Beneath the Stetson

If he’d undressed any slower, Bailey would’ve ripped the shirt off. But she had asked for this. All she could do was watch in torment.

With her training, Bailey could bring most men down. But Gil … Gil was the real deal. His body rippled with muscle.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted.

Her legs shaking, she curled her arm around the bedpost. “Just admiring the view.” She touched his chest. “I want to please you.”

“You do, in every way. I love your strength, your integrity. The way you treat my son.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

His finger on her lips silenced her. “I spend all my time being Cade’s father. Tonight … tonight I’m just a man. A man who wants you.”

* * *

Beneath the Stetson is a Texas Cattleman’s Club: The Missing Mogul novel Love and scandal meet in Royal, Texas!

Beneath

the Stetson

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.

Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

For my wonderful Texas friends,

Karen, Rob, Elaine and Bob. Thank you for the fun,

the laughter and the “tall” tales of life in Texas.

I count you among my blessings!

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

Excerpt

One

Gil Addison didn’t like Feds. Even when they came wrapped in pretty packages. Perhaps it was the trace of Comanche blood in his veins that kept an atavistic memory alive...all those years of government promises made and broken. Gil was a white man living in a white man’s world, no doubt about it. Nothing much of his Native American heritage lingered except for his black hair, brown eyes and olive skin.

But the distrust remained.

He stood inside the house, hand on an edge of the curtain, and watched as a standard-issue dark sedan made its way down the long driveway. Technically, the woman for whom he waited wasn’t a Fed. She was a state investigator. But she had been trained by Feds, and that was close enough.

“Who is it, Daddy?”

His four-year-old son, Cade, endlessly curious, wrapped an arm around his father’s leg. Gil glanced down at the boy, smiling in spite of his unsettled emotions. “A lady who wants to talk to me. Don’t worry. It won’t take long.” He had promised Cade they would go riding today.

“Is she pretty?”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “Why would that matter?”

The child with the big, far-too-observant eyes grinned. “Well, if she is, you might want to date her and fall in love and then get married and—”

“This again?” Gil kept his hand over the boy’s mouth in a mock insistence on changing the subject. He knelt and looked Cade in the eyes. “I have you. That’s all I need.” Single parenting was not for wimps. Sometimes it was the loneliest job in the world. And Gil wondered constantly if he was making irrevocable mistakes. He hugged his son before standing up again. “I think I’ve been letting you watch too much TV.”

Cade pulled the curtains even farther aside and watched as the car rolled to a stop and parked. The car door opened and the woman stepped out. “She is pretty,” Cade said, practically bouncing with the energy that never seemed to diminish.

Inwardly, Gil agreed with Cade’s assessment, albeit reluctantly. Bailey Collins, despite the professional pantsuit that was as dark and unexceptional as her car, made an impression on a man. Only a few inches shy of Gil’s six-one height, she carried herself with confidence. Wavy, shoulder-length brown hair glinted in the sun with red highlights. Her thick-lashed eyes were almost as dark as Gil’s.

Though she was still too far away for Gil to witness those last two attributes, he had a good memory. Today was not his first encounter with Bailey Collins.

As she mounted his front steps, he opened the door, refusing to acknowledge that his heart beat faster than normal. The first time he met her, they had faced each other across a desk at Royal’s police station. Even then he’d felt a potent mix of sexual hunger and resentment. But Bailey was on his turf now. He’d be calling the shots. She might think her credentials gave her power, but he was not prepared to accept them at face value.

* * *

Bailey caught her toe on the edge of the top step and stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. Fortunately, she regained her balance at the last second, because in the midst of her gyrations the door flew open, and a man she recognized all too well stood framed in the doorway.

Gil Addison.

Even as she acknowledged the jolt to her chest, she was taken aback by the presence of a second male. The man for whom she felt an unwelcome but visceral attraction was not alone. He held the hand of a small boy, most likely—according to Gil’s dossier—his son. Even without written verification, she could have guessed the relationship. The young one was practically a carbon copy of his older counterpart.

The child broke free of his father’s hold and stepped forward to beam at Bailey. “Welcome to the Straight Arrow,” he said, holding out his hand with poignant maturity. His gap-toothed smile was infectious. “I’m Cade.”

Bailey squatted, holding out her hand, as well, feeling the warmth of the small palm as it nestled briefly in hers. “Hello, Cade,” she said. “I’m Bailey.”

“Ms. Collins,” Gil corrected with a slight frown. “I’m trying to teach him manners.”

“It’s not bad manners to use my first name if I offer the privilege,” Bailey said evenly, rising to face the man who had already given her sleepless nights.

Cade looked back and forth between the two adults. The thinly veiled antagonism between them was unfortunate, because Cade seemed first confused and then unhappy. The boy’s chin wobbled. “I wanted my dad to like you,” he whispered, staring up at Bailey with huge blue eyes that must have come from his mother.

Bailey’s heart melted. “Your dad and I like each other just fine,” she told Cade, daring Gil to disagree. “Sometimes grown-ups get frustrated about things, but that doesn’t mean we’re angry.” Even as an adult of thirty-three, she remembered vague impressions of her parents arguing. Yelling. Saying wretched, bitter words that couldn’t be unheard.

Bailey knew what it was like to be a child with no power to shape the course of events. It was because she did understand Cade’s dismay, that she summoned an almost-genuine smile and aimed it in Gil’s direction. “Thank you for seeing me today. If we can sit down for a few moments, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

With Cade standing squarely in between them, there was nothing for Gil to do but agree. He ruffled his son’s hair, love for his child and wry capitulation in his gaze as he spoke. “Why don’t you join us in the kitchen, Ms. Collins? Cade and I usually have lemonade and a snack right about now.”

“You may as well call me Bailey, too,” she muttered, not sure if he heard her or not. She followed the two of them back through the house to the historic but updated kitchen. Gil had taken over the property from his parents when they retired and settled in Austin. The senior Addisons had inherited the Straight Arrow from Gil’s grandparents. The ranch, whose name ironically described its owner to a T, was an enormous operation.

Four years ago when Gil’s wife committed suicide, Gil had hired an army of extra ranch hands and housekeepers, so he could be the primary caregiver for his toddler son. Bailey knew the facts of the situation because she had investigated the man...and admired him for his devotion. But that didn’t make her any more forgiving of the way he had stonewalled her in their earlier interviews. Even though her file on Gil Addison was thorough and extensive, she was no closer to understanding the man himself.

Cade pulled out a chair for Bailey, sealing the deal. The kid was irresistible. Clearly Gil was not kidding when he mentioned teaching manners. Something about witnessing the boy’s interaction with his father made Bailey’s assessment of Gil shift and refocus. Surely a man who could be so caring and careful with a child was not all bad.

Bailey’s own exposure to male parenting was more like a metaphorical slap up the side of the head. Toe the line. Don’t complain. Achieve. Be self-sufficient. Even the most generous assessment of her father’s motives left no room for seeing him as anything other than a bully and a tyrant—presumably the reason Bailey’s mother had walked out, leaving her young daughter behind.

Bailey sat down somewhat self-consciously, and placed her cell phone on the table. While Gil busied himself retrieving glasses from the pine cabinets and slicing apples to go along with peanut butter, Cade grilled Bailey. “Do you have any good games on your phone?”

His hopeful expression made her grin. “A few.”

“Angry Birds?”

“Yes. Are you any good at it?”

Cade shot a glance at his dad and lowered his voice. “He thinks that too much time with electronics will make me...um...” Clearly searching for the desired word, Cade trailed off, his brow furrowed.

“Brain dead.” Gil set the glasses on the table and returned with the plate of apples. Taking a chair directly across from Bailey, he sat down and turned his son’s hand over, palm up. The little fingers were grimy. “Go wash up, Cade. Ms. Collins and I will wait for you.”

When Cade disappeared down the hall to the bathroom, Bailey smiled. “He’s wonderful. And unexpectedly mature for a four-year-old.”

“He’ll be five soon. He didn’t have too many opportunities to be around other children until I began bringing him to the daycare center at the club occasionally, so that accounts for the adult conversation. As much as I’ll miss him, I think it will be good for him to start kindergarten this fall.”

Bailey cocked her head. “I may have misjudged you, Gil Addison. I think you do have a heart.”

“Don’t confuse parental love for weakness, Ms. Collins. I won’t be manipulated into helping you take down one of my friends.”

The sudden attack startled her. Gil’s classic features were set in grim lines, any trace of softness gone. “You really don’t trust me at all, do you?” she asked, her voice husky with regret at this evidence of his animosity.

“I don’t trust your kind,” he clarified, his tone terse. “Alex Santiago was kidnapped, but now he’s been found. Sooner or later he’ll get his memory back and be able to tell us who took him. Why can’t you people drop it and leave us here in Royal to clean up our own messes?”

Bailey glanced toward the hallway, realizing that Cade could return at any moment. “Surely you’re not that naive,” she said quietly. “Because Alex has no memory of what happened to him, trouble could strike again at any time. We have no choice but to track down his abductors. Surely you can see that.”

“What I don’t see is why you think anyone I know is responsible.”

“Alex was well-liked in Royal, though obviously he had at least one enemy. You know a lot of people. Somewhere in the midst of all that I hope to find the truth. It’s my job, Gil. And I’m good at it. All I need is your help.”

Cade popped into the room, the front of his shirt damp from his ablutions. “I’m really hungry,” he said. At a nod from his father, he scooped up two apple slices and started eating.

As Bailey watched, Gil offered her a piece and took one himself. His sharp white teeth bit into the fruit with a crunch. She tried to eat, but the food stuck in her throat. She needed Gil on her side. And she needed him to trust her. Perhaps that would require time.

Biting her lip, she put down her uneaten snack and tried the lemonade instead. As father and son chatted about mundane matters, she strove for composure. Usually it took a lot to rattle her. But for some reason, winning Gil’s approval was important.

When his phone rang, he glanced at the number and grimaced. “Sorry, Ms. Collins. I need to take this in private. I won’t be long.”

Cade glanced up at his dad as Gil stood. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll entertain her.”

* * *

When Gil returned thirty minutes later, he felt a pinch of guilt for abandoning Bailey to his son’s clutches. Not all women were good with children, and Bailey struck him as more of a focused career woman than a nurturer. When he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he pulled up short. There at the table, right where he had left them, were Cade and Bailey. Only now, they were sitting side by side, their heads bent over Bailey’s phone.

The lemonade glasses were empty, as was the plate that had held apples.

Bailey shook her head. “Remember the angles,” she said. “Don’t just fire it off willy-nilly.”

When Gil’s son gazed up at Bailey, Gil’s heart fractured. Never had he seen a boy so starved for feminine attention. Despite Gil’s best efforts at being a perfect parent, nothing could substitute for the love of a mother. If Gil were not careful, Cade would latch onto Bailey and create an embarrassing situation for all of them.

Gil cleared his throat. “Cade. If you’ll give me half an hour to speak with Ms. Collins about some grown-up business, I promise you we’ll leave for our ride immediately after that.”

Cade never looked up from his game. “Sure, Dad. Let me just finish this one—”

Gil took the phone and handed it to Bailey. “You have permission to use the computer in my study. Now scram.”

“Yes, sir.” Cade gave Bailey a cheeky grin on his way out the door. “Will you say goodbye before you leave?”

Bailey rose to her feet and glanced at Gil.

Cade’s father nodded. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

In Cade’s absence an uncomfortable silence reigned. The little boy’s exuberant personality had served to soften the edges of Gil’s aggressive displeasure.

Bailey hesitated, searching for a way to break the ice.

Gil did it for her. He held out an arm. “Since Cade is in my office, we might as well step onto the back porch. If that’s okay with you,” he added stiffly.

Bailey nodded. “Of course.” The January weather was picture-perfect, and as was often the case during the winter, a bit erratic, as well. Last week Royal had endured storms and temperatures in the mid-fifties. Today the thermometer was forecast to hit eighty, almost a record.

As they stepped outside, Bailey had to smile. The Straight Arrow was an enormous, thriving cattle operation. In addition to its efficiency and profitability, every aspect of the ranch’s physical appearance was neat and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It took money to carry out such attention to detail. But Gil had money. Lots of it. Which was a good thing, because his wealth meant he had the luxury of spending time with his son.

Watching and listening to Cade, Bailey understood how very well Gil had managed to give his son emotional security. The child was bright, friendly and well adjusted. Growing up without a mother was no picnic. But Gil’s parenting had mitigated Cade’s loss as much as was possible.

Gil remained standing, so Bailey followed suit. If she had made herself comfortable in one of the cushioned wicker chairs, he would have towered over her. She suspected he would like that.

Bailey, however, had a job to do. She wouldn’t be cowed by Gil’s fiercely masculine personality. She worked in a world where men still dominated the profession. Self-preservation demanded she be tough on the outside, even if she sometimes felt as if she was playing a part.

Gil fired the first shot. “I thought you went back to Dallas.”

She shrugged. “Only for a week. The case is still open. After I finished the earlier interviews, my boss pulled me to work briefly on another project. But we’re in a lull now, and they want me to do some more digging.”

“You didn’t do so well the last time,” he mocked.

Bailey met his hot gaze with composure. “Investigations take time. And just so you know...I get it, Gil.”

“Get what?”

“You were insulted to be on the suspect list. I impugned your honor, and you’re pissed. Have I hit the nail on the head?” She challenged him deliberately, not willing to play the bad guy indefinitely.

His jaw was granite. “I’d think your time would be better spent questioning the criminal element instead of harassing upstanding members of the community.”

Her lips twitched. Hurt masculine pride was a tricky thing. “I have extensive training in psychological evaluation. And you know very well that you were never a suspect. It was my job to speak to anyone and everyone who knew Alex...to look for clues, for any shred of information, no matter how minute, that might help solve the kidnapping.”

“And yet you came up with nothing.”

She tensed, tired of being under attack. “Alex is back in Royal,” she pointed out.

“No thanks to you.”

His mockery lit the fuse of her temper. She could take what he was dishing out, but she didn’t have to like it. “You have no idea what goes on behind the scenes. And I don’t have to justify myself to you. Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

“And that would be?”

As they had exited the house, Gil had scooped up a well-worn Stetson and dropped it on his head with one smooth motion that bespoke the love of a cowboy for his hat. Now the brim shadowed his eyes.

Bailey was not immune to the picture he made. In well-washed denims that rode low on his hips and molded to his long, muscular legs, he was a walking, talking ad for testosterone. His chamois shirt must have been hand-tailored, because it managed to accommodate his broad shoulders nicely. Gil Addison was the real deal, right down to his expensive, though scuffed, leather boots.

Bailey felt the physical pull. Acknowledged it. Experienced a pang of regret for something that would never be. It had been a long time since she had met a man so appealing. But Gil didn’t much like her, and her newest assignment was not going to improve matters.

With an inward sigh for her barren love life, she cut to the chase. “I need access to the membership files at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

“Absolutely not.” He bowed up almost visibly.

Bailey leaned against the porch railing, her hands behind her. It was either that or fasten them around Gil’s tanned neck and squeeze. The man was infuriating. “I have all the necessary warrants and paperwork,” she said mildly. “But I’d prefer not to go in guns blazing. Why don’t you be a gentleman for once and politely invite me to the club as your guest?”

The word he muttered made her wince. “I’m the president of the TCC,” he pointed out...as if she didn’t already know. His scowl was black. “People trust me with their secrets. How is it going to look if I turn all that over to an outsider?”

That last jab hurt, but Bailey held her ground. “You don’t really have a choice...even if you do have a judge or two tucked away in your back pocket. These orders come down from on high. I’m going to comb through those files one way or another. You can either make my life miserable or you can cooperate. Your choice. But I will get the information I need.”

Two

Gil ripped his hat from his head and ran a hand across his damp brow. It was January, damn it. No reason in the world the heat and humidity should be this bad.

Bailey, on the other hand, despite wearing an unflattering suit jacket, seemed cool and collected. She watched him warily, as if he were a dangerous rattlesnake about to bite.

What she didn’t know was that he had fantasized about nibbling her...all the way from her delicate jawline to the vulnerable place where her throat disappeared inside that boring blouse. His body tightened. The woman probably had no idea that her no-nonsense clothing revved his engine. Instead of focusing on the government-employee quasi uniform, he imagined stripping it off her and baring that long, lean body to his gaze.

His sex thickened and lifted, making his jeans uncomfortably tight. With a silent curse, he stared out across the acres of land that belonged to him as far as the eye could see. Searching desperately for a diversion, he fell back on the universal topic of weather.

“Are you familiar with the Civil War general Philip Sheridan?” he asked, keeping his body half-turned to avoid embarrassing them both.

Bailey wrinkled her nose. “History wasn’t my strong suit in school, but yes...I’ve heard of him.”

“After the war, Sheridan was assigned to a post in south Texas. It’s reported he said that if he owned Texas and hell, he would rent out Texas and live in hell.”

“I’m surprised you would mention it. I thought it was heresy to insult the mother ship. All you native Texans are pretty arrogant.”

“We have reason to be...despite the heat,” he added ruefully, replacing his hat and wanting desperately to wrap this up before he pounced on her.

“So I’m to believe that everything in Texas is bigger and better?”

Shock immobilized him. Was Bailey flirting with him? Surely not. He glanced over his shoulder at her. As far as he could tell, nothing in her demeanor was the least bit sexual. Too bad. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I thought you would know that, being from Dallas.”

“I’m not from Dallas. My dad was in the army. We lived all over the world. Dallas is where I’m assigned at the moment.”

“So where do you call home?”

Seconds passed. Two, maybe three. For a brief moment he saw bleak regret in her brown-eyed gaze. “Not anywhere, really.”

Such rootlessness was hard for him to imagine. Texas was as much a part of his lifeblood as breathing. Sensing her unease with the topic, he turned to face her, at last somewhat in control of himself. “Well,” he said laconically, “at least if you weren’t born here, you came as soon as you could.”

Bailey, arms wrapped around her waist, smiled. “I guess you could say that.”

He pursed his lips. “Apparently, I have no choice about your interference. Is that what you’re telling me?” The facts of the matter still stuck in his craw.

“You’ve got it.” Though seeing him admit defeat must have pleased her, Bailey’s expression remained neutral.

“Very well. Meet me at the club at ten in the morning. I’ll show you where to get started.”

“I’m a highly trained computer specialist, Gil. I shouldn’t have to take up more than a week of your life.”

Too bad. He glanced at his watch. “Come say goodbye to Cade.”

In his office, he watched, perturbed, as once again his son lit up at seeing their visitor.

Gil’s son beamed. “I unlocked three more levels, Bailey.”

She nodded. “Good for you.”