The Texan's Tiny Secret

Groaning, Suzy dropped her forehead to the arm she’d braced along the edge of the sink. The battering that Gil’s good name would take when news hit the streets that the governor had fathered a baby out of wedlock!

Slowly she raised her head. They can’t find out, she told herself. If anyone learned of this, Gil would be ruined!

She gripped her hands on the edge of the sink and pulled herself shakily to her feet. No one knows, she reminded herself. No one but me. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. And no one will ever know, she promised herself as she went to pack her bags.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where every month you’ll find six passionate, powerful and provocative romances.

October’s MAN OF THE MONTH is The Taming of Jackson Cade, part of bestselling author BJ James’ MEN OF BELLE TERRE miniseries, in which a tough horse breeder is gentled by a lovely veterinarian. The Texan’s Tiny Secret by Peggy Moreland tells the moving story of a woman in love with the governor of Texas and afraid her scandalous past will hurt him.

The exciting series 20 AMBER COURT continues with Katherine Garbera’s Some Kind of Incredible, in which a secretary teaches her lone-wolf boss to take a chance on love. In Her Boss’s Baby, Cathleen Galitz’s contribution to FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS, a businessman falsely accused of a crime finds help from his faithful assistant and solace in her virginal embrace.

Jacob’s Proposal, the first book in Eileen Wilks’ dynamic new series, TALL, DARK & ELIGIBLE, features a marriage of convenience between a beauty and a devastatingly handsome financier known as the Iceman. And Maureen Child’s popular BACHELOR BATTALION marches on with Last Virgin in California, an opposites-attract romance between a tough, by-the-book marine drill instructor and a free-spirited heroine.

So celebrate the arrival of autumn by indulging yourself with all six of these not-to-be-missed love stories.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Texan’s Tiny Secret

Peggy Moreland

PEGGY MORELAND

published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989 and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a nominee for Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award and a finalist for the prestigious RITA Award, Peggy has appeared on the USA Today and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. When not writing, she enjoys spending time at the farm riding her quarter horse, Lo-Jump. She, her husband and three children make their home in Round Rock, Texas. You may write to Peggy at P.O. Box 2453, Round Rock, TX 78680-2453, or e-mail her in care of eHarlequin.com.

For Helen Heilmann, Janelle Shields and Vickie Monroe, Kentuckians who took this displaced Texan under their wings, offering friendship and moral support.

Thanks, ladies!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

One

Gil Riley considered himself a simple man with simple tastes. He liked his jeans worn, his beer cold and his horses—as well as his women—gentle, but with enough spirit in ’em to make the ride exciting. Though his age placed him in a generation that shunned family values, considered work a four-letter word and embraced the theory “if it feels good, do it,” Gil didn’t quite fit the mold. He honored family second only to God, considered his mother an angel straight from heaven and his father one of the wisest men he’d ever known. He believed a hard day’s work strengthened a man’s character, treated women with the respect he was taught they were due, and never did anything without first weighing the consequences upside down, sideways and backward.

All of which made him wonder how in the hell he’d ended up in an airless room filled with blowhards, suck-ups and women whose mothers had obviously never taught them that a man’s privates were just that. Private.

Duty, he reminded himself as he clasped a hand thrust his way and responded with a “good to see you, too.”

Though the handshake he offered was firm and the sentiment sincere, Gil delivered both without slowing down. He feared if he did, and he was waylaid by one more person wanting a favor or had to dodge another female’s straying hands, he would…

Well, he wasn’t sure what he would do, but, whatever it was, he was sure it would be shocking enough to make the headlines in the morning paper.

With his smile feeling as if it were set in concrete and his tie like a noose around his neck, he set his sights on a possible escape route in the distance. He hadn’t taken more than two steps in that direction when a beefy hand closed around his arm from behind and dragged him to a stop. Struggling to keep his frustration from showing, he turned to find a balding man, shaped like a whisky barrel and about as tall, beaming up at him, a horse-faced young woman hugged up against his side.

“Have you met my niece, Melanie, Governor? My brother Earl’s oldest girl. Visiting here from California.”

Yet another first-lady-of-Texas hopeful, Gil thought wearily. It was all he could do not to cry. Thanks to his bachelor status and his exalted position as governor of the state of Texas, he’d received more propositions in the past year than a prostitute would in a lifetime on the streets.

Though he was tempted to tell Melanie that the rumors flying that he was gay were true, thus stanching any hopes she might have of becoming his first lady, manners and protocol—along with an ingrained sense of honesty—demanded that he extend a hand in greeting instead. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Melanie.”

“Graduated magna cum laude from Stanton last spring,” her uncle added proudly. “Brains and beauty in the same package. A rare find in a woman these days.” The man gave his chin a jerk, setting the loose skin beneath it to flapping and Gil to wondering if he ought to duck. “Yessiree, a rare find.”

Gil eased his hand from the I’m-not-letting-go-until-the-ring’s-on-the-finger grip Melanie had on him. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” he replied vaguely.

Someone shouted his name from across the room, and Gil pushed his smile a notch higher and lifted a hand in greeting. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, softening his smile to one of apology for Melanie. “I hope your stay in Texas is a pleasant one.” With a nod to the woman’s uncle, he turned and began to weave his way through the crowd again.

He reached the swinging door he’d spotted earlier and glanced quickly around to make sure no one was looking. Seeing his bodyguard approaching, he slashed a finger across his neck—his signal that he was taking a breather—and pushed his way through the door. Once on the other side he stopped, heaving a sigh of relief, and the door swung back and smacked him on the backside, knocking him a step further into the room. But Gil didn’t mind the whack on his rear, considering it small payment to escape the pressing crowd.

From somewhere he heard a woman’s voice. “The caviar’s on the tray. Get it out there quick. And add more champagne to the fountain. These pigs are swilling it down faster than a drunk would a bottle of rotgut after a week on the wagon.”

Frowning, Gil leaned to peer through a gap between the pots hanging above the long kitchen island. The woman stood before a commercial range on the opposite side, stirring a large pot, her back to him. Balanced on three-inch platform sneakers dyed an iridescent pink and with her white-blond hair anchored on top of her head by a rhinestone clip shaped like a star, she looked to Gil more like a refugee from a punk rock festival than a member of any catering staff.

Before he could make his identity known, she dragged her forearm wearily across her forehead and added, “Better check the supply of champagne glasses while you’re at it. It wouldn’t occur to these morons to simply ask for a refill. Oh-h-h, no-o-o,” she said, sounding more than a little resentful. “They’ve got to grab a fresh glass every time a waiter passes by.”

Finding the woman’s sour disposition a refreshing change from all the saccharine smiles and bogus compliments he’d suffered in the other room, Gil rounded the island. “You could’ve just tapped a keg, set out some plastic cups and saved yourself the hassle.”

She whipped her head around, her gaze slamming into his. He saw the recognition flash in her eyes and prepared himself to graciously accept the apology he was sure she’d offer for mistaking him for one of the caterer’s crew.

To his surprise, instead she turned her back to him and resumed her stirring. “If you’re lost, the party’s on the other side of the door.”

“I’m not lost. I’m hiding.”

She whacked the spoon against the side of the pot, set it aside, then crossed to the refrigerator, wiping her hands on a bib-style apron two sizes too big for her petite frame. “Well, hide someplace else. This kitchen’s small enough without you in here cluttering things up.”

Though her tone was anything but friendly, Gil decided he preferred her porcupine-disposition to the phony graciousness he’d experienced from the political elite gathered in the other room. Crossing to the range, he watched as she opened the refrigerator and stretched to retrieve something from its depths. As she moved, the back of her apron parted, exposing a cute little tush and well-shaped legs covered in leopard-print spandex capris. At the sight, he puckered his lips in a silent, admiring whistle.

When she turned from the refrigerator, he quickly dipped his head over the pot she’d been stirring, pretending interest. His mouth watered at the decadent scent of melted chocolate that rose to tease his taste buds. “Need some help?”

“Yeah, right,” she said dryly, and shouldered him out of her way to add milk to the mixture. “Like the governor of Texas would actually stoop to scullery work.”

Clucking his tongue, Gil shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over a stool. “Just proves you can’t judge a book by its cover…or its title,” he added pointedly, as he loosened his tie. He tucked a dish towel into the waist of his slacks, then plucked the spoon from her hand and tipped his head toward the island. “Why don’t you take that tray of caviar out to the guests before they come in here looking for it and discover my hiding place?”

She snatched the spoon right back. “My staff takes care of the serving,” she informed him coldly, “and I do the cooking.”

Gil lifted his hands and stepped aside, hiding a smile. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“If you want to be helpful, you can get out of my—”

The swinging door banged open behind them and a young woman staggered into the kitchen, weighted down by a large tray of dirty dishes. She angled the tray onto the stainless steel island and blew a weary breath up at her bangs. Bracing a hand against the counter, she lifted a foot to slip her shoe off her heel.

“I swear, Suzy,” she complained, “if you hadn’t promised that I’d get to see the governor up close and personal, I never would’ve agreed to work this gig.” The shoe hit the floor and she moaned pitifully, squeezing her fingers around her aching toes. “No man’s worth this much pain. Not even the governor.”

Another insult hurled his way. Gil couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. “Are you sure about that?”

The young woman snapped to attention, her gaze meeting his, then quickly ducked behind the island, but not before he saw her cheeks flame. Gil heard her muttered curses and fumbling as she struggled to squeeze her swollen foot back into her shoe. Seconds later she popped back into view.

“S-sorry, Governor,” she stammered, as she smoothed her skirt back over her hips. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Smiling, he pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. I’m hiding.”

“Hiding?” Peering at him curiously, she rounded the island. “From who?”

Gil nodded toward the door. “Them.”

She squinched her nose. “I don’t blame you,” she whispered. “Nothing but a bunch of browners out there.” She wiped her hand on her skirt, then offered it to him along with a wide grin. “Hi. I’m Renee.”

Taking her hand, Gil bowed slightly over it. “Gil Riley, Renee. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Suzy muttered, and pushed her way through their joined hands, breaking the contact. She crossed to the island, grabbed the tray of caviar-topped crackers and shoved it at her assistant. “If you’re done with the formal introductions, you can serve these to the browners.”

Renee turned for the door with a long-suffering sigh.

“Remember,” Gil called after her. “Mum’s the word.”

Bracing a hip against the door, Renee tossed him a smile and a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Governor. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Chuckling, Gil picked up the spoon Suzy had abandoned and began to stir as the door swung shut behind Renee. “Cute girl.”

“Hands off. She’s jail bait.”

Gil shrugged as a timer sounded, and Suzy headed for the oven. “Cute jail bait.”

She shoved a tray of miniature pastry shells onto the countertop next to the range, then snatched the spoon from his hand. “Men,” she grumbled.

Fascinated by this woman, but unsure why, Gil propped a hip against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “You have something against men?”

“Nothing a mass castration wouldn’t solve.”

He flinched. “Ouch.”

She tipped her head toward a plastic tub filled with utensils. “If you’re staying, make yourself useful and hand me that ladle.”

He retrieved the requested item and passed it to her. “Anything else, boss?”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “Don’t call me boss.”

“What should I call you?”

“Suzy.”

“Suzy…?” he prodded helpfully, hoping she would reveal her last name.

She slanted him a quelling look. “Just Suzy.”

“Okay, Just Suzy. I’m Gil.”

She rolled her eyes as she ladled thick chocolate into the shells. “Like I don’t know who you are.”

“Which obviously doesn’t impress you overly much.”

“Why should it?”

He could’ve hugged her for that response alone. “Why, indeed,” he replied, smiling.

The timer sounded again, and before Suzy could stop him, Gil removed another tray of pastry shells from the oven, placed it on a rack to cool, then resumed his position at the counter, watching as she continued to fill the shells.

He had always thought a person’s work habits revealed a lot about their personality and mood, and saw that this little lady was no exception to the rule. She tackled her duties with a confidence and an economy of motion that indicated she was no stranger to a kitchen. Yet he noticed a jerkiness in her movements and a tenseness around her mouth that told him his presence annoyed the hell out of her. She was also independent, he noted, zeroing in on the determined set of her jaw, the stubborn thrust of her chin, which told him that she was a woman who wouldn’t need or want anyone’s assistance…especially, it seemed, his.

But, dang, if she wasn’t a pretty little thing, he thought—if a person took the time to look past the garish makeup and the wild hairdo. Intrigued, he watched her hunch a shoulder to her heat-flushed cheek to brush away a wayward strand of hair and was tempted to help her out by tucking the lock behind her ear. But he refrained from doing so, mindful of her comment about castration and the number of knives within easy reach.

Wondering what had given her such a low opinion of men, he let his gaze drift to her mouth, pursed at the moment in an irresistible blend of annoyance and concentration…and found his thoughts shifting to wonder what she would taste like, what kind of response he could arouse from her if he were to give in to the sudden impulse to kiss her. If all her passions ran as deep and volatile as her temper, he suspected he’d be in for one hell of a ride.

“Do you work for the catering company?” he asked, hoping to discover her identity.

“I am the catering company.”

“Should I be impressed?”

She glanced his way. “Most men are,” she replied, then arched a brow and added, “though it’s seldom my cooking that impresses them.”

“Must be that winning personality of yours.”

“That, too.”

He tossed back his head and laughed, enjoying the verbal sparring. “So what do you do when you’re not catering, Just Suzy?”

“Governor?”

Gil turned to find his bodyguard standing in the doorway. “Yes, Dave?”

“People are starting to notice you’re missing.”

Gil dragged the dish towel from around his waist with a weary sigh, feeling the full weight of his responsibilities settling back on his shoulders. “I’ll be right there.”

Dave touched a finger to his temple, then slipped back through the door as quietly as he’d appeared.

Gil picked up his jacket and shrugged it on. “It was nice meeting you, Just Suzy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, busily plunking fresh raspberries on top of each filled tart.

Unable to resist teasing her a little more, he stepped up behind her and leaned to press his lips close to her ear. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you…”

She jerked away, narrowing her eyes at him. “Like what? Washing my dirty dishes? Or did you have something a little more intimate in mind?”

Chuckling, he snugged the knot of his tie between the points of his collar. “Whatever your needs are,” he informed her as he headed for the door, “just give me a shout, and I’m all yours.”

With only a security light to illuminate the dark alleyway where the catering van was parked, Renee hovered at Suzy’s elbow, worrying her thumbnail. “You don’t think the rumors that he’s gay are really true, do you?”

Remembering the governor’s suggestive parting comment, Suzy scowled as she shoved the last crate of glasses into the rear of the van. “Probably.”

Renee’s frown deepened, then she huffed a breath. “Well, I don’t think he is. He just doesn’t look gay, you know?” She sighed dreamily. “Oh, man, did you see his eyes? Paul Newman blue. And that drawl of his. I bet he could turn sex into a three-syllable word.”

Suzy caught the door and stepped back, forcing Renee back, as well. “I thought your relationship with Rusty was exclusive?”

Renee gave her chin a defensive lift. “It is, but there’s no harm in looking.”

Suzy slammed the rear doors with a little more force than necessary. “Yeah, I’ve heard that line before,” she muttered. “But usually delivered by a male caught with lipstick on his collar.” Seeing Renee’s wounded look, she immediately regretted the sharp words and slung an arm around her young employee. “Don’t mind me. I’m just tired.”

Renee’s shoulders drooped wearily beneath Suzy’s arm. “Me, too. Need me to follow you home and help you unload?”

“Nope. I’m leaving everything in the van until morning.”

“You sure?”

Suzy hugged Renee to her side before giving her a push toward the parking lot. “Yeah, I’m sure. Now scoot. And give Rusty a kiss for me,” she called after her.

Renee lifted a hand in farewell. “I will. Good night, Suzy.”

“’Night.”

Suzy watched until Renee was safely inside her car and pulling out onto the street, then headed for the driver’s side of the van, anxious to get to her own home and bed. Catering an event of this size and importance was a physical and mental drain that took her days to recover from. Unfortunately, she didn’t have days. She had a luncheon for the local garden club scheduled for noon the next day. Or rather today, she thought, stifling a groan as she stuck her key into the door lock.

Gravel crunched on the drive behind her, and she froze as a shadow fell over her, blocking the glow from the security light behind her. Silently cursing herself for not asking one of the security guards hired for the party to escort her to her van, she shifted her keys between her fingers and whirled, thrusting out her hand as if she held a weapon

The dark figure—a man she realized, gulping back the scream that rose—skidded to a stop with the blunt end of the key just inches from his chest and shot up his hands.

“Is that thing loaded?”

Though the man’s face remained in shadows, Suzy recognized the voice. The governor. Furious with him for slipping up on her and frightening her, she dropped her arm. “Are you crazy?” she snapped, fisting the keys within her palm. “You could get yourself killed, sneaking up on a person like that.”

He lowered his hands and teased her with a smile. “Would you miss me?”

Scowling, she wrenched open the door. “Get real.”

He caught her elbow, stopping her before she could climb inside. “I’d miss you.”

His voice was low, husky and sounded sincere enough to have her pausing…but only for the length of time it took for her to draw in an angry breath. Jerking free of his grasp, she spun to face him. “You don’t even know me.”

He hooked a hand over the top of the door and smiled down at her, his casual stance irritating her even more. “No, but I’d like to. How about dinner?”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“A drink then.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

He shifted in front of her and pushed his palm against the side of the van, neatly pinning her between himself and the vehicle. He leaned closer and she drew back, wary of the seductive gleam in his eyes.

“Then we’ll skip the preliminaries,” he said in a voice that would melt the lock off a chastity belt, “and go straight to bed. Your place or mine?”

Suzy planted a hand against his chest, stopping his forward movement. “Neither.” She gave him an angry shove. “Now beat it, Romeo, before I start screaming and have every cop in Austin swarming all over the place.”

To her surprise, instead of becoming indignant, as she might have suspected, or using his greater strength to overpower her, he dropped his head back and laughed. Then, before she could duck, he surprised her again by dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I like you, Suzy.”

Grimacing, she dragged the back of her hand across her face. “Yeah. Most men do.”

He took a step back and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’d like to see you again.”

With room to move now, she climbed into the van and slammed the door. “Not if I see you first,” she muttered as she rammed the key into the ignition. She gunned the engine, ripped the gearshift into drive and sped off, setting the glasses in the rear of the van rattling.

She rolled down her window as she turned onto the street…and would have sworn later that was the governor’s laughter she heard chasing her down the street.

Gil stood before the windows in his office in the Governor’s Mansion, his arms folded across his chest, staring out at the grounds below. Though late-afternoon sunshine spotlighted a neatly tended rose garden, he saw nothing but the scowling face of a flashily dressed, sharp-tongued blonde.

Thoughts and images of the caterer he’d met at the party the weekend before had filled his head all week, making it difficult for him to complete the simplest task and impeding his ability to concentrate on a particular topic for any length of time. Both of which were an oddity for Gil, as he couldn’t remember a single woman in his past who had dominated his thoughts so completely.