Engaging Brooke

A bride for a Broward?

If Brooke Palmer doesn’t find a husband within thirty days, she will lose her family home forever. So she turns to the only man she trusts to save her….

Jameson Broward has only one true love: his vast and rugged ranch in Granger, Montana. But he understands the importance of protecting a family’s legacy, so he agrees to a marriage of convenience to the woman he’s cared about for years. As the stoic groom and his beautiful bride begin their businesslike union, they are confronted by the unexpected lure of their sensual and passionate chemistry. Is it possible for the sexy rancher and his pretend wife to turn their short-term arrangement into a lifetime of love?

Brooke bit her lower lip, knowing the risk she was taking, but she was determined not to back down. He may not see her as a wife, but she wanted, at least, some kind of a relationship with him that didn’t make them strangers. “You have me.”

Jameson set the flowers aside, then pulled Brooke into his embrace. “Is this what you had in mind?” he whispered into her ear.

Brooke briefly shut her eyes, pressed her cheek against his chest and held him close. “Yes.” She drew away and looked up at him. She opened her mouth to say more, but he smothered her words with a kiss.

Unlike the kiss at the ceremony, she knew this one was meant only for her, and that made it sweeter than she could have imagined. For a moment it made her thoughts spin, and she imagined him wanting her as much as she wanted him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Jameson moaned with satisfaction. His hand dipped to her blouse. “Are you wearing anything from your trousseau underneath this?”

“No, but I can—”

“We’ll save them for another time,” he said, removing her blouse.

DARA GIRARD

fell in love with storytelling at an early age. Her romance writing career happened by chance when she discovered the power of a happy ending. She is an award-winning author whose novels are known for their sense of humor, interesting plot twists and witty dialogue. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spring mornings and autumn afternoons, French pastries, dancing to the latest hits and long drives.

Dara loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at contactdara@daragirard.com or P.O. Box 10345, Silver Spring, MD 20914.

Engaging Brooke

Dara Girard

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Dear Reader,

Okay, I’ll be honest. I was the last person who thought she’d ever write about a cowboy hero. I mean, what did a kid of immigrants know about something so quintessentially American? But when my editor offered me the opportunity to be part of The Browards of Montana series, I was up for the challenge.

Researching about ranch life and talking to friends who have horses and farm animals (thank you!) really made me appreciate those who are part of a long-standing history. And I saw a lot of commonality with the immigrant journey—grit, cunning, and love of land and family.

Which brings me to Jameson Broward. A man who encompasses that and more. He’s been burned by love and is unwilling to share his heart again…but you know what that means. He’s going to fall hard.

My first cowboy hero…I’m as surprised as you are.

Enjoy,

Dara Girard

Contents

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

They were under attack. That was the only way Jameson Broward could describe it. The town as they knew it was being seized by an unknown buyer. Longtime residents were being wooed by the charm of easy money instead of realizing the magnitude of the consequences of selling their land to outsiders who may not have the town’s best interest in mind. Jameson looked around at his family as they sat in the BWB Great Room. The Great Room, which was the centerpiece in the elegant main house of the Broward Webb Broward Heritage Ranch, always served as the perfect place to discuss business—both personal and professional.

Grandpa Charles, the family patriarch, pounded the side of his chair with his fist. “I want to know what’s going on. I want to know where we’re headed before we get there. Who is doing this?” he said, asking the question they all wanted to know the answer to. Why had their beloved town of Granger, Montana, suddenly been thrust into the spotlight by an unnamed investor—or several investors for that matter, they weren’t sure how many interested people there were.

That’s what worried Jameson the most. The lack of transparency. Unfortunately, however, one particular land sale had been made clear, brutally so, and had struck him and his entire family in the heart.

“What can we do about Wes?” his mother, Gwendolyn Broward asked. She sat across from him, poised and graceful like the professional horsewoman she was. She was worried, very much so, but kept her voice and features calm. She was an attractive woman whose youthful looks belied her age of fifty-six.

“Nothing. The land is gone,” his father, Steven, said as he stroked his graying beard. Jameson could hear the hurt and dismay in his voice. His father, Charles, along with his three brothers had been responsible for developing their land into a lucrative ranching business. Millions of dollars, and years of blood and sweat, had gone into creating the family business they expected to keep.

Betrayal. He’d experienced it before, but he hadn’t expected it from his own flesh and blood. Jameson knew that just like him, his father felt hurt by what his younger son, Wes, had done. Without telling anyone, he’d sold his land to Samara Lionne, a Hollywood actress no less. Yes, Jameson’s brother was the reason for the family get-together. Not the buying up of the town, not even the mystery of the buyers, but the fact that a member of their own family had completed a substantial transaction without telling them.

Although, technically the land he sold was not part of their family land, it was still Granger land, and they all felt it shouldn’t have been sold to an outsider. They’d known Wes had been entertaining buyers, but they’d never thought he’d go through with a sale without at least warning them or giving them an option to buy it themselves. But, either in an act of cowardice or just pure luck, Wes hadn’t stuck around to deal with the ramifications of his actions. He was off traveling in Europe with his fiancée, Lydia. Jameson didn’t like to think too cruelly of his brother, but he always knew that Wes had never loved the land the way Jameson and the rest of the family did. The land was Jameson’s life. His heart. It was the one thing that never betrayed him. It never let him down. The ranch and the town of Granger were all he had and he would fight to the death to maintain it for generations to come.

And, just like the rest of the family, Jameson had a feeling something shady was going on. They needed to find out what. Both his father and grandfather had been unable to get straight answers from people in town or their trusted friends. Unfortunately, over time, many of the old-timers of Granger had either retired and moved away or had died or, as was the case with most of the current residents, their children were more like Wes and were looking for ways to make money off the land.

Gwendolyn shook her head, casting a quick glance at Jameson as if she expected him to say something. He remained silent. “Why didn’t he just come to us? We would have bought it from him.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day one of us would sell land instead of buy it,” Grandpa Charles said, for a moment looking older than his eighty-four years. His blue eyes tired, he also sent Jameson a look as if hoping he could add something, but Jameson looked away. Charles had grown up on the land that his father, Silas Broward, had claimed as a homestead in the 1930s. While the Depression’s strong grip decimated lives in the big cities, Silas had built up the ranch one horse at a time, raising four sons with his wife, Olivia. Charles and his brother, Stanley, grew the Broward Ranch into a highly successful cattle breeding operation. Stanley also raised four sons who had prospered and owned ranches in another part of Montana.

Jameson felt that ranching wasn’t just a family tradition. It was a calling. He knew that both his father and grandfather wanted him to speak at this gathering, but he had nothing to say. Nothing that could be said to his family. He was seething but kept his face a neutral mask. His brother had a right to do what he wanted with his land. Because it wasn’t part of the BWB Ranch, it wouldn’t affect their bottom line, but it was the recklessness that bothered him. And the fact that Wes always did exactly what he wanted as long as it made him happy. It didn’t bother Wes that outsiders were sweeping into Granger like vultures to taint the pristine land with their foolhardy dreams of ranch or farm work, most of which they had seen romanticized on TV and in the movies. He looked at his younger sister, Laney, who was unusually quiet.

“Is there any way to talk to this woman?” Gwendolyn asked.

Steven sighed. “Damn it, I told you he did it too quickly for us to do anything.”

“Change is on its way,” Grandpa Charles said. “But sometimes it worries me. This ranch was built up one horse at a time, but others see a quick buck and don’t care about the people or this place. They don’t care that there are people who depend on us. Granger has been a major employer for cowboys and ranch hands who want to work the land.”

“Dad, things will work out,” Steven said to his father. He quickly looked at Jameson as if he wanted him to speak up. Jameson folded his arms instead. “Besides, it was Wes’s land. It was not officially a part of our family heritage. So, he had the right and freedom to sell it to whomever he wanted and for whatever amount he wanted. I just wish he had given us a chance.”

Excuses. All Jameson heard his father say were excuses. Excuses for Wes. Excuses to explain away how his younger son’s actions had hurt them.

“Jameson,” Steven finally said, clearly the only one brave enough to involve him in the conversation. They all had been sending glances to him, as if he were a volcano they expected to erupt. But he was too controlled for that. Yes, he was furious. He was enraged by a feeling of helplessness he couldn’t contain, but exposing how he felt wouldn’t be something he’d let them see again. They’d seen it once before, more than ten years ago when a woman had ripped his heart apart.

At twenty-two, Meredith Palmer, the woman he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with, had ended their relationship. She’d been his first love. She was his high school sweetheart and after they’d graduated, they’d maintained a long-distance romance while he’d studied agribusiness at Montana State University in Bozeman and she’d attended a college back East. He’d imagined them growing old together and making his family’s business even more successful than his father had. But with one phone call a few weeks before his graduation from college, she’d dashed his hopes.

“I’ve met someone else,” she’d said over the phone, as if she was reciting a weather report. Her words had been cool, practiced. What she had to say was stated without a single sign of emotion, while every word pierced his heart.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t marry you.”

Jameson thought of all the people who expected them to get married. Damn, he’d expected it. He’d had his whole life planned and at that moment it was coming apart at the seams. He knew he couldn’t win her back, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Years before he’d even looked at another woman.

He’d thought Priscilla Clark would make a perfect rancher’s wife. But he soon learned he’d been wrong. He should have known it wouldn’t work from the beginning. For one, she’d kept calling him “James,” which he hated. But he’d forgiven her all her faults, primarily because she was very pretty, beautiful in fact, and stroked his ego. He’d introduced her to his family and he didn’t care that the reception had been cool. His parents had been enthusiastic about Meredith and he’d seen how that had turned out. He’d gotten some subtle warnings from his Grandpa Charles, who’d said, “Be careful. A hungry man can find anything appetizing.” His father had been more to the point: “Any woman who can’t get your name right is after something else.” But, at that time, he didn’t care because Priscilla listened to him, unlike Meredith. She didn’t say anything disparaging about ranching and she told him how wonderful he was, which was all he needed to hear. Then one day he had traveled to Smithville, one of Granger’s neighboring towns, and overheard Priscilla talking to a friend in the grocery store.

“Oh, my God!” Priscilla said in a stage whisper. “You should see his parents’ place.”

“Well, I heard the Browards are loaded,” her friend said.

“Loaded is too humble a term. When I marry James I’m going to be rolling in money.”

“He’s asked you to marry him?”

“He hasn’t yet. But he will and I’m going to get him to build me a house as big as his parents’. No, even bigger. I have really hit the jackpot with this one. I usually don’t like going after men that other women have dumped, but this is one leftover I’m ready to reheat. I won’t have to use my degree because I’m going to be well taken care of. Mom was right when she told me to set my eyes on him. Men wallowing in heartbreak are so easy to use. And I’ll make him grateful to have me. I know his brother, Wes, would be a lot more fun, but he’s not ready to settle down like James.”

That’s when he’d finally realized that she only saw dollar signs when she looked at him. He’d never be seen as someone’s leftovers. He never told Priscilla why he broke it off, and the devastation on her face had almost made him smile. At that moment he vowed that women weren’t for him. Since then, he’d thought he could always trust his land and his family at least, but now Wes had taught him that he couldn’t even trust that.

“Jameson,” Steven repeated. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“No.”

“Did you know what Wes was up to?”

Jameson lowered his gaze and brushed imaginary lint from his sleeve. “I never know what he’s up to.”

Without his input the conversation floundered, as he hoped it would. He felt as if a fire was burning inside him, and talking about what Wes had done only added gasoline. Jameson needed to get away, to think of what his next step should be. The town was under threat and it would take a cool head to strategize how to handle the situation.

He lifted his gaze and sounded bored. “Are we done?”

His father nodded. Jameson stood and went out back. He needed to be outdoors. He stood in the doorway that led to the backyard and smelled the May morning air. How could someone love anything less than all this? Jameson looked out on the acres of land in front of him. The land stretched on for miles and miles and looked like a landscape painting. He loved the emerald-green grass against the backdrop of the rugged mountain range in the distance, dotted with the earthy, smooth, brown bodies of his cattle. Low-hanging trees provided a framework through which to see the land; to him it was more than beautiful. It was his life. He was determined. He wouldn’t let his grandfather or father down. He’d maintain BWB. He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let their heritage end with him.

“Don’t be too angry with Wes,” his mom, Gwendolyn, said as she came up behind him.

Jameson kept his gaze on the horizon, watching the rolling prairie grass undulate in the breeze. He loved his mother but knew she didn’t understand his deep connection to the ranch and to the land. He wasn’t as fun-loving as Wes or an accomplished horseman like his sister, Laney. At times he felt like a throwback to another time. A time when being a man who valued his land and family mattered. “It was his land to do with as he wanted,” Jameson said, wishing he could feel as casual and nonchalant as he sounded. “He knew what he was doing and didn’t have to tell us about it.”

“I don’t think he thought of it that way. Times are changing and—”

Jameson spun around to her. “Not that much. Have times changed so much that you don’t think about one’s responsibilities or family loyalties?”

Gwendolyn lightly touched his cheek, the same soothing touch she’d give a lame horse. Although the gesture annoyed him, it also calmed him as she knew it would. “You’re doing the best you can.”

And what if it’s not enough? What if I lose everything? He wanted to say this, but instead he turned away, keeping his fears to himself, just as he did everything else. “Do you think Grandpa Charles deserves to see the day when all he’s struggled to build is destroyed because of greed? Well, I won’t let that happen.”

“When are you going to start a family of your own?”

Jameson shook his head, his voice low. “I don’t have time for that now.”

“You have to make time.”

“I went on a date, didn’t I?”

“That was for charity,” his mother said, referring to the recent bachelor charity auction that was an annual town event. “Besides, I know you hate being a part of that every year.”

Jameson shrugged without concern. His mother was right. “It was still a date,” he said, leaving no room for argument. The Browards were known for their charity work, and it was one of the few events he had been unable to avoid.

He heard her soft sigh before his mother turned and went back inside.

Jameson stepped out on the deck. He had the blood of a rancher running through his veins. His family had put the small town of Granger, Montana, on the map. He remembered being five years old and feeling the calloused hands of his grandpa as he led him around the ranch. From an early age he loved the smell of the cattle, horses, chickens and pigs. By three, even before he could read, he could pick out a heifer from a cow. As he got older, he’d loved learning to rope a calf and ride a horse, drinking fresh milk and smelling Montana grass, which, to him, was the best in the world. At seven he had been given his own flock of chickens and several pigs to care for and a dog he called Buddy. He had respect for all the animals. He could read them better than he could any person. Maybe that’s why he felt so comfortable on the ranch. Animals would not betray him. They would not connive or deceive. He decided to make sure that Wes’s action, along with others, didn’t do the damage to Granger he feared, which was putting power into the hands of a group of people who didn’t care about the town.

Granger was becoming unrecognizable to him, with outsiders, mostly from the city, thinking themselves ranchers. His parents had money flowing into their lodge-style estate, which they had successfully turned into a business. Gwendolyn had been the one to first make the suggestion of turning the main house into a money-making venture. At first, his father had objected, but once he saw it in operation, he was on board.

They had turned only half of the main house on the BWB Ranch into a rental lodge and had maintained the upper floors as their private family residence. And business was booming. They had reservations scheduled over the next two years. Under Gwendolyn’s expert guidance, they had developed several vacation packages including a bed-and-breakfast experience, a tour of the range and the chance to spend a week with the ranch hands. Their most famous package allowed guests to “rough it” for three days—living in tents, milking cows, and either fishing or hunting for their food and cooking whatever they caught on an open fire.

Jameson respected people who understood the hard work that came with cattle ranching and horse breeding, but people with more money than sense bothered him. He knew his grandfather and parents were worried and they had every right to be. A private buyer could change what Granger was all about, and he wouldn’t let that happen. He vowed he’d prove himself and make the Broward name shine even brighter than it did now.

His cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“We just lost one,” his foreman said.

Jameson lowered his head and swore. He knew he couldn’t say too much for fear of being overheard by the house staff. No one in his family knew what he’d been up to and if they did, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d taken a risk and lost, but it wouldn’t affect anyone but him. “How’s the other one?”

“Touch and go.”

“Thanks. I’ll be over there soon.” Jameson hung up. It seemed to be a day full of pain, but he was used to it. He knew how to handle himself now. He’d stay focused on work and his family because he had no room in his life for more than that. He’d given his heart away once, to Meredith, and had had it broken. The second time, with Priscilla, he’d let his male organ rule and that had gotten him in trouble, too. He knew that his intellect was the only thing that would save him. And help him save what mattered to him. He made a promise to himself that he’d never love another person as much as he loved his land and animals. And he kept his promises.

* * *

Gwendolyn returned to the main living room, where her husband sat, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Well,” Steven said patting the seat beside him. “Were you able to talk to him? Does he have any idea of what we can do to stop us from losing more of Granger?”

Gwendolyn sat down next to her husband of thirty-four years and sighed. He usually was able to make her feel better, but not this time. Jameson really had them both worried. “No, he’s keeping to himself as usual. He always handles stress by withdrawing. He won’t talk about Wes selling the land or anything else.”

“He wasn’t always like that.”

Gwendolyn knew she didn’t need to reply. They both were aware the painful breakup with Meredith had changed Jameson. He’d been a little more carefree, not so solitary, when he was younger. They both missed that son who could laugh during a Montana rainstorm and talked about the future with optimism.

“No man should let a woman have that much of an effect on him,” Steven said with feeling.

“It wasn’t just Meredith—it was that other woman, too. What was her name?”

“Who cares what her name was? The problem is there’s been no other woman since then to compare her to. He won’t date. He won’t even consider a dating service both online or off. I don’t know what we’re going to do with that boy.”

“He’s not ready.”

Steven shook his head. “I just don’t want him thinking that this place is all that life is about. I want him to have a family of his own. And so does Dad. Besides, there are plenty of other women for him to choose from. He’s just too stubborn to notice.”

Gwendolyn nodded. “He’s stubborn and proud. That won’t be an easy mix for a woman to take on. Sometimes I fear that there’s no woman who will be able to break through his wall.”