, but he could do it blindfolded.
Many things have changed, though, in those ten months. Jack’s now in charge of running the Last Chance Ranch, a place dedicated to those who deserve a last chance at happiness. And if anyone needs that, it’s the broad-shouldered cowboy climbing those wooden stairs. Come listen to Jack’s story. And welcome back!
Warmly,
Vicki
Vicki Lewis Thompson
CLAIMED!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson has been writing books for a few (cough, cough) years now, and she has a Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award from Romance Writers of America to prove it. Turns out that after all these years and all these books, the process is as exciting and challenging as ever. In other words, the 101st book is no easier to write than the first! And she wouldn’t have it any other way. This is a great job and somebody has to do it. She feels lucky that she’s been allowed to share her fantasy world with readers everywhere.
Books by Vicki Lewis Thompson
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
544—WANTED!*
550—AMBUSHED!*
556—CLAIMED!*
To all those compassionate souls who have cared for a child not their own, and who have never let the circumstances of birth stop them from doing what needed to be done.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
8:32 p.m., May 14, 1946
“BEAR DOWN, Eleanor!” Delia, a midwife from Jackson, coached the birth from the foot of Archie and Nelsie Chance’s marriage bed. “This little tyke’s a stubborn one.”
Archie gripped his wife’s hand. “Not as stubborn as my wife,” he said with pride. He’d watched her battle for five hours to have this baby. Her language had grown more colorful, but her spirit had never flagged. He crouched down and murmured in her ear. “Come on, Nelsie girl. You can do it.”
Nelsie panted and dug her nails into his hand. “Damn right I can. This kid is going to be born…right…now!” And she let out a yell that would have done a cowhand proud.
Delia whooped. “That does it!” She eased the baby free. “Congratulations. You have yourselves a bouncing baby boy.”
Still clutching Nelsie’s hand, Archie rose to his feet and stared in wonder. The baby was as red as a boiled lobster and slippery with goo. As Delia ran a cloth over the wrinkled little face, the baby sputtered once before launching into a series of high-pitched, hiccuping wails. Archie’s vision blurred and his chest tightened. A son. He had a son.
“Archie?” Nelsie squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?”
Clearing his throat, he blinked away tears. “I’ve never been more okay in my life.” He leaned down to give her a tender kiss. “How about you, brave girl?”
“Much better, now.”
“Thank you for having our baby.”
Nelsie looked a little misty-eyed herself. “My pleasure. Well, maybe not. It was a lot more fun making that baby than having him.”
“I’ll bet.” He kissed her again. “You were great.”
“So who wants to hold him first?” Delia approached with the squalling baby wrapped in a blanket.
Archie had assisted many a calf into this life and a few foals, as well, but holding this baby scared the bejesus out of him. “Maybe you’d better give him to Nelsie.”
“No.” Nelsie’s voice was firm. “You hold him first, Arch. I want Delia to take a picture. The camera’s on the dresser.”
“Uh, okay.” Archie could hardly refuse after all Nelsie had been through. Reluctantly he accepted the red-faced little kid, who was working up quite a head of steam. “Just for the picture.”
“Support his head in the crook of your arm.” Delia positioned the baby to her satisfaction. “There. I’ll get the camera. By the way, have you picked a name?”
Archie stood frozen to the spot and gazed down at the tiny face, the eyes squeezed shut and the toothless mouth pouring out all that baby anguish.
“We decided on Jonathan Edward,” he said. “Jonathan for Nelsie’s father and Edward for mine.”
“That’s a fine name,” Delia said. “Suits him.”
Archie wasn’t sure. It seemed like a really big name for such a tiny thing. “Shh,” he murmured, jiggling the baby just a little bit, the way he’d seen people do. “Shh, Jonathan.”
As if a switch had been thrown, the baby stopped crying. With a ragged sigh, Jonathan Edward opened his little eyes.
“See?” Nelsie’s voice trembled. “He likes his name.”
“Guess so.” Archie’s chest swelled as he looked into those unfocused baby eyes.
“Hold still so I can get the picture,” Delia said.
Archie didn’t glance up as the camera flashed. That newborn gaze held all his attention. Slowly he began to contemplate something he hadn’t dared think about until now. Life held no guarantees, but with a little luck, this tiny baby would grow into his name. And with even more luck, Jonathan Edward Chance would continue the legacy of the Last Chance Ranch.
1
Present day
“JOSIE, THERE’S A drunken cowboy at the door.”
Jack Chance stared at the tall guy silhouetted in the doorway of Josie’s place. His Josie. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s none of your business. Look, Josie closed the bar thirty minutes ago, and besides, you don’t look as if you need another—”
“You’d better not be her boyfriend.” Jack was a tad bit liquored up, but he’d been sober enough to climb the stairs to Josie’s apartment above the Spirits and Spurs without stumbling. He also was sober enough to understand the significance of a guy answering her door at this hour of the night.
The intruder shifted his stance. “And you’d better be on your way, cowboy.”
That’s when Jack noticed the bastard wasn’t wea
ring shoes or socks. Jack’s blood boiled. How dare this yahoo move in on his girl? True, they’d broken up a few months ago. Okay, ten months ago. But just who did this idiot think he was, standing barefoot in Josie’s apartment like he owned the place?
“Alex?” Josie’s voice came from somewhere in the back of the apartment. Like the bedroom. “Find out who it is, okay?”
Jack clenched his right fist. “The name’s Jonathan Edward Chance, Jr., and Josie Keller’s my girl.” Then he punched this Alex joker smack in the kisser.
Sad to say, it wasn’t much of a blow. Jack wasn’t as steady as he might have been and the guy dodged at the last minute. Failing to land a solid punch, Jack dropped his shoulder and threw a tackle. That proved to be more effective. They both went down hard. Jack lost his hat and a good part of his dignity.
Alex swore and struggled to get free, but Jack had him pinned. It was a hollow victory, though, because Jack had knocked the wind clean out of himself.
“What in the name of heaven is going on?”
I’m guarding my territory. The thought went through Jack’s head, but he didn’t have the breath to say it.
“Jack Chance, get off my brother this minute!”
Thank God he hadn’t said it. Her brother? Jee-sus. The back of his neck grew hot as he pushed himself to his hands and knees.
Alex glared up at him. He didn’t look happy. But he did look quite a bit like Josie. Same blond hair, same gray eyes. Come to think of it, Josie had mentioned an older brother named Alex, but he was supposed to be in Chicago, not standing in her doorway barefoot, giving the wrong impression that he was fixing to be Jack’s replacement.
“Sorry about that, man.” Jack staggered to his feet and held out a hand to help the guy up.
Alex ignored Jack’s outstretched hand and stood under his own power. Then he turned to Josie. “I take it you know this jerk.”
Josie must have been getting ready for bed. She was wearing that silky black robe Jack remembered, but her jeans peeked out underneath, so she hadn’t completed undressing when Jack had arrived. She hadn’t taken her long hair out of its braid, either. Jack used to love when she did that. He used to love everything Josie did.
She sighed. “Yes, I know him. This is Jack Chance, the guy I was dating last year.”
Dating. Such a lame word for what they’d had going. Josie made it sound as if they’d kept each other company during the occasional dinner, followed by a PG-rated movie. Instead they’d spent hours having wild monkey sex in this apartment. Sometimes they’d even used the bed. There wasn’t a piece of furniture in the place that didn’t remind Jack of being buck naked with Josie.
Well, maybe the stove. They’d never done it on the stove, because sure as the world they would have hit a switch in the midst of the crazy action and singed something vital. They couldn’t get enough of each other back then.
Alex’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists at his sides. “So this is the one.”
Stepping neatly between Jack and Alex, Josie put a hand on her brother’s chest. “I’m not angry about that anymore, Alex.”
Jack got a whiff of her perfume, which had always reminded him of peach schnapps. God, how he’d missed her.
“You may not be angry anymore, but I’m pissed as hell.” Alex’s jaw tightened. “As I recall, this SOB dropped you like a hot potato when his dad died. And now he has the unmitigated gall to barge in here as if—”
“I thought you were her new boyfriend, Keller. Sorry.” Nobody had ever accused Jack of having unmitigated gall. Not many folks around Shoshone, Wyoming, talked that way. He’d been accused of having a hell of a lot of nerve, but never unmitigated gall.
Last Jack had heard, Alex was a DJ for one of Chicago’s drive-time radio shows. Stood to reason he’d have a big-deal vocabulary to go with his job.
“And what if I had been her boyfriend, hotshot?” Alex balanced on the balls of his feet. “You think you can dictate who she sees? Somebody needs to teach you some manners.”
Jack figured the guy could start swinging any minute. Although Jack had never had a sister, he could imagine how a brother might feel toward someone who had treated his sister the way Jack had treated Josie. He wasn’t proud of his actions, but at the time they’d made some sort of crazy sense.
He’d been in bed with Josie the morning his dad had called wanting his help to pick up a filly from a nearby ranch. Jack had put him off with the excuse that a storm was brewing, when actually he hadn’t wanted to leave Josie. His dad had gone alone, rolled the truck and died. Riddled with guilt, Jack had punished himself the only way he knew how. He’d told Josie they were finished.
No wonder Alex wanted to punch his lights out. Any brother worth his salt would feel the same. Jack had never been one to back down from a fight if he believed in the cause, but this time he was in the wrong and he knew it.
“I’ll just leave, then,” he said.
Josie relaxed a little. “Good idea, Jack.”
He started for the door and paused to glance over his shoulder. “I really did think he was your new boyfriend.”
She gazed at him with eyes the color of a storm cloud. “And that would bother you?”
His brain definitely wasn’t working, because he hadn’t realized until that moment how his caveman tactics had exposed him. “Reflex,” he said, trying to pawn the punch off as nothing more than habit.
“I see.”
“Pure knee-jerk reaction. See you all later.” It might have been a decent exit if he hadn’t tripped on the doorsill. He didn’t fall, but he came damned close to it. Face burning, he started down the wooden stairway to the street level. If Josie told anybody about this, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Jack, wait.” Josie caught up with him partway down and laid a hand on his arm. “You shouldn’t drive home.”
He glanced back at her. Her hair had come a little bit loose from her braid, and the porch light shone on the top of her head, creating a kind of halo. He knew for a fact she was no angel, but damn, she was beautiful.
“I’m okay,” he said. “Just clumsy.” He wasn’t about to tell her he had no vehicle at his disposal. He hadn’t intended to come into town at all tonight.
He’d been at the ranch quietly getting soused. It was his pathetic attempt to ease the crushing sense of responsibility he felt now that he was in charge of everything. He’d been interrupted in that endeavor when his youngest brother, Gabe, had come home devastated because Morgan, the woman he loved, had turned down his marriage proposal.
Jack had convinced him to drive back into town and repeat the proposal with Jack riding shotgun and giving moral support.
“Leave your truck here and let me drive you home,” Josie said.
“Sorry. Too humiliating.”
“Don’t be stupid, Jack. Your family doesn’t need another tragedy.”
A reminder like that still had the power to slice through him. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to find out tomorrow that you drove into a tree on the way home, so I’m willing to fight dirty. Your truck will be fine here.” She glanced down at the parking area. “Where is your truck, by the way? I don’t see it.”
Jack sighed. Gabe would pay for this. When Gabe’s second proposal had worked out, Gabe had disappeared inside Morgan’s house, taking the truck keys with him. On his way in, he’d suggested Jack go knock on Josie’s door. Lured by his brother’s success with his woman, Jack had decided to go for broke.
Which had landed him in this pile of stinking cow manure.
“Josie, just go back inside and let me take care of my own problems, okay?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? Are you planning to sling me over your shoulder and throw me in the back of your Bronco?”
“I mean that you owe me, Jack Chance. You owe me big time for the way you acted ten months ago. I don’t want things to get any uglier because you drove
away from my place and got in a wreck. Your family already blames me for—”
“They don’t.”
“Not to my face, but it was because of me you didn’t pick up that filly with your dad. If I hadn’t been in the picture, he might still be alive.”
“Good God, is that what you think? That it’s somehow your fault?” Jack was stunned. He thought he had the corner on guilt, but maybe not.
“Logically I know it wasn’t my fault. You’re a big boy.”
“My point exactly. About that morning and tonight. Go back inside. I’m not your problem.”
She didn’t budge. “Logically I get that. But emotionally…that’s a whole other thing. I wish I’d kicked you out of bed that morning, Jack. I wish I’d told you to go help your dad trailer that filly to the Last Chance.”
“Wasn’t your call.”
“So you don’t blame me?”
He heard the pain in her voice and knew that he’d caused it. “I never did.”
“Then why’d you end…us?”
“Some sort of penance, I guess. Thought I didn’t deserve to be happy.” And he had been happy. They had been happy. In his slightly inebriated state tonight, he’d deluded himself into thinking that the problems between them would magically evaporate and they could be happy again.
She bowed her head for a moment. When she looked at him, her gaze was direct. “I’m driving you home. Stay right here while I put my shirt on and get my wallet and keys.”
“Josie, I can—”
“Do it, Jack! Let’s stop the bullshit and do the sensible thing for once! I didn’t kick you out of bed ten months ago, but I damned sure won’t let you drive home tonight. I won’t have it on my conscience.”
She was fired up, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. After all, he was the one who had knocked on her door. Gabe had suggested it, but he hadn’t twisted Jack’s arm. Once again, Jack knew who was to blame for this disaster. “All right,” he said. “I’ll wait here until you get back.”
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