“I Feel Cheated Because I Can’t Remember Everything About That Night,” Letter to Reader Title Page PAMELA MACALUSO Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Copyright

“I Feel Cheated Because I Can’t Remember Everything About That Night,”

Clint told Skye.

“You remember a lot more than I thought you did.”

“Help me remember the rest.” He spoke just above a whisper.

All Skye’s senses were on overload. Logic said she should hightail it out of there as fast as humanly possible. But she knew she wouldn’t.

She wanted to help Clint remember. Help him remember by making love with him again....

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a wonderful new year at Silhouette Desire! Let’s start with a delightfully humorous MAN OF THE MONTH by Lass Small—The Coffeepot Inn. Here, a sinfully sexy hero is tempted by a virtuous woman. He’s determined to protect her from becoming the prey of the local men—and he’s determined to win her for himself!

The HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS miniseries continues this month with Resolved To (Re)Marry by Carole Buck. Don’t miss this latest installment of this delightful continuity series!

And the always wonderful Jennifer Greene continues her STANFORD SISTERS series with Bachelor Mom. As many of you know, Jennifer is an award winner, and this book shows why she is so popular with readers and critics alike!

Completing the month are a new love story from the sizzling pen of Beverly Barton, The Tender Trap; a delightful Western from Pamela Macaluso,

The Loneliest Cowboy; and something a little bit different from Ashley Summers, On Wings of Love.

Enjoy!

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325. Buffalo, NY 14269

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The Loneliest Cowboy

Pamela Macaluso

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PAMELA MACALUSO

wanted to be a writer from the moment she realized people actually wrote the wonderful stories that were read to her. Since she is extremely curious and has an overactive imagination, writing is the perfect career for her. Curiosity is a necessary part of “research,” and flights of fantasy can be called “plotting”—terms she prefers to “nosy” and “woolgathering.”

While she loves movies, Pamela would choose a good book over any other form of entertainment. It sometimes takes a search party to get her out of a library or bookstore.

For Tom Barnes.

Thanks for watching all those cowboy movies,

Grandpa.

And an extra thank-you for teaching me to watch out

for the cows!

One

Clint Slade strolled into the Rocking W Coffee Shop in search of a caffeine rush. He got a rush, all right, of the testosterone kind. Walking down the center aisle of the restaurant, holding a tray and heading toward a couple in the far corner booth was the shapeliest thing he’d seen in denim and boot leather. The cowbell tied to the knob clanked as he closed the door.

The woman didn’t look his way, or break stride. “I’ll be right with you.”

Take your time, honey.

Clint pushed his black cowboy hat farther back to give himself a better view. Watching her walk was a pleasure. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was he found so appealing, but damn, he sure liked the way she moved.

Her blond hair was braided in a single plait that hung down her back. He imagined himself untwining it, could almost feel its silky texture slipping through his fingers...

He watched as she refilled the customers’ glasses with iced tea. They were the only ones here, besides himself. In an hour, after the bar across the parking lot closed, the place would be packed with people grabbing an early breakfast before heading home to sleep off their night out. But at the moment, it was quiet.

The waitress turned in his direction. Blue...he hoped her eyes were blue.

At first, she was smiling. Then a look that might have been surprise, or fear, flashed across her face before her lips settled back into a polite smile. Once she had closed the distance between them, he forgot about the changes he’d noticed in her expression and stared into her blue eyes.

“Would you like a table, booth or a seat at the counter?”

What he’d like and what he was likely to get were two different things. He forced his mind away from the need that had been developing while he’d watched her and onto the need that had brought him into the coffee shop in the first place—his fatigue and the twenty miles left on his late-night drive home from San Antonio to the Diamond S Ranch.

“Just coffee to go.”

She nodded, then walked behind the counter, treating him to another look at the sway of her hips. He’d bet she was dynamite on the dance floor...not to mention between the sheets.

Attractive or not, he admonished himself silently, he shouldn’t be thinking about her that way. He had a strict rule about not sleeping with any woman who lived within a hundred miles of Harmony Ridge, Texas. He liked to keep his business interests, his personal life and the satisfying of his physical needs separate so they didn’t interfere with each other—it was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

“New to town?” he asked. He hadn’t seen her working here before. Of course, he usually came in during the day. It had been years since he’d been part of the late-night breakfast crowd.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked, clearly not interested in making small talk.

“Back.”

She snapped a lid on the disposable cup containing his coffee, turned and carried it to the cash register.

After paying, he said, “You never answered my question. Are you new to town?”

She kept her gaze on the coins she was placing into the cash register drawer. Maybe she was afraid of him. Or maybe she was shy.

Something twisted in his gut as he looked at her. A sudden primal urge galloped through him. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, kiss her, sling her over his shoulder and carry her off.

Before he lost control and followed through, she looked up at him and said, “I...um...I grew up here, but I’ve been away for a while.”

Clint studied her more closely, trying to put a name to her face. He didn’t remember her. How could he have missed those baby blues and those feminine curves?

“Welcome home, then. Maybe once you’re settled in, we could take in a movie.” Okay, he thought, so it went against his rule, but what kind of self-respecting rule didn’t have at least one exception?

“I haven’t moved back permanently. I’m only here to help out while my father recovers in the hospital from his heart attack.”

When he’d called this morning, Smokey Joe, the cook at the Diamond S, had mentioned Lou Williamson was in the hospital. “You’re Lou’s daughter?”

She nodded.

Clint knew that Lou and Marge Williamson, owners of the Rocking W Coffee Shop and the bar, had a whole passel of kids. He’d graduated from high school with their daughter Heather, played football on the same team as their sons, Beau and Chuck, and knew Alice because she’d been waitressing in the bar when he’d reached drinking age, but he didn’t remember this woman. She looked about twenty-five or so.

“How’s your dad doing?”

She shrugged. “Doc Beechem wants him moved to San Antonio for tests as soon as he can travel safely.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. You can reach me at the Diamond S. The name’s Clint Slade.”

She looked him square in the eye. “I know who you are, Mr. Slade.” Her voice had a coolness to it that puzzled him.

He’d never had any gripes with the Williamsons, so far as he could remember. In his younger days, he’d broken his share of furniture in brawls at the bar, but he’d always paid for the damages. Maybe he’d imagined the coolness, he decided. After all, he was overly tired and, with her father in the hospital, she had to be under a lot of stress.

“Other than your dad,” he asked, “how are things with the rest of your family?”

“As well as can be expected.” She glanced away, then back at him. “How’s Teresa?”

Well, that explains her cool attitude.

She must think he’s still married. How long had she been away from Harmony Ridge?

“She keeps cashing her alimony checks, so I figure she’s fine.”

“You’re divorced?”

“Technically, five years ago. I was only married five months, so I feel more single than divorced.”

Whoa, where had that come from? he wondered.

He hadn’t consciously analyzed his feelings about his solo status before. Obviously his subconscious had worked out the matter. He didn’t mind. What bothered him was that he’d never told anyone anything this personal until now, had never been tempted to. So why had he spilled his guts to a total stranger?

“Did you refuse my movie invitation because you thought I was still married?”

“No, I’m here to help pick up the slack at the coffee shop and bar until my dad is better or until they hire someone else,” she told him. “I won’t have time for socializing.”

“Surely you’ll have some time off?” he said.

“From work, yes, but there’s all the household chores to take care of.”

It seemed logical enough to be the truth, rather than a brush-off. “Well, then, give my best to your family.” He tipped his hat, picked up his coffee and headed for the door.

He walked to his pickup, trying to convince himself that his body’s reaction to Ms. Williamson and his personal revelation had been a by-product of too little sleep, too many hours behind the wheel and the endless litany of sappy love songs the country and western station had been playing on his truck radio.

Then again, he thought, maybe sometime after he’d caught up on his sleep, he’d drop by the coffee shop again. Just to see...

Skye Williamson tried to convince herself that she didn’t care one bit that her daughter’s father didn’t know her from Adam. She watched until she could no longer see the taillights of Clint’s pickup moving away along the Interstate 10. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Clint Slade was as attractive as ever. Sure he looked six years older, but time had not detracted from his rugged good looks. And the familiar deep, smooth drawl hadn’t changed a bit. It still sent shivers up her spine.

His fingers had brushed hers when he’d paid for the coffee. For a moment, she’d almost taken his large, work-roughened hand in hers. The casual touch had conjured up a crystal-clear memory of how he’d once roamed his hands intimately over her body—more intimately than any man before, or since.

His invitation to the movies didn’t soften the disappointment that he hadn’t recognized her. She’d been several years behind him in school, but there were fewer students at Harmony Ridge High than in big-city high schools. They’d passed each other plenty of times in the hall, but Clint had always had his eyes on whichever girl he’d had on his arm. Plus, Skye had to admit, she’d been a late bloomer. By the time she was turning guys’ heads, Clint had practically been engaged to Teresa Donnelly, whose father owned the ranch next to the Diamond S. They’d formalized their engagement several months before Skye had left town.

Just then, the couple driving from Maine to California came to the register to pay their bill. She put on her brightest smile.

She’d spent six years dealing with the disappointment that in the dark and with as much as he’d had to drink, Clint hadn’t realized who he’d made love to. But knowing he didn’t even remember she existed hurt more than she would have guessed.

What did you expect? she asked herself. Violins? The swell of a full orchestra? Clint dropping to his knees to say he’d been looking for you for years, declaring his undying love?

It was an unlikely scenario, but she couldn’t help imagining how good it would have felt.

The rest of the late-night crew started arriving, then the customers. As busy as things got, Skye couldn’t banish the vision of Clint’s dark brown eyes watching her from beneath the shadow of his Stetson. The shape of his eyes and the thick dark lashes were the same as her daughter’s. But while Dawn’s eyes sparkled with laughter and curiosity, Clint’s flashed with sexual invitation backlit by confidence and a hefty dose of cynicism. It was a lethal combination.

When things finally slowed at the coffee shop, the regular staff voted unanimously that Skye should go get some sleep. She was grateful, knowing Dawn would be up early. After saying her goodbyes, she stepped out into the parking lot. Most of the vehicles in the lot were closer to the coffee shop, but there were still a few parked near the bar. She had worked the three-to-eleven shift before she’d left town, the bar parking lot was usually packed when she got off.

Her thoughts drifted back to one particular night. That night, she’d just gotten off work and was on her way home. She heard two voices having what sounded like an argument. The couple was moving in her direction and soon she recognized Clint Slade and Teresa Donnelly. The two had been an item for several months. Skye had assumed they were already lovers, but apparently not. From the sound of things, they weren’t likely to be unless Clint came through with a wedding ring.

Clint had a reputation for getting any girl he wanted, and Skye assumed Teresa’s refusal was a major blow to his ego. When Teresa stormed off in her car, Skye found herself feeling sorry for him. She walked over to Clint and invited him to the Rocking W for a cup of coffee.

“Coffee?” He looked at her as though she’d suggested a cup of rattlesnake venom. “You want me to drink coffee? That’s just what I need! Then I can be wide-awake, drunk and horny as hell.”

“I take it that’s a no.”

“Hey, one point for you, sugar.”

Skye turned and started walking away, sorry she’d even bothered trying to help.

Sure, Skye, she’d thought, as if your main concern was to be helpful...it couldn’t have anything to do with this being your one big chance to get Clint Slade to notice you’re alive.

“Where in blazes is my truck?”

Clint’s question wasn’t directed at her in particular, but since she was the only person within earshot, she answered. “Probably right where you left it.” She kept walking.

“Sugar, help me find my truck.”

She’d helped him find his truck, all right. At that point, she should have walked away, but he’d offered her a kiss as a reward. Young, naive and in awe of the sexy cowboy—how could she resist?

The arrival of an eighteen-wheeler snapped Skye’s thoughts back to the present. She finished crossing the parking lot, then the graveled road to her parents’ home. After entering the house as quietly as possible, she tiptoed past the living room where her aunt and uncle were asleep on the foldout couch. Her mother’s brother and his wife had driven over from El Paso to help out while her father was in the hospital. Skye continued up the stairs to the room she had shared with her two older sisters while growing up.

The room was lit by a soft night-light. In one of the bottom bunks, Dawn lay curled on her side, one hand resting under her cheek, the other holding on to a muchloved, stuffed Snoopy. Leaning over, Skye placed a gentle kiss on Dawn’s forehead and tucked the blankets snugly around her.

My baby...my little girl...my daughter.

A surge of possessiveness spread through her. Despite the similarity in their coloring and their eyes, Skye rarely thought of Clint when she looked at Dawn. Other than that one night six years ago, he hadn’t been part of their lives. But after seeing Clint Slade tonight, she couldn’t help thinking about him.

Dawn’s dark hair against the white pillowcase was a visual reminder that although Skye had been solely responsible for taking care of their child up to this point, Clint had provided half the genetic material that had created Dawn.

A dull ache began to throb behind Skye’s temples.

I can’t think about this now. I have to get some sleep so I can be rested to help out tomorrow, and a splitting headache won’t make it any easier.

She changed into her nightgown and climbed into the bottom bunk of the other bed. Although she was bonetired, her mind was busy reliving Clint’s visit to the coffee shop.

Terrific, Skye, start mooning over Clint Slade again. Nothing like asking for a bushel of trouble.

In an attempt to settle her thoughts, she looked around the familiar room. The two sets of bunk beds, nightstands and mirrored dresser were in pretty good shape considering they’d been hand-me-downs way back when. She looked across the room where Dawn was sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the turmoil her mother was going through.

The last time Skye had slept in this room, Dawn had been only a slight curve of her belly.

There wouldn’t be any tranquillity thinking along those lines, either. It was going to be a long night.

Clint shot into a sitting position. The bed covers were a tangled mess and the shout of “Wait! Don’t leave me!” hung in the air. He covered his face with his hands, then clawed his spread fingers through his hair.

Damn, he hadn’t had that dream for almost a year now. The shadowy sights in the darkened cab of his pickup, the sounds, feel and taste of a woman having her sexual awakening in his arms. Tonight the vision had been as real as always.

The vision was so vivid that the first time he’d had the dream, he’d thought it was really happening. He’d been so sure that he and Teresa Donnelly had made love that he’d presented himself on her porch the next afternoon with an engagement ring in his pocket.

Not only because it seemed like the right thing to do after she’d surrendered her virginity to him, but because the power of the lovemaking had convinced him that he’d found the female who’d been made just for him. Since he’d found her, it would be senseless to look any further.

He’d walked around with his cowboy boots in the clouds and a perpetual smug smile on his face all through their engagement and up until he’d slid on top of his new wife, entered her and encountered a barrier that he was so sure he’d already passed through.

That’s when he realized he’d been dreaming.

If he hadn’t had such a hangover the morning he’d woken up in his truck, he might have checked for more definitive physical evidence than his jeans being open and pushed low on his hips. But the lovemaking had seemed so real, he hadn’t even thought to question its authenticity.

Some of the ranch hands from the Diamond S confirmed that he’d left the bar with Teresa and hadn’t come back in. They’d noticed his truck when they’d left, but since the windows were fogged, they’d figured he and Teresa were making up after the fight that had driven them outside.

He was a little surprised that Teresa had left him to sleep it off in his truck, but he figured she’d tried to wake him with no luck until she’d had to hightail it home to meet her curfew. With his fuzzy memories of that night, for all he knew, she might have left when he was still awake.

The details weren’t important. The bottom line was that the best sex of his life had turned out to be a dream....

Since he was awake and not likely to be able to fall back to sleep, he got up, dressed and headed for the mess hall. He ate alone in the ranch house most mornings, but occasionally he joined the men.

“‘Mornin’, boss.” Smokey Joe waved a spatula in Clint’s direction. No one knew how old Joe was. He’d had a head full of gray and a beard to match as far back as Clint could remember.

Clint returned the greeting with a nod and took his place at the end of the breakfast line. The other cowboys added a respectful echo of the cook’s reception, which Clint acknowledged.

It was a diverse group. Some had been working on the Diamond S since before Clint was born. Others had been with the outfit off and on over the years, drifting in when the cattle and the open range called to them and drifting out when the lure of the open road was louder. Some of the men had been born and raised in Harmony Ridge, while others arrived from somewhere else on their way to who knew where.

Even though he knew most of them by name, an invisible wall stood between him and them. It had been there as long as he could remember. First, as a barrier between the workers and the boss’s son. Now, between the workers and himself as boss.

It was important that he have their respect, but he paid a price for it. While their loyalty to him and the Diamond S was undeniable, none of them were likely to invite him to join in their after-hours pursuits. And he wasn’t likely to tell any of them how he felt more single than divorced...he still couldn’t get over how he’d blurted that out last night.

Once he’d had his breakfast, Clint took his steaming mug of hot coffee and went to sit across the table from foreman Luke Conner.

“‘Mornin’, Clint.”

“Luke.”

“The boys have about finished breakin’ in the new horses.”

“Good. I saw a few more this week in San Antonio. If I buy them, do you think they can be ready to ride in time for the fall roundup?”

“I don’t see why not. June just started.”

They talked until Luke finished his breakfast and set off to work. Clint drank the rest of his coffee, then took the opportunity to slip into the kitchen and talk to Smokey Joe about Ms. Williamson.

The cook at the Diamond S always seemed to be on top of all the news in Harmony Ridge and the neighboring ranches. He knew the lowdown, and always managed to have meals ready on time. Clint didn’t know how the man found time to do both.

Joe didn’t have much information on her younger years, but he knew her name was Skye, she’d graduated from Harmony Ridge High and had worked in the coffee shop. “She was a cute enough kid, a bit on the scrawny side, but from what I hear, she’s grown up to be a real looker.” Joe winked and clicked his dentures together.

“Any idea where she’s been since leaving town?”

“Don’t know where all she’s been, but I hear she’s workin’ at a dude ranch, cookin’ up grub for city slickers who want to play cowboy for a week.”

Clint didn’t think there were any dude ranches within a hundred miles of Harmony Ridge. So Skye must live farther than that.

Just who are you trying to fool, pal? he asked himself.

When it came to Skye Williamson, his one-hundred-mile rule was already history.

“Mommy?” The question was a tiny whisper in Skye’s ear.

She opened her eyes and smiled at Dawn. “Good morning, angel. Did you have a good night?”

“I had trouble sleeping, Mommy. It’s too noisy here.”

Last night had been their first in Harmony Ridge. Although Skye’s old room was on the far side of the parking lot from the bar, she knew the bass line of the country and western music and raised voices from the parking lot carried. Added to that was the noisy comings and goings from the twenty-four-hour coffee shop only a narrow, graveled road from her parents’ home. Many nights Skye had drifted to sleep humming along with the rumble of an eighteen-wheeler’s engine.

As a child, she’d never known anything else, but it was new to Dawn.

“I know it’s noisy, but it’s only for a little while.”

“I want to go home before next bedtime.”

Me, too! Skye wanted to say. “When Grandpa’s all better we’ll go home,” she told her daughter.

It was too soon to know if her father would get “all better,” but she didn’t want to add that uncertainty to Dawn’s task of settling in to her new surroundings. She would carry the burden herself, along with the worry that Clint and Dawn might accidently cross paths.

Of course, since Clint hadn’t even recognized her last night, she was probably worrying needlessly. Even if he noticed a resemblance between himself and Dawn, he would most likely consider it a coincidence.

The rest of the day was filled with a number of odd jobs. Skye took her turn answering the phone and cleaning up around the house. She picked out a fresh set of clothes for her brother to drop off at the hospital for their mother. Mrs. Williamson said she wasn’t leaving until her husband regained consciousness or was stabilized enough for the trip to San Antonio.

At bedtime, Skye settled next to Dawn with a battered copy of The Cat In The Hat. Halfway through the book, she let her voice drift off to a whisper, watching Dawn for any sign that the little girl was still awake.

She closed the book, set it on the nightstand, then carefully scooted off the bed. Hopefully, the night noises wouldn’t bother Dawn tonight.

An hour later, Skye set off for the coffee shop. The minute her boots hit the asphalt parking lot, thoughts of Clint rushed to her mind. From the day Clint hit drinking age, it had been second nature for her to check the parking lot for his truck. She used to find it parked there several nights a week and always on Saturday night. Her heart would beat double time when she spotted it and she’d cross her fingers in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.

She’d been so young, in years as well as life experience. Her dates were few and far between, what with her work schedule and two big brothers who’d already established their reputations as watchdogs with Alice and Heather’s dates. It was a miracle anyone had been brave enough to ask her out at all.

The bravery had only gone so far, though. None of her dates ever took her to the drive-in or any of the local “parking” sites.

Maybe if she’d experienced more than a few chaste good-night kisses on her front porch, she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to Clint’s kiss.

No, that was just wishful thinking. She doubted if anything could have prepared her for Clint’s kiss—or what had followed.

You really shouldn’t think about this now.

Focusing her gaze on a direct path to the coffee shop, she ignored the parking lot and the memories it evoked. Once she reached work, she tried to keep total concentration on her job.

She was having a moderate degree of success until shortly after midnight the clank of the cowbell announced a new arrival. It was Clint Slade.

Two

Clint’s assessing gaze pinned her to the spot. For an instant, she feared that somehow he’d realized she was the one who’d been in his pickup that long-ago night, but she knew it was impossible. He couldn’t have figured it out, she told herself.

Slowly, his lips curved into a smile and he tipped his hat to her. “‘Evenin’, Miss Skye.”

He strolled through the restaurant and slid his long frame onto one of the stools across the counter from where she stood.

She didn’t remember telling him her first name last night. He must have asked someone about her. A spark of joy flashed in her, but was quickly squelched by the voice of fear and reason.

Look what happened last time you let yourself soak up attention from Clint! This is no time to let your ego get you in trouble again.

Returning Clint’s interest would be an absolute disaster. She could imagine him showing up at the house during the day and Dawn answering the door. What would she say? “Clint, meet your daughter, Dawn. And Dawn, honey, this is your daddy.” She shuddered inwardly. The idea was too awful to think about.

“Coffee to go, again?” she asked as evenly as she could.

“No, I’ll have it here. What kind of pie do you have tonight?”

He was here for coffee and pie? It was after midnight. Of course, he might have been at the bar. But he’d gone to the trouble of finding out her name—maybe he’d come in to see her.

Or maybe he’s taken a real liking to Rocking W coffee.

“Apple, blueberry and pecan,” she said, listing the choices for him.

Clint narrowed his eyes and shifted his bottom lip a fraction of an inch to one side. Skye’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen that expression countless times. Dawn often did the same thing when trying to make up her mind.

Oh, please, no.

A sinking feeling swept through her, and just as it had when she’d looked at her daughter sleeping last night, the knowledge that Dawn was only half hers tugged at her heart.

As dose as she felt to Dawn, was it possible for her to truly know her daughter without knowing the man who’d set the whole process in motion? Suddenly, she felt a strong urgency to learn more about Clint, to discover other similarities between him and the child he’d helped create.

But on its heels was a stronger urgency. The need for her to be cautious in order to protect herself and her daughter.

“Is there a problem with pecan? I can make another choice.”

Skye snapped to, realizing she must have missed Clint’s first request while her mind had been elsewhere. “Pecan is fine. Is that what you’d like?”

He nodded. “Are you all right?”

Before she could answer, he continued, “That’s not really a fair question, what with your dad in the hospital, and all. How’s he doing?”

At least he attributed her rattled state to her father’s condition. Only she knew that his presence was the cause of the emotional war raging inside her.

“He’s still in a coma, but Doc Beechem says his vital signs are improving. Hopefully, they’ll be able to move him to San Antonio later this week.”

“Glad to hear it. How’s everything else going around here?”

Skye served him his coffee and moved to the end of the counter to get the pie. “All right. Reverend Bartlett asked anyone available to help out and we’ve had a rush of people come in to apply for part-time jobs.”

Had he really come in to make sure all was well with them? A phone call would have gotten him the same information.

She set the pie in front of Clint. He smiled his thanks. Still torn between drawing closer to him and keeping as far as possible, she gave him only a token smile in return. She picked up the pot of freshly brewed coffee and went to offer refills to the other customers, making her escape from Clint’s disturbing presence.

Clint took a sip of coffee and reached for his fork. Coming back to the coffee shop may have been a mistake. Instead of proving his theory that last night’s reaction to Skye had been a fluke, tonight’s visit had proved the opposite.

The minute he’d walked in and spotted her, he’d had that odd feeling again. It was a sexual feeling, only more primal. The urge to pursue Skye with some macho, me-Tarzan-you-Jane method of seduction.

He watched her. He didn’t need to hear the words to know the male customers were flirting with her. And she was flirting right back, with a sassiness that was worlds away from the standoffishness she used with him.

Maybe she was one of those women who got tonguetied around a man if she was interested in him. He’d met that kind before. They took extra patience, but were usually worth the effort.

You should be so lucky this time, pal...

Most likely there was another reason. He mulled over a number of possibilities, but the one that seemed to make the most sense was that she wanted something from him. From past experience, the two things women seemed to want from him most often were sex and money.

Skye might be trying to work up the courage to ask for a loan of a large amount of cash, something to help the Williamson family stay afloat through Lou’s illness and the medical bills that would follow.

Yeah, that had to be it, the reason she’d gotten that strange faraway look of yearning in her eyes. She’d probably been seeing a large, flashing dollar sign on his forehead.

Once she worked up the courage, he’d be getting the full force of her persuasive charms aimed in his direction. He’d play along with her, maybe even loan her the money. But everything would be on his terms, not hers.

He turned his attention to the pie, stabbing it with more force than necessary.

Skye had put off the inevitable for as long as possible, but finally she stepped behind the counter and headed toward Clint.

“Refill on coffee, Mr. Slade?”

Slowly, he raised his gaze to hers, moving it straight up her body starting from her waist. She froze like a deer caught in the glare of headlights. She’d seen that heated look in his eyes before. Not in bright fluorescent lighting, but in the pale glow from a rising moon and dim streaks from a parking-lot light.

Other memories teased her nerve endings. The taste and feel of his mouth, the sensation of his hands touching her and the exotic male textures and contours she’d discovered when she’d given in to his urging that she touch him in return. And as things had progressed, the uncontrollable way the force of his desire had sparked hers.

The fire in his eyes burned brighter. Then he blinked and that fast the flames went out. “No, thanks. I need to be getting home.”

Had he only come in for coffee and pie, after all?

He stood and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. Skye tried not to let her gaze drift downward, but lost the battle. Did he still wear white briefs beneath the well-worn denim?

She felt the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks. Shifting her focus to the money in his hand, she asked, “How was your pie?”

“Great, as usual.”

She stepped to the cash register, rang up his order, made change and wished him a good evening without looking him in the eye again.

Clint had the dream again in the early hours of the next morning. This time, he got up and headed for the stables.

“How ya doin’, Zeus?” He rubbed the black stallion’s nose. “Ready for a nice, long ride?”

Clint was. After two nights with a rude awakening from his dream, he needed the healing calm he got from being on his land. He saddled up, mounted and set off into the crisp morning.

From the first time he’d ventured out alone on the Diamond S, he’d felt a deep, almost spiritual, bond with the diverse territory that made up the ranch—the acres and acres of land scarred by arroyos, the rolling hills, deep ravines and rugged rockiness of buttes and mountains. Although they looked barren from a distance, hidden away in the westernmost mountain range were lush meadows abundant with wildlife.

This land filled a need deep within him. A need he sensed other people filled for each other. He got along well enough with people. Men respected him. Women were hot for him. But there wasn’t anyone he considered a friend—someone he could really let down his guard with. Someone he could tell things to, like that bit about feeling single he’d babbled out to Skye the other night.

He must have been more tired than he’d thought, to have admitted something so personal to a complete stranger. The way his libido had reared up like a teenager’s should have tipped him off that he wasn’t in a state of absolute control.

Of course, he hadn’t been as tired last night and she’d still pushed his hormones into overdrive. At least he hadn’t dropped any more personal information.

Zeus came to a stop when they reached a fork in the trail, waiting for a signal telling him which way to go. Clint decided to take the route along Harmony Creek to reach the herd. It wasn’t a necessity that he check on them. The herd and the water were regularly monitored by plane or helicopter. In fact, much of the daily work on the ranch was done with the latest modern trappings, but when it came time for the spring and fall roundups the brunt of the workload fell on the cowboys and their horses.

There was something comforting in the knowledge they were following age-old traditions his great-grandfather had started.

He wondered about future generations of Slades. How would ranching be for them? More important, if he continued as he was, would there be future generations of Slades?

Skye woke to sunshine and the aroma of coffee. The first thing she saw was Dawn setting a ceramic mug on the nightstand. Skye scooted into a sitting position and caught her daughter as she bounced onto the side of the bed.

“Thanks, sweetie. Is Auntie Anna up?”

“Auntie Anna and Uncle Richard left for work already. Uncle Chuck made the coffee and carried it up the stairs for me. But I got to give it to you mineself!”

After another hug and thank-you for Dawn, Skye flew off the bed and across the room into the arms of the tall, handsome blond man standing patiently in the doorway. He had a deeper tan than she’d ever seen him with, but otherwise looked much the same...older, but the same.

Sister and brother said their hellos and commented on the changes six years had made.

“So, sis, both the black sheep have returned.”

Her sister Heather had told her how several years after Skye had left, their brother, Chuck, had taken off to join the rodeo circuit.

“When did you get here?” Skye asked.

“About an hour ago.” He gave her another heartfelt hug. “They tracked me through the Rodeo Cowboy’s Association, but how did they manage to find you?”

“I have a friend who drives a rig,” she told him. Gracie, the same friend who had given her a lift out of town when she’d left Harmony Ridge. “The truckers were talking about Dad’s heart attack on the CB. I called to get an update and Beau suggested I come home.”

Chuck’s smile faded and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “So, how is the old man?”

“He’s doing better. Mom’s been the only one allowed to see him, so far.”

“When the time does come for us to visit, I’ll go with you.”

“I’d like that.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous.”

“You and me both.” He hugged her tightly to him and patted her back. “We’ll get through it together.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“Hey, it’s not like he can ground us, dock our allowances or make us peel potatoes.”

“Mommy.” Dawn tugged on Skye’s nightgown. “Why’s Granpa going to ground you and Uncle Chuck? Did you do something bad?”

Skye fought the urge to chuckle, then the urge to cry. Dawn’s questions were so simple, so direct—Skye remembered when she’d looked at life that way, too. Before adult choices and emotions had complicated things.

Chuck reached down and tweaked Dawn’s nose. “Your grandpa wanted me to stay in Harmony Ridge and work for him and I wanted to be in the rodeo.”

“What about you, Mommy?”

Skye felt her heart in the pit of her stomach. She’d always answered Dawn’s questions honestly but limited the details to keep things appropriate to her age. No way could she tell her little girl how the falling-out with her father had been because Skye had refused to divulge the name of her baby’s father. Lou Williamson would have forced Clint to marry her, engaged to someone else or not.

It would have been a classic shotgun wedding. What sort of start was that for a marriage? Especially when she knew the groom was madly in love with another woman. She couldn’t have faced it if each time they made love, he’d called out Teresa’s name. Once had been bad enough.

“Grandpa and I had a disagreement,” she said succinctly.

Dawn looked intently from one to the other of them. “I don’t know if I want to meet Granpa.”

“Remember what we talked about? How you might not get to see Grandpa if he’s too sick? So let’s not worry about it right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Who’s ready for breakfast?” Chuck asked.

After breakfast, Dawn asked to watch the video of Sleeping Beauty. Skye expected Chuck would watch it with her, but he followed her into the kitchen. With a glance to the living room, he swung the kitchen door closed. The serious look on his face worried her.

“Is something wrong, Chuck?”

“No, I just don’t want Dawn to overhear our conversation.” He came to stand several steps from her. “Clint Slade is Dawn’s daddy, isn’t he?”

Chuck’s question made Skye’s stomach churn. “What makes you say that?”

“Her hair and eyes.”

Skye laughed, trying to make light of the subject, while the knot in her stomach tightened even more. “Clint’s not the only man in these parts with dark hair and brown eyes. Take into account the number of truck drivers who pass through and the odds decrease that much more.”

“It’s not just the coloring. After you ran away, Heather mentioned something about you having a crush on him.”

If Heather knew about her crush on Clint, and Chuck had noticed the similarities between Dawn and the little girl’s father, did the rest of the family know? Were they all speculating behind her back?

“Chuck, you’re my brother, I love you, but this isn’t any of your business.”

“Is he giving you enough?”

“Enough?”

“Child support.”

“Well...”

Chuck’s eyes narrowed, the muscles along his jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists. “Does he need some encouragement to pay his fair share? ’Cause I’ll give it to him. Just say the word.”

Skye crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her elbows. “It’s not as cut-and-dried as you make it sound.”

“Why? Did he give you a lump sum up front and expect you to make it last for eighteen years?” Chuck started to get a wild look in his eyes. “Is it Clint, Skye? Tell me or I’ll light into him until he owns up to it.”

“That’s not going to accomplish anything.”

“Don’t go giving me one of your little peacemaker talks!”

“It’s not a peacemaker talk. It won’t accomplish anything because Clint doesn’t know about Dawn.”

Chuck looked stunned, just short of horrified. “Doesn’t know what about Dawn?”

“He doesn’t know she exists.”

Now he did look horrified. “You never told him you were pregnant?”

“By the time I found out, he was engaged to Teresa Donnelly.”

Chuck swore beneath his breath. “So, he was out sowing the last of his wild oats and you ended up paying the price?”

Skye shrugged. Clint hadn’t been deliberately sowing wild oats, but the description fit enough that she let it ride.

“You should have told him.”

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin a notch. “Excuse me?”

“He had a right to know. He’s her father, for crying out loud.”

“I know guys have this whole male-stick-together thing going, but I’m your sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Chuck planted his hands on his hips. “I’m not taking sides. I’m just saying a guy has the right to know when he’s about to become a father.”

“The talk shows are full of guests with cries for father’s rights, but check around. Do a little impromptu poll at the Rocking W Bar tonight. You’ll find a lot of men would rather not be bothered with news of an unplanned pregnancy.”

“I sure as hell would want to know.”

“I said a lot of men wouldn’t want to know. I didn’t say all men.”

“Okay, so what gave you the right to make the choice for Clint?”

The fact that Clint didn’t know he’d made love to her—that he thought he’d been making love to Teresa.

“I didn’t sit down and consciously make the choice for him. I just did what I thought was best for me and my baby.”

He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out with a rush. “What’s done is done. The problem now is deciding when and how to tell him.”

Skye couldn’t believe her ears. “Tell him? I’m not going to tell him.”

“He has the right to know.”

“That’s debatable.”

“What about Dawn’s right to know her father and her paternal heritage?”

Pain gripped her middle, the same stab she got every time Dawn mentioned “her daddy.” Dawn knew her father was alive and a cowboy on a Texas spread. That information had kept her happy till now, but Skye knew someday she would ask for more. She hadn’t decided what she would do when that day came.

“Obviously we’re not going to agree on this,” she said. “Let’s just drop it, okay?” She gathered a handful of plates, glasses and silverware from the table and carried them to the sink.

“Someday Dawn’s going to want to know more about her father,” Chuck said. “What will you do then?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it?”

“Skye, I want to help.”

“The subject is closed!”

They didn’t talk anymore about it, but the question of Clint’s right to know about Dawn haunted Skye the rest of the day.

Almost as though her thought waves had reached out, lassoed and reeled him in, Clint was waiting for her when she went to work that night.

As she crossed the dark parking lot, the silhouette of a man separated from the shadows of the building and moved purposefully toward her. She recognized Clint’s walk before he was close enough for her to recognize his features.

She came to a stop several yards from him.

“Hello, Skye.”

“Clint.” He had an unreadable look on his face. Surely Chuck wouldn’t have gone to Clint behind her back and told him about Dawn. “A-are you here for coffee and pie again?”

Clint continued walking until the distance between them had shrunk to feet. “No, I stopped by to have a few words with you.”

Chuck had told him! Now what?

“How’s your father doing?”

“As well as can be expected.” If he knew about Dawn, he was playing mind games with her. On the other hand, maybe Chuck hadn’t spilled the beans.

Clint ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve been wondering why we never met until a few days ago.”

“We went to the same schools and the same church,” she said. “I knew who you were.”

“How did I miss you?” He took a step closer, reaching out to caress her cheek. “Are you working tonight?”

“Yes. Thanks for reminding me.” She started to step past him.

Clint stretched an arm across her path, curving it around her waist when her momentum moved her against it. “Whoa, honey, not so fast.”

Skye froze, torn between the urge to run away from him and the urge to curl the rest of the way into his arms. She remembered well...too well...the feel of being enclosed in his warm, powerful embrace. “I...I’m due at work.”

“How ’bout if I buy you a cup of coffee when you get off? Or we could go for a drive if you need some time away from the house.”

“No, thanks. I’m training some of the new employees tonight, won’t be getting off until late.”

Skye slowly backed away from him until she came up against cold metal. From the height of the bumper, she assumed it was someone’s pickup or four-by-four. Clint moved in so close, their bodies were almost touching.

He removed his Stetson, setting it on the hood, then placed his hands on either side of her. “Can I see you tomorrow then?”

“I have things to do.”

Like take care of our daughter for starters, she thought.

“So do I, but I’ll make time. I want us to spend time together, get to know each other.”

Skye wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he have said these words to her six years ago? Then she would have wanted to shout for joy. Now she wanted to shout out her frustration.

“I’m not going to be here that long.”

“We’re living in the age of phones and cars, darlin’. Your leaving doesn’t mean we can’t stay in touch or see each other again.”

Raising one hand, he threaded his fingers through her hair, resting his warm palm against her cheek. With his thumb he tilted her chin up. He started to lower his head toward her.

“Hold on. What are you up to?”

Clint straightened. “I’m doing something I’ve wanted to do from the moment I set eyes on you.”

Skye had to clear her throat to get her voice to work. “And what is that?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Three

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Skye said. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but a flutter of anticipation stirred inside her nevertheless.

“I think it’s the best idea since barbed wire.”

She started to laugh, but the sound was trapped as Clint leaned down and placed his lips against hers. Floodgates burst open. For five years she’d been wrapped up in her role as Dawn’s mother. In half a heartbeat of Clint starting to kiss her, she awakened to the forgotten fact that she was also a woman. A woman extraordinarily physically attracted to the man kissing her.

Skye knew she should slip away and put distance between them. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Clint moved closer until he was thrust tightly against her. A need grew within her and she remembered the night that had changed her life forever. She recalled the passion his touch had ignited, the burning desire that had driven her to make love with Clint.

With a soft sigh, she parted her lips. Clint slipped his tongue between them, probing, tasting, inciting more and more memories in Skye. What was it about the way this man kissed her, held her, touched her, that gave him the power to affect her so deeply?

She was six years older, six years wiser—he shouldn’t be able to make her knees so weak, to make her melt against him.

Her only consolation was that the desire wasn’t onesided, the proof of his arousal pressed hard between them. Instinctively, she shifted her hips, rocking against him. He moved one arm to the small of her back, encouraging her to continue the subtle movement. He slid his other hand up to curve gently around her breast. Skye felt her nipple pull tight, then push forward, pressing against the fabric of her bra and blouse. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Clint moved his palm seductively over the area, intensifying the sensation.

The rumble of an engine and the harsh glare of headlights sweeping across them were an abrupt intrusion to their steamy kiss. With a honk, the car was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but the mood was shattered.

Clint moved back a step. The sound of them trying to catch their breaths was the only indication they’d been doing anything more than talking.

“I need to get to work,” she said hoarsely.

“Are we on for tomorrow? Just pick a time and I’ll be here.”

Skye shook her head. “No. Long-distance relationships are possible, but I don’t think we should start one.”

“You’re going to ignore what just happened?”

“We kissed each other. That’s all that happened.”

“And steers have udders!”

“Okay, so it was a very...” Hot, passionate, sexy? “A very good kiss, but still just a kiss. I’ve had a rough couple of days, I’m tired, stressed-out, and you’ve obviously had a lot of practice at this kind of thing.”

“Stress and my reputed expertise had nothing to do with what was happening between us.” He stepped forward, grabbed his hat from the hood of the car and put it on. “There was more to it than that. Now, if you plan on working tonight, you’d better get going before I decide to kiss you again.”

Skye didn’t need to be told twice. She expected him to follow her into the coffee shop. Instead, she heard the slam of a door and an engine roaring to life.

Clint woke up in pain. Carefully, he rolled from his stomach to his side. It relieved the external pressure from parts of his anatomy, but did nothing to relieve the internal pressure causing his arousal.

That damned dream again!

People spoke of a second childhood, maybe he was suffering from a second round of adolescence. The hell of it was that teenage boys only needed privacy and a confiscated magazine to find relief.

He closed his eyes, pretending he had a chance of falling asleep. Instead of dwelling on the dream, his mind chose to torture him with memories of kissing Skye last night.

Without a doubt, it was the most explosive first kiss he’d ever been part of. There was usually a tentativeness, a testing at the beginning of a kiss...especially a first kiss. Skye had gone off like dynamite. Once again he wondered if she had some kind of hidden agenda, something she wanted from him.

But she hadn’t been the one waiting for him to come along in the parking lot...

True, but the way she’d returned his kiss might have been her way of taking advantage of the situation and trying to use it to further her own plans. But she hadn’t made any move to follow up on the kiss. Not even a promise of more to come. In fact, she’d looked as surprised as he’d felt. Of course that might be part of her game, reeling him in slow.

He would be wise to see they didn’t cross paths again.

Go ahead, be wise, his libido taunted him. And unless you want to wake up in pain again, you’d better stop sleeping on your stomach.

“Mommy, you’re hugging too tight.” Dawn’s sentence ended with a squeak.

Skye loosened her hold and tucked her daughter’s sleep-tousled hair behind the little girl’s ears. “Sorry. How’d you sleep last night?”

“Okay.” Dawn scooted out of Skye’s arms, off the bed and over to the window. “Are the cowboys around here real cowboys like my daddy or pretend cowboys like the ones who visit our ranch?”

Usually, Skye would remind Dawn that the Bar K Dude Ranch wasn’t theirs, it was only where Skye worked. But with Dawn bringing up Clint after Skye had spent most of yesterday thinking about him and the rest of it thinking about the kiss they’d shared, she decided to let the inaccuracy pass.

Skye sent up a silent prayer that after getting a short simple answer, Dawn would drop the subject of Clint. “Most of them are real cowboys.”

“Do any of them know my daddy?”

A lot of them work for your daddy. The words flashed into her mind. She bit on her tongue to keep them from slipping out.

“I think so.”

“Could I maybe get to meet him, like I’m maybe going to meet Granpa?”

Skye took a deep breath and grabbed for the small loophole Dawn had opened for her. “That reminds me...Grandma called last night at the coffee shop. Grandpa is awake now and they’re going to fly him to San Antonio this afternoon. Grandma will be coming home sometime this morning and she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Granpa, too?”

“No, he’s going to fly straight from one hospital to the other in a helicopter.” Skye got out of bed, holding her hand toward Dawn. “How ’bout if we surprise Grandma with a batch of blueberry pancakes?”

Later that afternoon, Skye loaded her mother’s suitcase into the trunk of her car and got ready to drive her back to the hospital. After lunch, Dawn had gone to Skye’s sister Alice’s house to play with her three children, so there would be just the two of them in the car.

Skye walked into the house and found her mother hanging up the phone.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Marge Williamson said.

Skye felt as though she’d swallowed a rock. “Is Daddy all right?”

“He’s the same, but they’ve had another patient come into the emergency room with a hand injury and Doc wants him to see a microsurgeon as soon as possible, so they’re sending him to San Antonio in the helicopter with your father. But Doc also managed to find me another way to the city. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

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