Hot Holiday Rancher

Being stranded for Christmas

never had so much sizzle!

Texas Cattleman’s Club member Jesse Stevens just hired a matchmaker to lure an appropriate wife to his remote ranch. But when a flash flood dumps Houston heiress Esme Perry on his doorstep instead, days before Christmas, is it a sign? Esme is smart, sexy…and a big-city girl to the core. Totally wrong for him. So why can’t they keep their hands off each other?

USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN has won numerous awards for her novels, including both a prestigious RITA® Award and an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. After years of moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina, where she’s active in animal rescue. For more information, visit her website, catherinemann.com.

Also by Catherine Mann

Alaskan Oil Barons miniseries

The Baby Claim

The Double Deal

The Love Child

The Twin Birthright

The Second Chance

The Rancher’s Seduction

The Billionaire Renegade

The Secret Twin

Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston miniseries

Hot Holiday Rancher

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Hot Holiday Rancher

Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09278-4

HOT HOLIDAY RANCHER

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To my children, the best gift all year round!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Epilogue

About the Publisher

One

Esme Perry had basked in the sun on a private beach in the South of France. She’d surfed with the best of them in California, Hawaii and Australia. But not even the threat of heatstroke or sharks had concerned her as much as the rush of water rolling down the country Texas back road toward her low-slung Porsche.

Rain sheeting against her windshield, Esme shifted into Reverse, willing her pulse to slow. Be calm. Take deep breaths. A quick three-point turn should have her ready to race out of harm’s way. It would be a tight maneuver since the road was narrow, bracketed by a ditch on one side and sycamore trees on the other. It was tough enough to make such a maneuver during the daytime, but after dark? In the middle of a storm?

Not that she had a choice but to move. Flash floods were dangerous, especially in the country.

But her V-8 engine could outrace just about anything. Perhaps the Porsche wasn’t the best choice for dirt roads, but she’d been excited about her early Christmas gift to herself.

Two points into Esme’s three-point turn, the wave of rainwater slammed into the side of her vehicle. Her stomach clenched. She struggled to control the steering wheel as her car slid along the mud-slicked road. The Porsche’s back end fishtailed. Her foot slipped off the clutch, her spiky heel wedging under the brake. The heel snapped. But she didn’t have time to mourn the demise of her favorite leopard-print pumps. The Porsche lurched, then spun out, whipping the wheel from her clenched grip.

Her heart rose into her throat with panic as she battled what felt like g-forces slamming her against the door. Worse yet, she couldn’t see due to vertigo and the rush of water over her candy apple–red hood. Was she close to the side of the road? How deep was the ditch? Where were the trees?

And, oh God, were those headlights or lampposts?

She braced. Struggled not to close her eyes. And prayed.

The spinning stopped, her car halting with a jolt. But not a crash. She exhaled a shaky breath, her ears ringing so loudly it almost drowned out the rain pounding the roof and a Christmas carol flowing from the speaker.

“Silent Night”?

Hardly.

But she was all right, in one piece, as was her car. With luck, she could still reach her destination before bedtime. She would have arrived earlier, but an accident on the interstate from Houston to Royal had delayed her arrival. At least she was close enough to her destination to walk. According to her GPS, the front gate to Jesse Stevens’s ranch should be less than a mile away.

She pressed the clutch, threw the car into Neutral and pressed the ignition.

The engine turned over. Then spluttered out.

She tried again and…

Nothing. Not even a catch.

She’d bought the stick-shift model, a purist when it came to her sports cars. She liked the control of a manual transmission, a talent she’d learned when teaching herself to drive on one of her father’s older trucks on their Houston ranch. She’d been determined to perfect the skill, to win his approval.

Not much had changed on that front, since she was here to please her dad, to bolster his image with the charter branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club here in Royal, in hopes that he could be president of the new Houston branch.

Her PR plan would start with a surprise visit to Royal’s own Jesse Stevens, an influential player at the TCC. If she could ever get there.

She bit back a curse, weighing her options. The odds of a tow truck showing up out here in this weather were slim. Should she wait to see if the car started and risk getting hit by another wave? Or start walking? In her broken shoes. In the rain. And mud. Sighing in resignation, she angled to get her umbrella.

Bracing, she opened the door, and rain sheeted inside. She wedged her umbrella through the opening, although it was fast becoming a moot point. Even her Prada trench was losing the fight against the deluge. Frigid water lapped around her ankles, soaking the hem of her slacks as she leaned into the wind, shivering. Still, she was determined to forge ahead, one step at a time.

She couldn’t bear the thought of telling her father she needed to postpone the promotion trip. He’d put his trust in her, and even knowing a thirty-four-year-old woman shouldn’t care this much what her father thought, she couldn’t deny she was still trying to win his approval, to be something other than the often-forgotten middle child.

In college, she’d found her niche with an aptitude for public relations. It was her chance to shine. When her father had taken note of her success after graduation, he’d hired her as PR executive for the family business, Perry Holdings.

And if ever Sterling Perry had needed a promotional face-lift, it was now, when the new Houston Texas Cattleman’s Club was cranking up. Fledgling organizations hated nothing more than a scandal.

And her father’s good name had taken quite a few blows, first with an arrest on charges of orchestrating a Ponzi scheme that nearly caused a collapse of one of his investment funds.

No sooner had her father gotten out from under the weight of the fraud rumors than he was under suspicion for the murder of a Perry Holdings assistant. And, as if her father wasn’t already stressed enough, just last week a Currin Oil executive named Willem Inwood had been arrested under suspicion of being behind the Ponzi scheme. He wasn’t talking yet, but already people were coming forward saying he was the one who’d started those nasty rumors.

Now, even though his innocence had been proven on the murder charge and Ponzi issue, he still needed a serious image makeover if he expected to win the club’s leadership spot.

And she intended to give him that fresh start, with some help from Jesse Stevens. Wrestling her bedraggled umbrella, she trudged ahead another couple of steps.

Were those lights flickering ahead? Hope and wariness jockeyed inside her. She was so very cold and soggy. But this also wasn’t Houston, with her high-rise condo secured by round-the-clock guards.

She pulled one hand from the umbrella and reached inside her coat to her cross-body bag, fumbling for her can of Mace.

The lights drew closer, grew stronger, until the glow focused into two beams. High off the ground. A truck. The driver’s-side door swung wide and a large, looming figure jumped out, ducking into the rain while holding his Stetson in place.

She gripped her Mace harder. She’d taken self-defense classes in college, but she was seriously off-balance with one broken heel and the other spiked into the mud.

“Ma’am, what are you doing out here tonight? Are you waiting for a tow truck?”

That voice. It couldn’t be… But her ears told her it was. After all, she’d spent countless hours watching videos of Jesse Stevens giving interviews, memorized them, in fact, to decide the best tactic for approaching him. She tilted her head to catch sight of his face below the brim to confirm.

And she gasped.

No picture could do him justice. Even with the Stetson covering his blond hair, he bore the look of a cowboy Viking. An image she found difficult to let go of once it came to life in her mind.

Spluttering on a mouthful of rain, she tucked her Mace can back into her purse, no longer needing protection.

She should have suspected the truck could belong to Jesse Stevens. She was near his ranch, after all. But still, weren’t the odds higher it would be one of his employees rather than him at this hour, in the rain?

Yet there was no doubting who this man was, even in the dark with just his headlights slicing through the night. She’d done her research on the man and his spread well before this excursion to meet him, persuade him.

But she wasn’t ready to let him know who she was. Not just yet. She swallowed hard. “My car won’t start, and the cell reception is garbage out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Speaking as the landlord of the Middle of Nowhere, I’ve never had any trouble with mine.” Rain dripped from the brim of his hat as he towered over her. “You should check with your provider.”

Was that irony or irritation coating his words?

Not good if she’d already made him angry. This would be over before it started.

She longed for higher heels to make her taller, closer to his eye level. “I’ll be sure to look into my provider as soon as I find dry clothes. If you could just help me call for a tow, I’ll get my suitcase so I can change. I’m freezing to death.”

It was cold for Texas, even in December.

“Your car’s not going anywhere tonight, ma’am. And there’s no way either of us should risk walking back over to your vehicle to retrieve your luggage. The ground could give way at any time.”

Her foot slipped. She looked quickly at him. “It’s just my broken shoe.”

Then her other foot shot out from under her. She lurched to the side, her umbrella whipping away in the wind. Her arms pinwheeled as she lost her balance, tumbling toward the rushing swell of water alongside the dirt road.

Strong hands clasped her waist and stopped her fall. Before she could catch her breath, he’d hauled her against his chest. His warm breath fanned her cheek.

“Are you all right?”

Other than goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold because she was in the arms of a Viking cowboy? “I’m fine.” Her words came out husky. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing out here this time of night in such crummy weather?” Thunder rolled in the distance.

She braced her palms on his impossibly broad shoulders and looked straight into Jesse Stevens’s emerald green eyes. “I’m looking for you.”

Jesse Stevens held the drenched woman against him, her willowy body enticing even through her soaked raincoat and his hastily-tossed-on jacket. He’d been making a last check of the horses, concerned about the thunder spooking them, when he’d seen the car lights. He’d been surprised, not expecting anyone until tomorrow. Not that he was complaining.

The matchmaker he’d hired had outdone herself in sending this candidate.

He wondered which of the three contenders this was—the single mom, the veterinarian or the Miss Texas pageant runner-up. This woman certainly could be the latter, and that might explain the high heels and flashy car choice. The height seemed to be right, based on the stats in her profile. Although it was difficult to tell much in the dark. He was definitely curious to learn more about the husky-voiced siren. All the more reason to resist the temptation to hold on for an extra second or two.

Stepping back, he still cupped her elbow. Just to make sure she didn’t lose her balance, of course. “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt when your car spun out, were you?”

She nodded, pulling one foot, then the other, out of the mud. “I’m fine, thank you. I truly didn’t expect the weather to get this bad.”

Given her slick trench and Porsche, she had more of a city-girl vibe that he had doubts would hold up out here. But the matchmaker would have told her about him and his rural lifestyle. He’d sure filled out a checklist of his criteria for the kind of woman he was looking for.

“Ma’am, the road is at risk of giving way further. You need to get to safety. My truck can take an alternate path that’s not accessible to the public.”

“Let’s go, then.” She started forward, her purse tucked tight to her side, but her foot sank deeper into the mud, stopping her progress. Sighing, she cursed under her breath. Like a sailor, no less.

An unexpected surprise. She had grit to go along with all of that glam. He could still feel the imprint of her against him.

She glanced up at him, her eyelashes spiky wet, her ponytail slick and sleek down the front of her coat. “The heels aren’t holding up well out here.”

“Then I’ll carry you.” He wasn’t sure where the invitation came from, but now that he’d said it, the idea had taken root. An appealing option, and with each passing second, an increasingly necessary one.

“Whoa, wait.” She held up a manicured hand, with two chipped nails and another broken. “That’s a bit extreme.”

“Ma’am…” He smiled. “The longer we talk, the worse the roads will be. And I don’t know about you, but I’m cold even though I have on boots.”

Indecision flickered across her face. But then she shivered and her hand lowered. She nodded quickly, her teeth chattering.

All the invitation he needed.

He scooped her up into his arms, tucking her against him as he made tracks toward his truck. With a squeak of surprise, she looped her arms around his neck, a light scent of something floral and exotic riding the humid air to tempt his nose. Her body fit against him, the curve of her breast pressed to him.

So much for feeling cold. Heat fired through his veins. But he needed to learn more about her. His days of sowing wild oats were in the past. He was ready to settle down, build a family, and he wasn’t waiting around for chance to bring him the woman he needed.

He’d contacted a selective, high-priced matchmaker to assist him in the search. His days were packed with running his ranch. His only social life involved the occasional event at the Texas Cattleman’s Club and he already knew every one of the members. He wanted a wife, children—heirs. He didn’t believe in grand romance or love. But he was a firm advocate of the benefits of a winning partnership.

Yes, he more than wanted a wife. He needed a wife and he was prepared to offer that spouse his full partnership in return. A win-win for them both.

Once he found the right candidate.

Stopping by the passenger side of his dual-cab truck, he set the woman on her feet carefully, ensuring the ground beneath her was safe before he let go. The rain was coming down in buckets.

He opened the door for her, offering a hand as she stepped on the running board. Damn, those dainty shoes of hers were mighty mangled. She hadn’t been prepared. The clasp of her cold fingers in his hand reminded him of how badly this stormy evening could have turned out for her.

And it still could if he didn’t get his butt in gear and drive back to the house. He braced a hand on the hood as he jogged around to the driver’s side. Once behind the wheel, he slammed his door closed against the wall of rain being blown inside.

At least the heater was still blasting, since he’d never turned the vehicle off. He swept aside his Stetson, flinging it to the back seat beside a horse blanket and a thermos.

“I’m so glad you came along,” she said, her teeth still chattering. She kicked off her broken shoes and wriggled her toes under the blast of warm air circling at the floorboard.

“And I’m glad I saw you out there.” He started to ask her name, but the rain picked up pace on the roof. It could wait. “I hate to think what could have happened to you if those waters swept your car away.”

As she’d said right away, she knew who he was. So he didn’t have to worry about reassuring her she was safe to come with him.

“You were right to question the wisdom of my driving into this storm,” she conceded. “I was so eager to get here, I just kept thinking I could outpace the weather.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. The husky melody of her chuckle filled the truck cab, stroking his senses. That matchmaker sure had a knack.

He cleared his throat. “And the weather still might win if we don’t get moving.”

Jesse eased the four-wheel-drive vehicle out of Park and accelerated carefully. The tires spun, then caught, the truck surging forward, toward the dim twinkling of Christmas lights strung along the split-rail fence. The storm smudged the glow until it was just a smear of green, red and white.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you so late,” she said. “I certainly intended to arrive earlier.” The truck jostled along a rut in the road and she braced a hand against the door.

“You’d have had better luck with a utility vehicle instead of that sports car of yours.”

“It would appear so.” She squeezed excess water from her ponytail, her wet hair clearly blond now in the glow of the dash.

But he wasn’t any closer to identifying which of the matchmaker’s candidates she might be.

“I’m Jesse Stevens, as you already seem to know. And you are?”

“Esme Perry. Nice to meet you, Jesse.”

He looked over sharply in surprise at her name. She was not one of the three women the matchmaker had provided. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten a recommended candidate. Perhaps he’d missed an email from the matchmaker?

Except… Wait… Alarms sounded in the back of his mind. There were plenty of Perrys in Texas. But one branch in particular was heavy-duty on the radar of the Royal branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. “Perry, as in…”

“Yes, my father is Sterling Perry. We’re very excited about the new branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club opening in Houston. My father sent me here to talk to you. To do a little recon,” she said with a sassy smile.

Disappointment churned. She hadn’t been sent by the matchmaker. He focused on the path ahead, a back road on higher ground to his home.

“A spy in our midst,” he said dryly. Granted, one helluva sexy Mata Hari.

“Not anything so nefarious.” She tugged at the belt of her trench coat. “I’m just here to see how you run things at the Royal branch.”

“Or to curry favor for your dad.”

She straightened in the seat, clearly bristling at the criticism of her father. But it wasn’t any secret that Sterling Perry had a sketchy past and a quest for power.

A quest that was currently playing out in a battle with Ryder Currin as they vied for control of the new Houston branch, to be opened in a historic building site, a former luxury boutique hotel. Ryder Currin was a self-made man. Whereas Esme’s family was led by the old-money, charming, larger-than-life patriarch Sterling Perry, who continued to grow the Perry fortune in banking, real estate and property development.

Jesse’s impression of the man? All show but little substance.

Was this woman like her dad? It seemed so, judging by her car and her clothes and her defense of her father.

He pulled up to his ranch home. More lights glimmered in the trees lining the driveway, and a wreath glowed on the front door of his white two-story house. A sprawling place he’d had built with hopes of one day having a family of his own. His parents were dead. He only had one sister, and while he loved her, she had her own life.