He would marry her and they’d each get what they wanted. Besides, people married every day for far less noble causes than saving two lives.

And when it was all over, she’d go her way. He’d go his.

Maybe fate dropped a woman in a wedding dress on the side of the road for a reason.

To hell with everything.

Dipping his head, he took possession of those sweet lips. She dropped his hands, but he hitched an arm around her waist and dragged her closer, their bodies meeting along every line. She squirmed for a few seconds, slumped against him and then shimmied out of his grasp.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing my bride-to-be.”

The McClintock Proposal
Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the girls of SHS.

Long may we rock!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Callie Price —A bride on the run from her criminal fiancé, Callie sets her sights on a temperamental cowboy to rescue her and help her get control of an inheritance from her grandfather. But her simple plan becomes complicated…and dangerous.

Rod McClintock —With his ranch in trouble, Rod agrees to Callie’s wild scheme to marry her, but he does so more to protect the free-spirited artist than to benefit himself.

Bobby Jingo —This small-time crook has some big-time plans, and Callie’s inheritance figures prominently in his future.

Jonah Price —Unfortunately, Callie’s father enjoys wine, women and gambling.

Grady Pierce —He belongs to one of Silverhill’s oldest ranching families and isn’t happy when Callie comes to town to claim her inheritance, an inheritance that could’ve fallen into his lap.

Amber Lewis —New in town, Amber seems to want to make Callie her new best friend. Is it just friendship she wants?

Dana McClintock —Rod’s sister-in-law may be related to Callie by more than marriage. Callie wants to believe in family, but all hers ever gave her was grief. Will Dana be any different?

Jesse Price —The boy Callie plans to adopt needs a stable home, but Callie worries that making him her son will expose him to the danger that surrounds her.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

The crystal beads bounced on the hardwood floor and scattered in all directions. Callie Price hung over the windowsill, her legs, tangled in silk organza, dangling toward the ground. She bicycled her legs, the toes of her white satin pumps grappling for purchase on terra firma.

She tumbled into the flowerbed, the train of her dress burying her beneath layers of white froth. Scrambling to her feet, she jumped out of the flowers, leaving one of the pumps in the moist dirt.

For a scumbag, Bobby Jingo sure liked his flowers.

She slipped off the other shoe and tossed it at its mate. She never could run in heels.

The damp grass squished beneath her feet as she backed away from the window. Then she spun around and took the corner of the house at high speed. She collided with a teenage boy, knocking the cigarette from his lips and a can of beer from his hand.

“Whoa!” He held up his empty hands, his eyes widening as his gaze swept from her veil to her bedraggled train. “Aren’t you the bride?”

Callie glanced at the red vest and pert bow tie, incongruous over a pair of black jeans and motorcycle boots. Her eyes flicked to the can on the ground, spewing foam. “Aren’t you one of the valet parking attendants?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the boy squared his shoulders. “C’mon, I had two sips, and I need to get paid for this gig tonight. I owe my friend some money.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

“Huh?”

“Tell you what.” Callie yanked off the veil and dropped it on top of the smoldering cigarette, then kicked it toward the beer. Starting a fire wouldn’t be a great idea right now. “You get me some transportation out of here, and I won’t tell anyone you’ve been drinking on the job.”

The teen gulped, his Adam’s apple prominent in his pencil-thin neck. “Are you kidding?”

She pointed to her feet encased in shimmering hose and the dirt-smudged train. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. “Are you running out on the wedding?”

Real genius, this one, but he just might be her savior. “Yeah, I’ve got pressing business elsewhere.”

“Sweet.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the back of the house. Pointing to a beat-up motorcycle leaning precariously on its kickstand, he said, “Take it.”

“Is—is it yours?” The boy sure seemed eager to part with his bike, or maybe he wanted in on the adventure.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key. As it dangled from his finger, it caught the light and winked at her. No time to analyze his motives, she knew.

She snatched the key from his hand, lifted up her skirt and rushed toward the bike. She called over her shoulder, “How do I get it back to you?”

He waved an arm. “Leave it on the side of the highway or something. It has a full tank—almost.”

Reaching beneath her dress, she peeled off the silk pantyhose and hung them on a cactus. She shoved the key into the ignition and turned back toward the teenager, his mouth hanging open as he wrestled another cigarette out of a pack. “One more thing.”

“Do you want me to show you how to start the bike up and keep it going?”

“I know how to ride a motorcycle.” She tugged at the train hanging from her backside. “Could you rip this damn thing off my dress?”

FIVE MINUTES LATER, shoeless, veilless and trainless, Callie roared north on I-25 away from Las Cruces.

Once she got back to L.A. she’d figure out another way to save her father. She just hoped she could come up with something before Bobby hurt Dad.

Who was she kidding? After the stunt she just pulled, Bobby might hurt her, too.

ROD MCCLINTOCK WORRIED THE toothpick at the side of his mouth as his gaze drilled the highway, shrouded in purple dusk. The horses he looked at in Austin would be a good start for the dude ranch, but he hated incurring so much debt.

He needed an infusion of money, land or a fairy godmother. Or maybe all three.

Through a layer of dust, a shimmering white shape appeared on the side of the highway. Either his fairy godmother just appeared or he could use a drink.

Easing off the gas pedal, he swerved to the left and peered out the passenger window. An old Honda bike tilted on its kickstand, and a woman in a long white dress stood beside it, waving her arms over her head.

A couple of cars had already sped past her, and a few cars behind him slowed down to take in the spectacle. He’d let one of those drivers take care of the stranded motorist. He didn’t need any more problems in his life.

He watched his rearview mirror as a black SUV pulled behind the woman and the motorcycle. Three men tumbled out of the car, clutching bottles. Rod made for the shoulder of the highway and threw his truck into Reverse.

By the time he jumped out of his truck, the three men had formed a circle around the woman, the white wedding dress swirling around her legs. Her long, blond hair whipped in the hot wind from the speeding cars on the highway.

“Hey, baby, did your groom ditch you by the side of the road or something?”

The woman tilted up her chin, digging her fists into her hips. She looked ready to make a run at the guy.

“Take a hike.” Rod stepped between the man and the stranded woman, jerking his thumb toward the idling SUV.

“Are you the groom?” The moron twisted his head over his shoulder and snorted at his two buddies.

Rod grabbed a handful of the man’s sweat-dampened T-shirt and yanked him forward. The man’s head snapped back around, his mouth slack with a dribble of beer at the corner.

“Get moving.” Rod bunched his fist and drew it back to emphasize his point.

The man pedaled backward, bumping into his two friends, already scrambling for the security of the car. “Sure, man. We’re not looking for trouble.”

Only with a little blonde in a wedding dress and…bare feet.

The men piled into the SUV and shot down the highway.

Holding up his index finger, Rod pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to 911, giving them the license plate of the SUV. He snapped the phone shut and dropped it back into his shirt pocket. “Don’t want those guys plowing into a carload of kids.”

She gathered her billowing hair in one hand and twisted it behind her. “Who are you, Sir Galahad?”

“You’re welcome.”

A pink blush washed over her cheeks beneath the grit and grime. “Thanks. I appreciate your help. I was so happy someone pulled over—until I saw The Three Stooges climb out of the car.”

“You’re in a dangerous situation.” His gaze narrowed. “What is your situation?”

“I ran out of gas.” She aimed a dirty, pink-polished toe at the tire of the Honda 550, but stopped short of kicking it.

Running out of gas didn’t tell half the story of a barefoot, bedraggled bride in the middle of New Mexico. He tapped the phone in his pocket. “Do you want me to call a roadside service to bring you some gas?”

The woman laced her hands in front of her and dropped her chin, glancing up at him through lowered lashes.

A practiced look, if he ever saw one.

“Not really. I was kind of hoping for a lift. It’s been a hell of a ride in this wedding gown.”

“What about the bike?”

She shrugged, the strap of her dress slipping off her shoulder. “It’s not mine.”

Rod crossed his arms and dug his boot heels into the gravel. If she stole the motorcycle, he’d turn her in, too, with those jackasses in the car.

She peered at him through the veil of hair that hung over her face, and then jerked her head up. “I didn’t steal the bike. Someone loaned it to me.”

He cocked his head. This one looked like a package of trouble tied up with a white bow; but curiosity nibbled at his gut. He hoped to hell that curiosity wouldn’t land him in the same condition as the cat.

“How are you going to return the bike to your…friend?”

“He told me to leave it on the side of the road when I ran out of gas, and he’d get it back.” She nibbled at her bottom lip and crinkled her brow, as if the logic of this plan escaped even a barefoot woman standing in the middle of the highway in a dirty wedding dress.

His gaze tracked over the motorcycle—no saddlebags, no pouch, no nothing. “Do you have a purse with you? Money? Change of clothing?”

She threw her head back and laughed at the darkening sky. Then she doubled over, her shoulders shaking as she clutched her stomach. Was she having a breakdown?

Rod stepped toward her, his boots crunching the gravel, and her head shot up. Tears streamed down her face, and she swept them away, creating streaks of dirt on her cheeks. But she was still laughing.

“Do I look like I have anything? Just a few bucks and my driver’s license.” She patted the side of her breast, encased in the tight bodice of the wedding dress. “Wouldn’t want to get a ticket for driving without a license.”

A carload of teenagers screamed and yelled out their car window, and the woman rubbed a hand across her nose. “Can we get off of this godforsaken highway now?”

“After you.” In a grand gesture, he swept his arm toward his truck. “Where are you headed?”

Taking a few tentative steps on the chunky gravel, she called over her shoulder, “North is good.”

Rod resisted the urge to sweep her off her feet, which must be hurting. Better to let her tough it out than suspect him of improper designs on her. Although accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem to bother her.

Reaching the truck, she grabbed the door handle before he could, and pulled herself onto the running board. Nudging her hand out of the way, he opened the door for her. She launched herself inside, dropping onto the leather interior of his truck with a rustle of silk and a soft sigh.

By the time he slid into the driver’s seat, the woman had adjusted the seat back as far as it would go, stretched her legs out and closed her eyes.

He studied her face in the creeping gloom, the headlights of the passing cars illuminating its planes and curves. She’d obviously ditched a wedding and, judging by her dress, it was her own. But why the full-scale flight in complete bridal regalia? She couldn’t stop to change clothes, grab a credit card, get her own car? The whole thing smelled worse than a truckload of manure.

She opened one eye. “Are you going to put this behemoth in gear and get moving?”

For a woman in her position, she didn’t show much gratitude. He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Rod.”

She placed her delicately boned hand in his and, with the grip of a truck driver, she said, “Callie.”

He extracted his fingers from hers and cranked on the engine, Bach immediately cascading from the speakers. She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and he jabbed the button to turn off the CD player.

Blowing out a breath, he pulled onto the highway. “So, how’d a nice girl like you wind up on the roadside in a wedding dress?”

“Who said I was nice?” She clicked open his glove compartment and rummaged inside with one hand.

“Looking for something?”

“Food. I’m starving. Didn’t stick around long enough for the canapés at the reception.”

Despite being an intruder, she’d made herself right at home in his truck. “There’s a bag in the backseat with some granola bars and beef jerky, and a cooler with some bottled water.”

“Even that sounds good to me right now.” She unsnapped her seat belt and twisted in her seat to paw through the paper bag on the floor of the truck.

Rod shot her a sidelong glance as she ripped into a piece of jerky with straight, white teeth. If he had any sense, he’d turn around and deliver her back to the bridegroom. Poor sap. What kind of woman leaves her man stranded at the altar?

She chugged the water and then rested the bottle against her cheek, staring at the highway as his truck gobbled it up. Her pretty blue eyes, shadowed by the dark interior of his car, had a haunted look. Her porcelain skin stretched too tightly over her high cheekbones, and her full lips pursed into a tight knot.

Okay, maybe she didn’t dump a poor sap. Rod always jumped to the most unsavory conclusions about women and their motives—a legacy from mommy dearest.

He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? Because I’ve been driving all afternoon, up from Austin, and I could use a meal.”

Callie flashed him a smile, and his heart almost came to a crashing halt in his chest. The woman could crack wise with the best of them, but that smile didn’t contain an ounce of artifice or bitterness.

“That would be great. And once we get to the next town, maybe you could loan me some money so I can hop on a bus, or at least loan me your cell phone to call a friend back home to wire me some money or something.”

“Back home? You’re not from around here?”

“L.A.”

His brows shot up. “What’s an L.A. girl doing in New Mexico?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She tugged at the sides of the wedding gown, ripping off a little more lace.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and flexed his fingers. “You came out from L.A. to New Mexico…Arizona…Texas to get married, decided you couldn’t go through with it, hightailed it out of your own wedding and hopped on a motorcycle to escape. Is that about right?”

She flashed him two thumbs up. “You got it.”

“So, are you heading back to L.A. now?”

“Uh-huh.”

He didn’t believe half of that story, but once he dropped her at the next bus stop, her story wouldn’t matter anymore. Then he could get back to his own problems of raising enough money to turn his working ranch into a dude ranch.

Since his father and stepmother moved to Palm Springs, taking most of the capital out of the ranch for their retirement, he’d have to rely on loans to get his dude ranch up and running. He hated being indebted to anyone, even a bank.

The McClintock spread had enough space for a modest dude ranch, but he needed more land to really make a go of it…. Not that he could afford to buy more land. Or more horses.

He rolled his shoulders and glanced at his silent companion. It didn’t look like she had any intention of satisfying his curiosity, but at least she had a plan. He didn’t want her depending on him to come to the rescue.

“Truth or Consequences.”

“Huh?” She swiveled her head around and held up her hands. “I’m not up for playing any games.”

He chuckled and pointed to the illuminated sign looming ahead. “That’s the name of the next town. Ever been there?”

“No. How’d it get a name like that?”

“Has something to do with the game show. It used to be called Hot Springs.”

“What a relief. I thought the name might be a requirement for entry into the town.”

Rod curved around the off ramp to Truth or Consequences, gripping the steering wheel. Callie definitely had something to hide. He didn’t find it surprising that a woman had secrets. He never met a woman who didn’t, but he couldn’t figure out why he was so hell-bent on discovering hers.

He pulled into the parking lot of a casual restaurant on the main drag. “I’d offer you some other clothes, but all I have is a sweatshirt. Do you think you’d look more, or less conspicuous with a sweatshirt pulled over that dress?”

Callie pulled down the visor and flipped up the mirror to check her reflection, the first time she did so since climbing into his truck. Pretty women usually worried more about their appearance. Of course, she had other issues on her mind.

Wrinkling her nose, she plucked some tissues from the box in his console. She dabbed at the few smudges left on her face and ran her hands through her tangled hair.

“Sitting at a table, nobody will even notice the bridal attire. I’ll take the sweatshirt.”

Rod reached into the backseat and dropped his gray sweatshirt into her lap. She shook it out and read the front. “Texas A&M. Your alma mater?”

“Yep.” He got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger door for her while she struggled to pull the sweatshirt over her head. “Let me help you. You’re trying to put your head through the armhole.”

He shifted the sweatshirt so that a crown of golden hair appeared at the neck, and then yanked it down. Running his hand under what hair was still stuffed in the sweatshirt, he swept it free. His fingers lingered in the soft strands before he jerked his hand away, as if scorched.

She blinked and tossed her blond mane over one shoulder. Did she notice his reluctance to relinquish her hair? At least she didn’t have a smart-ass comment for the occasion.

He pointed to her bare feet. “I hope that won’t be a problem. The dress is long enough that your lack of foot-wear may not be noticeable.”

“I’ll shuffle along behind you.” She jumped down from the truck, her feet landing on the asphalt of the parking lot with a slap.

A few curious looks and a couple of smirks meandered their way as they entered the restaurant and settled into a booth by the window, but the waitress didn’t seem to notice anything awry. They ordered sandwiches and fries, and iced tea for her and a beer for him. He needed that drink now.

Callie excused herself to wash her face and hands in the ladies’ room. When she returned, Rod dug his elbows into the Formica table, resting his chin on his hands. “Since we’re in Truth or Consequences, how about some truth? Why’d you run out on your own wedding?”

She looked up from dumping artificial sweetener in her tea. “I decided I didn’t want to marry my fiancé.”

“Just like that?”

“The idea had been stewing awhile.” She held the empty package of sweetener close to her face, as if studying the ingredients.

“Why didn’t you call it off before the actual wedding day?”

“It’s complicated.” She crushed the package in her hand and flicked it across the tabletop.

“And why the escape on a motorcycle? That’s a little dramatic.”

He shifted in his seat as her lips puckered around a straw. If this woman left him standing at the altar, he’d be consumed with anger, worry and…frustration for missing out on the wedding night.

“I guess I chickened out. I couldn’t walk in there and tell everyone I decided to cancel the wedding, so I took off. One of the valet parking attendants loaned me his bike. The rest is recent history.”

It still seemed like an odd way to cancel a wedding. “Will your scorned groom follow you to L.A.?”

Her eyes widened. “He knows better than that. Enough about my boring story. What about you? Where are you headed?”

If Callie thought ditching a wedding and fleeing on a motorcycle in a wedding gown constituted boredom, his life would put her to sleep.

“I’m heading back home after looking at some horses in Austin. Seeing you on the side of the road in that dress spiced up my journey.”

She tilted her head. “You have a fantastic face.”

His beer went down the wrong way and he choked. “What the hell does that mean?”

She extended her arms, her wiggling fingers inches from his face. “A strong, proud face. Do you mind?”

He had no idea what she planned to do, but he nodded anyway. For some crazy reason, he found it almost impossible to deny this woman anything. Good thing he intended to drop her at a bus stop soon.

Her smooth fingertips traced along his jawline, and then the pads of her fingers danced across his cheekbones. She ran her thumb down the bridge of his nose and caressed his forehead. Despite her light touch, he felt her probing his depths, reading every line on his face. He didn’t want it to end, but people were beginning to stare.

He caught her wrists. “What are you doing?”

Hunching her shoulders, she grinned. “I’m a sculptor. Sometimes I get carried away when I see a great face.”

An artist? That explained a lot. The few artists he knew lived scattered, self-centered lives. He dropped his hold on her and wrapped his hands around his sweating bottle, welcoming its coolness.

“Why do you need horses?”

She always managed to shift the focus back to him. “I own a ranch.”

“A ranch?”

“I’m planning to turn it into a dude ranch. You know, riding lessons, roping cattle, that kind of thing? It’s hard to make a profit on a midsize, working ranch these days.”

The waitress set down their plates with a clatter, and Rod grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite. He’d never admitted that to anyone outside his family. Maybe Callie’s reticence led him to fill the gap with his own personal revelations.

He may be in Truth or Consequences, but that didn’t mean he had to play the game. He wiped tomato juice from his chin with a napkin and asked, “What do you sculpt?”

“Interesting faces.”

THEY SPENT THE NEXT HALF HOUR talking about art and ranching in general terms. Callie skirted and danced around personal facts like a pro. He recognized the maneuvers as ones he used himself.

As Rod paid the bill, he asked the waitress the location of the nearest bus depot.

“If you go about two blocks up the street and make a left on Navajo, there’s a bus stop on your right. You can catch a bus there to the depot in Albuquerque, if that’s where you’re headed.”

“That would be perfect. If you could loan me the bus fare to L.A., I’ll pay you back when I get home.” Callie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and a pen from the check tray. “Give me your address and I’ll send you the money to pay back the loan.”

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to pay me back.”

She gripped the pen, her knuckles turning white. “I always pay my debts.”

Rod covered her hand with his, smoothing his thumb across her silky skin. “It’s not a loan. It’s a gift…a wedding gift.”

Her fist unclenched, as one corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile. “There was no wedding, remember?”

“How about a thank-you gift then, for breaking up a long, tedious journey.”

“I guess I can accept that.”

He excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving her at the table doodling on the napkin. When he returned, her presence almost surprised him. She seemed as elusive as a puff of dandelion on the wind.

His visceral response of pleasure when he saw her surprised him even more. It had been a long time since he’d had more than a superficial interest in a woman.

They climbed back into the truck and crawled down Main Street, looking for Navajo. As they rounded the corner toward the bus stop, Rod said, “I can drive you to Albuquerque.”

“No. You’ve already done more than enough—a ride, a meal, bus fare. I don’t want to put you out more than I already have. I’ll be fine once I get on that bus.”

Rod helped her out of his truck for the last time and reached for his wallet. “If you have time in Albuquerque, and the bus depot is near a store, you should buy yourself some shoes.”

Callie stood on tiptoe to read the bus schedule while he thumbed through the bills in his wallet. He had no idea how much a ticket to L.A. would cost, but it had to be more than the cash in his wallet.

“How much longer do you have to wait for the next bus to Albuquerque?”

She squinted at the sign. “About forty-five minutes.”

“Good. That’ll give me some time to run across the street to that ATM to get some more cash, and then maybe we can find you some shoes.”

“Rod, please. You have to let me repay you. You would be home with your wife and kids by now if you hadn’t stopped to rescue me from those idiots in the SUV.” She tilted her head, studying his face.

She seemed to be making a lot of assumptions. He never told her where his ranch was located. For all she knew, it could be up in Montana. And he definitely didn’t tell her about any wife and kids.

“I’m not married, and I don’t have any kids that I know of, although in my family, that doesn’t mean much.”

She drew her brows together, and he laughed. “Long story about my brothers. Stay here while I get some money.”

He waited for a few cars to pass before jogging across the street. He’d come a long way from when he first passed Callie on the highway, but he never could leave a damsel in distress—which usually led to problems. Whenever he rescued a woman, she usually expected something more from him, and he never wanted to deliver on that something more.

He felt differently about Callie, probably because in another forty-five minutes she’d be out of his life forever. No expectations there.

The ATM sucked in the card and he punched in his code. Just as the machine began spitting twenties at him, he heard a squeal of tires.

He glanced over his shoulder at a white Cadillac with spinning rims pulling up to the bus stop. His mouth dropped open as Callie lifted her skirts and took off in the opposite direction of the car.

Grabbing his card and cash, Rod spun around and sprinted across the street. A man burst out of the Caddy as it lurched into a U-turn. The stranger lunged for Callie, her long dress encumbering her escape.

The man grabbed a handful of Callie’s dress and yanked her backward. She tottered for a moment, like the bride on top of a wedding cake sinking into the frosting, before tumbling sideways. As she fell, she screamed, “I’m not going back.”

Rod’s heart thundered in his chest. Callie’s bridegroom had tracked her down.

And he wanted a bride.

Chapter Two

Callie’s attacker landed on top of her as they both crashed to the ground. The fall sucked the air out of her lungs and she gasped for breath. Inhaling grit from the sidewalk, she bucked and squirmed beneath the man to throw him off. She twisted onto her back and swiped at the man’s face, drawing blood.

She recognized him as one of Bobby’s associates, Clyde.

He cursed and rose to his knees, straddling her body. “You’re going back to Bobby, and I’m going to deliver you.”

Like some terrible, avenging superhero, Rod appeared, looming behind Clyde. Rod hitched an arm around Clyde’s neck and yanked him back. His weight shifted to Callie’s thighs and she reached over her head to grab a pole, trying to pull her legs free.

Clyde’s face above Rod’s corded forearm reddened as he choked and sputtered. After a minute of clawing at Rod’s unyielding arm, Clyde slumped to the side, slack-jawed.

Callie slid her legs from beneath his inert body. As she staggered to her feet, the driver of the Cadillac hooked an arm around her waist. He dragged her toward the open door of the car, lifting her off her feet. She drummed her heels against his shins and dug her fingernails into his arm.

Rod delivered a final blow to the prostrate lump on the ground and then charged the man holding Callie. He slammed his fist into the man’s face, which spurted blood.

“Damn you, stay out of this.” Her abductor released her and barreled into Rod, who welcomed his advance with a kick to the midsection.

As the driver doubled over, Rod grabbed Callie’s hand and they sprinted to his truck. Ever the gentleman, even in a time of crisis, Rod opened her door and lifted her onto the seat. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.

He pulled away from the curb, and a sharp crack propelled Callie about two feet off the seat. “What the hell was that?”

“Your scorned groom took a shot at us.”

“That’s not my groom. He sent his cohorts to do his dirty work.” Clutching her belly, she peered into the side mirror. “Are they following us?”

“Not yet, but let’s make it hard for them.” Rod skidded around the corner, and then another, before careening down an alleyway. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Who are you calling?”

“The police.”

She grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? Two men tried to kidnap you. Even ditching a wedding doesn’t justify that.”

“It’s not that simple, Rod.” She covered her face with her hands, massaging her temples with her fingertips. He had to know she’d given him only the barest of details. The way he’d studied her with his guarded green eyes told her that much. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. Peeking at his bulging bicep through her fingers, she decided she’d chosen the wrong analogy.

Rod slammed on the brakes, and she lurched forward, straining against her seat belt.

“What are you doing?” She glanced at his profile, as rock-hard as his bicep, as he clenched the steering wheel with hands still bloody from the fight.

“You tell me what’s not so simple, Callie. I want to know everything. Right now.”

Licking her lips, she craned her neck around to look out the back window. “I’ll explain everything, but can we get out of Truth or Consequences first?”

He peeled away from the curb and headed for the on-ramp for I-25…south. She swallowed. “Y-you’re not taking me back, are you?”

He snorted. “Why would I want to deliver you into the hands of your irate groom and deprive myself the pleasure of strangling you myself?”

He jabbed a button on the console and classical music filled the truck as he dragged in a deep breath.

“You’re kidding…aren’t you?”

He snorted again, but he’d loosened his grip on the steering wheel and the harsh lines at the sides of his mouth disappeared.

The desert landscape whizzed by, and the cacti hunched like little alien creatures with their arms raised to the sky, begging to return home. She could relate—not that L.A. held any charm for her anymore, except for her foster child Jesse, but she wanted to get back to her makeshift studio. She had the perfect subject for her next sculpture. Her gaze slid to the silent man beside her, his thumbs tapping in time to the music from the CD.

Could she tell Rod everything? When she had his face beneath her hands, she knew he’d accept nothing less than the truth. When he’d rescued her from those three morons on the side of the road, she knew a woman could depend on him. And yet… The man had his own demons to slay. Years of photographing and sculpting faces had taught her a thing or two about reading people.

Yeah, like you did such a good job reading Bobby Jingo.

She’d been watching the highway since they left Truth or Consequences. When a pair of headlights came up behind, Rod would slow down until the car passed them. No white Cadillac so far. Had Bobby’s men continued north? She shivered and clutched her bare arms.

“Are you cold?” Rod turned down the music and flipped off the air conditioning.

“No.” If Bobby had tracked her down, what had he done to her father? She gripped her hands in her lap. She’d better find out. “Can I borrow your cell phone to call my father?”

“If your father was at the wedding, do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Even if Bobby’s monitoring Dad’s calls, what’s he going to do with your cell phone number?”

“Harass me.”

She held out her hand. “You’re a big boy. You just single-handedly disposed of two of Bobby’s goons. What’s a little harassment?”

Rod plucked his phone out of his shirt pocket and dropped it into her open palm. “Be careful. Don’t tell him anything.”

Nodding, she punched in her father’s cell phone number. Dad picked up after the first ring.

“Dad, it’s me.”

He coughed. “What are you up to, Slim?”

He’d never called her Slim before. Didn’t much bother with nicknames. “Is Bobby there?”

“Yep. I bet on that pony once. Why’d you bet on him? Why’d you do it?”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I—I overheard a conversation.” She sent a sidelong glance toward Rod. “After that, I couldn’t go through with it.”

“That pony put me in a tight spot.”

She clenched her jaw. “Are you okay? Has he hurt you?”

“Not yet. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”

Her father grunted, and then Bobby’s rough voice assaulted her over the line. “Where are you, bitch? I guess you found out that dear old Dad didn’t screw me over in a business deal. What else did you discover? My men told me you’re with some cowboy who rushed you off in his truck.”

“Did they also tell you that cowboy kicked their asses before we rushed off in his truck?”

Rod jerked his head around. “Is that him?”

Bobby cursed. “Nobody can protect you and nobody can protect your father. He owes me over a hundred grand for a gambling debt, and he’s going to pay. Then you’re going to—”

Rod snatched the phone from her hand. “Listen, you sonofabitch, the next time you send a couple of jokers after Callie, I’ll send them back to you with more than a few cuts and bruises. I’ll send them back to you in matching body bags.”

He snapped the phone shut and tossed it into the cup holder. Callie laughed. She grabbed the phone, powered down her window, and tossed it out.

Rod jerked his head around. “Why’d you do that?”

“Bobby might be able to trace your phone and track us down.” She brushed her hands together as if ridding herself of a pesky bug.

In the few months she’d known Bobby Jingo, she never heard anyone talk to him like that before. It gave her confidence that she could handle the man. Rod gave her confidence.

“Is your father okay?”

“For now. Where are we going?”

“Here.” He took the next exit toward Hillsboro. “Hillsboro is a ghost town, an old mining town.”

“You’re taking me to a ghost town?” Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She didn’t need any more scares tonight.

“Only one part of it is ghostly. People still live in Hillsboro. There are even a few art galleries.”

Leaning over, she peered at the digital clock on the dashboard. “I’ll bet you there’s nobody awake in Hillsboro at eight-thirty on a Saturday night. Except the ghosts.”

“We’re not going there to kick up our heels.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they tooled along Main Street. A few shops had their lights on, and Callie didn’t see one ghost.

Rod pulled up next to a church. They got out of the truck, walked up to the church and stood on the bottom step. “We can see every car that comes into town from here.”

“And if one of them is a white Caddy?”

“Bring it.” He patted the black fanny pack he’d buckled around his hips when he got out of the truck.

She raised her brows and smirked. “You’re going to beat them back with the contents of a fanny pack?”

“This is a gun bag, not a fanny pack, and the contents include one Smith&Wesson pistol.”

“Oh.” She gulped. Maybe he wasn’t kidding about those body bags. “Where’d you get that?”

“Beneath the seat of my truck.”

Good thing she didn’t see that when he first picked her up, or she’d have jumped out of the truck on the interstate. Now that cold metal made her feel warm and fuzzy.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the top step. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Are guns allowed in churches?”

“Ever hear ‘Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition’?”

She giggled, and it released a little knot in her chest. She could do this. She could trust Rod.

“I think I’d rather keep an eye on the road.” She sank to the church step, the skirt of the wedding dress billowing around her.

Right location. Right dress. Wrong occasion.

Rod perched next to her, his thigh brushing her leg. Her eyelids fluttered at the sweet sensation.

She couldn’t believe her good fortune when this hunk of cowboy strode out of his truck to rescue her. At least one bit of luck had scrabbled through the misery of her wedding day and the past six months of her life.

“Okay, start from the beginning. Come clean, so I know what I’m dealing with when I drive you into Albuquerque and see you on that train to L.A.”

“Bus.”

“Train. Circumstances have changed.”

She crossed her legs at the ankles and tapped her feet together. How could she start from the beginning? They’d be here until mass the next morning.

It all started with her lunatic grandfather and his draconian conditions of inheritance. But she had to start somewhere.

“I agreed to marry a loan shark, Bobby Jingo, to pay off my father’s debts.”

Rod twitched, his thigh banging against hers. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. But at the time, I didn’t realize Bobby was a loan shark.” Or a wannabe drug dealer, the worst of the worst, but she kept that deal breaker to herself. “My father told me he had promised some money to Bobby in a business deal, and thanks to my father’s mismanagement, the deal fell through and Bobby lost a lot of money because of it.”

“That shows an amazing degree of familial loyalty.” His rough hand cupped her face, and he turned it toward him so he could look into her eyes. She blinked, but met his gaze steadily. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I wanted to help out my father and maybe help myself a little, too. A few months before my father’s phone call, a fire damaged my studio in L.A. I lost all my art in that fire, and my home.”

Callie bit her lip. She also lost her opportunity to adopt Jesse, a foster child she’d met while giving art lessons.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Isn’t there another way you can raise the money? Get a loan from a bank? Sell a car? Take equity out of a property?”

She shook her head, drawing her knees to her chest. “Neither of us has any collateral or property…yet. I just couldn’t think of another way to help him.”

Rod grunted. “Maybe he doesn’t deserve your help. What kind of father allows his daughter to marry a scumbag to save his hide?”

“A bad one.” She lifted her shoulders. Even though she’d given up on a father-knows-best type of dad, it didn’t mean she could stand by and watch someone break his kneecaps—or worse. “Dad’s not all bad. It was my idea. He did try to talk me out of it.”

“Bull. He misrepresented the situation to you to rope you in. How much money are we talking about?”

“One hundred and thirty thousand, give or take a few grand.”

Rod whistled. “That’s some gambling habit. No wonder you can’t sell a car to pay back the money, unless you have a Ferrari.”

“Dad bets on the ponies, sports, loves Vegas. You name it, he’ll take odds. I should’ve known his debt involved gambling and not business.”

“Ah, I don’t mean to be insulting.” Rod cleared his throat. “But is this thug really willing to accept a reluctant bride in exchange for a hundred and thirty grand?”

“This is where it gets good.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and balanced her chin on her knees.

“It hasn’t been good yet?”

“Once I marry, I will have the money.”

Rod buried his fingers in his thick, sandy-blond hair. “Now I’m confused. Why will you have money when you marry Bobby Jingo?”

“I didn’t say I had to marry Bobby Jingo, just marry. My grandfather had some crazy ideas. He always wanted a big family, and he built a sprawling house on his ranch in Wyoming to accommodate it. Unfortunately, he and my grandmother had only one child, my father. Then my father turned out to be irresponsible and immature. He married several times, but he had only one child with his second wife—me. At least, I think Mom held the honored position of wife number two.”

“How many times has your father been married?”

Rod’s eyes looked a little glazed over, but he was obviously following the story without too much difficulty.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She waved her arms breezily. “Four or five times.”

“So this lack of familial dedication to the old homestead gave your grandfather his crazy ideas?”

“You could say that. Before he died, he drew up a will stating that his sole grandchild, me, would inherit the ranch only when I married.”

“And Bobby Jingo obviously knew about this will.”

“My father told him.”

“Great guy, your father.”

“We’ve already covered that aspect of this story, but Dad didn’t believe I’d actually offer myself to Bobby. When he first called me, he was kind of hoping I already had someone in mind.”

“At the last minute you couldn’t go through with it, even to save your father?”

“I wanted to. I really did. I figured, once I married Bobby and sold the ranch, I could go back to L.A. But then I overheard him talking to someone and discovered he wasn’t the injured party in the business deal, or not exactly.” A tremble snaked its way up her spine, a sob escaping her lips.

Wrapping an arm around her, Rod drew her close. Her head dropped to his solid shoulder, and he smoothed her hair from her cheek. The warmth from his body soaked through the satin of her dress, and her fears evaporated.

She didn’t want the moment to end. She didn’t want to tell Rod everything she overheard that convinced her she couldn’t marry Bobby. She wanted to push the ugly truth into the background.

If she’d gone ahead with the marriage, she would’ve jeopardized her adoption of Jesse. She’d figured a marriage would improve her chances at adoption, but not a marriage to someone like Bobby Jingo.

The curve of Rod’s arm represented a safety and contentment she hadn’t experienced since her grandparents were alive. She hadn’t seen much of them growing up, because her mother didn’t like her in-laws, but they always hovered in the background of her life. They never forgot her birthdays, they paid for her braces and health insurance, and they socked away money in a college account for her. She didn’t get to thank them, since they were both dead by the time she started college.

Sighing, she burrowed deeper into the crook of Rod’s arm.

“You seriously considered giving up your grandfather’s ranch to a lowlife like Bobby Jingo?”

“It’s not mine to give up.” But Rod had a point. Grandfather Ennis had hated scum like Bobby, and Dad seemed to surround himself with those kinds of people.

“If you got married to someone decent, it would be yours. You’d be fulfilling your grandfather’s wishes, keeping the ranch in the family.”

Decent… She lifted her head from his shoulder and rubbed her eyes, an idea niggling at the edges of her brain.

“What happens to the ranch if you don’t get married?”

She pushed up from the church steps. “What?”

His brow furrowed. “What happens to the ranch if you don’t get married?”

“I—I don’t know.” She began pacing on the wooden porch, avoiding stepping on the nails with her bare feet. “It goes to an associate or something.”

She glanced at Rod, his long legs stretched in front of him, his arms folded across his chest. It just might work. She could make it work. An arrangement with an honorable man would save her father, save her grandfather’s ranch and save Jesse. She had to get that ranch.

Time to take action.

Standing up, Rod asked, “What’s wrong with you?” He wedged his shoulder against a wood post and regarded her with his head tilted to one side, a lock of russet-gold hair falling over his eye.

He looked so damned sexy, it sealed the deal. Callie straightened her spine and stood on tiptoes in front of him. “I have an idea. It might sound crazy, but I think it’ll work.”

Rod narrowed his green eyes and his jaw tightened. Callie faltered, falling back on her heels. He didn’t look so comforting right now, although the sex appeal rose as high as the church steeple above them.

“What kind of idea?”

Callie dragged in a deep breath and closed her eyes as she expelled it slowly. “Let’s get married.”

Chapter Three

Callie’s three little words punched him in the gut. He dug his shoulder into the post so he wouldn’t tumble down the church steps.

“What?” His one syllable, which echoed in his own ears, forced Callie to jump back. He must’ve shouted.

Despite the almost-full moon that lit Hillsboro’s main street, he couldn’t make out the expression on her face. She was joking. She had that kind of sense of humor, one of the many things he liked about her.

He threw his head back and laughed at the moon.

“Rod.” She shook his arm. “Rod, I’m not kidding.”

Swallowing his next guffaw, he choked instead. Callie pounded him on the back. Working with clay or whatever material she used for sculpting gave her strength. Her pats felt like blows from a hammer.

“All right, all right.” He straightened up and backed against the post. “That’s a crazy idea. Insanity must run in your family.”

“As someone once said, it not only runs, it gallops.” She giggled, a nervous sound that resembled a squeak. “This may be crazy, but it’ll work out for both of us.”

“Exactly how will a marriage to a woman who has carloads of thugs chasing her around New Mexico and lunatic relatives help me?”

Rubbing her hands together, she resumed her pacing, obviously warming up to the idea. “Think about it. We get married, and then I get the title to the ranch. I can borrow against the equity or sell off a few acres and pay off my father’s debts to Bobby Jingo.”

“What do I get out of it?” Other than the chance to claim this impossible, free-spirited, sexy woman as my own.

“Money.” She spread her arms in front of her, palms up, as if offering him the filthy lucre right here and now. “The ranch is huge. I can pay off Bobby, and there would still be plenty left over for you. You told me tonight how your ranch wasn’t profitable. Why didn’t you buy those horses in Austin? Too expensive?”

“I am not marrying a woman for money.”

She dropped her hands and bunched the skirt of her dress in her fists. “You have an opportunity to save a man’s life, not to mention my life, and all you can think about is your pride?”

The rabbit hole got deeper. How did he end up the bad guy? “Strangers don’t run around getting married for money.”

Her grimace melted into a smile, which washed over him, drowning his common sense.

“We’re not strangers. We’ve known each other for about four hours, and we’ve experienced more drama than some couples do in a lifetime. Fear, terror and uncertainty draw people together.”

He had to admit he’d opened up to this woman more than he did on a typical first date—most likely because he’d figured a woman fleeing from her wedding on a Honda 550 couldn’t judge him. And this wasn’t a first date. He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She continued, barely taking a breath. “People get married for all kinds of crazy reasons—money chief among them.”

Both of his brothers had married for love, but Rod never figured he’d find that with any woman. Being the oldest in the family, he remembered, more than his brothers, the cold indifference of their mother. He didn’t want to risk winding up with that kind of family. So he took no risks at all.

“Look at me. I almost married someone horrible to get money to save my dad.”

“And I’m much less horrible than Bobby Jingo?”

“Much less.” She laughed and took his arm.

He glanced down at her deceptively fragile fingers, wrapped around his forearm. At least Callie put everything out there. She didn’t have any ulterior motives, and there would be no expectations between them.

“What happens after you pay off your father’s debts and buy me a few horses?”

She shrugged and the silky strap of her dress slid off her shoulder for about the hundredth time since he met her. This time he hooked a finger beneath the strap, his fingers skimming her soft skin as he righted it.

Drawing in a quick breath, she stepped back. “We partake of that other American institution—divorce.”

“Alimony?”

“We’ll work out a prenup. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Does your grandfather’s will stipulate how long you have to enjoy your wedded bliss?”

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes to the sky. “At least two years. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll have a few plans in the next two years.”

“Do any of them involve a woman?”

“No.”

“So what’s the harm?” She grabbed his hands. “We stay married on paper for a few years, and then go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want people to think I married a woman to get her money.”

“Don’t look at it that way.” She squeezed his hands and tilted her chin to gaze into his eyes. “You’d be saving my life, Rod, and my father’s life. I need to find another studio and start working again. The money’s there to sweeten the pot.”

The pressure of her touch and the way her lips pouted inches from his own scrambled his senses. If he didn’t marry her, how would she get the money? He couldn’t loan it to her. Bobby Jingo would never stop pursuing her, but once she paid him off he’d leave her alone, especially if she were married…to someone else.

People married every day for far less noble causes than saving two lives.

He could keep his marriage a secret.

She’d go her way. He’d go his.

Maybe fate dropped a woman in a wedding dress on the side of the road for a reason.

To hell with everything.

Dipping his head, he took possession of those sweet lips. She dropped his hands, but he hitched an arm around her waist and dragged her closer, their bodies meeting along every line. She squirmed for a few seconds, slumped against him and then shimmied out of his grasp.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing my bride-to-be.”

Rod’s words pierced through the cotton candy that had enveloped her from the moment his lips met hers. How could one kiss on the lips have such a monumental effect on every other part of her body? She felt…ravished. What would the rest of his anatomy do to her?

“Are you getting cold feet already?” His brows formed a V over his nose as his face gathered into a scowl.

“No. I’m thrilled. You’ve made me the happiest woman on earth.” She twirled around the church porch until something sharp poked her heel. “Ow.”

Lunging forward, he caught her in midspin. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Oh yeah. She’d been right to play on his protective instincts. She hooked her injured foot behind her other ankle. “I think I got a sliver.”

He swept her up in his arms, and then lowered himself onto the top step, sliding her bottom off his thigh so that her legs hung over his lap. “Which foot?”

“This one.” She wiggled her left foot. “It’s my heel.”

He cupped her dirty foot in his hand as if he held a precious work of art. Then he dug into his pocket and withdrew a pocketknife.

She curled her toes. “I don’t think it’s big enough to cut out.”

He snorted and plucked a pair of tweezers from the knife handle. “You are a city girl. Didn’t you ever spend any time on your grandfather’s ranch?”

“Not much. I moved around a lot with my mom.” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the pain as the tweezers brushed her foot.

Several seconds later, Rod was massaging her foot. Her eyes flew open. “Do you think you’re going to massage it out?”

Pinching the tweezers between his fingers, he held it up. “I already got the sliver out.”

She hadn’t felt a thing. Her husband-to-be had a gentle touch despite his calloused hands. How the hell had she gotten so lucky? Maybe the losing streak she’d been riding these past few years ran out of gas on I-25, along with that motorcycle.

“What’s the plan?” Although she could sit here for the next three hours while Rod rubbed her foot, she had a wedding to attend.

“We get married.”

“Now? It has to be past nine o’clock. We still have to get a marriage license.”

“You almost got married in New Mexico. What do we need to get a license? Do we need a blood test?”

“We just need the license fee and a form of ID. No blood test, no waiting period. But I doubt if little ghost-town Hillsboro has a courthouse to get the license. Not to mention it’s Saturday.”

Rod slid the knife back into his pocket. “We’ll have to wait anyway. You still have your driver’s license?”

“Of course. How irresponsible do you think I am?” She shoved her hand into the fitted bodice of her dress and peeled her license from the side of her breast. “Tadah!”

He laughed. “You have a lot of tricks up your—or rather down your…a lot of tricks.”

Hoisting her legs from his lap, he stood up and extended his hand to her.

She tucked her driver’s license back into her strapless bra and grabbed his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Vegas, baby.”

ROD SLEPT BESIDE HER in the truck, his breathing deep and even. He’d insisted on driving the first leg of their ten-hour trip while she napped in the passenger seat. When she woke up, he was sitting ramrod straight, his eyes glued to the road.

He’d broken their deal. They worked out that he’d drive the first five hours while she slept, and she’d take over the wheel for the second half of the journey. Instead, he’d let her sleep for over six hours. She practically had to wrestle the steering wheel away from him to drive her share.

His chivalry impressed her and made her feel like a gooey marshmallow inside. Nobody had ever looked out for her the way he had this crazy day. His every move, since he first pulled over on the side of I-25, had been to protect her.

Even though she’d used all her wheedling powers, common sense and logic, she still couldn’t believe it when he agreed to her scheme. He’d admitted that he needed cash for his dude ranch, but she knew in her heart he’d based his decision on his desire to keep her safe. No, not desire, need. Something compelled him to perform good deeds.

She glanced at his handsome face, with its square jaw and broad cheekbones, one lock of hair curling over his eye. If he had such a burning passion to help women, why had matrimonial bliss eluded him so far? The man didn’t even snore.

A glow, like a giant spaceship, arose from the desert landscape. She accelerated toward its exuberant embrace. So many people came to Vegas looking for salvation, her father among them; but for her, this neon paradise really did offer deliverance.

Twenty minutes later, she cruised off the highway toward the Vegas strip. She nudged Rod’s shoulder with the heel of her hand. “We’re here.”

“Huh?” His head rolled to the side and he opened one eye.

“We’re in Vegas. Wake up.” Callie held her breath. Did his brief nap awaken him to the lunacy of their plan?

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he cranked his head from side to side. “My neck’s stiff.”

No sign of regret yet. “Where to? Did the Marriage License Bureau give you directions when you called earlier?”

“It’s on Clark Avenue.”

Her pent-up breath escaped through her lips, as she sank against the leather seat. No regret at all. “Do you know how to get there?”

“No, but my GPS does.” He reached beneath the passenger seat and pulled out a GPS, a black cord wrapped tightly around it.

“I didn’t know you had one of those.”

“I’ve made the trip to Austin a few times. Didn’t need it for that drive.” He plugged in the GPS and tapped the screen a few times. The monotone voice from the GPS intoned the first direction to Clark Avenue and the building that would seal her fate with this man for at least a few years.

When they walked inside the building, a blast of cold air greeted them, although the early morning temperature outside hadn’t reached scorching levels yet.

They waited in a short line behind two other couples, nobody giving Callie’s wedding dress a second glance. When they got to the counter, the clerk gave them each a form to complete. When they finished, they slid their forms, along with their driver’s licenses, across the count er. Ten minutes later they walked out with their marriage license.

“Pretty simple for a momentous event.”

“Is it a momentous event?” He raised an eyebrow, a half smile reaching his lips. “I thought we had a business arrangement.”

“Of course we do. I meant a momentous event for other people.” The words she uttered weighed down her heart. For other people. This kind of happiness swept others away, not her. And apparently not Rod.

“Let’s get you some shoes for the occasion.”

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER, he wheeled along the curved driveway of the Milano Hotel and Casino on the Strip.

A valet parking attendant helped her out of the truck as Rod plucked the parking claim ticket from another attendant. “Shops?”

“Level B, sir. When you enter the hotel, take the escalator to your right and go down one level.”

Rod thanked the valet and ushered Callie into the hotel, the plush red carpet sinking beneath her bare feet. They entered a women’s clothing store, open already at seven in the morning, or maybe it never closed.

Callie picked out a pair of off-white sandals with low heels. When the saleswoman began to take one of the sandals off her foot, Callie stopped her. “I’ll wear them out.”

Rod joined her at the counter, holding a gold band, ringed with small gemstones, between his thumb and forefinger. “Will this work as a wedding band?”

She took the ring from him and slipped it on her left ring finger. “Is it expensive?”

“It’s cheap costume jewelry.”

“Okay, it’ll do.” She held her left hand in front of her, admiring the sparkle of the fake gems. Her gaze collided with the bugged-out eyes of the saleswoman behind the counter.

“I-is that all, sir?”

“Add this.” He slapped down a pack of spearmint gum. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t brushed my teeth in twenty-four hours.”

“Ditto.” Callie avoided looking at the saleswoman, whose mouth now resembled that of a gaping fish.

Rod handed over some plastic to pay for their purchases and asked, “Does the Milano have a wedding chapel?”

“Of course, and it’s on this floor. When you leave the shop, turn to the right. Go to the end of the line of shops and turn left. The chapel is straight ahead.”

As they left the shop, the woman called after them, “Congratulations and…good luck.”

Their luck held. The chapel squeezed them in before the first scheduled wedding of the morning. Rod paid for the standard package, which included a small bouquet for her, a boutonniere for him, a commemorative photo and a witness.

Top-notch all the way. Callie grasped the bouquet in her hands, the cloying scent from the lilies making her woozy.

The clergyman smiled and began speaking about love, commitment and sacrifice. Callie nodded as if all those words applied to her and Rod. She swayed, and then dug the heels of her new sandals into the carpet.

Rod took her arm and grinned down at her. That grin didn’t contain an ounce of hesitation or concern. Why should it? They had a deal. She’d promised to set him free once she met the conditions of her grandfather’s will.

“Do you, Roderick McClintock, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Rod’s voice sounded close to her ear, and she closed her eyes. The low timbre of his voice reverberated in her chest, unlocking dreams and desires she didn’t realize she had.

McClintock. They didn’t even know each other’s last names. Callie McClintock. Mrs. McClintock. Mrs. Roderick McClintock. Callie and Rod. Yeah, she’d promised to set him free…but she didn’t want to.

“Do you, Callie…”

Her knees buckled as her world went black.

Callie sagged against him before crumpling into a heap at his feet. His mouth dry, he crouched beside her and called her name.

The clergyman joined him on the floor, fanning Callie’s face with the marriage license. “Is she okay?”

Her golden lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and Rod blew out a breath. “Callie, are you all right?”

She struggled to sit up, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to help her, propping her against his thigh. “Rod, I…we…”

“Shh. It’s okay. We’re going through with this.” As he smoothed her hair back, he glanced at the clergyman. “She’s nervous and hungry. We didn’t stop for breakfast this morning, after a long drive. Can you finish the ceremony now?”

“O-on the floor?”

“Finish it.”

The clergyman shot a worried look at Callie. “Miss?”

She nodded. “Let’s get this done.”

The clergyman shrugged. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Rod planted his lips against Callie’s forehead. He could save the real wedding kiss for later. He swept her up in his arms, dug in his pocket to tip the clergyman, and strode out of the chapel with his bride.

“Let’s get breakfast.”

“You can put me down now.” She kicked her legs, with those strappy sandals on her feet.

“What happened in there?” He set her down but kept his arm around her, in case she decided to take another tumble. “Did you have second thoughts?”

Her blue eyes clouded over. “I didn’t want to trap you into a situation you’d regret later. I realized how selfish I’d been.”

“I agreed to help you.” He gripped her shoulders, hooking his thumbs beneath the straps of her dress. “Once I commit to something, I see it through. And right now, I’m committed to finding breakfast.”

THEY FOLLOWED THE HOTEL SIGNS to the buffet and parted company at their table.

Rod piled food onto a couple of plates, shook out his napkin, and ordered coffee from the waitress. He sipped the hot, mellow brew while he waited for Callie.

For a minute in the chapel, he thought she’d changed her mind and took a dive to opt out of the deal. Would he have cared? He would’ve dropped her off at the bus depot in Vegas and paid for a one-way ticket to L.A. Out of sight, out of mind.

Yeah, right.

He could no sooner put Callie…McClintock out of his mind than he could walk into that casino and drop a twenty at the blackjack table. Hell, he didn’t even know her maiden name, but that didn’t matter.

She was a McClintock now.

Callie returned to the table balancing two plates of food, one heaped with bacon, eggs and hash browns and one overflowing with a huge waffle topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Weddings give you an appetite?”

“Well, I did almost faint at the…er…altar.”

They both dug into their food in silence, and Rod downed three cups of coffee to combat the weariness that kept tugging at his eyelids. He figured they had another long drive ahead of them, to reach Callie’s ranch in Wyoming.

Pushing back from the table, Rod tossed several dollars on the table. Callie scooped them up and counted out the eight dollars.

“Not enough?” Rod reached for his wallet.

“No. Very generous, considering we got our own food. I’m trying to keep track of how much I owe you, once I get my hands on some money.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re husband and wife, remember?”

She sucked in her lower lip and sighed. “I’m going to have to hit you up once more. I want to get out of this dress. Not taking a shower or brushing my teeth for twenty-four hours is bad enough.”

He plucked some bills out of his wallet. “Buy yourself some clothes, a couple of toothbrushes and some toothpaste, and I’ll roam the hotel hallways and filch some soap from a maid’s cart. We’ll clean up in one of the bathrooms before we take off.”

A half-hour later—armed with two bars of soap and two towels tucked under his arm—Rod met Callie outside the shop where she’d bought her shoes. She handed him a toothbrush after squeezing some toothpaste onto the bristles, and he headed for the men’s room. After he brushed his teeth and washed his face and neck, he hung the hotel towel over one of the stalls in the bathroom.

He caught his breath when Callie emerged from the ladies’ room, her blond hair pulled back into a silky mane. The blue, flowered skirt brushed her slim calves, and the blue top matched the color of her eyes.

She looked pretty in the wedding dress, but it belonged to another time, another life.

The valet delivered his truck, and Rod pulled forward, idling at the end of the hotel driveway. “Okay, where to? Do you need to go straight to the ranch?”

“No.” She tossed the wedding dress into the backseat. “I need to see my grandfather’s attorney first.”

“It’s still Sunday. His office won’t be open.” Rod pulled out the GPS and secured it to the windshield. “And by the time we roll into Wyoming, it’ll be close to ten o’clock at night.”

She tilted her head, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “My grandfather’s attorney isn’t in Wyoming.”

“I figured his attorney would be near the ranch.” His fingers hovered over the GPS screen.

“It is, but the ranch isn’t in Wyoming.”

“You said he built a house on his ranch in Wyoming.”

“Oh that. In all the excitement and prewedding jitters, I forgot to mention that he sold that original ranch and bought another one…in Colorado.”

A prickling sensation attacked the back of his neck, and Rod rubbed it. “Colorado?”

“The ranch is in Colorado, and my grandfather’s attorney is in Durango. So you see, we don’t have that far to go. But you’re right, his office will be closed on Sunday. So I guess it’s to the ranch first. Un-unless you want to go to your home.”

“Where is your ranch in Colorado?”

“It’s outside of Durango in a former mining town, Silverhill.”

Swallowing, Rod gripped the steering wheel with both hands, a low roar building in his ears. “Does the ranch have a name?”

“Yeah, the irony of it hit me on the road. You know how we were in Truth or Consequences?”

Rod nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

“Grandfather Ennis named his ranch Price Is Right. Isn’t that a coincidence? Another game show? Maybe it was a sign.”

“Price?”

“My last name.” She snorted. “I know we didn’t formally introduce ourselves but I’m, or rather I was, Callie Price.”

The roar in his ears cascaded in a thunderous roll. Callie Price. Ennis Price, the eccentric old man who owned Price Is Right. The ranch right next to his own.

The ranch he just acquired by marrying old man Price’s granddaughter.

Chapter Four

The knuckles on the strong hands grasping the steering wheel bleached white, matching the line etched around her new husband’s mouth. By revealing the name of the ranch, did she convince him that her relatives consisted of a bunch of howl-at-the-moon crazies?

Her fingers danced along the braided muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry. My family members aren’t half as crazy as they seem. Besides, it’s not as if we’re going to procreate.”

Not that she’d mind a few attempts at procreation with this hunk of sexy cowboy. She clenched her hands in her lap, trying to squelch the impure thoughts about her husband that galloped in her head.

Ignoring her attempt at a joke, Rod uncurled his hands from the steering wheel and flexed his fingers. “Silverhill, Colorado?”

“Near Durango.” She tapped the GPS screen. “Should take us about nine hours. And don’t go all macho on me. Let me take over the wheel when we’re halfway there. I like to drive. Heck, I live in L.A. Our butts are practically glued to the seats of our cars.”

That twisted a smile out of those sensuous lips, still tightly pursed. Maybe the food and coffee had restored him to his senses, and he was aware of the lunacy of this scheme.

Tough.

Rod’s cheap wedding ring burned a circle around her finger, and she had their marriage license ready to wave in the face of her grandfather’s attorney, Douglas Smyth Jr. Once Smyth stamped her name and Rod’s on the title to Price Is Right, she’d sell off or borrow some money from the property, pay off Dad’s debt to Bobby and hand over a tidy sum of cash to Rod for his part of the bargain.

Beyond that, she faced a murky future. She didn’t have a clue what to do with a deserted ranch in Colorado. Maybe she’d sell the whole thing and return to L.A. She could start over with a new studio and buy a house in a good school district—prove to child services that she could provide a good home for five-year-old Jesse. That boy needed her as much as she needed him.

It had been over five months since she’d seen him, although she’d called him several times from New Mexico. He still remembered her, although he seemed distant, guarded, in their last conversation. She wouldn’t desert him like everyone else had.

She sniffled. First things first. She popped the GPS off the windshield and entered Silverhill, Colorado, hesitating over the address entry. “Not sure what the address of the ranch is out there, but Silverhill’s a small town. I’m sure someone can direct us to the ranch, once we roll in.”

His jaw still tight, Rod started the engine of the truck and pulled away from the curb of the Milano. “About the ranch…”

Oh God, here it comes. The regret. The misgivings. The chivalry… The annulment?

“Stop. You saved me. Twice. You fought off Bobby’s thugs and you agreed to marry me. You changed your plans and put your life on hold to help me—a complete stranger.”

“But I…”

Callie held up her hands. “I know you’re probably thinking people will peg you as a gold-digging cad, marrying me for money, but I know that’s not true. And what do you care what the people in Silverhill, Colorado, have to say?”

“I do care. I know—”

“I understand your real reasons, and that’s all that matters. You didn’t know who I was and that I stood to inherit a bunch of land in Colorado when you rescued me at the side of the road. You didn’t think there would be anything in it for you when you pummeled Bobby’s guys and bloodied your own knuckles. And now here you are, married to someone you’d never laid eyes on, miles away from your home in…in…” She waved her hands around, not having a clue where he lived. “You will have earned every penny I can give you from the ranch.”

She collapsed back in her seat, panting. “So don’t get any ideas about ending this marriage. I need you. I need you to get that ranch, save my father and maybe even to save myself.”

Ending on a sob, she allowed a single teardrop to tremble on the end of her lashes. As she slid her gaze in Rod’s direction, the tear wobbled and then dripped onto her cheek.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he glanced in her direction, his gaze scanning her face. “Why do you need saving, besides the obvious, and how’s the ranch going to help?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she tucked her hair behind one ear. “I traveled around a lot as a kid—when my parents were together, and with my mom after they split. My mom wasn’t close to her own family, and, as I said before, she didn’t like my father’s parents. Sh-she had a problem with prescription drugs.”

Rod shook his head, and she continued.

“We were living in California when it was time for me to go to college, so I ended up at UCLA for the in-state tuition and because they had a good fine arts department. I settled in L.A. by default. I don’t have any roots there. I don’t have any roots anywhere.”

“Where’s your mother?”

She curled her hands into fists. “She died of a drug overdose when I was in college.”

He drew in a quick breath. “Sorry.”

“The way she was going, it was bound to happen. She’d been skating on thin ice for a long time.”

Rod drilled the road with a steely gaze, and Callie’s heart flipped. She didn’t want him to think she’d grow dependent on him or expect anything from him. He obviously didn’t like that idea.

“Don’t worry.” She patted his muscled thigh. “With parents like I had, I’ve learned to depend on myself. That’s why the ranch is important.”

“Are you talking about the money it could bring?”

Callie clasped her hands between her knees and wiggled her toes in the new sandals. How could she explain her feelings to a man who had his own ranch somewhere? Probably had parents and extended family nearby. Probably had a life.

“It’s more than just the money, although that will help my dad…and me. My grandparents built the ranch together, and my father never appreciated that. Grandfather Ennis left it to me on the condition of my marriage, hoping I’d establish my family there, put down some roots.”

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