Fortune's Texas Surprise

The baby was unexpected. So was the cowboy.

This Fortune daughter is rich in the things that matter...

Veterinary assistant Stephanie Fortune has never been lucky in love—unless you count the furry kind. But now that she’s become a foster mom to a baby boy, she believes her heart is full. And then she meets Acton Donovan. The flirty cowboy charms everyone he meets, so why should Stephanie be any different? “Just friends” is all Stephanie dares to be. Acton, however, is intent on proving he can be the family man she truly needs...

USA TODAY bestselling author Stella Bagwell

After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com

Also by Stella Bagwell

Her Kind of Doctor

The Arizona Lawman

Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch

A Ranger for Christmas

His Texas Runaway

Home to Blue Stallion Ranch Guarding

His Fortune

The Little Maverick Matchmaker

The Maverick’s Bride-to-Order

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Fortune’s Texas Surprise

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90320-6

FORTUNE’S TEXAS SURPRISE

© 2020 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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A big thank-you to animal shelters and the devoted workers who give our needy furry friends a special home.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

A cold north wind swooshed past Stephanie Fortune as she stepped through the glass door of the Rambling Rose Pediatric Center, but the tiny baby bundled in a heavy blue blanket was snug and warm in her arms as she carried him down a short corridor and into the busy day-care center.

As she made her way through a large room filled with shrieks of laughter and squeals from a group of preschool children, a few of the busy staff members glanced in her direction and waved. Stephanie waved back and continued walking until she reached a wide door that led to an area designated for babies under twelve months of age.

After a short knock, the door swung wide and Alaina, a middle-age woman with a kind face, greeted her with a cheery “good morning” and immediately followed it with a disapproving eye on her thin jacket.

“Young lady, how long is it going to take you to remember you’re living in Texas now, not Florida? You’re going to freeze without a proper coat!”

“I haven’t had time to buy any winter clothing. Besides, most of the locals tell me that spring comes early to this part of Texas. And as long as little Linus is warm and comfy that’s all I care about.”

Stephanie flipped the blanket off the baby’s head and smiled lovingly down at the four-week-old boy. According to his pediatrician, Dr. Green, the baby had been born three to four weeks early. But thankfully, his birth weight had been enough to keep him out of neonatal care.

“It wouldn’t be good for his mother to come down with a cold,” Alaina said. “You might give him the sniffles.”

Unfortunately, Stephanie wasn’t Linus’s real mother. No one in Rambling Rose, or points beyond, seemed to know where Laurel, the biological mother, had gone after she’d walked into the pediatric center and left the infant with a nurse at the front desk. Since then, Stephanie had been the boy’s foster mother, and with each passing day she was beginning to regard the baby as her own son.

“I never get a cold,” Stephanie assured her, then bent down her head and pressed a kiss to Linus’s smooth forehead. He smelled of baby oil, powder and the formula he’d nursed only minutes before she’d made the drive into town. The scents, along with the warm weight of his little body tucked into the crook of her arm, comforted her. “And as long as Linus’s mother is missing, I’m going to give him the best care I can.”

“I’m sure you get tired of people asking, but have you heard any news about her?” Alaina asked.

Mixed emotions swirled inside Stephanie as she studied Linus’s little pug nose, bow-shaped mouth and dark blue eyes, which were not yet developed enough to focus on much more than movements directly in front of his face. Like everyone in Rambling Rose, Stephanie hoped Linus’s biological mother was alive and safe. On the other hand, she’d wanted a child of her own for a long, long time, so ever since she’d suddenly been given the chance to be a foster mother to Linus, she’d felt like her life was a dream come true. Yet, each day she had to force herself to remember that Linus didn’t actually belong to her. It would be a year or more before she might get the chance to adopt him legally, and before that happened, Laurel might have a change of heart and show up to claim her son.

“No news at all,” Stephanie said, answering the woman’s question. “Dr. Green believes she could be suffering from postpartum depression or maybe even some sort of psychosis. But she wasn’t his patient, so he’s only guessing.”

“Well, you’re doing a wonderful job with Linus,” Alaina assured her, then held out her arms for the baby. “And from what I hear you’re doing a bang-up job at the Paws and Claws Animal Clinic. Frankly, I don’t know how you handle both. Every time I pass the new building, the parking lot is overflowing with vehicles.”

Stephanie handed over Linus and a heavy diaper bag to Alaina. “The animal clinic is very busy,” she agreed. “And today is spay-and-neuter day, so we’ll be even busier than usual.” She glanced at a large clock hanging on the wall. “Which means I’d better be going.”

Stephanie gave Linus a goodbye kiss, then hurried out of the day care. As she drove to Paws and Claws Animal Clinic, she thought about the millions of other mothers who had to leave their children at day care while they worked at a job they either loved or simply endured to help pay the bills at home.

Thankfully, Stephanie loved her job as a veterinary assistant and she didn’t have to worry about making her paycheck stretch to cover essentials. She realized there were some folks around Rambling Rose who assumed she’d inherited her wealth because her last name was Fortune. But that wasn’t entirely the case. She’d worked hard to acquire her college education and later support herself in her chosen profession.

In less than five minutes, Stephanie arrived at Rambling Rose’s animal clinic and rescue facility. The new sprawling building that housed Paws and Claws had been built by her three brothers, who owned and operated Fortune Brothers Construction. The modern structure of white brick and brown trim was a far cry from the cramped space of the old clinic that had served the community for many years. So far, Dr. Neil and the whole staff were enjoying the updated treatment rooms and a waiting area large enough to accommodate the daily influx of patients.

Stephanie entered the building through a back entrance and went straight to a small break room to stow her jacket and handbag in a locker. As she turned the dial of the combination lock, an excited female voice sounded directly behind her right shoulder.

“Stephanie! Oh, wow, are you going to be extra glad you came to work early this morning!”

Stephanie turned away from the block of metal lockers to see Monica, a young woman who worked in the clinic’s bookkeeping department. From the animated look on her face, something unusual was going on.

Combing fingers through her long, windblown red hair, Stephanie said, “I’m always extra glad to be at work, Monica. What’s so different about today?”

“Because he’s in the waiting room! With his dog! It been ages since he’s been in the clinic and now—finally—he’s back!”

Stephanie refrained from rolling her eyes as she pinned a name tag to the thin black sweater she was wearing with her blue jeans. At twenty-seven, she’d had far too many dating disappointments to let herself get excited over a man.

“He?” she asked with casual indifference. “Who is this man that’s got you all gaga this morning?”

“Acton Donovan! His family owns a ranch not far from town. And believe me, Stephanie, there’s no other man in Rambling Rose like him! He’s cute and sexy and adorable and—”

“Whoa!” Stephanie held up a hand. The only kind of guys Stephanie had been able to find were those who’d been more concerned about their own personal wants and needs, but Monica didn’t need to know that. “There’s no such man that you’re describing. He’d be too good to be true. And I have work to do.”

She started out of the break room with Monica stalking her heels. “All right, you don’t have to believe me,” she said under her breath. “You’ll see for yourself when Dayna brings him and his dog back to an examining room. So be prepared. That’s all I can say!”

Stephanie cast her an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry, Monica, I won’t faint at the sight of Mr. Hunky.”

“Stephanie, when it comes to men, it’s like you’re from another planet!” With an exasperated grunt, Monica hurried on past Stephanie and disappeared through a door to the accounting office.

Stephanie walked on toward the examining rooms, then stopped in midstride as she saw the door to the waiting room open and Dayna usher in the next patient, which, in this case, was a long-haired dog that appeared to be a mix of cocker spaniel and Australian shepherd. She was thinking how adorably cute the dog was when the owner suddenly appeared through the door, and for one ridiculous second her breath caught in her throat.

This had to be the dream man Monica had been raving about. Dressed in faded denim, dirty cowboy boots and a chocolate-brown Stetson, he was young, with a tall, lean body that could only be acquired through hard, physical labor or hours at the gym. And somehow she couldn’t see this cowboy stepping his booted feet onto a treadmill or any other piece of gym machinery. No doubt those long, muscular thighs straining against his jeans had developed from hours of straddling a horse. Not a stationary bike.

“Oh, there you are, Stephanie.” Dayna walked up to Stephanie and handed her a manila folder with the dog’s file. “I’m taking Seymour and his owner to Exam Room 2.”

Stephanie glanced over the tall blonde’s shoulder to where the cowboy was standing patiently with the leashed dog. As soon as he spotted Stephanie glancing in his direction, he tipped the brim of his hat and grinned.

Oh, Lord, for once in her life, Monica might have been right. This man’s looks were lethal!

Clearing her throat, she turned her attention back to Dayna. “Is Dr. Neil ready to see patients? It’s a quarter to eight. I thought he’d be starting surgery already.”

“Neutering and spaying is on hold for an hour or two. Dr. Neil is running late this morning—some sort of emergency at home. And we have several walk-ins already waiting. Until the doctor gets here I thought you might deal with the less serious patients.”

“I’ll do my best,” Stephanie told her.

With the folder pressed to her chest, Stephanie stepped past Dayna and headed to the exam room. While she waited for the patient and his owner to arrive, she refrained from fidgeting with her clothes or hair. Stephanie had never been one to primp or worry about her appearance and she wasn’t about to start just because she was going to meet the sexiest man in Rambling Rose.

She was plucking gloves from a box on a work counter when the door opened and Dayna ushered the man and dog into the examining room. Stephanie instantly felt the oxygen being sucked from the space around her. Either that or her lungs had forgotten how to function.

“Stephanie, this is Acton Donovan,” Dayna said, introducing the cowboy. “Acton, this is Stephanie Fortune. She’s Dr. Neil’s right-hand man.”

He cleared his throat and shot another lopsided grin in Stephanie’s direction. “Excuse me, Dayna, but she, uh, doesn’t look like a man to me.”

Dayna glanced at Stephanie’s pink face before she turned a suggestive look on the cowboy. “It’s just like you to notice, Acton,” she said drily. “Stephanie is Dr. Neil’s number-one assistant. She’ll take care of you—I mean, she’ll take care of Seymour.”

Dayna left the room and after the door had clicked closed behind her, the long, tall cowboy looked at her, his expression a bit sheepish. “Guess you can tell Dayna thinks I’m a pest.”

“You two know each other?” Stephanie asked.

“Oh, sure. We went to the same school. Except that she was a few grades ahead of me. She thought I was a pest then, too.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

One of his broad shoulders rose and fell and Stephanie’s gaze automatically dropped to the front of his shirt. The blue-denim Western shirt molded to the muscular shape of his chest and torso, and for one brief second Stephanie wondered what he looked like beneath the tough fabric.

He chuckled. “I was a bit naughty back in my younger days.”

He wasn’t exactly old now, she thought. And even from the distance of a few feet, she could see there was a mischievous twinkle in his sky-blue eyes.

Deciding it would be best to drop the subject, she cleared her throat and walked around the examining table to where the spotted black-and-white dog was sitting close to Acton’s leg.

“So what brings Seymour to the clinic today?” she asked. “Is he not feeling well?”

“He’s having scratching fits. And I can’t find a flea or any kind of insect on him.”

As though Seymour understood the two humans were discussing him, he looked up at her and whined.

Before Stephanie approached the dog, she asked, “Is he friendly?”

“He’s never bitten anyone, but he can have a nasty temper. He snaps at me whenever he wants to remind me that he’s the boss. And he isn’t good around strangers, and that includes Dr. Neil.”

Stephanie wasn’t put off by his words of warning. Most cats and dogs wanted to be friends. When they did lash out it was out of fear and the instinct to protect themselves. “Well, I have an idea that Seymour is a very smart guy and he knows I’m going to help him feel better. Don’t you, Seymour?”

With her palm upward, she allowed the dog to sniff her hand. Immediately his bushy tail began to thump against the tiled floor. “What a sweet boy,” she crooned, then gently stroked his head.

Acton pushed back the brim of his hat and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Holy smoke! What did you do to him?”

“Just told him I was his friend,” Stephanie replied.

She gave the dog another rub between the ears, then patted the end of the examining table. “Would you like to sit up here, Seymour, so I can take a look at you?”

The dog promptly walked over, stood on his hind legs and rested his paws on the edge of the table. Stephanie put her hands beneath his hips and lifted the dog onto the stainless-steel surface.

“Well, if that isn’t the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen!” Acton exclaimed. “I normally have to manhandle him up there and hold him down while Dr. Neil takes care of business. Look at that traitor! He’s actually enjoying this!”

Stephanie took her eyes off Seymour long enough to look at his owner, then promptly wished she hadn’t. Now that he was standing only an arm’s length away from her, she was bowled over by the vivid blue of his eyes and the tanned, masculine angles of his face.

He wasn’t one of those pretty boys, she thought. No, there were too many little imperfections about the man to put him in that category. Like the unruly way his sandy blond hair curled around his ears and down the back of his neck, the faint white scar that marked one brown eyebrow, the way the bridge of his nose was a bit too sharp and the jut of his chin overly stubborn. But, dear heaven, put them all together and he had enough sex appeal to knock any woman off her feet.

After drawing in a deep breath, she suggested, “Perhaps you should try a different tactic. Like allowing him to choose to obey rather than forcing him into it.”

The eyebrow with the scar arched upward and his reaction had Stephanie wondering if any woman ever dared to question him.

“I could give him an hour to choose to jump on that table and he’d still be sitting on the floor giving me the evil eye. You’ve put some sort of spell on him. Do you practice magic tricks or something?”

Stephanie turned her attention to the dog, and after checking his vitals, she began a visual inspection of his eyes, nose, teeth and coat.

“I can assure you I haven’t put Seymour under any kind of spell. And, no—I’m not a magician. I don’t even like magic.”

“Uh, what about cowboys with unruly dogs?”

The flirtatious tone of his voice warned her not to look up, but she couldn’t stop herself. The boyish grin on his face was worse than charming—it was downright sinful.

“I don’t know any cowboys with unruly dogs,” she said stiffly.

He laughed. “You do now.”

His laughter was infectious and Stephanie had to press her lips tightly together to prevent herself from smiling back at him.

“I only met you five minutes ago. I don’t know you.”

“Well, we’ve been properly introduced. And in my case, what you see is what you get.”

She didn’t plan on getting anything from this man, except a bundle of rattled nerves. Which was so unlike her. She’d been around all sorts of good-looking men before and never experienced this kind of hot, shivery feeling. It was ridiculous.

“I see. No pretense or subterfuge with you,” she said as she lifted back one of Seymour’s ears to look inside.

“That’s right, Miss Fortune. I’m one-hundred-percent genuine.”

When Stephanie had first moved to Texas, she’d quickly learned that people put the Miss in front of a woman’s name to show respect. Especially when they were speaking to an elder. But the way Acton Donovan said “Miss Fortune” made it sound downright provocative.

“That’s nice to know,” she replied.

She finished with Seymour’s left ear and moved to the right. Across the examining table, she heard Acton release a long sigh. Whether he was tired, or impatient, or simply bored with her, she couldn’t guess.

He said, “If it’s any help, he’s constantly scratching underneath his neck and his belly.”

“What sort of food do you give Seymour? The dry chunks?”

He named a certain brand. “Fed him that ever since he was a tiny pup. That’s been four years.”

“I’ve never heard of that brand.”

“Get it at the feed-and-grain store where we buy our cattle cubes and everything else we need on the ranch.”

She vaguely recalled Monica saying the Donovans owned a ranch north of town. No doubt he was experienced in dealing with large animals like cattle and horses, she thought.

“What color is the food?”

“Excuse me? I didn’t know food needed to be color-coordinated with the animal that eats it.”

She shot him a droll look. “It’s better to be free of food coloring. Some animals are allergic, including dogs.”

“Oh. Sorry. Guess that’s why you’re the doc’s right-hand man—I mean...woman. You know a hell of a lot more than I do.”

Frowning, she turned her focus back to Seymour.

He shuffled his feet. “Sorry again. I meant to say heck. As for Seymour’s food, it’s just plain brown. You think what he eats is making him scratch?”

“If the food doesn’t have colored pieces, it’s probably fine. But I’m fairly certain he’s having an allergic reaction to something. Which could be one thing or many things.” She parted the fur on the dog’s throat. “See? He has these irritated patches of skin in several places on his throat and underbelly.”

Acton lifted his hat from his head and leaned in for a closer look at the dog, which put his face not far from the pretty vet assistant. Immediately, Seymour bared his teeth and gave Acton a warning growl.

“You damned turncoat! I’m not going to touch Miss Stephanie, so just quit your growling.”