Wade was jealous!

The thought sent a tingly thrill up Anne’s spine. She opened her mouth to deny he had any right to be jealous. But no words would form while he was so close.

“Why do you wear those clothes?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with my clothes? I shop at good stores.”

“They’re baggy. I think you dress to keep men away.” He placed one hand against the wall on either side of her, not quite touching her. “And I think you wear your hair slicked back for the same reason.” He grabbed the end of her braid and removed the elastic band. Immediately the braid started to unravel.

“Then it’s not working very well, is it?” Her voice sounded thready, pleading. She did not want to face this…this need she had, so unseemly, so not her.

“Tell me you don’t want to get back what we had.”

She couldn’t.

“Didn’t think so.” With that, Wade claimed the kiss he’d been inching toward.

Dear Reader,

It’s hot outside. So why not slip into something more comfortable, like a delicious Harlequin American Romance novel? This month’s selections are guaranteed to take your mind off the weather and put it to something much more interesting.

We start things off with Debbi Rawlins’s By the Sheikh’s Command, the final installment of the very popular BRIDES OF THE DESERT ROSE series. Our bachelor prince finally meets his match in a virginal beauty who turns the tables on him in a most delightful way. Rising star Kara Lennox begins a new family-connected miniseries, HOW TO MARRY A HARDISON, and these sexy Texas bachelors will make your toes tingle. You’ll meet the first Hardison brother in Vixen in Disguise—a story with a surprising twist.

The talented Debra Webb makes a return engagement to Harlequin American Romance this month with The Marriage Prescription, a very emotional story involving characters you’ve met in her incredibly popular COLBY AGENCY series from Harlequin Intrigue. Also back this month is Leah Vale with The Rich Girl Goes Wild, a not-to-be-missed billionaire-in-disguise story.

Here’s hoping you enjoy all we have to offer this month at Harlequin American Romance. And be sure to stop by next month when Cathy Gillen Thacker launches her brand-new family saga, THE DEVERAUX LEGACY.

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Vixen in Disguise

Kara Lennox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copy writer, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels.

When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel.

Books by Kara Lennox

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

840—VIRGIN PROMISE

856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS

871—TAME AN OLDER MAN

893—BABY BY THE BOOK

917—THE UNLAWFULLY WEDDED PRINCESS

934—VIXEN IN DISGUISE*

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

The Autumn Daze Festival in Cottonwood, Texas, hadn’t changed a bit in thirteen years, Wade Hardison thought as he strolled down Elm Street. The usually sleepy town square had been temporarily transformed into a whirling kaleidoscope of sensory overload.

Bands of screaming children streaked past him, their exuberant laughter plucking nostalgic chords in Wade’s mind. PTA mothers and their farmer husbands did good imitations of circus barkers, luring townsfolk and tourists alike to try their luck at the ringtoss or the dunking booth, where Mayor Dilly was currently the victim.

Smells of popcorn, cotton candy and barbecued turkey legs filled the air, reminding Wade he was hungry. He tried to make up his mind what to eat as dusk slowly descended on the crisp fall day. Yards and yards of twinkling white lights flickered to life.

It was good to be home. Wade had left Cottonwood as an angry adolescent, at odds with everybody, unsure of his place in the world, but ready to go out and conquer it. He’d done what he set out to do—he’d carved a niche for himself and become the best at something his brothers knew nothing about. He’d returned far mellower, ready to make peace with his family.

Only problem was, he wasn’t sure his family wanted to make peace with him. When he’d left, he’d been concerned only with his own perceived wounds, positive his family would be happy to see the last of him. He’d had no idea the scars he’d left behind. His homecoming two days ago had been awkward at best, and certainly no one had dragged out the fatted calf.

But at least his grandfather had let him stay at the ranch house.

When he caught sight of a redhead leaning against an ancient live oak, working cautiously at a caramel apple, Wade thought for a moment his heart had stopped. Then he thought he must be hallucinating.

Though he hadn’t seen Annie since last May, he hadn’t forgotten one thing about her—not her laugh or her scent or the feel of her hand in his. He’d had to make do with memories because they were all he had—she’d left him, disappeared without a word.

Now, when he least expected it, here she was, in his hometown of all places. At least, he thought it was her. Same red hair. Same big green eyes. Same luscious mouth, which, as he watched, did intriguing things to the caramel apple she nibbled on. She paused now and then to lick her lips and delicately blot them with a paper napkin.

But some things about her weren’t like Annie at all. Her hair, for instance. The color was right, but Annie’s bouncy curls were wild and barely controlled, a tangle of deep-red silk a man could lose himself in. This woman’s hair had been slicked into a severe knot at the back of her head.

And the clothes were all wrong. Annie had worn tight jeans, a clingy shirt with a low neckline, a vest with rhinestone studs. Her fingers had been decorated with numerous rings, and she’d worn big, dangly earrings. This woman wore a loose turtleneck and a shapeless corduroy jumper, black stockings and loafers. Little gold studs in her ears.

The most dramatic difference between Annie and the mystery woman, however, was in the face. The features were the same, but the expression very different. Annie had smiled and laughed and teased all the time. This woman’s face was tight, with a cautious look to the eyes. And he saw something else in her eyes, too—a sadness that couldn’t be denied.

“See something you like?”

Wade jumped and nearly spilled his soft drink. His older brother Jeff had sidled up next to him, but Wade had been so fixated on the caramel-apple woman he hadn’t even been aware of the intrusion.

Wade couldn’t very well deny he’d been staring. “Who is she?”

“You don’t remember her?”

“You know her, then.” Dumb question. Jeff knew everybody. He’d gone to medical school, then into practice several years ago with their father, who’d been the town’s only doctor for decades. Sooner or later everyone came in to see one of the Docs Hardison.

“Of course I know her. She’s Milton Chatsworth’s daughter.”

Milton Chatsworth, their father’s best friend from college. Wade struggled to fit the memories into place. Milton had retired and moved his family to Cottonwood shortly before Wade had left town, but he remembered meeting him and his family at their fancy lake house.

Then the fuzzy picture snapped into focus. “I remember a scrawny, redheaded girl, all knock-knees and braces.”

“That’s the one. Don’t bother her, okay?”

“What’s her name?” Wade asked anxiously.

Jeff reluctantly complied. “Anne. She just graduated from law school at SMU, following in her old man’s footsteps.”

Wade hardly heard what Jeff was saying. He’d seized on the name, Anne. Annie. And Southern Methodist University was in Dallas, where he’d first met Annie.

He didn’t believe in coincidence. Had to be the same woman. And he wasn’t about to let her get away twice.

“Wade? Are you listening?” Jeff asked impatiently.

“Yeah, sure.”

“She’s got a lot to deal with right now. She doesn’t need any extra grief.”

That comment got Wade’s dander up. He turned his full attention on his brother. “Why do you automatically assume I’ll bring a woman grief? Maybe I could be the light of her life.”

Jeff sighed. “If you’d lose that chip on your shoulder for thirty seconds, you’d realize I’m looking out for your best interests, too. I know Anne Chatsworth, and she’s not your type.”

Wade allowed a slow smile to win over his face. His temper, always quick to flare, just as quickly died away. He was no longer sixteen, and he didn’t have to listen to his brothers or his father or grandfather anymore, telling him how to live his life. Just reminding himself of that fact eased the defensiveness he’d developed to survive as an average kid in a family of overachievers.

He looked his brother squarely in the eye. “I suspect you don’t know Anne as well as you think you do.”

With that he tipped his hat and turned toward Anne Chatsworth, intending to renew his acquaintance with her.

But she was gone.

“WOULD YOU THROW that nasty thing away?” Deborah Chatsworth said to her daughter as they walked along Livestock Lane, where the Future Farmers of America and 4-H Club kids displayed their prize animals in hopes of winning a blue ribbon for their trophy cases. “You don’t have to keep gnawing on it like a dog with a bone.”

Anne Chatsworth paused and looked at her half-eaten treat, then at her mother. “It’s a caramel apple. You’re supposed to gnaw on it.”

“Well, it doesn’t look very dignified.”

“We’re at a county fair, where people chase after greased pigs and the mayor lets himself be dunked in a tank fully clothed. Nobody’s worried about dignity here.”

“You can say that again.”

Attending the Autumn Daze Festival hadn’t been a number-one priority for Deborah. She’d tried to get out of it, but Anne’s father had insisted they go.

“I intend to run for town council next year,” Milton Chatsworth had said earlier that day when both his wife and daughter had been reluctant to fight the crowds of tourists. “How would it look if I didn’t attend the town’s biggest event of the year?”

Anne thought it was kind of cute that her father, after years of insulating himself from the townies, had decided to venture forth from his lake house and get involved. “Come on, Mom, let’s humor him,” Anne had said, and Deborah had finally agreed to come along.

Anne was glad she’d come. Getting out of the house these last few weeks had become a chore for her. She recognized the signs of perfectly natural depression and knew that getting out and distracting herself was the best medicine. So she’d made herself get dressed and come to the fair, to please her father, because she really loved both her parents despite their lofty self-images.

Once she’d arrived at the fair, she’d gotten caught up with it, fondly remembering the festivals of her teen years, when she’d run with a gang of other kids she desperately wanted to fit in with, stuffing herself with cotton candy, riding the Ferris wheel, listening to the bands that played, usually badly, at the bandstand.

Life had been simpler then, and for just these few hours she’d been able to recapture that less complicated time. In fact, today, for the first time in almost a month, she’d felt as if she might be able to get on with her life, instead of just going through the motions and pretending, for her parents’ sake, that she was okay.

“Now where do you suppose your father has gotten to?” Deborah asked.

Anne threw away the core of her caramel apple, thoroughly gnawed, and paused to stroke a cream-colored Shetland pony. “Maybe at the watermelon-seed-spitting contest?”

Deborah glowered at her daughter.

“Okay, I’ll be serious. I think he said he’d been asked to judge something—pies or pickles, something like that.”

Deborah looked exasperated. “The food is all the way on the other side of the square. I’m ready to go home, aren’t you? You look pale.”

“I feel fine, just a little tired.” Her physical stamina was alarmingly low.

“Stay here, then. I’ll go round up your father.” Deborah gave Anne a solicitous pat and headed off in her pumps, her figure still slender and straight despite her sixty-five years. Anne smiled and shook her head. Only her mother would wear heels to a county fair.

The pony enjoyed Anne’s attention, so she continued to pet it for a few minutes, its velvety nose soft against her palm.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

That voice.

Anne tensed, then gasped and turned so quickly she startled the pony, which snorted and pranced away. For a few moments all she could do was stare at the apparition standing in front of her—far too close for sanity.

Wade Hardison. What was he doing here? She’d been certain that he was permanently estranged from his family, that the last place he would ever go was Cottonwood, Texas, so she’d never worried about a chance meeting with him.

Anne blinked a couple of times, but he was no hallucination. In fact, he was disturbingly real—solid-looking as a tree trunk, and every bit as devilishly handsome as the memories she conjured up on an hourly basis.

In the next heartbeat she schooled her features, controlled her breathing and decided how she would handle this.

“Excuse me?” she said, trying to look confused.

“If you say you don’t remember me, my heart’s gonna break in two right here.”

“I—I’m sorry. You look slightly familiar, but I’m not good with names.” That was a fat lie. When it came to names and faces, her mind was like flypaper. His face was etched into her memory with the permanency of Mount Rushmore.

Wade narrowed his eyes. “Familiar? Slightly familiar? I guess I’m just one of a long stream of guys you share passionate weekends with, huh, Annie?”

“I beg your pardon, sir, my name is not Annie. You obviously have me confused with someone else.” An alternate persona that would never, ever see the light of day again, if Anne had anything to say about it. Hadn’t her father always told her to be cautious? To never, ever trust strangers? And especially to never let common impulses and unchecked appetites rule her head?

“Anne, then, if you insist. Anne Chatsworth, newly minted lawyer.”

“How do you know that?” she asked with some alarm.

“My brother told me.”

Anne felt the blood drain to her feet, making her suddenly dizzy. Wade’s brother Jeff. Dr. Jeff Hardison, her physician and a close family friend. How naive she’d been to trust that the Hardison family rift would never be healed. She knew Jeff would not reveal her medical details to anyone without her authorization, not for any reason, under any circumstances. He was an excellent doctor, and she had complete confidence in him. But the fact that Jeff and Wade had been discussing her at all…well, that was bad.

“You did me wrong, Annie.”

“I am not Annie,” she insisted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.” He grasped her arm and halted her attempted escape, then slid his fingers up to her shoulder.

“Please,” she said, feeling panicky. He continued to touch her, his hand hot even through her shirt, though his grasp was loose. She could escape any time—if she could only make herself move. But her feet remained welded to the ground.

He leaned closer. “Please what?”

“I’m not Annie.”

“Then why are you standing here about to let me kiss you?”

Lord help her, he was right. She stood in his light embrace, paralyzed like a deer in headlights by the look and feel of him, his scent. He had her mesmerized, just as he had the moment she’d laid eyes on him, when she was twelve and he was sixteen. And again, when she’d seen him for the first time in thirteen years, at the Mesquite Rodeo last spring. He had a strange power over her.

Her body quivered as he slowly closed the distance between them. She knew she should back away, push him, run, scream, anything but kiss him. Yet she stood there, her breath caught in her lungs, and allowed him to touch his mouth to hers, very gently, very sweetly. Like a first kiss, so tender it made her ache. She melted into it. She couldn’t help herself. He tasted like coming home.

It lasted only a few seconds, and when he pulled away, he was smiling triumphantly. “Kisses don’t lie, Annie. Now, are you going to tell me why you ran out on me without a word?”

Anne heard voices behind her. A small knot of fair goers were heading into the parking lot, sending her heart into overdrive. Her parents—what if they saw her? What if anyone saw her? She had to get out of here, for her sanity as well as a whole host of reasons.

“All right.” She disentangled herself from Wade’s warm embrace. Obviously, she hadn’t fooled him into thinking he’d misidentified her. “I do owe you an apology and an explanation, and I’ll give them to you, but not here, not now.” She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder.

“Afraid to be seen with me?”

“Yes!” When his cocky grin slid away, she quickly added, “It’s a complicated situation, but I’ll explain it. Later.”

“When?” he pressed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tonight.”

“Okay, all right.”

“Midnight.”

“Eleven. I’ll be in bed by midnight.”

“I hope so.” Wade’s eyes burned like two hot coals.

She should have known better than to mention the word bed. Anne searched her brain for a private meeting place, but Wade provided one for her.

“At the ranch. The old red barn that’s used to store hay. You know it?”

She nodded.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Again she nodded.

“If you don’t show, I’ll come find you.” He turned and sauntered away.

Anne didn’t doubt him. She also wouldn’t blame him if he was really angry with her. But when she’d left him last May, it had seemed her only choice. She hadn’t counted on an emotional entanglement when she’d set off for the Mesquite Rodeo in her borrowed cowgirl duds, eager to blow off some exam-induced steam.

Eleven. If she left the house late at night, her parents naturally would ask where she was going. The truth would just lead to a whole lot of questions she didn’t want to answer. She would have to slip out under their radar.

She wouldn’t dream of standing Wade up. If she didn’t show, he would probably have the nerve to come knocking on her front door.

Anne’s parents showed up mere moments after Wade’s departure. Her father, looking every inch the country squire, wore an official-looking badge that said Judge. He smiled and waved when he caught sight of her, then immediately sobered.

“Your mother says you’re not feeling well.” His round, jovial face, which disguised a keen intellect that could cut his legal opponents to ribbons, was etched with concern.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” She smiled, reassuring him. “Let’s go home and put our feet up,” Deborah said, sliding an arm around Anne’s waist. “They gave your dad a pie for judging the contest.” She pointed to a shopping bag looped over her arm. “We can warm it up and have it with ice cream.”

“Don’t mention pie,” Milton said with a grimace. “I may never eat pie again.”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” Deborah said. Anne relaxed slightly as they all climbed into her father’s gold Cadillac. Her parents were good people, and they loved her unconditionally. When they pushed her too hard or tried to impose their opinions on her, Anne had to remind herself that everything they did, they did out of love for her. She had come late into their lives—her mother was forty when Anne was born. They had doted on her her whole life, and they only wanted the best for their daughter.

SLIPPING OUT OF THE HOUSE was easy. When her parents were engrossed in TV, Anne tiptoed down the back stairs and out the French doors to the patio, then around to the garage. Their driveway was at the top of a hill, so Anne didn’t even have to start her car. She put her blue Mustang—a graduation present from her father—into Neutral and coasted into the street, breathing a relieved sigh when no one called to her.

The whole escapade felt a little childish, she thought as she started the car’s engine half a block away. But the previous few months had upset her parents greatly, and she refused to do anything to cause them more worry.

She knew where the Hardison Ranch was. Even if she hadn’t visited there since she was a young girl, everyone knew. It was the biggest cattle operation in Cottonwood, and old Pete Hardison had been one of the town’s first residents. Pete had struggled in the early days. Then he’d struck oil and become a millionaire overnight—and adopted the lifestyle to prove it.

The oil bust in the eighties had all but ruined the overextended Hardisons, but Pete’s grandson, Jonathan—Wade’s oldest brother—had caught the ranching bug. He’d taken hold of the ranch and brought it back to prosperity over the past dozen years.

When Anne pulled up to the Hardison Ranch’s white gates, she found them open. She rumbled over the cattle guard and up the red dirt drive, meandering through some mesquite trees before she saw the old barn, looming dark in the night.

She was five minutes late. The barn looked black inside, completely uninhabited, but she sensed Wade was there. She could almost feel him. He didn’t seem the type to play games—that was her specialty. If he’d said he’d be here at eleven, he probably was here.

She parked and climbed out of the car. The night had taken on a slight chill, and the brisk breeze blew up inside her jumper, making her wish she’d put on jeans. She shivered slightly, but more from apprehension than the cold.

The huge double doors of the old-fashioned red barn were slightly ajar, enough that she could squeeze through. “Hello?” she called out as her eyes tried to adjust to the almost total darkness.

She heard the strike of a match, then saw the flare not ten feet in front of her. She could just make out Wade’s strong features as he lit a kerosene lantern that looked like an antique. The lantern glowed to life, and Anne could see the cavernous barn was full to the rafters with hay.

“Why were you standing here in the dark?” she asked. “And is it safe to have a lantern in here? All this hay…”

Wade hung the lantern on a hook. “Lots of questions. I like the dark. And the lantern is safe, so long as we don’t get so wild we knock it over.”

Anne’s heart did a flip-flop. If he was trying to unnerve her with his innuendo, he’d succeeded.

Chapter Two

Wade held on to the illusion of confidence like a two-year-old with a security blanket. He tried to pretend Annie showing up here tonight was no big deal. In truth, he’d been terrified she would blow him off.

But Annie had come. She was standing before him, looking like a mirage in the lantern light, her green eyes keeping a wary watch on him. Which meant that maybe she was still interested.

He leaned against a stack of round hay bales and folded his arms. “So, Annie, what’s your story? Why the big deception?” he asked, his tone intentionally casual. “And why the disappearing act?” She’d really thrown him for a loop when he’d awakened that Monday morning after the rodeo to find her gone.

He wasn’t like a lot of the guys on the circuit who slept with any buckle bunny who came along, making empty promises then awkward goodbyes when it came time to move on to the next rodeo. Not that he was a monk, but he’d thought Annie was special—different.

Worth his time and attention.

Though they’d made no promises, he’d felt so good when he was with her that he’d been silently plotting ways he could keep her hanging around. He’d thought she felt the same.

She said nothing, just stood there with her hands clenched, staring at the floor.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, enjoying her discomfort. “Come on, you’re a lawyer. Lawyers have to know how to talk, right? Damn, I never would have guessed.”

“The woman you met at the Mesquite Rodeo,” she finally said, “that wasn’t me. She—”

“I thought we covered that territory earlier.”

“I mean, physically she was in my body, but she wasn’t the real Anne Chatsworth.” She paced, a caged lioness looking for a crack she could squeeze through.

Abruptly she stopped and faced him squarely. Though she still wore the conservative clothes from earlier, some of her hair had worked itself loose from her knot and squiggled around her face. Her eyes were large and luminous, and she’d lost that tight, controlled expression he’d seen at the fair.

“I was studying for finals and having a real hard time,” she continued. “The pressure, the doubts, the stress—you can’t imagine what that’s like unless you go through it.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t know anything about stress. I’m just a simple cowboy. Is that it?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure you’ve had stress in your life at one time or another. I’m just trying to explain where my mind was.”

“Okay, I’ll agree, you were under pressure. Go on.”

“That Friday I kind of lost it. I’d been studying nonstop for hours, days, and I just…snapped. I needed a break. No, I needed more than that. I needed to get away from everything—forget everything, including myself.”

“Enter Annie the slow-talking rodeo girl.” She looked at him, her face pleading with him to understand.

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “So I was nothing to you but Cowboy Valium?”

She sank onto a rickety wooden bench. “I guess you could put it that way, although at the beginning I certainly had no intention of…of…”

“…picking up some guy and sleeping with him,” he finished for her.

“Exactly.”

“But that’s what you did. Any particular reason you picked me?”

“You make it sound so premeditated. I recognized your name when the announcer said it. I remembered you, although I’m sure the reverse isn’t true. Last time we saw each other, I was twelve and you were sixteen, so I probably didn’t register on your radar screen. I used to hang out at the Livestock Exchange arena and watch you practice with Traveler when he was just a colt.”

She was right, he’d been focused on other matters. Getting Traveler up to competition speed so he could get the hell out of Cottonwood had been the only thing he could think about back then.

“Anyway, after you won your event, I went back to the chutes to find you so I could say hi, you know, a friendly voice from back home. But I sort of never got around to mentioning Cottonwood.”

“You never even told me your last name. So you could make a clean getaway after you seduced me?”

“Hey, come on. There was a lot of mutual seducing going on, if you’ll recall.”

Oh, yeah, he recalled. And so did she, judging from the way she was breathing, quick and shallow, and the flare of heat in her eyes.

“You know, this doesn’t sound much like an apology,” he said.

“I’m getting there. Let me finish.”

“I’ve got all night.” He couldn’t be sure, because the light was so dim, but he thought she blushed. That was something he loved about redheads, about Annie in particular. It was so easy to make her blush.

“Going to bed with you wasn’t a premeditated act. It just happened. And afterward I knew I should go home and forget about it, get on with my studies, but I couldn’t make myself leave.”

He remembered that. He remembered how she’d talked about getting home, how he’d actually walked her to her car, but then they’d started kissing again, and she’d forgotten all about leaving. Somehow she’d ended up staying with him all night—then all the next day, then through the weekend.

They hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. He’d been crazy about her, unable to think of anything else—even his upcoming rodeo events. Nothing had ever before distracted him from his obsession.

“I guess I needed that time away from my studying more than I knew,” she said. “It felt like a drug in my system. The longer I pretended to be Annie, the less I wanted to go back to reality.”

“Did you ever think that maybe Annie is your reality? And the other is just an elaborate personality you’ve invented?”

She looked at him sharply. “Annie isn’t real. I’m not like her. I don’t flirt and I don’t dress that way. I’m a very serious person who is pursuing a very demanding career. Practicing law has always been my dream, and I’m almost there.”

Well. She’d told him. “Did you flunk your exams?”

“No. I left you early that Monday morning because I had a test at ten o’clock.”

“You could have woke me up and told me that.”

She shook her head. “I was afraid you’d talk me into staying. I was really scared by what I’d done, Wade. I panicked. I ran back to the world where I belonged. You and the rodeo—that was a fantasy.”

He stood up, angered by her words, and made a mock bow. “Glad I could oblige. But next time you need to blow off steam, try racquetball.”

“I didn’t think it would matter to you. We both knew it was a temporary thing. You were on the road. I figured you slept with a different girl in every town, that you’d be glad I left without all those uncomfortable goodbyes.”

“Yeah, well, you’re right. It stung a little, waking up in that empty bunk, not even a note, but it wasn’t all that hard to find a replacement.” Big lie. He hadn’t slept with anyone since Annie. Too busy, too focused on the competition. Anyway, every time he looked at an attractive woman now, he compared her to Annie and found her lacking.

Annie had spoiled him.

“That’s what I figured.” Her voice cracked, making Wade wonder if his barb had found its mark. Did she have any feelings about what happened between them?

“What you did wasn’t very nice,” he said. “Even if it was just a casual affair.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t handle the situation better. I was out of my element. I’d never had a one-night stand before.”

“Three nights.” Three glorious, earth-shattering, life-altering nights of the steamiest lovemaking he’d ever experienced.

“Three nights,” she agreed. “It was a wonderful weekend, the best—Oh, hell, I’m going to blow it now.”

“I don’t think so. Finish what you were saying. My ego could use a boost.”

She turned away from him. “It was the best time I ever had.”

He came up quietly behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She tensed, so he didn’t push it—didn’t press his lips to that sensitive place on her neck he knew about, didn’t pull the pins out of that ridiculously tight knot her hair was in, didn’t wrap his arms around her body and hold her fast against him until she agreed not to run.

He knew running was exactly what she had in mind, and there was probably nothing he could do about it.

“I guess you’re not here to take up where we left off,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She stepped out of his loose grasp and turned to face him. “A casual affair just isn’t my style. Anyway, you wouldn’t really want to bother with me. I’m so completely different from Annie.”

“Maybe you’d be more like her if you’d smile once in a while. Is that some kind of lifestyle choice?”

“I don’t have anything to smile about right now, okay?”

“Your dream coming true doesn’t make you smile?”

“It hasn’t come true yet. I don’t have a job. I haven’t passed the bar. Lots of hurdles to jump.”

“So you’re under a lot of stress.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

He ran one finger down her cheek, gratified to feel her tremble. Nice to know he still had some effect on her. “I know a really good stress buster. It’s called Cowboy Valium.”

She hesitated a fraction of a second longer, then jumped out of his reach. “No. That’s not why I came here. And if you chose this isolated place for us to meet so you could seduce me, you’re in for a disappointment.”

“As I recall, lady, you were the one who insisted on privacy.”

“It would be pointless to start something. I’ll be leaving town again in a couple of weeks. And I can’t afford any distractions. I’ve got job interviews, I’ve got to study for the bar…”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“I’m just not the temporary-fling type.”

Neither was he. But unlike Anne, he wasn’t convinced a fling was all they could have. Sure, the circumstances worked against them, but anything was possible if they put their minds to it.

If he spoke his thoughts out loud, she would probably break something running away from him. A skit-tish woman like Anne required careful handling.

The kindest thing he could do right now was let her go. Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling kind. “You can’t tell me you’re not real, Annie.”

“Stop calling me Annie.”

“The woman called Annie is part of you. You can’t convince me otherwise. And if you ask me, Annie is worth a dozen uptight, frowning, defeminized, frumpish Anne Chatsworths. A fat paycheck and a sixty-hour workweek won’t keep you warm at night, and it won’t make you laugh, and it’ll probably send you to an early grave. Stress does that, you know.”

She was silent, and Wade was afraid he’d gone too far. So much for careful handling.

She turned and stalked out of the barn, and Wade didn’t follow her. Moments later he heard her car starting, then tires spinning in dirt as she peeled out.

ANNE FUMED the whole way home. She was so mad, in fact, that she forgot to be quiet when she pulled her car into the driveway. She got out and slammed the door, then made all kinds of noise as she entered the same way she’d come out.

Uptight, frowning, defeminized, frumpish… Just because she wasn’t wearing tight jeans and a low-cut blouse? Because she hadn’t troweled on two pounds of makeup, and her hair wasn’t teased up Dolly Parton big?

How dare Wade Hardison try to tell her how to live her life? Just because she’d spent a weekend with him, did that make him think he knew everything about her?

She was furious that he made her so tongue-tied, really ticked that he’d gotten in the last word. What kind of lawyer would she be if she froze up when an opponent got the advantage? She’d completely lost her cool. And, damn it, her cool was one of the few things she had going for her right now.

“Anne?”

Anne stopped short as she entered the kitchen. Her father was making himself a cup of hot cocoa. “Oh, hi, Dad.” Stay calm, don’t let him see that anything’s wrong. He would only worry about her.

“Where have you been?” he asked with a frown. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive.”

“Why didn’t you let us know you were leaving?”

“C’mon, Dad, I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“I know, honey, but we’re still allowed to worry about you, aren’t we? If your mother had stopped in your room to say good-night, she would have been frantic to find you gone.”

Anne sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be more considerate in the future.”

Milton smiled. “Want some hot chocolate? Might help you sleep.”

“No, thanks. I’m tired now. Good night.” She kissed her father on the cheek, then slipped up the back stairs, avoiding her mother and the inevitable questions. She’d probably still get them at breakfast tomorrow, but she’d be in better shape to answer them after a good night’s sleep.

If she could get one. She was still steamed, and her blood felt hot in her veins—not just from anger, but desire. She still wanted Wade Hardison’s body with the same intensity she’d experienced at the rodeo, despite everything that had happened. She could still feel the warm pressure of his hands on her shoulders, the tickle of his breath against her neck. Though she would never admit it, it had taken all of her willpower to turn down Wade’s suggestion that they take up where they’d left off.

She would just have to avoid him for however long he was in town. Which reminded her—how long was he in town? Why was he here, when he’d sworn to her he would never go home, never be forgiven by his family? What had changed his mind?

ON HIS WAY BACK to the house, Wade stopped in the new, modern barn his brother Jonathan had built. He wanted to check on Traveler. The bay quarter horse stood in his stall, completely still, probably asleep. Normally Traveler was alert the moment anyone came near him. His inertia concerned Wade almost as much as the injury. Maybe it was the medicine.

Wade resisted the urge to scratch the stallion’s forelock, Traveler’s favorite form of affection. The horse might need to sleep.

He started to turn away, then heard a familiar nicker. He turned and smiled. Traveler must have caught his scent and wakened. Wade scratched the horse’s black forelock, like he’d wanted to do, then behind his ears, then rubbed the soft skin under his jaw. Traveler nuzzled Wade’s ear, then searched his hands for a treat.

“Sorry, buddy, I gave you the last carrot after dinner.” Traveler made a pleading noise, and Wade, as usual, caved in. “Oh, all right. But too many treats while you can’t exercise, and you’ll get fat.” He found a handful of oats and fed it to the horse, grateful that at least Traveler had rediscovered his appetite. For a couple of days after his injury, when he’d been in pain and pumped up with drugs, he’d wanted nothing to do with food.

Wade changed the compress on Traveler’s right front leg, then spent a few minutes grooming him, even though he didn’t need it. Still, he knew the horse enjoyed the attention. Traveler had always loved to have Wade curry him. He even stood still while Wade worked a tangle out of his tail.

That done, Wade gave the stallion a few parting pats, then headed back to the house. It was after midnight. He doubted anyone would be up to question what he was doing out so late.

As he poured himself a glass of milk, he thought again about the woman who called herself Anne Chatsworth. He actually liked her more serious side, despite what he’d said. Life wasn’t all fun and games, as it had been for Annie.

Anne was very different from the flirtatious, easygoing country girl who’d wooed him at the rodeo in Dallas—and yet he saw flashes of Annie rippling to the surface every now and then. Annie wasn’t some fictitious character, she was a very real part of Anne that had somehow been vanquished.

By whom or what? he wondered. And when?

It was fine for a woman to want a career. He knew what it was like to be focused on a goal, to think about it night and day, to dream about reaching the top. Lord knew he’d spent a good deal of his life in that very state. Sure, there were frustrations along the way. Stress. Setbacks. Doubts. But his rodeo work had always brought him joy. His eyes were always on the goal, but he hadn’t been so obsessed that he hadn’t enjoyed the journey.

Joy seemed to be missing from Anne’s life. She was on the verge of embarking on the path she’d been preparing for all these years, yet he sensed no anticipation, no excitement. She probably had her pick of law firms. She could go to any city she wanted, explore all kinds of different career possibilities. Yet all he sensed in her was sorrow.

Maybe it was none of his business, but he couldn’t leave it at that. He’d seen what happened to people who weren’t living a life that made them happy. His mother was the perfect example. She’d been brilliant—could have been a Nobel prize-winning scientist. But she’d met Wade’s father at some medical conference and had opted for the life of a small-town doctor’s wife.

The lack of intellectual stimulation had ultimately killed her. Oh, technically it was cancer, but Wade had recognized that she’d lost the will to live.

One of the last things she’d told him was that he had to follow his dream, even if it wasn’t the same dream his family wanted for him. He’d held those words close to his heart, followed her advice and never regretted it.

What he did regret was the way he’d left Cottonwood—angry, bitter, full of the bullheaded pride only a teenage boy can exhibit. Too damn proud to apologize for things he never should have said. He regretted the family rift, one he could have healed a long time ago if he’d tried.

To Wade’s surprise he found his brother Jonathan in the den watching TV. Jonathan was a rancher down to his marrow, which meant early mornings. He was seldom up past nine o’clock in the evening.

Wade considered sneaking on up to bed, then decided he might be passing up an opportunity. It was hard to talk to Jonathan because he was always so busy. The man hardly ever stood still.

Wade stepped into the den and without a word plopped down on the couch and propped his booted feet on the coffee table. If Jonathan was in the mood to talk, he’d say something. If not, well, a few minutes of companionable silence wouldn’t hurt.

Jonathan was watching an old John Wayne movie. Typical. Wade wasn’t a big fan of the Duke, but he watched, anyway.

“Where you been?” Jonathan finally asked.

“With Traveler.”

“He doin’ any better?”

“Swelling’s down. Doc Chandler says we can start physical therapy tomorrow.”

“Good. If anyone can get your old horse back in top form, Chandler can.”

“He’s not old.”

“He’s thirteen.”

“Lots of horses compete well into their teens.” A long pause. Then Jonathan asked, “Seen the new filly Larry’s been training?”

“The black? Yeah, nice-looking animal.”

“Rodeo potential?”

Strange question, coming from Jonathan, who’d never made it a secret he thought rodeo was the biggest waste of time and livestock on earth.

“Spirited,” Wade replied. “Lots of explosive power, probably be fast out of a chute. Good heart, seems eager to please.”

“But?”

“Easily distracted. Shies at anything.”

“She’s still young. She might get over that.”

“With the right training,” Wade agreed. Another pause. “You want to work with her?” Wade’s heart leaped at the chance to train such a fine-looking horse. If he could turn a mutt like Traveler into a champion, just imagine what he could do with—He stopped his runaway imagination, spotting the trap.

“Ah, no, no thanks. I start working your stock, next thing you know I’ll be out castrating calves.”

Jonathan abruptly shut off the television, silencing the Duke midsentence. “You ungrateful little—”

“What? Just because I don’t want to work as an unpaid ranch hand? Why do you think I left here in the first place?”

“If you’d listen once in a while instead of jumping to conclusions, you might not be such a hothead.”

“Hothead?”

“I thought if you worked with the mare, and you liked her, I might give her to you. I was not plotting to turn you into slave labor.”

Well, that took the wind right out of Wade’s sails.

“You might say thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Amazing how hard that one word was to push past his teeth. “I don’t need two horses, though.”

“Traveler’s competition days might be over.” Wade’s jaw tensed, and he consciously relaxed it. “He’ll be fine.”

Jonathan shrugged. “This time, maybe. But what about next year?”

“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“So where were you, really?” Jonathan asked. “I was at the barn till eleven-thirty. You weren’t with Traveler.”

“It’s been a lot of years since anybody kept tabs on my activities.”

“Just curious.”

“I was with a woman.”

Jonathan looked his younger brother up and down. “You work fast. You’ve been here, what, three days?”

“We were just talking.”

“Who? Or am I being too nosy?”

“Too nosy.” He wasn’t ready to talk about his Annie to anyone yet. Especially not when she’d just shot him down so thoroughly.

He wasn’t done with her, though. She might not know it yet, but she needed him, and not just for a weekend. Somebody had to put a smile back on that girl’s face—and keep it there.

Chapter Three

“Well, Anne, everything looks great,” Jeff Hardison said, closing the folder that held her chart. “Your weight’s almost back to normal, there’s no sign of infection, and you’ve even smiled at me once or twice.”

She appreciated his vote of confidence. Jeff had seen her at her worst, and it was partly due to his conscientious care that she was looking and feeling so much better. Not back to normal. She’d been broken and glued back together—she probably would never be exactly the same person she was before. But at least she was in one piece and moving forward.

“I’m feeling great,” she confirmed. “So why do we have to do the blood tests?”

“Anne, we’ve been over this.”

“But I’m not sure there’s really a point. I’d like to move forward, not dwell on the past.”

“This is looking forward,” he insisted. “If there’s a problem, it could affect your ability to have children in the future.”

“I don’t plan to have children.”

“You might change your mind. You’re only twenty-five.”

He had a point. For the next five to ten years she would not have the time to devote to raising a family. Her law career would demand 100 percent of her concentration. If she had a husband, kids, they would only end up neglected—and what was the point in that?

But once she was established, once she’d paid her dues, she might want to switch gears. She wasn’t dumb enough to believe a career could answer all of her needs.

“All right. Might as well get it over with.”

“I’ll have Molly draw the blood. She’s so gentle, it’ll feel like a butterfly kiss.”

“Yeah, right.” Anne laughed despite her concerns.

“It’s good to hear you laugh. Keep it up, huh?” In a treatment room a few minutes later, Anne determinedly studied a spot on the wall while Molly, Jeff’s nurse, deftly inserted a needle into Anne’s arm. As long as she didn’t look at the needle or see the blood, she would be okay. At least, that was what she told herself.

She’d put off her follow-up visit to Jeff for several days, until Jeff himself had called the house and reminded her. Even knowing he wanted her blood, she hadn’t been able to come up with a graceful excuse. So here she was, letting Molly torture her.

“They’re having a sale over at Hollywood Lingerie,” Molly said, continuing her nonstop monologue. Anne didn’t know if Molly’s chatter was designed to distract patients from the procedure or if she just liked to talk, but it did help.

“I’ve never been there,” Anne made herself answer. “What kind of stuff do they have? Ouch.”

“Sorry. Well, a lot of real naughty stuff, that’s what. Negligees with cutouts in places you just can’t believe, and panties so sheer you might as well not be wearing any.”

Anne didn’t own any sexy lingerie. She’d been raised in practical white cotton, which her mother insisted was the only sort of underwear a real lady would wear. In college she’d branched out to pastels, but that was as wild as she’d gotten.

She’d never thought much about it until her weekend with Wade. She’d been wearing all those provocative outer clothes, which Wade had taken a great deal of pleasure in removing. But then came her underwear—they were so dull! They didn’t fit the Annie image at all.

“My Tom can be the most boring man in the world,” Molly went on, “but show him a pair of black lace panties and he turns into Casanova.”

“So you actually wear that stuff?”

“Honey, nothing makes you feel sexier. And I’m telling you, men can sense it when you’re wearing a hot-pink teddy, even if you have all your clothes on. Sexy underwear gives you an attitude.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by and take a look.” Her mother would have a conniption if she found hot-pink anything in the laundry. Then again, Deborah didn’t do the laundry—she had a housekeeper for that.

Ordinarily Anne wouldn’t worry so much about upsetting her parents. But the past couple of months had shaken both of them to their foundations. She had promised herself she would make it up to them by being their ideal daughter, at least while she was living under their roof.

“All done,” Molly said, pressing a cotton ball to the inside of Anne’s arm, then folding the arm to hold the cotton tight against her traumatized vein. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Not for you,” Anne quipped.

“Dr. Jeff wants to see you again before you leave. Let me see if I can catch him between patients, and I’ll send him in. Now, you just drink that orange juice and rest.”

Molly left with a whole trayful of blood-filled test tubes. The sight of all that red made Anne light-headed, so she was happy to sit still for a few minutes and recover from the ordeal. She wondered why Jeff wanted to see her again. Hadn’t they covered all the territory?

Almost immediately someone tapped discreetly on the treatment-room door.

“Come in,” Anne called.

Jeff entered, looking tall and reassuring in his white coat. “I see you survived. A butterfly kiss, was I right?”

“Molly is a charming little vampire. Was there something else?”

“I’m heading next door for coffee. You want to come?”

“Sure, I could use a coffee.”

Jeff took off his white coat, stashed it in his office, then led Anne past the receptionist with a wave. “Back in a few.”

They walked next door to a little take-out café that served coffee and bagels and not much else. With cappuccinos in hand, they settled at a little table in the corner.

“Your mother tells me you haven’t been getting out much,” Jeff mentioned casually.

“Mmm, too busy.” She took a sip of the rich coffee drink. Heaven.

“You know that’s not healthy, right? I’m asking as a friend, not your doctor. Physically you’re recovering nicely, but I’m a little worried about your mood.”

“Oh, Jeff, don’t be silly. I’m okay. You heard me laugh a few minutes ago, remember?”

“I’m serious. I know you’ve been hurt recently, and it takes time to get over that. But I don’t want you to dwell on it.”

Jeff assumed she’d been dumped by the baby’s father, and she hadn’t set him straight. He had no idea she and Wade even knew each other outside their brief, childhood acquaintance—and she wanted to keep it that way.

“The best tonic for a broken heart,” he continued, “is to just get right back out there, you know, come up swinging. It’s like falling off a horse. You want to get right back on before you build the fear up in your head so much that you can never—”

“Jeff, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, why don’t we go to a movie or something?”

“You’re kidding.” Realizing how rude she sounded, she quickly backpedaled. “I mean, oh, Jeff, that’s really sweet. I’m so flattered, I mean…” What did she mean? This was so weird, so unexpected. Jeff was considered the town catch. Every single woman in town had made a play for him at one time or another. Why would he make a play for her, the town brain? She’d never been anything to him except a little sister—and a patient.

“You can change to being Dad’s patient, if you’re uneasy about dating your doctor,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Dad would welcome you back.”

“I’m not ready to date,” she said, in no uncertain terms. “Anyway, I’m so busy…” Oh, did that sound lame. “In a few weeks I’ll be taking a job in another city. It wouldn’t make sense for us to…start anything.”

He flashed her his most winning smile. “I’m talking about dinner and a movie, not some great love affair.”

At some other time in her life, she might be tempted. Jeff was movie-star handsome, charming and a good friend. But not now. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around dating, even a casual evening.

“Oookay, I get the picture,” he said when she didn’t respond. “How ‘bout them Cowboys, huh?” He drained his coffee in one gulp, then flashed a grin, letting her know she hadn’t wounded him too seriously.

“I appreciate your concern, I really do. And if my parents start driving me crazy, maybe I’ll call you and we can go to a movie.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “Deal.”

She stood up, grabbed her purse.

“I’ll call when we get the test results back,” he said, as if their previous conversation had never happened. “It could take a while.”

“Okay, no problem.” She headed for the café door, in desperate need of fresh air. “Bye, now.”

But a hasty escape wasn’t in the cards. As she exited, she ran smack into Edward, Jeff and Wade’s father.

“Whoa, there, what’s your hurry?” he said with a laugh, steadying Anne.

She’d always adored Edward Hardison, or Dr. Ed, as most people called him. With his silver hair and his round, jovial face, he’d always seemed very safe to her, a safe person to take care of her health. But when she’d realized she was pregnant, she’d deliberately made an appointment with Jeff, not his father. The idea of kindly Dr. Ed knowing such a dark secret about her hadn’t seemed right. It would have been like telling her father all over again.

Of course, in the end, Edward had found out. As luck would have it, he was taking calls for Jeff when Anne had lost the baby. He’d been just as kind and sympathetic as Jeff, in no way judgmental.

She murmured a greeting, then something about having an appointment, and got out of there, Jeff’s invitation still burning in her brain.

She felt badly that she hadn’t handled things better. Fending off handsome men wasn’t exactly her forte. In fact, she’d seldom had to fend off men at all, handsome or not. Now, in the span of just a few days, she’d turned down two.

She wasn’t terribly pretty. She’d learned that lesson well in her teenage years. Skinny, freckled redheads weren’t the stuff of any man’s dreams. She’d compensated by being the class brain, the one with the quick wit and the acid tongue. She’d played down her femininity, believing her intelligence would take her a lot further than batting her eyelashes and showing cleavage.

That was before Annie. When she’d adopted her alter ego, she’d tapped into a well of femininity she hadn’t known existed. And though after her weekend with Wade she’d gone back to her conservative clothes and no-nonsense manner, maybe, just maybe, some essence of Annie remained.

Why else would Jeff suddenly take an interest, even a casual one, in her?

The idea that Annie might be peeking through Anne’s hard-fought control both thrilled and frightened her.

She didn’t feel like going home, even though she had a stack of applications to fill out and a list of follow-up phone calls to make. Her father had helped her put together an exhaustive list of every large, prestigious law firm in the country. A few of them had already approached her, but Milton had insisted she leave no stone unturned. He didn’t want her to miss her golden opportunity simply because she hadn’t been thorough enough.

He’d also encouraged her not to jump to any decisions.

Anne had followed his advice to the letter. Right after graduating, she’d gone on several interviews with the firms who had courted her. Despite a few very attractive offers, she’d put them all on ice while she explored other possible options.

Then she’d found out she was pregnant, and all bets were off.

Predictably, her mother had cried and her father had ranted and raved. Anne had simply become paralyzed. The life of an associate in a huge law firm was not compatible with single motherhood. She would end up shortchanging both her employer and her child—and there was never any question about her keeping the child. She’d put all her career plans on hold and focused on preparing for a baby.

She had tried halfheartedly to locate Wade, figuring he had a right to know. But at that time he’d been moving around so much he was impossible to pin down. She’d left a message here and there, but if he’d gotten them, he hadn’t responded.

Then she’d lost the baby, and her whole world had turned inside out—again. She hadn’t thought it possible to love a child so much when she hadn’t even met it. Having the baby ripped from her so cruelly had left her crushed and aching, physically and emotionally.

She’d seen no point in sharing that pain with Wade. She still didn’t.

Now, one month after the miscarriage, she was pouring herself into the job search once again. Milton was smiling again. Her world felt a bit more sane. And she knew that soon she would regain the sense of anticipation she’d always had about carving out her own name in the big bad world of lawyers.

Still, the prospect of job hunting seemed decidedly unattractive on a beautiful, Indian Summer day like today. Instead she drove to Hollywood Lingerie and bought two bra-and-panty sets, a black silk camisole and tap pants, and a slinky, midnight-blue nightgown.

A huge garden center was just down the way from Hollywood Lingerie, which inspired Anne to think about a fall garden. Her mother had been talking about pansies and impatiens, and the store beckoned with flats and flats of those very flowers.

Anne took her time picking out the colors, mentally designing the flower beds in front of the house.

“If I’d known all it took was some flowers to make you smile, I’d have got you a truckload.”

“Wade?” Oh, for heaven’s sake, what was Wade Hardison doing at a garden center? But here he was, big as life, standing in front of her, smiling in that lazy, easy way of his, as if they ran into each other on the street every day.

Even more surprising were Wade’s companions, a little boy about seven and a girl, maybe four or five. She recognized them as Sam and Kristin, Jonathan Hardison’s two kids.

Putting aside her lingering pique over her and Wade’s last meeting, she smiled at both children. “Who do we have here? Don’t tell me that’s Sam and Kristin. They’re too big to be Sam and Kristin.”

The little girl hid her face against Wade’s jean-clad leg.

Anne’s heart fluttered dangerously. Lately she couldn’t look at a child without thinking of the one she lost, but right now she couldn’t afford to be maudlin. She ruthlessly pushed aside the thought of her own baby.

“C’mon, you guys remember me, right?” Anne cajoled. “I was at your house on the Fourth of July. I’m Anne.”

“Kids, say hi to Annie,” Wade prompted.

Anne gave him a sharp look.

“Uh, Anne. Her name’s Anne.”

“I ‘member you, Anne. We’re making a terrarium for our frogs,” Sam said proudly, pulling a jar from their shopping cart, which also held several small green plants and some decorative rocks. He extended the jar for Anne’s inspection. Inside the jar, which contained a little moist dirt, were two of the tiniest frogs she had ever seen, no bigger than the end of her finger.

“Oh, aren’t they cute,” she said, taking the jar and holding it up to the light. “I had a pet frog once.”

“We caught ‘em as tadpoles,” Sam said, “and they took all summer to grow legs. Now they need a better home.”

“Do these frogs have names?” Anne asked.

“Mine’s Alexander the Great,” Sam said. “And mine’s Miss Pooh Bear,” Kristin piped in, apparently having overcome her shyness. “Do you have a boo-boo?” She pointed to the Band-Aid on Anne’s inner arm.

“Just a little one. Thank you for asking, Kristin.”

Wade wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I haven’t noticed the Bloodmobile around town.”

“Ah, no, I have your brother to blame for this.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Jeff and his needles. You’re not sick, are you?”

Anne waved away his concern, hoping she did a good job of sounding nonchalant. “No, of course not. Just a routine blood test.”

“What for?”

“Nosy, aren’t we? Jeff is checking to see whether I have two X chromosomes,” she answered without missing a beat. “You know, since I’m so—” she lowered her voice “—defeminized.”

“Oh, come on, Anne, don’t hold that against me. It was a moment of desperation.”

“Of course I’m holding it against you. What else would you expect from an uptight, frowning—”

“Okay, okay, I get the point. I’m sorry. I was way out of line. You don’t look at all defeminized today.”

She felt idiotically pleased by the compliment. She was just wearing a pair of jeans and short-sleeved cashmere sweater, but it had to look better on her than that potato-sack jumper she’d worn to Autumn Daze. She turned away and pretended interest in a potting-soil display.

“Looks like you’re planning quite a gardening project,” Wade said.

“They’re for my mother.”

“Hey, what’s in there?” Kristin asked, pointing to Anne’s shopping cart. To her mortification, the child was pointing to her Hollywood Lingerie bag, which was pink and sparkly and naturally attractive to a five-year-old girl.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that, too,” Wade said with a wink.

Busted. Why hadn’t she put the bag in her trunk before shopping for flowers? Didn’t she know what kind of speculation she might invite, carrying around a bag like that?

“Socks,” she finally said, her voice coming out sounding strangled. “They were on sale.”

She could tell Wade didn’t believe her, and she hoped the rush of heated blood through her veins didn’t reveal itself in a blush. He would have to pry that bag out of her cold dead hands before she would admit what was in there.

“I’ve really got to get home,” she said, turning her basket toward the checkout lanes.

“No time to chat with an old friend?” His voice was like warm honey—not his normal voice, which was pleasant enough, deep and smooth and sort of musical, but the voice he used in seduction mode.

Their gazes locked, and the store background noises receded, replaced by the roar of Anne’s blood in her ears. She could kiss him right here, right in the middle of Garden City. What was wrong with her? Why did all her powers of discretion and common sense disintegrate around Wade?

He ran one finger up her arm, which answered her question. She cast a nervous glance at the kids, but their attention had been captured by a giant plastic ant guarding a display of insecticides.

Did she just imagine the way his eyes seemed to change from ordinary brown to dark chocolate when he looked at her? Maybe she was reading way more into his gesture than he intended.

She took one step back. “Cut it out, Wade.”

“No one’s looking at us.”

“Can I be any clearer? I do not want to—” She realized both children had turned and were staring at her, fascinated with whatever she was about to say.

“Careful,” Wade said. “Little pitchers…”

“You know what I don’t want.”

“I know what you do want. And you want it bad.”

Anne was sure her face was bright pink as she took her turn with the cashier. The worst part of it was, he was right. She did want it. But all of her objections to renewing her relationship with Wade still held firm. He’d been perfect for slam-bam Annie, but the real Anne was more fragile. She didn’t want to be hurt. Besides, he’d be gone soon and so would she.

She quickly paid for her flowers, said a hasty goodbye to the children, pointedly ignored Wade and made her escape.

Under some other circumstances, perhaps, she would take Wade up on his offer. She liked him, liked him more each time she saw him, even when he played cat and mouse with her. She liked how devoted he was to his horse—he treated Traveler more like a pampered lapdog than working livestock. She was surprised by his ease with the children. They were perfectly comfortable with him, and he obviously had a soft spot for them.

Just as his initial impressions of her were wrong, maybe he wasn’t the one-dimensional rodeo Romeo she’d pegged him as.

Well, it was a moot point now.

When Anne arrived home, Deborah was thrilled to see the flowers. “I’ve completely neglected the yard for months,” she said as she helped unload the Mus-tang’s trunk, and Anne felt a little twinge of guilt. The only reason her mother had neglected anything was because she’d focused her entire existence on Anne and her dilemma. “These are perfect. Will you help me plant them?”

“She’s got work to do,” Milton interjected.

“But, Milton,” Deborah objected, “she needs to get more fresh air and sunshine.”

“She’ll get plenty of that tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Anne wanted to know.

“A barbecue—at the Hardisons’. It’s for Pete’s eightieth birthday. Don’t tell me I forgot to tell you.”

“Yes, you did. I don’t think I can make it,” Anne said automatically. The last people she wanted to be around were the Hardisons, particularly Jeff or Wade.

“But you have to, dear. Pete Hardison hasn’t seen you since last Christmas, and you know you’re one of his favorites. His feelings would be hurt if you skipped his birthday party.”

Deborah was right. “Grandpa Pete,” as she called him, had doted on her when her family had first moved to Cottonwood. He’d never had a daughter or granddaughter of his own, so he’d informally adopted Anne.

“Will the whole family be there?” Anne asked.

“I assume so. Even Wade. I don’t know if you heard or not, but he’s back home.”

Anne jumped, but as her mother grabbed a flat of plants and set them on the garage floor, she seemed to assign no particular significance to dropping Wade’s name.

“You remember him, don’t you?” Deborah carried on chattily. “He ran away when he was sixteen, ran off and joined the circus or something. You were just a little girl. Anyway, he’s come back, the proverbial prodigal son.”

“Yes, I remember him.” In far too much detail. Deborah turned back to Anne. “How was your checkup, anyway?”

“Fine.” She hadn’t told her parents about the blood tests. It wasn’t something they needed to know at this stage in their lives. With any luck, they’d never have to know.

“Anne, what’s this?” Deborah held up a tiny, green plastic pot with a sprig of ivy. One of the Hardison clan’s terrarium plants had apparently migrated into her cart.

Anne shrugged. “An impulse purchase.” Once again, she felt her traitorous face heating.

“I’ve got at least a dozen ivy plants rooting in the sunroom.”

Anne forced a smile. “I said it was an impulse. I didn’t say it was smart.”

ANNE MANAGED to put Wade out of her mind for most of the rest of the day by keeping really busy. That night, after all the gardening and phone calls and applications, she was so exhausted she fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

At precisely 3:00 a.m. she sat bolt-upright in bed with the most disturbing thoughts. Wade and those kids…

When she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d thought a lot about how she would break the news to Wade. In her imaginings, the conversation was always hideous:

“Wade, I don’t know how this happened, but I’m going to have your baby.”

“No way. That’s impossible. We were careful.”

“Not careful enough, apparently. There was that first time…”

“How do you know it’s mine?”

“Because you’re the only guy I’ve slept with in the past year.”

“Like I believe that.”

“I don’t want anything from you. I just thought you should know.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve done your civic duty.” Click.

She had no real reason to believe he would treat her like that, but she hadn’t had any trouble imagining how a guy like Wade would feel about fatherhood. Nightmare city. He didn’t even have a permanent address, owned nothing but his horse, truck, trailer and the clothes on his back. Obviously, he had no desire to be tied down.

After she’d lost the baby, her mother had tried to comfort her by saying the miscarriage was probably for the best, that a child should grow up with two parents. Anne had forced herself to agree, outwardly at least, to keep the peace. She’d even allowed herself some degree of relief because now she wouldn’t have to track down Wade and tell him he was going to be a father.

But that was before she’d seen him with Sam and Kristin. He was good with them. He obviously thought they hung the stars. Maybe he even fantasized about having kids of his own one day. And they adored him. Contrary to all her preconceived ideas, Wade Hardison might make a pretty good father.

And she’d lost his baby.

Anne was ashamed she hadn’t even given him a chance to prove what kind of father he could be. But now it was too late.

Chapter Four

“The swelling’s gone down a lot,” Dr. Rick Chandler pronounced as he poked and prodded at Traveler’s leg.

“He’s feeling better, too,” Wade said. “I can tell he’s itching to get out of this stall.”

“Then let’s give it a try.”

Full of optimism, Wade attached a lead rope to Traveler’s halter, then opened the stall door and let all three of them out. To his disappointment, his horse put almost no weight on the injured leg, gimping along with an awkward gait. They walked the length of the barn, then back, with the vet observing critically. When they reached Traveler’s stall the horse entered docilely, then didn’t even turn around to face front—as if his infirmity humiliated him.

Doc Chandler frowned. “He’s still in a lot of pain.”

“Should I continue the hot and cold compresses?”

“Couldn’t hurt, at least until the swelling’s gone. Don’t let him walk around on that leg just yet.”

“You think there’s any way he’ll be ready for the American Royal in early November?”

The vet scratched his grizzled white head. He’d been treating Cottonwood’s animal population since long before Wade was born, and he seemed to have a special bond with animals. In fact, he’d been in attendance when Traveler was born.

“It’s a tough call. Older horses take longer to recover from injuries, just like old people—you know that. And I sure as hell wouldn’t push him before he’s ready.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. But the Royal…”

“You’re up for some big prize money, aren’t you?”

“The whole enchilada. Even with taking off this whole month, I’ve still got more points than any other calf roper in the country. I could walk away with enough to retire.”

Doc raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not talking a villa on the Riviera, but I’d have enough of a nest egg I could do something else.”

“Rodeo getting a little old?”

Wade laughed. “Not hardly. I love rodeo. It’s just that I’m not getting any younger. And it’s a young man’s game. I just have this feeling in my bones, you know, like I’m gonna win the championship this year or I can forget it.”

The older man stared at Wade for a few moments, and Wade got the feeling he understood. Doc Chandler had been a bull rider once upon a time, or so Wade had heard.

“I’ll do what I can for your horse. These soft-tissue injuries are tricky. They can linger for months, or they can suddenly get better.”

“I’m pulling for the ‘suddenly better’ option.”

Wade got out his wallet to pay Doc Chandler’s fee, but the vet waved away the cash. “It’s just a follow-up visit. No charge. Besides, I’m getting ready to go up to the house and eat my weight in barbecued beef. That’s payment enough.”

“Thanks.” Wade suspected Doc was going easy on him, and he was grateful. He wasn’t poor—he’d socked away a good bit of money over the years. But he had a goal in mind. He wouldn’t retire until he’d reached it, and every penny he saved moved his bank balance that much closer to his goal.

He’d never told anyone about his pie-in-the-sky plan of raising quarter horses, or the other, even sillier-sounding plan—more a dream than anything. He’d never heard of anyone running a rodeo camp for city kids. But he knew in his gut the camp could work.

Recently he’d started to think about his dreams in more concrete terms—how to get sponsors and grants to help underwrite the project, how to market the camp. He’d started drafting letters, crunching numbers, making calls to the Small Business Association. It was becoming less a dream and more a possibility.

His brothers would laugh their butts off if he told them what he wanted to do with his life. They had him pegged as the ne’er-do-well, the black-sheep brother, who by some fluke had achieved a measure of success in what they considered a worthless field—rodeo. They still didn’t consider riding a horse for entertainment a proper career. His oldest brother had never forgiven him for not staying to work the ranch. His father and Jeff, both nonranchers, were at least a bit more sympathetic when it came to Wade following his own path. But they’d never forgiven him for skipping out on that education thing.

“You’re sticking around for the big wingding, aren’t you?” Doc Chandler asked as he stepped into the barn’s bathroom to wash his hands, then comb his hair and his handlebar mustache.

“Command performance. Granddad really would disown me if I skipped out on his eightieth birthday.”

“I expect you won’t have such a terrible time,” Doc teased. “The Hardisons have always known how to throw a party.”

Wade wasn’t big on parties, but he wouldn’t miss this one even without the threat of familial disapproval. The Chatsworths were on the guest list, and that meant Anne was invited, too. He was curious to see whether she would show up and, if she did, how she would treat him in front of their respective relatives. Would she pretend she barely knew him?

That thought cut him to the quick.

He washed his own hands, retucked his shirt into his jeans, then headed up to the house with Doc. Cars and pickups were already arriving, lining the long, red dirt driveway.

The whole family was gathered in the living room—Jeff and his date du jour, Allison, Jonathan and the two kids, Wade’s father and Pete, seated in a high-back rocking chair like a king on his throne, allowing the arriving guests to pay him homage. A growing pile of cards and presents—most of them appearing to be bottles of liquor—sat near his feet.

Also there to help with the food was their neighbor, Sally Enderlin, an elderly widow who’d lived in Cottonwood almost as long as Pete. She’d pitched in to help after Wade’s mother had died and had become almost part of their family.

As Doc entered the living room, everyone greeted him warmly. Then they all seemed to stare at Wade, unsure how to react. Pete’s smile faded, replaced by a disapproving frown. That seemed to be about all Wade could get out of his grandfather.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Pete said.

“Oh, leave the boy alone, you old coot,” Doc said, coming to Wade’s defense. He was one of the few senior citizens in the room who had earned the right to talk to Pete like that. “We were checking on Traveler.”

“Don’t know why you’re bothering,” Pete said. “Horse goes lame like that, he’s no better’n glue.”

Pete was trying to get a rise out of his errant grandson, and Wade refused to give him the satisfaction.

“Wade, well if my eyes don’t deceive me, it is you,” Sally said, wrapping her ropy arms around him. He hugged her back, suddenly feeling loved for the first time in a while. “You’ll have to catch me up on your life when you have—oh, here, now, have you met Allison?”

Always the social chairperson, Sally made quick introductions, then flitted away to take a newcomer’s coat. Wade was glad Sally was there to play hostess. Certainly none of the Hardison men were very good at that kind of thing.

Wade remembered Allison Crane. She and Jeff had been best friends all through school, though Wade had always suspected that Allison wished she and Jeff could be something more.

“You’ve changed,” Allison said.

“So have you,” Wade countered, though in reality, she looked much the same as she had in high school, chubby and plain, but with a beautiful smile. “I hear you’re a dentist now.”

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Do you wear a mouth guard when you ride?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But she wasn’t giving him her full attention. Her eyes kept flickering toward Jeff, keeping tabs on his movements. Same old Allison, same unrequited crush.

As more and more guests arrived, the crowd spilled through the house and outside to the patio, where a deejay played country songs and a couple of the ranch hands were roasting beef, pork and chicken over a pit barbecue. The din of voices got louder and louder as the guests imbibed. Still, Wade knew exactly when Anne arrived. He picked her voice out over the roar the moment she opened her mouth.

Pete actually smiled when he saw Anne. He pushed himself out of his chair despite her protests and kissed her on the cheek. Wade, watching from the doorway to the kitchen, was surprised by the warm greeting. He vaguely remembered his grandfather doting on Anne when she was a little girl, claiming she was his honorary granddaughter, but he hadn’t realized they were still close.

“Food and drink’s out back,” Pete said, pointing toward the kitchen. “Wade, make yourself useful for once and show the Chatsworths where the grub is.”

Wade’s gaze locked with Anne’s. She wore loose khaki slacks and a bulky sweater, her hair pulled back into a single braid. The sexless clothes and unimaginative hairstyle didn’t really bother him as much as he let on. He knew what she looked like underneath. In fact, he could almost sense the Annie he remembered from the rodeo seething beneath the surface, ready to leap out.

Despite what she said, Annie was not fictional. Anne’s father seemed to be waiting for some introduction, so Wade offered his hand to the older man. “Mr. Chatsworth. Nice to see you again.”

“Surprised to see you again,” the older man said, giving Wade’s hand a perfunctory shake. “Thought you’d shaken the Cottonwood dust off your shoes for good.”

Anne’s mother elbowed her husband. “Milton, for heaven’s sake. Hello, Wade. We’re glad you’ve come back. This is our daughter, Anne. You two were just children the last time you met.”

Wade took Anne’s hand, holding it a shade longer than necessary. “Actually…”

Anne’s eyes widened in alarm.

He gave her a teasing smile before continuing. “Actually, we ran into each other at the garden center yesterday. Sometimes I forget what a truly small town Cottonwood is. Come on out this way for the food and beer.” He led her parents out to the patio, where they were immediately swallowed up by the crowd.

Anne hung back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Almost give me a heart attack.”

“Relax, I won’t give away your dirty little secret.”

“You don’t have to put it like that. I’m not ashamed of knowing you. I just don’t want to explain what I was doing at the rodeo when I was supposed to be studying for my final exams. Oh, I have something for you.” She reached into her voluminous purse and withdrew a tiny potted ivy. “Somehow, in the confusion at the cash register, I ended up with one of your plants.”

“And you actually felt compelled to return it?” Apparently she felt she’d needed an excuse to talk to him. Promising. If he was stuck in Cottonwood while his horse recovered, he could do worse than to spend that time with Anne. Plus, if she accepted him, his own family would almost have to.

“I like to tie up loose ends,” she said. “This concludes our business, I believe.”

“C’mon, Annie, I’m dyin’ here. Won’t you throw me a scrap of hope that you care something for me?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, though the question carried more weight than he cared to admit. It really did pain him to think she cared nothing for him. In fact, he simply refused to accept that as a possibility.

“Wade, please.” But she laughed.

Okay, now he was getting somewhere. “You want a beer?”

“Not trying to get me drunk, I hope.”

“From what I remember, that’s not necessary.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not winning any points by reminding me of my unladylike behavior.”

“Oh, I think you were very ladylike. Stay here. I’ll get you something to drink.” Wade worked his way through the crowd to the kegs. He had to stand in line, but finally he was able to pour a couple of frosty cups.

He returned to where he’d left Anne, but she was gone.

“Well, damn.” He was some kind of sucker, wandering off and leaving her alone, giving her a golden opportunity to escape him. And in this crowd, he might not find her again.

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