The Boss, the Bride & the Baby

Juliana looked up, her eyes wide, her lips parted. “She moved.”

“The baby?” Jason eased closer.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was. The doctor said I might feel something soon—like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. And I just did.”

His hand lifted. “Can I…?”

“Yes, of course. But I’m not sure if it’s strong enough for you to feel anything yet.”

He placed his hand on her tummy, felt the swell of her womb, the warmth of her body, the softness of her breath. And although he couldn’t feel any movement whatsoever, he didn’t draw away. He just stood there, caught up in her floral scent and in the intimacy of the moment.

* * *

Brighton Valley Cowboys This Texas family is looking for love in all the right places!

The Boss, the Bride & the Baby

Judy Duarte

Since 2002, USA TODAY bestselling author JUDY DUARTE has written over forty books for Mills & Boon® Cherish™, earned two RITA® Award finals, won two Maggies and received a National Readers’ Choice Award. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she enjoys traveling with her husband and spending quality time with her grandchildren. You can learn more about Judy and her books at her website, www.judyduarte.com, or at facebook.com/judyduartenovelist.

To Betsy Bramblett, a dear friend and fellow author.

I enjoy our times together.

Let’s have coffee again soon!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Jason Rayburn had never considered himself an early bird, but as the morning sun began to rise over the Leaning R Ranch, he found himself pouring his second cup of coffee.

If his father hadn’t died, he’d be in Houston today—still in bed, most likely, but with thoughts of hitting the gym instead of repairing the barn door. After a good workout, he’d take a shower, then head to the downtown high-rise he owned and take the elevator to the top-floor office of Rayburn Energy Transport, where he was the founder and CEO.

With the recent death of his father, he now controlled Rayburn Enterprises as well, not to mention his new role as the sole trustee of the Charles Darren Rayburn Family Trust.

What a mess dividing that was going to be. And that’s what had led him back to Brighton Valley.

The Leaning R had been part of his great-grandmother’s estate, rest her soul. And Rosabelle Rayburn had left it to Charles with a stipulation—that it be divided equally to his issue upon his death. She’d wanted his children to be in complete and wholehearted agreement about its daily operation and/or division.

Yeah. Right. Jason and his half siblings had never been in agreement on anything. Granny, of all people, knew that. And he suspected it was her last-ditch effort to draw them together in a way she’d never been able to do while she was alive.

But there’d been a reason for that. Jason, Braden and Carly had so very little in common they might as well be strangers.

So that’s why he had to get the Leaning R up and running again and ready for sale. Because there was no way his brother and sister would make good business partners. He just hoped he could get them to agree on a real estate agent and a price.

When Jason was a kid, spending summers and the occasional holiday at the ranch, he’d dreamed of being a cattle rancher. But those days were long gone. He was a busy CEO now.

On rare occasions those old dreams might come back to haunt him, but there was a reason for that. He’d spent enough time on the Leaning R with Granny Rayburn growing up that he’d actually felt more at home here than he had anywhere else. Of course, that wasn’t the case anymore. He was a city boy now—and eager to get back to his life in Houston.

He didn’t have time for reminiscing, especially when some thoughts were so bittersweet they could make a grown man actually choke up like a little boy. Yet as he walked through the house, assessing the work that needed to be done, the still-lingering scents of lemon oil and Granny’s trademark lavender hand lotion assailed him in every room. So it was nearly impossible to escape the memories.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to lollygag in the past. He had too much to do, and he was determined to get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak, as quickly as he could. In the meantime, he’d set up a home office to work remotely. The corporate world didn’t stop spinning just because he had to handle some family business.

He would have to hire a couple of extra ranch hands to help Ian, the foreman, get things done. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to work along with them. He didn’t mind the physical labor. It actually drew him back to the time when his great-grandma was still alive, when he was a boy who loved to ride the fence line with the cowboys who’d worked on the Leaning R.

Too bad Granny wasn’t here to fix him silver-dollar pancakes for breakfast or to tell him about more of Grandpa Dave’s escapades.

He glanced at the faded blue wallpaper with pictures of straw baskets holding wildflowers. Now yellowed with age, the colors had once brightened Granny’s kitchen.

Damn, but he missed that sweet old woman. She’d been the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had.

The coffeepot gurgled, and he took one last sip of his morning brew before dumping the remainder in the sink. It wasn’t Starbucks, but at least it was caffeine.

He glanced at the cat-shaped clock on wall, its drooping black tail swishing back and forth with each tick-tock. Time to get moving. He had a lot to accomplish today.

Headlights flashed through the kitchen window, and tires crunched on the gravel drive as a vehicle pulled into the yard and parked. He wasn’t expecting anyone this early, but it wasn’t as if this was the Wild West and he needed to protect his homestead.

Looking out the kitchen window, he watched a woman climb from the small pickup, her hair pulled into a topknot. Instead of heading for the front door, she went straight for the back entrance—just as though she owned the place.

Carly?

His half sister had said she’d come out and help him inventory the household furnishings for an estate sale—the most difficult part of the job, which he had yet to face. But he hadn’t been expecting her until tomorrow. What was she doing here now—and at the crack of dawn? She’d never been an early riser, at least not that he could recall.

Jason was already in the mudroom when the door swung open and Carly stepped inside.

“This is a surprise,” he said. “You’re a day early. Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I can’t stay.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I just got offered a singing gig—an important one—and I have to leave town for a few weeks. But I wanted to let you know that there are some boxes in the attic that Granny was keeping for me. I don’t want you to throw them out or sell them. That’s why I agreed to help you inventory things, especially since I think you’re being way too hasty in selling the ranch.”

He knew how she felt. But it made no sense to keep the Leaning R going when there was no way the three of them could work together. And he had enough on his plate already.

“You could let Braden run things,” she added.

Hell, he and Braden rarely spoke. How in the world were they supposed to be business partners? That was one reason he was in a hurry to get the estate settled—so the three half siblings could each go their own ways. Not that he wouldn’t keep in touch with Carly. But with her heart set on singing and acting, that just went to show that they had nothing in common except the DNA they’d inherited from their old man.

“I also have some things to drop off for Braden,” Carly added, “but since he’s not home, I’m going to leave them here for him to pick up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Braden asked a friend to drop off some stuff with me. I’ve had it a week, but I’m leaving and already gave notice at my place. So I don’t want him to worry about where it is if he needs it.”

Jason kept in closer contact with Carly than he did their half brother. When they’d been kids, Jason had blamed Braden for the divorce that had sent his mom into an emotional tailspin. Of course, as he grew older, he realized Braden had been as much a victim as he’d been. But you couldn’t fix a relationship that had never really developed.

“Slow down,” Jason said. “Where is Braden?”

“I’m not sure. I think he’s in Mexico. It was all pretty cryptic. His friend pretty much just dropped the painting off, along with a couple of boxes. He said it was important that I keep it for him.”

“Why can’t you leave it at Braden’s ranch?”

“There must be a reason why he wanted me to hang on to it. Braden’s supposed to explain more when he comes to pick it up. He said he’d owe me one—but now he’ll owe you.”

Jason was about to object, but it wouldn’t hurt to have his half brother indebted to him, even if none of this made any sense. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“As soon as he can, apparently. A few weeks at the most.”

“What the hell? I want to get this property listed for sale. I can’t be away from my office while you and Braden are out traipsing around and going on with your lives. It’s not fair. And who’s going to help me pack up all this stuff?”

She blew out a ragged breath. “Talking to you is just like talking to Dad. I knew you’d never understand.”

Her words struck like the flat of a hand against his cheek. For as long as Jason could remember, he’d been trying to win his dad’s approval, by following in his footsteps, by attending the same college, becoming a business major, starting his own company. Yet he’d never meant to become a carbon copy of the man.

“Try me,” he said.

She merely rolled her eyes—big and blue, just like her mother’s.

Jason didn’t blame her for being skeptical. He and Carly had never been particularly close. For one reason, at twenty-four, she was six years younger than he was. She’d also been into music and the arts, while he’d been more interested in sports and, later, getting his MBA.

But since the three half siblings would have to compromise during the division of the estate, a task that seemed nearly impossible considering they couldn’t figure out a way to be in town at the same time, it was imperative that they learn to find some kind of common ground.

“Tell me about your singing gig,” he said.

She unfolded her arms and cocked her head slightly to the side, studying him as though she’d never met him before. Then she slipped her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans, rocked forward and smiled. “I’m starring in a nightclub near the Riverwalk. It’s a six-week run, but it could work into something bigger—better.”

She made it sound as if she’d been asked to star on Broadway.

So what would it hurt for him to pretend that she had?

“That’s great, Carly. I hope things work out for you.”

She paused a beat, then tucked a loose blond curl behind her ear. “So you’re not going to fight me about storing Braden’s stuff while he’s gone?”

He hoped that didn’t mean holding off the sale longer than he’d planned, but if he really thought about it, his relationship with his half brother was in far more need of repair than his and Carly’s. And if that meant doing Braden this favor now, then how could he refuse?

“Can you stick around until I find someone else to help me go through the household items?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. I start tonight, and I have to get back to San Antonio for a wardrobe check this afternoon. It’s a long drive.”

Crap. How was he supposed to go through the house on his own, plus supervise the ranch work—and hold down the fort at Rayburn Energy, as well as Rayburn Enterprises, without help?

Besides, he’d been hoping Carly would agree to go through the household items. It was hard for him to do it. Everything he saw, everything he touched, reminded him of Granny, and...well, it was hard. Damn hard. And Carly would know better than he would what should be kept and what should be tossed or sold.

“I’m going to have to find someone to help,” he said. “And quickly. If they can live in, then all the better.”

A slow grin stretched across Carly’s face, and he was struck by how pretty she was, even without any makeup. She’d always favored her mother, a popular country-and-western music star and who’d retired recently to marry a state politician. But he hadn’t realized how much until now.

“I know someone who’d be perfect—and she’s looking for work.”

“Who?”

“Remember my friend Juliana Bailey?”

Red hair, pigtails. Big brown eyes and a scatter of freckles across her nose. “The one I used to call Bird Legs? What about her?”

“She’s been working in Wexler at an art gallery since graduating from the junior college, but she was laid off recently. Now she’s back in town and waiting tables part-time at Caroline’s Diner. But she needs to find something that pays better. I’m sure she’d do a great job. And maybe, if you were happy with her, it might work into something more permanent—and in the city. I know she’d love to find something outside of Brighton Valley.”

“I wouldn’t want to give her any false hope about working at either Rayburn Energy or Enterprises. I leave the hiring up to the HR department. It makes my life a lot easier if I don’t get involved with the personnel. But I definitely need some temporary help here on the ranch, and I’d be willing to make it well worth her time.”

“You won’t be sorry. Juliana is bright, professional and...well, whatever it is HR departments are looking for in new hires. I’m not sure why that company in Wexler let her go. They’d have to be crazy or going out of business, because she had to be their best employee ever.”

“You don’t have to sing her praises. I’m a little desperate right now.”

“Good. I think she’s working this morning. I don’t have her new number, but you could stop by Caroline’s and talk to her. I know she’s been staying with her mom and grandmother in a small apartment near Town Square, so she’d probably work for room and board and a fair salary.”

Seriously? “You think she’d be interested in a simple offer like that? Even if it’s only temporary?”

“Well, that and the opportunity to at least have a chance at an interview with the HR department at one of your businesses. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Thanks, Jason. You won’t be sorry.”

For some reason, he was sorry already. But he set his mug on the counter and followed Carly out to the yard, catching up to her about six feet from the pickup. “How many boxes are there?”

“Two—one containing some ceramic stuff and another with paperwork. There is also a painting.” She opened the tailgate, then reached for a box. “Here. Can you carry this one into the house?”

Jason took the carton she handed him, although he had half a notion to drop the damn thing on the ground—or take it and dump it off at Braden’s ranch, which was ten miles down the road.

“Have you tried calling him?” Jason asked as he and Carly carried the boxes back into the house.

“Several times, but apparently he doesn’t have cell reception wherever he is.”

“Didn’t you think to ask what he was doing down there?”

“Braden’s not much of a talker.”

That was the truth. And he certainly wasn’t likely to confide in Jason. Hell, they kept each other at arm’s distance as it was. And as much as Jason would like to change that—as much as he now needed to change that—he couldn’t very well build or repair their relationship all by himself.

They deposited the boxes on the kitchen table, then returned for the paintings. He was supposed to be documenting all the stuff in the house so they could get rid of it—not adding more clutter. If he wasn’t so determined to mend his relationships with his siblings, he’d...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

But damn his father for dying and leaving him with a dysfunctional family and a messed-up estate to complicate his life when he had his own business issues to deal with.

And damn Braden for being so secretive and only making things worse by going MIA when his family needed him most.

Before he could voice any further objections, Carly was behind the wheel of her red Toyota pickup and heading down the road just as dawn broke over the Leaning R.

Now what?

He might as well head into town and get breakfast at Caroline’s. He needed some help, and it appeared that he was going to have to snag Caroline’s newest employee away with a better offer—room, board, a small salary and the hope that something better might be in the cards for her.

He didn’t want to even consider what he’d do if she didn’t accept his offer.

* * *

For a woman who’d once thought she’d left small-town life behind, Juliana Bailey seemed to have returned to Brighton Valley with her tail between her legs. Not that anyone knew that yet.

As far as the small-town rumor mill went, she’d been laid off at her job at an art gallery in nearby Wexler and had moved home to the two-bedroom apartment her mom and grandma shared above the drugstore. She currently slept on the sofa bed and made the short, one-block walk to Caroline’s Diner, where she’d picked up part-time work at a job destined to only last a few more days—at best.

She had a game plan, though. And that was to get out of town before her secret came out. In the meantime, she held her head high and bustled about the diner with her order pad in hand and wearing an oversize apron that matched the yellow gingham café-style curtains in the windows facing the street. She’d always been fashion conscious, but not as of late.

Loose blouses and an apron tied above the waist hid a multitude of sins, namely a growing baby bump, a secret that would be impossible to keep much longer.

Thankfully, no one other than her obstetrician, Dr. Selena Ramirez-Connor, knew that she’d been deceived by a man who’d neglected to tell her he was married. But if she wanted to protect her mom, who happened to be a church secretary, and her grandma, who worked at city hall, from her scandal, she’d have to get out of Brighton Valley quickly.

Trouble was, Juliana had just moved into a nicer place near La Galleria in Wexler, and when she’d decided to leave town, she’d had to use her savings to get out of her lease. So she didn’t have enough left to move to the city, especially since she didn’t have another job lined up yet. And with a baby due in five months...well, she was strapped right now.

As she refilled the coffee of the lone diner at table three, an elderly gentleman with thinning hair, she caught a whiff of greasy sausage swimming in the runny egg yolks on his plate. Her tummy swirled like a mop in a slop bucket, and for a moment she thought she’d have to have to run to the restroom.

She blinked her eyes and swallowed as the brief bout of nausea passed.

For the most part, the morning sickness that had plagued her for nearly six weeks straight had ended. But there were still a few random moments, like this one, when she wasn’t so sure...

“Thanks, hon,” the diner said. “I don’t s’pose you have any of those caramel cinnamon rolls left, do you? Margie said they were made special yesterday, and I was hopin’ to have me another today.”

“I’ll check and see. If they’re gone, I can get you one of the oatmeal spice muffins.”

“Sure, that’ll do.”

Juliana had no more than turned from the table when the bell on the front door jangled, alerting her to a customer’s entrance. She didn’t normally give the arrivals much notice because Margie, the other waitress, was quick to greet the many diners who flocked to Caroline’s for the food as well as the local gossip.

And the news that passed quickly from one person to the next, helped along by Margie, was another reason this was a bad place for Juliana to work if she didn’t want to bring any undue embarrassment upon Mom and Grandma.

But for some reason, Juliana glanced at the doorway now, only to note a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, but a face she hadn’t seen in years.

Jason Rayburn—who else could it be?—had grown up and filled out in the manliest way.

He was tall—six foot or more—with dark hair that was stylishly mussed. Even though she’d heard the wealthy exec was staying in Brighton Valley, she hadn’t expected to see him dressed in faded denim and a chambray shirt. It almost made him appear to fit right in, when he was as far from one of the locals as a man could be.

She’d followed his success and found him somewhat intriguing. Actually, the entire Rayburn family was pretty newsworthy around here—including both Carly and Braden. Maybe that’s why folks found them interesting. They had the same father, but they couldn’t be any more different.

She knew Carly and Braden well. Jason, though, was more of a lone wolf. A wealthy and successful one, from what she’d heard.

He’d gone into business with his father right after college. And he’d rarely come back, except for Granny Rayburn’s funeral. But he’d left town nearly as quickly as he’d come in.

He scanned the small diner. When his eyes zeroed in on her, a smile stretched across his handsome face, creating a pair of dimples and sparking a glimmer in his green eyes.

As he sauntered toward her, as lean as a cowboy and as cocky as a man used to staking his claim on just about anything he had a mind to, she nearly dropped the coffee carafe.

“Well,” he said, flashing a boyish grin and sending her heart rate topsy-turvy, “if it isn’t Bird Legs.”

She couldn’t help but return his smile. “If I remember correctly, I threw a rock at you the last time you called me that.”

“Yes, you did. I’d been bad-mouthing my brother, Braden, and you felt the need to stick up for him. And if I recall, you missed me by a mile.”

“That’s true, but I scared your horse.”

“Thankfully, I’m a good rider.”

That he was, although the mare had gotten skittish and Juliana had been sure he was going to get thrown. But she hadn’t liked him picking on Braden, who’d been her friend and sometime riding buddy.

She lifted the glass carafe, which bore more brown stain than coffee. “I’m brewing a new pot. If you’d like to grab a seat, I can pour you a fresh cup.”

“Sounds good. Thanks. Which tables are yours?”

He wanted her to be his waitress? Okay. Why not? She nodded toward the yellow-gingham curtains. “Any of those by the window.”

“All right.”

She retrieved a menu, as well as a fresh pot of coffee, and took them to him. “Here you go.” After upturning the white mug on the table in front of him, she filled it. “Cream or sugar?”

“Just black.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a minute to decide what you’d like, then I’ll come back.”

“Thanks. It won’t take me long.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she returned the carafe to where it belonged. Yet she feared there was more heat radiating from his stare than the coffee warmer.