Shoving the thought aside, he concentrated on the feel of her sex as it squeezed him. When he felt the tiny ripples that told him she had reached the end, Case let himself go, giving a muffled shout and burying his face in her shoulder.
* * *
Mellie felt out of control. The contrast to her usual state of mind was sobering. She could barely cobble together a coherent thought, much less a mature, informed opinion about whether or not Case was in his right mind.
She wanted to believe him. She really did. She wanted to plunge headlong into the fairy tale where the girl who sweeps up the cinders meets her prince.
Idly, she stroked Case’s hair. It was thick and silky and warm from the sun. His weight was a welcome burden. His body was the only thing tethering her to the ground at the moment.
Case loves me. She said it again inside her head, rolling the three words around and around until she made herself dizzy.
Finally, he moved, rolling over onto one elbow. “I told myself I was going to withhold sex until I got the answer I wanted.”
Mellie laughed out loud at the disgruntlement on his handsome face. “Show me a man who can withhold sex, and I’ll call Guinness World Records. Besides, what answer are you talking about? I didn’t hear any question.”
His smile made her stomach curl. “I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, but strictly as a matter of information, do you think you might fall in love with me eventually? Despite the fact that I acted like a giant horse’s ass?”
“No.” Mellie didn’t have to think about it.
Case flinched. “I see.”
“You don’t see anything, but that’s okay, because I like this abjectly groveling version of Case Baxter.”
The man growled. He actually growled. “Explain yourself, woman.”
His narrow-eyed glare made her shiver. In the best possible way. She put a hand on his cheek, trying not to fixate on the fact that Case was spectacularly nude. “I won’t be falling in love with you, because I’m already there. How could I resist a sweet-talking cowboy like you?”
“Say it the right way,” he demanded. “Now.”
“I. Love. You.”
His chest rose and fell. “Well, all right, then.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “We could build out here. A woman should have her own place.”
“I love the ranch house, Case. But you keep skipping parts of the script. Either that or I’m getting sunstroke.”
“Nobody gets sunstroke in November.” He teased her nipple with his fingernail.
Oh, wow. She wet her lips with her tongue. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me?”
“Hmm?” He seemed easily distracted.
“Case? I don’t think the president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club should live in sin. It sets a bad example.”
“Whatever you say, my love.”
“Case!”
He flopped over onto his back and spread his arms wide, his big masculine body a thing of beauty under the hot Texas sun. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he gave her the smile that had been her undoing. “Melinda Abigail Winslow...will you marry me?”
“You know my middle name?”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on top of him. “I do...”
She felt him against her, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. “Do you also know that I’m partial to engagement rings?”
“Patience, my love. I have a plan.”
She nibbled his ear. “Do tell.”
“Tomorrow is December 1,” he groaned. The pained sound evidently had something to do with the way she was rubbing against him.
“Go on.”
“I want to spend the entire month making you happy. And I thought we’d start by flying to Paris and picking out an obscenely large solitaire for your left hand.”
Mellie reared up in shock? “Paris, France? But you have work to do...and a brand-new position. And I have two businesses to run.”
He rubbed her bottom in lazy circles. “Don’t say position. It gives me ideas.”
She scooted away from him and started dragging her clothes on, despite Case’s muttered protests. “I think you’ve had a relapse. We need to get you home. You and I are responsible members of the community. We can’t fly off to Paris on a moment’s notice.”
“You’re such a spoilsport.”
“One of us has to be practical.” When she was decent again, she stood up and stretched, shaking her head to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Case put his arms around her from behind, a small red leather box in his right hand. “Well, in that case, I guess you’ll have to settle for this.”
She spun to face him, frowning. “What is that?”
“A ring.”
She took the box but refused to open it. “How did you know I’d nix the Paris idea?”
Case shrugged, his smug patronizing smile making her want to smack him or kiss him or both. “I know you, Mellie Winslow. And I love every inch of your sensible, hardworking, down-to-earth self.”
“You make me sound boring as hell.”
“Au contraire, my sexy, beautiful housekeeper. Open the box and you’ll see what I think of you.”
Mellie was scared. But she opened the box anyway. “Oh, Case...”
“I love how you say that.” He kissed her softly and pulled the ring out of its velvet nest. “Give me your hand.”
Mellie trembled visibly as Case slid an enormous square-cut emerald onto the appropriate finger. The ring was amazing and exotic. “But this is...” She swallowed hard.
He cradled her in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. “It’s how I see you, Mellie. Stunning. Unique. Incredibly feminine. As precious and rare as the earth itself.”
She wiped her nose on his sleeve. “You’re a poet,” she whispered. “And I never knew. I thought you were bossy and arrogant and—”
He put his hand over her mouth. “We’ll work on how to give compliments later.”
Without warning, he stepped back and went down on one knee. “I’m going to do this again, just to make sure. Mellie, will you be my wife and make babies with me and create new holiday memories to replace our sad ones? Will you work by my side and warm my bed at night and grow old with me?”
Her face was wet and her heart was bursting. “Yes, Case. All that and more. I love you. Now get up and take me home.”
* * * * *
RECLAIMED BY THE RANCHER
Janice Maynard
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
One
Not much rattled Jeff Hartley. At twenty-nine, he owned and operated the family ranch where he had grown up during a near-idyllic childhood. His parents had taken early retirement back in the spring and had headed off to a condo on Galveston Bay, leaving their only son to carry on the tradition.
Jeff was a full member of the prestigious Texas Cattleman’s Club, a venerable establishment where the movers and shakers of Royal, Texas, met to shoot the breeze and oftentimes conduct business. Jeff prided himself on being mature, efficient, easygoing and practical.
But when he open
ed his door on a warm October afternoon and saw Lucy Peyton standing on his front porch, it felt as if a bull had kicked him in the chest. First there was the dearth of oxygen, a damned scary feeling. Then the pain set in. After that, he had the impulse to flee before the bull could take another shot.
He stared at his visitor, his gaze as level and dispassionate as he could make it. “I plan to vote Democrat this year. I don’t need any magazine subscriptions. And I already have a church home,” he said. “But thanks for stopping by.”
He almost had the door closed before she spoke. “Jeff. Please. I need to talk to you.”
Damn it. How could a woman say his name—one measly syllable—and make his insides go all wonky? Her voice was every bit the same as he remembered. Soft and husky...as if she were on the verge of laryngitis. Or perhaps about to offer some lucky man naughty, unspeakable pleasure in the bedroom.
The sound of eight words, no matter how urgently spoken, shouldn’t have made him weak in the knees.
Her looks hadn’t changed, either, though she was a bit thinner than he remembered. Her dark brown hair, all one length but parted on the side, brushed her shoulders. Hazel eyes still reminded him of an autumn pond filled with fallen leaves.
She was tall, at least five-eight...and though she was athletic and graceful, she had plenty of curves to add interest to the map. Some of those curves still kept him awake on dark, troubled nights.
“Unless you’re here to apologize,” he said, his words deliberately curt, “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
When she shoved her shoulder against the door, he had to step back or risk hurting her. Even so, he planted himself in the doorway, drawing a metaphorical line in the sand.
Her eyes widened, even as they flashed with temper. “How dare you try to play the wronged party, you lying, cheating, sonofa—”
Either she ran out of adjectives, or she suddenly realized that insulting a man was no way to gain entry into his home.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You were saying?”
His mild tone seemed to enrage her further, though to her credit, she managed to swallow whatever additional words trembled on her tongue. Was it bad of him to remember that small pink tongue wetting his— Oh, hell. Now he was the one who pulled up short. Nothing stood to be gained by indulging in a sentimental stroll down memory lane.
No tongues. No nothing.
She licked her lips and took a deep, visible breath. “Samson Oil is trying to buy the Peyton ranch.”
Two
Lucy was diabetic; she’d been diagnosed as a twelve-year-old. If she didn’t take her insulin, she sometimes got the shakes. But nothing like this. Facing the man she had come to see made her tremble from head to toe. And she couldn’t seem to stop. No amount of medicine in the world was ever going to cure her fascination with the ornery, immoral, two-faced, spectacularly handsome Jeff Hartley.
At the moment, however, he was her only hope.
“May I come in?” she asked, trying not to notice the way he smelled of leather and lime and warm male skin.
Jeff stared at her long enough to make her think he might actually say no. In the end, however, gentlemanly manners won out. “Ten minutes,” he said gruffly. “I have plans later.”
If he meant to wound her, his barb was successful...though she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing for sure. As they navigated the few steps into his living room and sat down, she found herself swamped with memories. This old farmhouse dated back three generations. It had been lovingly cared for and well preserved.
For one brief second, everything came crashing back: the hours she had spent in this bright, cheerful home, the master bedroom upstairs with the queen-size mattress and double-wedding-ring quilt, the bed Jeff had complained was too small for his six-foot-two frame...
She didn’t want to remember. Not at all. Not even the spot in this very room where Jeff Hartley had gone down on one knee and offered her a ring and his heart.
Dredging up reserves of audacity and courage, she ignored the past and cut to the chase. “My cousin is trying to sell his land to Samson Oil.” Recently, the outsider company had begun buying up acreage in Royal, Texas, at an alarming rate.
Jeff sat back in a leather armchair and hitched one ankle across the opposite knee, drawing attention to his feet. “Is it a fair offer?”
Nobody Lucy had ever known wore scuffed, hand-tooled cowboy boots as well as Jeff Hartley. At one time she wondered if he slept in the damned things. But then came that memorable evening when he showed her how a woman could take off a man’s boots at the end of the day...
Her face heated. She jerked her thoughts back to the present. “More than fair. But that’s not the point. The property has been in the Peyton family for almost a century. The farmland has contributed to Maverick County’s food supply for decades. Equally important—the wildlife preserve was my grandfather’s baby. Samson Oil will ruin everything.”
“Why does Kenny want to sell?”
“He’s sick of farming. He swears there’s nothing for him in Royal anymore. He’s decided to move to LA and try for an acting career. He pointed out that I sold most of my share to him, left for college and then stayed away. He wants his chance. But he needs cash.”
“And this is my problem, how?”
Three
Lucy bit her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth. She couldn’t afford to let Jeff goad her into losing her temper. It had happened far too easily on his front porch a moment ago. Her only focus right now should be on getting what she needed to stop a bad, bad decision.
It might have helped if Jeff had gotten old and fat in the past two years. But unfortunately, he looked better than ever. Dark blond hair in need of a trim. Piercing green eyes, definitely on the hostile side. And a long, lean body and lazy gait that made grown women sigh with delight whenever he sauntered by.
“I need you to loan me twenty thousand dollars,” she blurted out. “The farm is self-supporting, but Kenny doesn’t have a lot of liquid assets. He may be bluffing. Even if he’s serious, though, twenty grand will get him off my back and send him on his way. He thinks the only choice he has for coming up with relocation funds is to unload the farm, but I’m trying to give him another option.”
“What will happen to the farm when he goes to the West Coast?”
It was a good question. And one she had wrestled with ever since Kenny told her he wanted to leave town. “I suppose I’ll have to come back to Royal and take over. At least until Kenny crashes and burns in California and decides to return home.”
“You don’t have much faith in him, do you?”
She shrugged. “Our fathers were brothers. So we share DNA. But Kenny has always had a problem with focus. Six months ago he wanted to go to vet school. Six months before that he was studying to take the LSAT.”
“But you already have a career...right? As a physical trainer? In Austin? That fancy master’s degree you earned in sports medicine won’t do you much good out on the farm.” He didn’t even bother to hide the sarcasm.
She wanted to squirm, but she concentrated on breathing in and breathing out, relaxing her muscles one set at a time. “Fortunately, mine is the kind of job that’s in demand. I’m sure they won’t hold my exact position, but there will be plenty of similar spots when I go back.”
“How long do you think you’ll have to stay here in Royal?”
“A few months. A year at the most. Will you loan me the money, or not?”
Jeff scowled. “You’ve got a lot of balls coming to me for help, Lucy.”
“You owe me,” she said firmly. “And you know it.” This man...this beautiful, rugged snake of a man had been responsible for the second worst day of her life.
He sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His veneer
of calm peeled away, leaving a male who was a little bit frightening. Dark emerald eyes judged her and found her wanting. “I don’t owe you a single damn thing. You’re the one who walked out on our wedding and made me a laughingstock in Royal.”
She jumped to her feet, heart pounding. Lord, he made her mad. “Because I caught you at our rehearsal dinner kissing the maid of honor,” she yelled.
Four
Something about Lucy’s meltdown actually made Jeff feel a little bit better about this confrontation. At least she wasn’t indifferent.
“Sit down, Lucy,” he said firmly. “If money is going to change hands, I have two conditions.”
She did sit, but the motion looked involuntary...as if her knees gave out. “Conditions?”
“It’s a lot of money. And besides, why ask me? Me, of all people?”
“You’re rich,” she said bluntly, her stormy gaze daring him to disagree.
It was true. His bank account was healthy. And sadly, Lucy had no family to turn to, other than her cousin. Lucy’s parents and Kenny’s had been killed in a boating accident eight years ago. Because of that tragedy, Lucy had a closer relationship with her cousin than one might expect. They were more like siblings, really.
“If my bottom line is good, it’s partly because I don’t toss money out the window on a whim.”
“It wouldn’t be a whim, Jeff. I know the way you think. This thing with Samson Oil is surely eating away at you. Outsiders. Taking over land that represents the history of Royal. And then doing God knows what with it. Drilling for oil that isn’t there. Selling off the dud acres. Shopping malls. Big box stores. Admit it. The thought makes you shudder. You have to be suspicious about why a mysterious oil company is suddenly trying to buy land that was checked for oil years ago.”
That was the problem with old girlfriends. They knew a man’s weaknesses. “You’re not wrong,” he said slowly, taken aback that she had pegged him so well. “But in that case, why wouldn’t I buy Kenny’s land outright? And make sure that it retains its original purpose?”
Courting the Cowboy Boss: Reclaimed by the Rancher Page 16