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“You’ve turned this house into a home, P.J.” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Copyright
“You’ve turned this house into a home, P.J.”
“It was a home when I got here.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not even close,” he said. “How do you do it?”
Shyly she said, “I suppose it’s just because I’m a woman.”
She’d meant the remark in the most innocent way. But the feelings it generated in him went from touch-and-go to downright dangerous.
“It’s easier for women,” she said. “We’re naturally nesters. We pull in a bit of this, a smidgen of that, and—” she threw her arm out in a circular motion “—voilà. A building becomes a home.”
And when she left at the end of the summer, the nest would go back to being just bits of this and that with no one to breathe life and vitality and warmth into it. This home would be a ranch again. And he’d be a footloose cowboy once more.
Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?
Dear Reader
The wonder of a Silhouette Romance is that it can touch every woman’s heart. Check out this month’s offerings—and prepare to be swept away!
A woman wild about kids winds up tutoring a single dad in the art of parenthood in Babies, Rattles and Cribs...Oh, My! It’s this month’s BUNDLES OF JOY title from Leanna Wilson. When a Cinderella-esque waitress—complete with wicked stepfamily!—finds herself in danger, she hires a bodyguard whose idea of protection means making her his Glass Slipper Bride, another unforgettable tale from Arlene James. Pair one highly independent woman and one overly protective lawman and what do you have? The prelude to The Marriage Beat, Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new Romance with a HE’S MY HERD cop.
WRANGLERS & LACE is a theme-based promotion highlighting classic Western stories. July’s offering, Cathleen Galirz’s Wyoming Born & Bred, features an ex-rodeo champion bent on reclaiming his family’s homestead who instead discovers that home is with the stubborn new owner...and her three charming children! A long-lost twin, a runaway bride...and A Gift for the Groom—don’t miss this conclusion to Sally Carleen’s delightful duo ON THE WAY TO A WEDDING.... And a man-shy single mom takes a chance and follows The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart in this emotional heart-tugger from rising star Teresa Southwick.
Enjoy this month’s selections, and make sure to drop me a line about why you keep coming back to Romance. We want to fulfill your dreams!
Happy reading,
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
300 East 42nd Street, 6th Floor
New York, NY 10017
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
www.millsandboon.co.uk
For my brother Dan Boyle and his wife, Katie.
Your laughter, loyalty and love is always an inspiration.
Thanks for the verbal crash course, no pun intended, in
horseback riding. I’m grateful that you didn’t call me
crazy for asking, “But he could touch her leg now, right?”
TERESA SOUTHWICK
is a native Californian with ties to each coast, since she was conceived in the East and born in the West. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof, and above all—happy endings.
Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.
Dear Reader,
Relatives. Gotta love ‘em. Right?
I was one of six kids in a close-knit family. My brothers and I still get together one weekend a year, without spouses and children, to reconnect. We actually like each other.
My husband and I tried to give our two sons the foundation of family that we both enjoyed. Then along came their teenage years. The kids tried to grow up while we struggled valiantly to keep them little and convince them that we knew best. I found that often what I didn’t say was more profound than platitudes tuned out by selective teenage hearing. There were times when we fought, but we always loved each other. We were always family, and that relationship—good or bad—shapes our lives.
This is the theme of The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart—a father’s stern discipline and a rebellious teenager’s interpretation that he’s no good. Cade McKendrick is convinced that he has nothing to offer anyone, including the teenagers he’s forced to take in for the summer. He hires single mom P. J. Kirkland as a cook and she soon sets out to show him he’s one of the good guys.
Because family has always been such an important element in my life, I’m very proud that The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart is included in FAMILY MATTERS. Silhouette Romance’s promotion this month. I fell in love with Cade McKendrick and hope this cowboy finds his way into your heart too.
Chapter One
“You’re a woman.”
“You’re a man.” P. J. Kirkland shot back, then winced after the words popped out.
Open mouth, insert foot. The first time she’d laid eyes on her new boss too.
Would she ever learn to think before letting words come out? Cade McKendrick didn’t seem a warm, fuzzy—forgiving—sort of man. She was relieved when his lips curved up slightly in a smile.
“Can’t argue that.” He glanced down at the paper on the desk in front of him. “I just figured P. J. Kirkland was a guy.”
“That happens a lot.”
“Hmm.” The leather chair creaked loudly as he sat down. Not surprising. His approximately six-foot-two-inch, solid-as-a-rock frame would make any piece of furniture groan. Not to mention most females she knew. Luckily, she was the exception.
A good-looking man held no appeal for her. Not anymore. But she couldn’t help noticing that Cade McKendrick, with his deep blue eyes, sun-streaked brown hair and chiseled jaw, would not have to wear a bag over his head in public—unless he wanted to avoid female attention.
P.J. held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. McKendrick.”
“Cade,” he said leaning forward to squeeze her fingers. He indicated the chair in front of his desk and said, “Please sit down. What does P.J. stand for?”
“Would you believe pajamas?”
“No.”
So much for trying to distract him with humor. Although brief, that flash of amusement on his rugged face moments ago had charmed her, and she’d hoped to bring it out again. But it was gone, as if it had never happened, replaced by an unreadable mask. He watched her intently, expectantly, waiting her out. He was going to make her tell him her full name. She would make him pay.
“Penelope Jane,” she said quickly. “It’s nice—”
“What’s wrong with Penelope Jane?” Even as he innocently asked, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his mouth twitched. She had hoped to impress him with her razor-sharp wit, not her dippy name.
She sighed. “Sounds like a character from a bad Doris Day movie.”
“What’s wrong with Penny?”
“Too cutesy. My older brother started using the initials and it stuck.”
“Okay. So tell me what you know about kids.”
“In twenty-five words or less?” she joked.
“Okay.”
He sounded serious. P.J. frowned. Her experience and qualifications were in the résumé she’d sent him. Now that she thought about it, the fact that she was a woman was clear in her introductory letter. But maybe this was his way of breaking the ice.
“I teach high-school kids. Just completed my fourth year.” Her job in Valencia, California, was a far cry from his ranch near Santa Barbara. Hard to believe the two places were in the same state, only a couple hours apart by car.
He nodded, apparently satisfied. “You can cook, right?”
Shouldn’t this have been ironed out before she arrived? “If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have answered your ad, in spite of the fact that this job is exactly what I need. The idea of a youth summer program on a ranch is innovative and a terrific opportunity. For children,” she added, knowing she was babbling. She was nervous. She couldn’t help it. He kept looking at her with those blue eyes that seemed to read every secret she had.
“These kids aren’t children. They’re teenagers,” he said. “What’s your specialty? In food, I mean.”
“I don’t do gourmet/fancy. But I know what kids like—hot dogs, hamburgers, tacos and fries are about as sophisticated as they get. I can make biscuits from scratch that will melt in your mouth. And my chocolate chip cookies wouldn’t be mistaken for hockey pucks,” she added, sacrificing modesty for honesty and complete objectivity.
Small doubts began to creep in on her. This felt an awful lot like a job interview, but she’d been under the impression that she already had the position. He’d left the message on her answering machine that she was hired and the date he wanted her to start.
She was about to ask a few incisive questions of her own when there was a loud crash outside his office door. P.J. jumped up and raced into the hall with Cade right behind her. There beside an antique accent table, she saw her daughter, Emily, with a shattered crystal photo frame on the distressed-oak floor at her feet.
“Mommy—” Her child’s fearful gaze darted to Cade just before she scurried forward and buried her face against P.J.’s jean-clad leg.
P.J. crouched down and gathered the seven-year-old in her arms. ‘ “What happened, sweetie? I told you to sit quietly and not touch anything while you waited for me.”
“Mommy?” Cade frowned. “You brought a kid with you?”
“Not a kid. My daughter, Emily.” PJ. took a deep breath to keep her anger at bay. How long before she learned that when something looked too good to be true it usually was? Case in point: a job on a ranch where she and Emily could live for the summer. It had seemed ideal. She would be able to work and still save money on child care. She might actually get ahead financially.
She glared up at him. “I stated clearly in the letter accompanying my résumé that I had a child. I told you she would be coming with me. When you left the message that I had been hired, I assumed that you had gone over my qualifications carefully. But you haven’t even looked at my résumé, have you, Mr. McKendrick?”
Before he could answer, Emily looked at him with red-rimmed green eyes. Her lips quivered when she said, “I—I’m sorry about the picture, mister.”
He went down on one knee and lifted the photograph from the shards of glass. He studied the granite features of the gray-haired man, then said, “Forget it.”
Emily stared at the picture in his hands. “But it must be special—”
“Just my father,” he said.
She rubbed a knuckle beneath her nose. “You’re lucky. I don’t have a daddy.”
Her words tugged at P.J.’s heart.
“Me either. He died three months ago.” He looked up at P.J. “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he said reading the sympathy she knew was on her face. “I won’t.”
Emily sniffled again. “I’m extra sorry, mister.”
P.J. pulled her little girl more protectively against her. “I’ll see that the frame is replaced, Mr. McKendrick. ”
“Don’t worry about it. And I already told you the name is Cade,” he said, standing.
“I insist. As soon as—” She looked down when she felt a tug on her jeans pocket. “What is it, Emily?”
“Do ranches have bathrooms?”
Cade smiled for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. Once at her, once at Emily. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “double trouble.”
Great, she thought, already planning to apply for work at her local fast-food place. She would figure out some way to arrange child care.
When Emily tugged again, she said, “T’m sure there’s a powder room. Let’s ask Mr.—” she stopped when he slanted her a look. “Cade. He’ll tell you where it is.”
He pointed down the hall. “Go that way and it’ll be on your right.”
“Do you want me to go with you, Em?”
The girl shook her head, then looked uncertain. “But which side is right?”
“It’s the side you hold your pencil. Okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
They watched her until she’d found the right door, then P.J. turned to him. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you read my résumé?”
He rubbed his neck. “No.”
“Was mine the only one you received?”
He shook his head. “Got about six or seven.”
“If you didn’t read mine, how did you pick me?”
“Yours was on top.”
“Would I be wrong to assume that you didn’t check out my references either?”
“No.”
“If I were a cowboy, would you have done some checking on my background?”
“Yes, but—”
She shook her head. This was no way to run a youth program. Cavalier and slipshod at best. “We’re talking about children, not horses. This is irresponsible—”
“So I’ve been told,” he said, bitterness twisting his words.
“I can’t believe someone entrusted you with this program.”
“Me either. But someone did.”
“Who?”
“My father. It was his idea.”
“And he passed away before he could get it running,” she guessed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cade. But this could be a dynamite thing you’re doing. Channeling your energy into children will help you get over your grief—”
“That’s what you think this is about?” he asked.
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hardly knew him. We hadn’t spoken since I left home at eighteen. When he found out he was dying he sent for me. He ordered me to finish what he’d started.”
“Ordered? You didn’t want to?”
“Nope.”
“Then why are you?”
“If I don’t, I lose the ranch.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I don’t see this program through the summer, the ranch will be sold and the money donated to his favorite charity.” Cade watched her big brown eyes grow wider.
“You must have misunderstood—”
“His will was so clear I didn’t even need the lawyer to translate.” He shoved his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “He had already picked three kids from a local probation program. By the end of the summer, they’ll go back where they came from and the ranch will be mine, free and clear. I just have to get through the next couple months.”
Cade waited for her disapproving look. He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips tightened. Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw her nose wrinkle, drawing his attention to how freckle-splashed and turned-up-cute it was. A pale yellow cotton blouse tucked into her jeans showed off her slender curves. Shoulder-length brown hair curled in layers around her pretty face. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but clean-cut and appealing. Not his normal type, although under different circumstances he might have been tempted to put moves on her. But she had a kid. That was strike one. Strike two: he had a bad feeling P. J. Kirkland was a do-gooder who would give him what-for about his attitude.
When she took a deep breath, he braced himself. Sometimes he hated it when he was right.
“Get through?” she said, clearly offended. “That’s not good enough. These are children. They’re at risk. You have a unique opportunity. This is a chance to make a difference in their lives. And you just want to ‘get through’?”
“That’s about the size of it.” He didn’t care whether or not she approved. He just needed her until the end of August. “So you still want the job, or do I need to call the second résumé in the stack?”
She blinked. “You’re hiring me?”
The sound of footsteps kept her from saying more, and they both turned to see Emily coming toward them. The child stopped beside her and looked from PJ. to him. “Mister, if you have a broom, I’ll sweep up the glass. Mom always makes me clean up my messes.”
“I have a broom. You can sweep it into a pile, but don’t pick it up. I’ll do that so you don’t cut yourself.”
She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“It’s fine,” PJ. said.
“Good,” he answered pointing. “The kitchen is that way. Follow me.”
He started toward the back of the house when the little girl slipped her small hand into his. It was amazingly small, and wet from a recent washing. Surprised, he looked down at her and she smiled. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure PJ. was following.
“I’ve never seen a cowboy before,” she confided.
“I’ve never seen a little girl before.”
She stared up at him, doubt written all over her small oval face. “You’re fibbing, mister.”
“Call me Cade. And I’m not exactly fibbing. I’ve never been this close to a little girl.” The thought bothered him a little. He wondered what else he’d missed out on because of his wandering life-style.
“Really?”
“Cross my heart,” he said.
“Did you hear that, Mom?”
“I did, sweetie. Cade hasn’t been around boys either, he says.”
“Is that why you need my mommy to help you?”
Helping him made it sound more intimate than it was. Bottom line: he was the boss; she was the cook. He glanced at the woman on the other side of the little girl. “Yes.”
“At least you know when you’re in over your head,” P.J. said.
“Does that mean you’ll stay for the summer?” He hoped the answer was yes. It would be convenient if he didn’t have to find someone else on such short notice.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“How’s that?”
She sighed. “I need the work.”
Bright-eyed with excitement, Emily tipped her head back and looked from him to her mother. “So we don’t have to go?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I think we have a duty to stay.” PJ. shot him a meaningful glance. “We have to help him get to know kids.”
Emily frowned. “I don’t know how. Travis Wilkins always pulls my hair. I ask him nicely to stop, but he won’t. How can I help Mister Cade?”
“By doing what you’re told,” P.J. said.
The child nodded. “I can do that.”
Cade shook his head, mystified. As easy as that she would behave, he thought. But his cynicism quickly returned. Emily was young yet. Give her time. Rebellion would set in and he’d like to be around to see Ms. Cool, Unruffled, Idealistic P. J. Kirkland deal with that. If Emily was half as much trouble as he’d been, he figured her pretty mother would have her hands full.
They entered the kitchen and he watched P.J. look around what would be her territory for the next three months. The approving light in her chocolate-brown eyes told him the spacious ceramic tile countertops and center island work area appealed to her. The side-by-side refrigerator would hold plenty of food for the three boys who would be boarding for the summer. The only thing he knew about young boys was how much they could eat—that he remembered. At the far end of the room, sitting on the oak-plank floor, was a table with eight chairs. That should give them enough space for eating.
He reached into the closet beside the pantry and pulled out the broom, handing it to Emily. “This is pretty big. Can you carry it?”
“Yes, sir.” She tilted her head back to look at him, then quickly glanced away. “Mister Cade, can I ask you something?”
“I guess.”
“Will I fall over backwards if I look up at you all the way?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re awful tall. I feel like I’m gonna tip over backwards if I do.”
“I promise if I see you going over, I’ll grab you. Fair enough?”
She nodded. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Do you have a boy or girl of your own?”
“No.” Cade stared at her, not sure where that had come from.
PJ. quickly ran interference. “Emily, you’re procrastinating. It’s time for you to go start sweeping up.”
Cade raised an eyebrow. “Do you understand those twenty-dollar words?” he asked the little girl.
“Not always. But Mom helps me.” She smiled at him. “You’re really a cowboy?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yes.” Hadn’t they already covered this?
“But you’re not wearin’ a hat.”
“You don’t have to wear a hat to be a cowboy.”
“But on the way here in the car, Mommy said cowboys wear hats. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“White or black?”
PJ. moved forward and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Enough questions, chatterbox. Go clean up your mess.”
“I will, Mom. First I gotta know what color his hat is.”
“Brown,” Cade answered.
Emily’s forehead wrinkled as she thought that over. “Does that mean you’re a good guy or a bad one?”
He mulled that for a moment, then answered truthfully. “Bad.”
After reading Emily a bedtime story, P.J. wandered out on the front porch. Cade had put them upstairs in the room next to his. There were two other bedrooms down the ball from her and Em where the boys would stay. With a sigh, she sat on the swing. Suspended by thick ropes, the redwood frame was covered with a cushioned canvas pad. Moonlight combined with the lamplight spilling through the window to bathe her surroundings in a silver glow. Sighing again, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body into the cushy softness as she swayed gently back and forth. It had been an unsettling day, but this peace and serenity almost made up for it.
“Evening.”
Her eyes snapped open. The sound of that familiar deep voice shot tension up her spine faster than she could say this town ain’t big enough for the both of us. He was just emerging from the shadows beyond the circle of light from the house. “Cade. I didn’t know you were out here.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He walked up the steps. “Before sundown I always do a last look-see around the ranch to make sure everything’s quiet.”
“Emily asked me to tell you good-night.”
“She settle in all right?” he asked, removing his brown hat.
She remembered his words about being a bad guy. She didn’t buy it. Would a bad guy care if a little girl was all right, or pick up her mess so she wouldn’t cut herself? He leaned back against the porch support beam, and rested one hip on the railing beside her. It was a blatantly masculine pose that did strange things to her stomach.
“She couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to hear the end of her favorite story.”
He set his hat on his thigh and rubbed the brim between his fingers. P.J. would never peg him as the nervous type, but, all the same, she sensed that something was eating him.
He cleared his throat. “If I gave you a bad moment today, I apologize, PJ.”
“What do you mean?”
“About the job and all. With the kid to think about, and needing the work since your husband passed away—”
“What?” she asked, sitting forward on the swing.
“Emily said she didn’t have a dad. I just assumed he was—You know.”
“He’s alive and well. I need this job because it allows me to save money on child care. Even if I could find it now. All the good camp programs are full by the time summer starts.”