He’ll sing a new tune this Christmas!

Divorced and raising two boys on her own is a far cry from the big family Marcella Grayson always imagined. Then she meets tall, dark and delicious Denver Yates—and the attraction is overwhelming! Still, Marcella is cautious. It takes a lot of man to date a single mom, let alone build a relationship...or a family.

After losing his wife and unborn child, Denver has sworn off the family life—especially kids. Yet lovely Marcella and her boys find a way into this cowboy’s heart. But when their passion lights up the plus sign on the test stick, Denver is stunned. Is this a snare set by Marcella? Or is it the Christmas wish they’ve been too afraid to make?

She glanced over at him and wondered what he was possibly thinking about her, wanting from her.

Had that kiss implied he wanted to deepen their relationship? The mere idea of that rattled her as much as the kiss. “I don’t know about you, Denver, but I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Braking at a stop sign, he glanced over at her. “I’m not, either. So what would you like to do? The night is still early.”

“It’s rainy and cold. Why don’t we just go to my place? I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can watch TV—or something.”

“Are you sure? If there’s something else you’d rather do, just tell me. I don’t want this to be a bum date for you.”

“Just spending time with you will be special.”

An odd expression flickered across his face, and for a moment she thought he was going to insist they do anything besides what she was suggesting.

But then he shrugged one shoulder and turned the truck in the general direction of her house.

Marcella settled back in the seat and wondered if she’d just invited herself a heartbreak, or finally found the courage to open the door to the rest of her life.

* * *

MEN OF THE WEST:

Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers know how to ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy...

The Cowboy’s Christmas Lullaby

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

To all the nurses who’ve dedicated

their lives to caring for others.

Thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Mom, somebody has come to our rescue!”

“Ain’t so, Harry! It’s a Halloween goblin come to steal our candy!”

Ignoring the shouts of her two sons sitting in the backseat of the car, Marcella Grayson glanced up from the black dashboard to the flash of headlights in the rearview mirror.

When her car had suddenly died, she’d attempted to steer it to the side of the rural graveled road. Instead, the vehicle had rolled to a complete stop before she could manage to make that happen. Now the rear end of the car was partially blocking the path of the driver behind her.

Marcella pulled on a lightweight jacket and reached for the door latch. “Stay buckled up, boys. Do not get out of the car for any reason. Understand?”

Harry, the older of the two brothers by a mere eight months, questioned, “Where are you going, Mom?”

“We’re blocking the road,” she said. “I need to explain to the driver behind us.”

“Tell ’em to call the police!” Peter exclaimed. “We need help!”

“Dummy! We don’t need the police,” Harry chided his brother. “We need a tow truck!”

Marcella didn’t waste time telling the boys to quit arguing. Instead, she exited the car and immediately found herself blinded by the orb of a flashlight.

Shielding her eyes with a hand, she peered toward the end of the vehicle, but all she could discern in the darkness was a pair of long, muscular legs encased in dusty denim and an equally dirty pair of cowboy boots.

“Having trouble?”

As the boots started toward her, she tried to recognize the male voice, but failed. She was acquainted with several men who lived or worked here on the Silver Horn Ranch. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of them.

“My car suddenly lost power and quit. Now it refuses to start. And I’m afraid I’ve blocked the road.”

He lowered the circle of light and Marcella’s gaze traveled up the long legs, across a wide, deep chest, then finally to a set of chiseled features shaded by the low brim of a black cowboy hat. Tall and thirtyish, he was the epitome of a strong, weathered rancher.

“Don’t worry about the road,” he said. “If any more vehicles need to pass, I think there’s enough room to go around yours.”

Relieved for that much, at least, she quickly introduced herself. “I’m Marcella Grayson. My boys and I just left the Calhouns’ Halloween party.”

He jerked off a scarred leather glove and extended his hand to her. “Denver Yates,” he replied. “I work for the Calhouns.”

His hand was as hard as a piece of iron and as rough as grit, yet it was warm and reassuring. And for that reason alone, she allowed her fingers to linger against his for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you, Denver. Thank you for stopping. Of all things, my cell phone has lost its power or something has gone haywire. It refuses to work. So I was beginning to think we were going to have to walk back to the ranch house for help.”

He said, “It’s at least five miles back to the ranch house. Much too far and cold for you and your children to be walking. I’ll take a look at your car. It might be a loose wire or something simple to fix.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great!”

“No trouble,” he assured her. “Just pop the hood.”

Inside the car, she released the hood latch, while Harry and Peter peppered her with questions.

“Is he a bad man? He might rob us!” Peter exclaimed.

“No. He isn’t a bad man,” Marcella patiently explained. “He’s a man who works here on the ranch.”

“Does he know how to fix cars?” Harry wanted to know.

“Let’s all hope he does,” Marcella said while stifling a sigh. She’d already worked a long shift at the hospital today. Her shoulders and legs were aching, and she still had a pile of laundry to do before she could crawl into bed tonight. The only reason she’d agreed to bring her two sons to the Calhoun party this evening was because she’d wanted them to enjoy a real outdoor shindig with a giant campfire, roasting wieners and marshmallows and listening to Orin tell ghost stories. She hadn’t expected to get stranded in the middle of the ranch’s wilderness.

“Okay. Try to start the motor,” Denver called to her from where he stood near the front of the car.

Marcella turned the key, but all that happened was a faint clicking noise.

“It ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Peter muttered with disappointment.

“The guy ain’t no mechanic, that’s for sure,” Harry added.

“All right, you two, I don’t want to hear the word ain’t again. From either of you. In fact, I want complete silence or both of you are going to be in trouble!”

She was tossing them a look of stern warning when Denver Yates pecked on the driver’s window.

Marcella lowered the glass a few inches. “Did you find the problem?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes. The battery is dead.”

She twisted the key back to the lock position. “Dead!” She groaned with disbelief. “I don’t understand. The battery hasn’t given me an ounce of trouble! And the car started fine a few minutes ago when we left the ranch house.”

He nodded as though to say he didn’t doubt her word. “That’s the way of batteries nowadays, ma’am. They don’t give you any warning as to when they’re going to quit. We keep a few batteries on hand back at the ranch yard, but I’m fairly certain none would fit your car. They’re mostly for trucks and equipment. Is there someone I can call for you? Maybe your husband can bring a new battery out to you?”

Even if she was still married to Gordon, the man would be about as useful as a rowboat with one oar, she thought drily.

“I don’t have a husband,” she said flatly. “And I wouldn’t ask a friend to drive all the way out here.”

If her statement surprised him, he didn’t show it. But then, single mothers were the norm these days, rather than the exception.

After a moment, he said, “Sounds like I need to call roadside service for you. But that would be expensive to have them come all the way out here. I could drive you in to Carson City to buy a new battery.”

His last suggestion penetrated her spinning thoughts. “No! It’s a thirty-mile trip to town, then thirty back. I wouldn’t think of asking you to do that. My insurance will pay for the roadside service. I was just thinking—” She glanced back at Harry and Peter, then climbed from the car and shut the door behind her. “Sorry,” she said, “but I didn’t want the boys to hear me. You see, Peter, my younger son, has asthma. The condition is well controlled, but I don’t like him being out in the cold night air for too long. Back at the party he was near the warm campfire. Out here, without the car heater—well, he’ll probably be all right until the mechanic arrives, but I’d feel better if you’d drive us back to the ranch.”

The man studied her for a brief moment, then glanced at the car’s back window. “You don’t want the little guy to think he needs special care?”

Surprised that he understood, she decided he must have children of his own. “That’s it, exactly. He’s ten and wants to think he’s just as strong as his eleven-year-old brother.”

A faint grin tilted the cowboy’s lips. “Sure he does. I won’t mention the asthma. So get your sons and whatever else you need from the vehicle and I’ll take you back to my place. You can wait there until the mechanic gets your car going.”

His unexpected offer caused her jaw to drop. “Your place? I wouldn’t want to barge in on you. Lilly and Ava—”

“Are busy wrapping up the party,” he finished her sentence. “And I live just a short distance from here.”

Deciding she was in no position to turn down help from this Good Samaritan, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Yates. I really appreciate your help. Uh—but first—well, I hope you won’t take offense, but would you mind if I used your phone to call Lilly? Just so she can confirm who you are?”

“Sure. I’m glad you’re being cautious.”

He pulled a smartphone from a leather carrier on his belt and handed it to her. Marcella quickly tapped out her friend’s number and to her immense relief Lilly answered immediately.

After giving Lilly a brief explanation of what was going on with the car and Denver, Lilly assured Marcella she was in safe, capable hands.

When the brief conversation ended, she handed the phone back to the ranch hand. “Lilly tells me you’re a nice, capable guy. So if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get the boys and my things from the car.”

“Fine,” he told her. “While you do that, I’ll call the roadside service.”

* * *

Short minutes later, Denver steered his truckload of passengers onto the long drive leading up to his house. Next to him, in the passenger seat, Marcella Grayson’s hands were clenched tightly together on her lap as she stared straight ahead at the dark landscape beyond the windshield.

Beneath the dim lighting of the dashboard, he could see enough to tell him the long hair hanging nearly to her waist was a light shade of red, but the thick lashes framing her eyes made it impossible to detect their color. Her features were dainty and soft, and from what he could see, she had that creamy pale skin that only true redheads possessed.

What kind of idiot could have left this little beauty and two boys behind? he wondered. Or had she left him?

What the hell does it matter, Denver? This pretty redhead is none of your business. You need to concentrate on helping her get her car going and forget about all the rest. That’s what you need to do.

“Mister, do you know how to ride a horse?”

Denver glanced over his shoulder to see the question had been spoken by the boy called Peter. Tall and thin, with a headful of corn-yellow hair, he had a wide mouth and an eagerness in his voice that said he was basically a curious child.

“A little,” Denver said, then realizing the woman was giving him an odd look, he gave her a reassuring wink.

Harry was quick to correct his brother. “Dummy! He’s a cowboy and that’s what cowboys do. They ride horses!”

“How do you know he’s a cowboy?” Peter demanded.

Harry let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “Can’t you see his hat?”

“Yeah, but he might be wearing that for Halloween,” Peter reasoned.

The exchange between the two boys had Denver smiling to himself. Clearly this was a pair of town kids. Unlike the children who’d been raised here on the Silver Horn and were accustomed to being around ranch hands and livestock.

“Harry, quit calling your brother a dummy,” his mother chided. “Peter is asking questions because he wants to learn.”

Marcella’s statement must have given the older boy the idea to ask his own questions, because the next thing Denver knew Harry had scooted to the edge of his seat.

“I’ll bet you have a horse of your own, don’t you?” he asked.

“I have five horses,” Denver replied.

Clearly impressed, Harry exclaimed, “Five! What do you do with that many?”

Stifling a chuckle, Denver said, “I use the horses to work with. We cowboys have to ride the range, you know. And riding just one horse every day would make him too tired.”

“See, numskull,” Peter tossed at his brother. “You don’t know everything!”

Just as the boys began to argue between themselves again, Denver braked the truck to a stop beneath a low-roofed carport connected to the east side of a wide, rambling house that appeared to be gray in color.

“Here we are,” he said to the woman. “Let me turn on the lights and we’ll go in.”

He climbed from the truck, and after flipping a light on beneath the patio, he opened a side entry door and switched on a light in the mudroom.

Back at the truck, he opened the passenger door and offered his hand up to Marcella. When her fingers clasped around his, he couldn’t help thinking how soft and fragile her hand felt against his. And when she stood down on the ground next to him, he noticed she smelled like a mix of wildflowers and campfire smoke, a scent that was oddly appealing.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “This is very kind of you, Mr. Yates.”

Resisting the urge to clear his throat, he forced himself to release his hold on her hand. “Just call me Denver, ma’am. I’m not used to answering to Mister.”

Smiling, she said, “Okay, Denver it is.”

He stepped away from her and opened the back door of the truck. “Okay, boys, we’re here,” he announced. “Unbuckle and climb out.”

Once the two children had departed the truck and sidled up to their mother, he locked the vehicle, then ushered the trio toward the nearest entry to the house.

“I apologize for taking you through the mudroom,” he told Marcella, “but the light on the front porch isn’t working right now. I wouldn’t want any of you tripping over something in the dark.”

“Don’t apologize,” she told him. “We’re just happy to be out of the cold. Right, boys?”

“That’s right. Thank you, Mr. Yates,” Harry spoke up.

“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Cowboy,” Peter added.

Inside the kitchen, he flipped on the overhead light to see his unexpected guests gazing curiously around the cluttered room.

Just when Denver was thinking how polite the boys were, Peter spoke up, “Gee, this is messy. Don’t you like to wash dishes?”

“Peter!” Marcella gasped, then turned a red face to Denver. “I apologize for my son. He—uh—we don’t get out that much. I mean, visit folks in their homes.”

Denver chuckled. “Don’t apologize. The boy is simply stating the obvious. The kitchen is worse than messy. It’s a busy time right now on the ranch. I don’t have a chance to do much housework.”

“Don’t you have a wife?”

This question came from the elder boy, and as Denver looked at him, he didn’t miss how much the child resembled his mother, right down to his carrot-topped hair.

Marcella groaned. “I hope you can bear this until the mechanic gets here with the battery,” she said to Denver.

“Forget it. I’m used to kids,” he told her, then to Harry, he said, “No. I don’t have a wife. Or a maid.”

“What about kids?” Peter asked.

Even though Denver had been asked that very question many times before, for some reason, having it come from Marcella’s towheaded son cut straight through him. “No. None of those, either.”

“Sit down at the table, boys,” Marcella told the two youngsters. “And be quiet. Mr. Yates doesn’t want to be peppered with questions.”

“They don’t have to sit at the kitchen table,” he told her. “They’re welcome to sit in the living room. I’ll turn on the television and they can watch it while you wait for the car to be repaired.”

Mother and kids followed him out of the kitchen and into a long living room furnished with a burgundy leather couch and love seat, and an oversize recliner. In one corner, a television sat atop a wooden console, while a stack of DVDs shared a lower shelf with a remote control.

Marcella took a seat at the end of the couch and instructed the boys to join her. While they settled themselves, Denver turned on the television, then passed the remote to her.

“You’d better choose the channel,” he told her. “You’ll know what’s suitable for them to watch.”

Accepting the remote, she gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. And please don’t let us interrupt whatever you need to do. We can entertain ourselves.”

“You’re not interrupting.” Not much, he thought wryly. Having a single mother with a pair of kids in his house was disturbing more than his privacy; it was rattling his normally calm nerves. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go wash up and see about getting us something to drink. Do you like coffee? What about the boys? Is it okay for them to have soda?”

Harry looked to his mother. “Yeah! Please, Mom.”

“Oh boy! Soda! Can we, Mom?” Peter pleaded.

Marcella thoughtfully studied the both of them, then with a resigned shake of her head said, “They’ve already had so much sugar tonight I guess a bit more won’t hurt. I’ll help you.”

Before Denver could tell her to stay put, she rose to her feet and, after punching a number on the remote, ordered the boys not to move from the couch.

As she followed Denver back to the kitchen, he said, “There really isn’t any need for you to help. I’d be making coffee even if you weren’t here.”

“I’d like to join you anyway. With me out of the room, the boys will hopefully settle down and get engrossed in the program. They’re not usually so wound up, but the party was exciting for them,” she explained.

Inside the kitchen, Denver went straight to the double sink and began to scrub his hands. His jeans and denim shirt were coated with dust and splotches of dried blood, and manure stained the legs of his jeans. Normally he went straight to the shower when he arrived home from work, but he could hardly take that luxury with Marcella and her children here.

“So do you come out to the ranch very often?” he asked as she came to stand a few steps on down the cabinet counter.

“Not as much as I’d like to. I love visiting Lilly and Ava, but with my shifts at the hospital I don’t have many chances to make the drive out here.”

“So you work at the hospital?”

“Tahoe General. I’m an RN. I was working third floor for a while, but I’m back in the ER now.”

“I see. So you’re a nurse like Lilly and Ava.”

“Yes. From time to time the three of us worked together. But since they’ve gotten married and started having children of their own, those days are pretty much gone.”

He dried his hands on a paper towel, and though he would’ve liked to simply stand there looking at her, he forced himself to open the cabinets and pull out the coffee makings. During the long years he’d worked for the Calhouns, he’d met many of their friends. But not this one. He would’ve definitely remembered Marcella Grayson.

“You been a nurse for a long time?” he asked.

“Twelve years.”

So she’d become a nurse about the same time he’d come to work here on the Silver Horn, he thought. At that time he’d been twenty-four and desperate to start his life over. Since then, she’d acquired two sons. And he’d lost—well, he’d lost too much.

Glancing over at her, he said, “You don’t look old enough to have been a nurse for that long.”

A wide smile spread her lips, and Denver’s gaze was drawn to her straight white teeth and the faint dimples in her cheeks. When she smiled, there was an impish tilt to her lips and crinkle to the corner of her eyes that pulled at him and urged him to smile back at her.

Imagine that. Denver Yates smiling at a woman. A Halloween witch must have put some sort of spell on him tonight, he thought drily.

“That’s kind of you to say. But I’m thirty-three. I got my nursing degree before Harry was born. And he’s eleven now.”

Had she been married at that time? he wondered. A few minutes ago on the road, she’d told him she didn’t have a husband, and he’d simply assumed she was divorced. But there was always the possibility that she’d had the children out of wedlock. That wasn’t unusual nowadays. Still, Marcella Grayson didn’t seem the sort. Not that he knew that much about women. For the past twelve years he’d pretty much avoided having any kind of relationship with a woman.

Annoyed that his thoughts had meandered off on a path he had no business taking, he forced himself to focus on scooping coffee grounds into the filter.

“You must like it—uh, working as a nurse, I mean.”

“It’s exhausting and the hours are crazy. Especially trying to work them around the boys’ needs. But I manage. Most of all, it’s rewarding.”

He shoved the basket of grounds into place, then stepped in front of the sink to fill the glass carafe with water. By now, she’d moved closer and Denver could only think how odd it seemed to have a woman in his kitchen. How unusual it felt to be looking at her and feeling warm pleasure slowly stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Clearing his throat, he said, “From what Rafe tells me, you nurses are kind of like us cowboys. You have a job that gets in your blood. That’s why Lilly still works two days a week.”

“That’s true. We can’t stay away from it. Not completely. At the time I adopted Peter I thought it would be better to quit the hospital and get a job with strictly daytime hours. So I did. I worked in a family clinic downtown for an excellent physician. But after a while I missed the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Especially the ER. So I went back to Tahoe General. That’s the good part about being a nurse. You never have to beg for a job.”

Denver realized he must be staring at her like some goofy idiot, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Or stop the next question from forming on his tongue. “Your younger son is adopted?”

She nodded. “About three years ago. Actually, Jett Sundell handled all the legal issues for me. With you working here on the ranch, I’m sure you’re acquainted with him.”

“Sure. Jett’s been the Calhoun family lawyer for as long as I’ve been here on the ranch.” He thrust the carafe under the tap and filled it with cold water. “Plus he’s married to Orin’s daughter.”

“Sounds like you’ve worked on the Silver Horn for a long time,” she said.

“Twelve years.” He got the coffeemaker going, then crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of cola.

She said, “What does your job entail? I know you told the boys you rode the range. But I understand there’s much more to running a ranch than that.”

He carried the sodas over to the cabinet counter. “I’m manager of the cow/calf operation. I make sure the mama cows are healthy and bred each year by the most productive bulls. That their babies are born safely and grow at the right rate, weaned with as little stress on them as possible, then sorted and sold at the most profitable time. That’s just a few of my responsibilities.”

She let out a soft laugh, and the sound punched Denver right in the gut. Along with being sweet, it was sassy enough to turn his thoughts to a hot night and sweaty sheets.

“A few? No wonder you don’t have time to clean the kitchen!”

What in hell is wrong with you, Denver? You haven’t shared sweaty sheets with a woman in years! You haven’t even wanted a woman in years! So what are you doing allowing this one to put such erotic notions in your head?

Slapping away the voice in his head, he gestured to the sodas. “Are these okay for the boys?”

“Fine. I’ll take them.” She walked over to where he stood and picked up the chilled cans. “But I can’t promise you won’t end up with cola on your floor or furniture. If I made them come in here to the table, it might save your living room.”

She was close enough for him to pick up the scent of mesquite smoke and wildflowers in her hair. And as his gaze took in the long red waves dangling against her back, he was struck with the urge to touch the silky strands and feel them slide against his fingers.

“Uh—no need for that,” he told her. “There’s nothing in the living room the kids can hurt.”

She looked at him, and as he met her clear blue gaze, he felt the last bit of oxygen leave his lungs.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” She took the soda cans and left the kitchen.

Denver sucked in a long breath and wiped a hand over his face. What in the hell was coming over him? She was just a woman with two kids and a dead battery. There was nothing about her, or the situation, to turn him into a randy teenager. Besides, in an hour or so, she’d be gone and he’d never see her again.

Between now and then, he was going to have to get a grip on his senses and remember he was a widower. It wasn’t meant for him to have a woman or a family. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Two

When Marcella reappeared in the kitchen, Denver had already filled two mugs with coffee and placed them, along with a sugar bowl and container of powdered creamer, on the table.

“The boys are watching a sci-fi movie,” she said cheerfully. “Between space monsters and Orin’s ghost stories, they’ll probably wake up with nightmares.”

“Well, that’s what Halloween is all about—getting spooked by imaginary creatures.” He gestured toward the mugs. “The coffee is ready. I’ll let you fix your own.”

“Mmm. It smells heavenly.” She stepped over to the table and began to spoon creamer and sugar into the steaming liquid. “This is very nice of you. And I’m feeling very awful about intruding into your home. Believe me, if Peter hadn’t been with me, I wouldn’t have minded waiting in the cold.”

She stepped away from the table and Denver moved close enough to collect his mug.

“You say he has asthma. Is that something he developed recently?”

She shook her head, then after a careful sip of coffee said, “No. He’s had the condition since he was very small. About two years old from what I can gather. I first met Peter when he was admitted to the hospital with asthma. He was—”

Her words broke off and Denver suddenly spotted a shimmer of tears in her eyes. She was a woman who felt deeply about others, he realized. Maybe that was the nurse in her, or simply her maternal feelings showing, but no matter the reason, it touched him in a way that he hadn’t expected.

“Sorry,” she said huskily, then forced a smile to her face. “I get emotional when I think back to the first time I saw Peter lying there struggling to breathe. He was...so frail and sick. You see, Peter’s biological parents had abandoned him. A very old grandfather was trying to care for him, but he was too poor and decrepit to take care of himself, much less a child. But that’s all in the past, thank God. He’s mine now.”

Denver didn’t know what to say. He was too busy trying to imagine this dainty little woman opening her heart and her home to a lost child. Not just for a day or two. Or even a week or a month. She’d welcomed him into her family for a lifetime. He wasn’t even sure his late wife could’ve shown that much compassion and devotion.

Swallowing away the tightness in his throat, he said, “Peter’s a lucky little boy.”

She laughed lightly. “He doesn’t think he’s all that lucky whenever I have him and Harry washing dishes or pushing the vacuum cleaner.”

Relieved that she was lightening the moment, he gestured to the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. “It’s pretty obvious that guys don’t much care for cleaning chores.”

She chuckled, then an idea appeared to suddenly strike her. “I’d be happy to do the dishes for you,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do for all your help.”

She was already making the place feel too homey, Denver thought. He didn’t want to imagine how he’d feel to see her standing at the kitchen sink washing his dirty dishes. As though she belonged there.

“Thanks. But I’ll take care of this mess later. Let’s take our coffee out to the living room,” he suggested.

* * *

Moments later, Marcella joined the boys on the couch and Denver took a seat in a big armchair that was angled to her left. At this time of the evening, she suspected he normally stretched out in the recliner across the room, but he must have decided that making himself that comfortable in front of his guests would show bad manners.

The idea made Marcella feel even more like an intruder, but then, he’d given her little choice in the matter. Damn, damn, if her battery was going to die, why couldn’t it have done it back at the big ranch house? At least there she would have felt comfortable and welcome.

The rueful thought brought her up short and she mentally shamed herself. She and the boys were complete strangers to Denver Yates, yet he’d opened his home to them. She needed to be thinking grateful thoughts toward the man instead of wishing she was anywhere else but here.

It wasn’t his fault that his big, masculine presence was making her feel hot and bothered. Or that looking at his rugged face was sending very unladylike images through her head. And why would she be thinking about kissing a man, anyway? Men were nothing but trouble, and for the past ten years she’d made it just fine without one.

Sipping her coffee, she glanced at Harry and Peter. Both her sons’ attention was glued to the television screen. Since the music was building to a frantic crescendo and the last monster was about to meet his doom, the movie was clearly reaching the end.

She glanced over to Denver and was jolted by the fact that he was looking at her.

“Uh—do you watch much television?” She realized the question probably sounded inane to him, but this whole situation had knocked her off-kilter. No doubt tomorrow she’d look back on it and groan with embarrassment.

He said, “Not much. News. Weather. The farm and ranch report. Things like that.” His lips twisted to a wry slant. “I’m not big on entertainment. Guess my job gives me more than enough to think about.”

She smiled. “I’m sure you’ve heard the old adage about all work and no play.”

“Yeah. It makes a dull boy,” he said with a faint grin. “Sorry. I guess I am pretty boring.”

She clutched her coffee cup even tighter as she tried to keep from laughing. He was the furthest thing from boring that she could imagine. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d encountered a man who’d interested her as much as this big rancher.

“I wouldn’t say that. You’re not boring me.” Oh my, she sounded like a teenager instead of a thirty-three-year-old mother, she thought. Clearing her throat, she added, “I’m sure you and Rafe have plenty of exciting stories to tell. Were you with him and Bowie when the stallion got loose and ran off into the mountains?”

Surprise arched one of his brows. “You know about that?”

She nodded. “Lilly and Ava told me all about it. Rafe was black-and-blue from the spill he took when his horse fell.”

“I was helping with the hunt,” he said. “But I wasn’t riding in the area where Rafe fell. We were fortunate that only Rafe got hurt that night. The weather turned really nasty with snow and ice.”

“I don’t understand you ranchers. You’re always wanting lots of snow to put moisture and nitrates into the ground, but doesn’t that make terrible conditions for the cattle?”

“If the snow gets too deep it causes problems. Or if we have blizzard conditions. The worst case is when calves are being born in that sort of weather. We try to see that all of them make it. Unfortunately, we lose a few. Those are the times when the ranch hands might get an hour or two of sleep each night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I could bear seeing a baby animal of any kind struggle.”

He looked straight at her, and Marcella found her gaze traveling over his chiseled features. Once they’d come into the house, he’d removed the black cowboy hat from his head. Now as the dim glow of a shaded lamp cast an orb of light over him, she noticed the thick wave falling over his forehead was the color of dark chocolate. The kind that was supposed to be good for your health, she thought wryly. She figured Denver would be just as tasty as a piece of dark chocolate. But good for her health? No, in her opinion, he looked like a massive heartache.

“I’m sure you see people struggling in the ER,” he said. “Animals are no different. They need help, and we cowboys do our best to give it to them. Just like you nurses do for people.”

“I wasn’t thinking of it in that way. But you’re right. Except that we nurses get to work under the best conditions,” she reasoned. “You ranchers are dealing with the raw elements.”

She felt a tug on her arm and glanced around to see Harry holding up the television remote. “The movie is over, Mom, and the stuff showing now is no good. Would you change the channel?”

“Excuse me,” she said to Denver, then turned her attention to finding some sort of program to hold the boys’ attention. After a moment, she parked the channel on a child-appropriate sitcom. “There. That’s the best I can do.”

“Aw, Mom, that’s goofy stuff for girls,” Peter complained.

“Yeah,” Harry seconded his brother. “We want to see cops and car chases.”

“Yeah,” Peter chimed in. “Or spaceships and laser fights.”

“Sorry, boys. Take it or leave it,” Marcella said firmly.

A pout came over Peter’s face and he looked to Denver for support. “I’ll bet when you were a kid you got to watch good stuff. Not boring stuff like giggling girls.”

Marcella watched Denver glance her way, before he turned his attention to Peter.

“Actually, I never watched much TV,” he said.

“You didn’t?” Harry asked, clearly mystified by the rancher’s statement. “What did you do? Play computer games?”

Denver chuckled and Marcella was struck by the sound. It was rich and warm and so pleasant she wished she could hear it again.

“No,” he answered Harry. “Back when I was your age, we didn’t have a computer at home. Or smartphones. Sometimes, when I went to town, I’d play video games with my friends.”

“You didn’t live in town?” Peter asked. “Where did you live? Here?”

He shook his head, and though Marcella knew she should scold the boys for asking personal questions, she was just as curious as they were about their unexpected rescuer.

“No. I lived on a ranch in Wyoming with my parents. I mostly stayed busy helping my dad with ranching chores. When I wasn’t doing that, I was riding horses or doing my homework.”

“Homework. Ugh!” Peter complained. “Nobody but bookworms likes that stuff.”

“Nobody wants to be dumb,” Denver reasoned. “And you need to do your homework to get smarter.”

“Me and Harry don’t have a dad,” Harry said with a shrug. “We just have Mom. She plays baseball with us. But she doesn’t know all that much about boy things. Like fishing. Do you know how to fish—for trout?”

“I’ve done a little fishing. Not much.”

Peter scooted to the edge of the couch. “I don’t want to learn how to fish. I want to learn how to ride a horse and run really fast! As fast as the wind!”

Harry looked at his brother and rolled his eyes as though he was eons older rather than a mere eight months. “You’re just saying that because of Mr. Yates. Yesterday you said you wanted to be a doctor.”

Peter’s head tilted from side to side in contemplation. “I still do. I wanta make people well, like Mom does. But I can do that and ride a horse, too. Can’t I, Denver?”

He exchanged a knowing glance with Marcella before he answered Peter’s question. “Sure. Doctors can ride horses, too. So can people who fish for trout.”

Harry thought about that for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I guess it would be fun to run fast. As long as I didn’t fall off.”

Marcella said, “You have to learn how to walk the horse before you run it. I’m sure Mr. Yates didn’t run the first pony he got on.”

Denver chuckled again and the sound came as a relief to Marcella. Maybe she and the boys weren’t getting on his nerves too badly. The idea had her studying him from beneath her lashes and wondering things she shouldn’t be wondering. Like why he wasn’t married. And why he had no children of his own. A man like him would have no trouble finding a woman who’d be more than willing to give him a family.

Maybe he’d already tried marriage and had gotten a divorce, Marcella silently contemplated. Or could be some woman had soured him on love and put him off the idea of marriage. Or perhaps he simply wanted to keep his freedom. Whatever the reason for his bachelorhood, Denver’s personal life was none of her business.

“I was a baby when my dad put me on a pony,” Denver spoke up. “So I don’t remember the occasion. But I can assure you there wasn’t any galloping done that day.”

“Orin told us ghost stories,” Harry said. “One was about Little Joe the wrangler who was trampled in a stampede. He said his ghost rides the hills and the desert flats. Have you ever seen him?”

“A few times,” Denver said, then tossed her a sly smile.

Marcella felt as enthralled by this man as her sons seemed to be, which should have made her feel foolish, but it didn’t. Tonight was a party night for fun, and it had been a long, long time since she’d spent a few enjoyable moments in a man’s company.

“Really?” she asked impishly.

“Cross my heart,” he said with feigned seriousness. “He wears a black-oiled duster and rides a white horse.”

Peter jumped to his feet with excitement. “That’s right! And the horse’s mane and tail looks like flames! When did you see him? At night?”

“Usually at night. But once, some of the ranch hands and I saw him in the late afternoon riding through a patch of Joshua trees. A big storm had blown up and turned the sky dark. Lightning was flashing everywhere and jumping like streaks of blue fire off the horns of the cattle. The herd stampeded and we raced our horses after them.”

“What happened?”

The question came from both boys, and as Marcella studied their mesmerized faces, she couldn’t help but dream and wish that she could give them the father they needed and deserved. Her mother was constantly harping for her to date, to make an effort to find a man willing to marry her and be a father to her sons. But Marcella didn’t want a marriage of convenience. She wanted love. For herself and her boys. They deserved nothing less.

Denver said, “The cattle were running straight toward a deep gorge and going so fast we couldn’t catch up. They were all going to fall over the cliff and die. Then suddenly out of nowhere Little Joe appeared from the black, boiling clouds. His white horse was so fast it was a blur in the wind and they turned the herd just in time.”

“Wow! That must’ve been cool!” Peter exclaimed.

“What happened then?” Harry asked. “Did you see Little Joe up close?”

Denver shook his head. “By the time we reached the gorge, he was gone. But we thought we heard the sound of his horse’s hooves echoing down in the canyon. It gave us all the shivers.”

“That’s awesome!” Harry spoke in a breathless rush, then turned an excited look on his mother. “Mom, did you hear that? Mr. Yates saw a ghost! A real ghost!”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. Yates has seen a lot of...strange things out on the range,” she reasoned.

“Tell us some more, Mr. Yates,” Harry pleaded. “Orin told us about a headless prospector and he walks around with a pickax. Have you seen him?”

“Boys, that’s enough for now. Mr. Yates has had a long day. And—”

Before she could finish, Denver’s cell phone rang. Marcella and the boys went quiet while he answered the call.

Once he tapped the face of his phone to end the conversation, he looked over at Marcella. “The mechanic is finished with your car. So if you and the boys are ready, I’ll drive you back to it.”

When the car had gone kaput, she’d been thinking of the endless chores she needed to get done at home and lamenting the time that was going to be wasted waiting on a mechanic to repair it. Now all she could think was that she wasn’t quite ready to leave Denver’s company.

“Oh, Mom, do we have to go right now?” Harry asked.

Peter quickly seconded his brother’s suggestion. “Yeah, Mom, do we? We want to talk to Mr. Yates some more.”

Forcing herself to her feet, she motioned for the two boys to join her. “Sorry, fellas. It’s getting late and we’ve already interrupted Mr. Yates’s evening enough. Come on. Pull on your jackets and gather up your empty soda cans.”

Less than ten minutes later, the boys were loaded in the backseat of the car. She’d filled out the necessary forms for the repair cost, and the mechanic had driven away.

Now as she stood outside the driver’s door with Denver less than two steps away, she’d never felt so awkward or deflated in her life. An hour ago, she was desperate to get home. Now she was reluctant for her time with this man to end. It made no sense. None at all.

“There’s no way I can begin to explain how much I appreciate your help,” she told him. “And thank you for being so patient with Harry and Peter. I imagine tomorrow your ears will still be ringing.”

With a wry smile, he shook his head. “Not at all. I enjoyed their company. It made me remember back to when I was that age.”

She said, “You might not believe this, but they don’t normally have such motormouths. Especially with a person they’ve just met. They like you.”

“I’m honored.”

She hadn’t expected him to say anything close to that. But then everything about him and this evening had caught her off guard.

“Well, I’d better be going.”

She extended her hand to him, but instead of shaking it, he wrapped both hands around hers. The contact felt incredibly intimate, and for a moment she wondered if she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Goodbye, Marcella. It was nice meeting you and your sons. Have a safe trip home.”

It was nice meeting her, she thought, but not nice enough to ask for her phone number, or mention he might like seeing her again. The notion filled her with disappointment, but she wasn’t about to let it show. Instead, she gave him the cheeriest smile she could muster.

“Thanks, Denver. And you be careful to watch out for Little Joe,” she teased. “You know Halloween is actually tomorrow night. He and that white horse might be on the prowl.”

He grinned. “Right. I’ll keep my eye out.”

“Goodbye,” she said, then slipping her hand from his, she quickly turned and climbed into the car.

Once she’d shut the door and fastened her seat belt, she didn’t allow herself to glance at him through the window. Instead, she drove away and tried her best not to notice the lights of his truck reflecting in her rearview mirror.

Chapter Three

A week later, Marcella was nearing the close of her Friday shift in the ER when fellow nurse and friend Paige Winters walked up behind her.

“Dr. Sherman is being his usual nasty self again,” she said with a weary sigh. “Thank goodness our shift is nearly over. He can take out the rest of his sour attitude on the next crew of nurses instead of us—or me, I should say. The man has had the evil eye on me ever since I came to work in the ER. I’d give anything to slap that smirk of his right off his face.”

“Including your job?” Marcella asked as she yanked a soiled sheet from an empty bed.

“Well, no. I love my job here at Tahoe General too much to let one moody doctor ruin it.”

Marcella tossed the dirty sheet into a nearby hamper, then turned to see that the other nurse had already started fitting a clean sheet on the just-stripped mattress.

Paige was a year or two younger than Marcella, and though she was a natural redhead, like her, Paige’s shoulder-length hair was a deep wine color that contrasted vividly with her pale gray eyes. She was an extremely hardworking, dedicated nurse, and Marcella had often hoped that the other woman would find a man to love her. She deserved that much from life and more.

From the opposite side of the narrow bed, Marcella said in a hushed voice, “Dr. Sherman isn’t giving you the evil eye. He’s giving you the eye. Period.”

A fiery blush spread across Paige’s cheeks. “I am so tired of everyone hinting that Dr. Sherman has the hots for me,” she muttered. “The man is as cold as an ice cube. He wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if she fell right into his arms!”

“Nurse Winters! I need you down here! Pronto!”

The sound of Dr. Sherman’s bellow from the opposite side of the treatment room put a tight grimace on Paige’s face.

“See? He’s a jerk in a lab coat. And not nearly as good-looking as Dr. Whitehorse, who’s been giving you the eye for months now.”

The other woman hurried away, making it impossible for Marcella to deflect Paige’s remark about Dr. Whitehorse. Sure, the man was young and handsome and nice. She liked him as a friend, but he just didn’t make her heart go pitter-patter. Not the way that darned cowboy up on the Silver Horn had done.

Denver Yates. This past week she’d thought of little else. And the fact that Harry and Peter kept bringing up his name didn’t help matters at all. From the remarks they made, she could tell both of them expected to see Denver again. Preferably in the near future. And she hadn’t had the heart to burst their bubble. Neither of them would understand that enduring friendships rarely grew out of chance meetings.

You need to forget the cowboy, Marcella. He probably has a girlfriend. And even if he doesn’t, he’d hardly be interested in a mother with two kids. Wake up! A hunky man like Denver can have his pick of women. You can bet he’s already put you and your sons in the very back of his mind.

Doing her best to shove the miserable voice out of her head, she finished the last few minutes of her shift, exchanging patient information with the fresh group of nurses. By the time she’d changed clothes and headed out to the parking lot to her car, seven o’clock had turned into seven forty-five.

She was climbing into her car when she heard the cell phone inside her purse ringing. The caller was most likely her mother, she thought wearily, wondering why she hadn’t yet been by to pick up the boys. After twelve years of Marcella working long, erratic shifts as a nurse, her mother still didn’t understand her schedule would never be predictable.

After starting the car, she pulled out the phone and was surprised to see it had been Lilly Calhoun ringing, rather than her mother. Since her friend never called just to chat, Marcella decided to take a minute to return the call. If something had happened on the ranch, she wanted to know about it.

“Hi, Marcella,” Lilly answered cheerfully. “Sorry to bother you at this hour. Are you home from work yet?”

“No. I’m still in the parking lot. Is anything wrong?”

“No. Everything is great. I’ll just keep you a minute. I wanted to ask if you’re free tomorrow night. I’d like for you to come to a little dinner party I’m having.”

Marcella frowned. “Dinner party? Lilly, I was just out to the ranch last week at your Halloween party.”

“So? That was mainly for the kids. This is just for us adults.”

So that meant she’d have to tell Harry and Peter she was going to the Silver Horn without them. That would definitely cause a fuss. But on the other hand, Marcella was entitled to an evening out on her own once in a while.

“Is this some sort of special event? Someone’s birthday?” Marcella asked.

“Nothing special. There will only be a few of us. The men are getting together to talk business and Ava and I don’t want to be bored to death. You can at least entertain us with hospital news.”

“I am off tomorrow,” Marcella said thoughtfully. “And it would be nice to have some adult conversation. I’m not sure what Mom will say about watching the boys. If she’s planning on a bingo night, forget it.”

“Don’t worry. If Saundra can’t watch the boys, then bring them with you. Tessa will be keeping all the kids upstairs in the playroom. She won’t mind watching Harry and Peter, too.”

Rafe and Lilly had a young daughter and son, while Ava and Bowie’s baby boy was only a few months old. Tessa would have her hands full without adding Harry and Peter to the mix.

“I’m not sure—”

“I won’t let you refuse,” Lilly interrupted. “This is important.”

Marcella countered, “Lilly, you just said this wasn’t anything special. Are you—”

“I only meant it was important to me that you come,” she quickly explained.

Marcella absently massaged her forehead while watching a group of nurses exit the back of the building. She let out a weary sigh. “Okay, I’m too tired to argue. I’ll be there. What time?”

“Great! Make it about six thirty so we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy a cocktail before dinner. And in case you need more persuasion, Greta is cooking prime rib,” she added. “And coconut cream cake.”

Marcella chuckled. “Pure blackmail. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Right now I have to get home. Uh, who’s doing all that crying in the background?”

“Austin. He’s crying for me to take him over to the barn to see his daddy.”

“Then you’d better pull on your boots and take him and big sister, Colleen, to the barn.”

Lilly let out a good-natured groan. “Sure. Give the little man everything he wants. If Austin grows up to be a spoiled brat, I’m going to tell everyone Nurse Grayson ruined him.”

Laughing, Marcella told her friend goodbye, then ended the call.

* * *

The next evening, Denver quit work at an early hour, and after checking in with Doc Simmons about a pair of sick cows, he headed home to shower and change for the dinner party at the big ranch house.

Managing the cow/calf operation made it necessary from time to time for him to attend business meetings with the Calhouns. Especially with Orin, the father of the five Calhoun brothers, and Clancy, the eldest son and general manager of the Silver Horn. There were also occasions when issues cropped up with local ranchers and Denver needed to make an appearance at a town gathering. But parties were a different matter, and for the most part, he avoided them as much as possible. Yet for some mysterious reason, tonight Rafe had been adamant that he attend Lilly’s small dinner party.

Rafe had said he and Orin wanted to use the evening to discuss some new feed ideas. Denver didn’t believe a word of it. In the twelve years he’d been working on the Silver Horn, the feed program had remained consistently the same. The whole idea had him wondering if Lilly was giving someone a surprise party and Rafe was wanting to keep the celebration a secret. Whatever reason, Denver would have preferred to stay home and catch up on a bit of rest.

Frowning at his image in the bathroom mirror, he smeared a handful of shaving cream over his jaw and chin. Who was he trying to kid? He’d gotten home early for the past several nights. At least, seven o’clock was early for him. But he hadn’t rested or enjoyed the solitude. He’d spent most of the time cleaning the kitchen and thinking about Marcella Grayson and her two sons. And damn it all, he was still thinking about them.

You’re a fool, Denver. The world is full of pretty nurses and single mothers. It’s also full of gamin-faced boys with a penchant for asking questions. There is nothing special about the little family.

Maybe not, Denver argued with the nasty voice in his head, but there’d been something very special about the way they’d affected him. Being near Marcella, holding her hand, even for those brief moments, had reminded him what it was like to hold a woman in his arms and make love to her. And the boys—well, they’d made him remember all that he’d lost back in Wyoming.

* * *

When Marcella arrived, Tessa, the Calhouns’ young housekeeper, nanny and maid all rolled into one, met her at the door.

“Good evening, Marcella,” she greeted warmly. “It’s so nice to see you again so soon. Let me take your coat and bag. Everyone is out back on the patio having drinks.”

Marcella shrugged out of her coat and handed it and her clutch bag to the slender young woman with light brown hair and a gentle face. “Outside? Maybe I should keep my coat. It’s rather cold to be having drinks outside.”

“Orin has built a fire in the fire pit, so I imagine it feels nice and cozy.” She glanced at Marcella. “Wow! You look so pretty tonight. That emerald green dress looks gorgeous with your red hair.”

Feeling more than self-conscious, Marcella glanced down at the simple sheath dress she was wearing. Since her wardrobe was limited to mostly work or casual clothes, she didn’t own much in the way of party wear.

“Lilly didn’t say whether this was going to be a fancy dinner. But knowing her, I decided I should at least wear a dress.”

Tessa laughed as she went to hang Marcella’s coat in a nearby closet. “You know Lilly and Ava, they like to find any reason to dress up. Come along,” she invited, “and I’ll walk with you back to the patio.”

Even though Marcella wasn’t a frequent visitor to the ranch, she’d been there often enough to know her way around the massive three-story house. Yet each time she walked through the opulent rooms, it amazed her that two of her best friends had married into such a wealthy family.

As soon as the two women reached the family room and the sliding glass doors that opened onto the patio, Tessa quickly excused herself.

“I’ll leave you to join the others,” she said. “The kiddos are upstairs with their great-grandfather Bart. He’s watching them until I can take over. Uh—I thought you might be bringing Harry and Peter with you tonight. Didn’t they want to come, too?”

If there’d been a chance of them seeing Denver again, the boys would’ve jumped at the chance to make the trip out here. Otherwise, they’d been content enough to spend the night with their grandmother. “My mother is making them a special treat for dinner tonight.”

“Well, maybe next time,” she said.

The housekeeper hurried away and Marcella let herself through the glass door and onto a large rock patio partially covered by a low hanging roof. As she carefully fastened the door behind her, she heard Lilly’s voice calling to her.

“Marcella! You’re finally here!”

Turning, she found the willowy blonde standing right behind her, and Marcella quickly gave her friend a tight hug.

“Finally here,” Marcella repeated with a light laugh. “You say that like I’m the party honoree or something.”

“Well, you are important to us around here,” she said with an impish smile, then after another quick hug, she curled her arm around Marcella’s waist and urged her across the patio. “Come on and have a seat. It’ll be a while before Greta serves dinner. Want something to drink? Orin has made a pitcher of margaritas if you’d like one.”

“No. I’ll be driving home later. I’ll just have a ginger ale.”

“I’ll get it,” Lilly said. “You go on over and say hello. I’m pretty sure you know everyone here tonight.”

Marcella started toward the group of people gathered around the huge brick fire pit. Ava and Bowie were standing with their backs to the warm flames, while Clancy and his wife, Olivia, were snuggled together on a cushioned wicker love seat. Nearby Rafe, his dad, Orin, and Colley Holbrook, the manager of the horse division, were talking with a man seated with his back to Marcella.

The moment Ava spotted her approach, the tall brunette hurried over to greet her with a swift kiss on the cheek.

“Come over by the fire,” she invited with a happy smile. “Gosh, you’re looking lovely tonight. Where did you get those heels? They’re very sexy.”

Marcella chuckled. “They’re hand-me-downs from Mom. She bought them, then decided they were too risqué for her.”

“Lucky you.”

“Here’s your ginger ale,” Lilly announced as she joined the two women. She handed Marcella the glass of ginger ale. “Let’s go find a seat where it’s warm.”

As the women approached, the men all politely rose to their feet to greet Marcella.

“I think you know everyone here tonight,” Lilly said, then added teasingly, “Although it’s been so long since Clancy and Olivia have shown their faces around here, you might not recognize them. Once they built their house up on the mountain, we can hardly get them down here for dinner.”

Marcella shook hands with the ranch manager and his pretty wife, who worked in the land management division for the BLM.

“Yes, it has been a while,” she said as she shook hands with each of them. “Nice to see you again. How’s your little boy, Shane?”

“More like his grandpa Orin every day,” Clancy teased. “Growing into a real rascal.”

While Orin chuckled loudly, Olivia added, “He’s nearly three years old now and we can’t turn our backs on him, or he’ll be in the barn trying to climb on the back of a horse.”

“He and Austin are two peas in a pod,” Lilly spoke up jokingly. “When those two cousins get a little older, we’re going to have hell to pay.”

Ava put her hand on Marcella’s shoulder and turned her slightly to the left. “You have met Denver, haven’t you? He’s a lot like Clancy—you have to twist his arm to get him here for dinner.”

Denver! The man who’d been occupying her thoughts for the past week was standing right in front of her. The surprise of seeing him very nearly caused her jaw to drop, but she caught herself before that could happen and forced a cheery smile on her face.

“Uh—yes. We have met,” she said.

He extended his hand to her. “Hello, Marcella. It’s nice to see you again.”

Lilly had said this was going to be a simple gathering. What was he doing here?

Hoping she didn’t appear as caught off guard as she felt, Marcella placed her hand in Denver’s. And just like the last time, something in the bottom of her stomach flipped over. Then over again.

“Hello, Denver. How are you?”

A faint smile touched his lips, and as Marcella’s gaze zeroed in on his face, everything around her suddenly faded, except him and the feel of his big rough hand wrapped around hers.

“Fine. Thanks for asking.”

The feel of his gaze slowly meandering over her face was causing heat to pool in her cheeks. And just as she was telling herself it was time to extricate her hand from his and put an end to the strange buzzing in her head, she heard Lilly speak behind her.

“There’s Greta at the door. Let’s go in, everyone. Dinner is served.”

Denver dropped her hand and they both began to gravitate toward the back of the house with the rest of the group.

“Sounds like it’s time to enjoy Greta’s cooking,” he said. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

She’d been as hungry as a horse until she’d turned and saw him. Now her nerves were so scattered she could scarcely think about eating.

Stop it, Marcella! You’re not a teenager with a sudden crush on the cool rebel in senior class. You’re a thirty-three-year-old mother. Far too old to be getting the vapors over a sexy man.

She said, “I haven’t eaten anything since early this morning. So I’m ready to eat.”

“Did Peter and Harry come with you this evening?”

“No. They’re with their grandmother tonight. I didn’t want to overload Tessa with kids. They’ll be disappointed they missed seeing you.”

“I’m disappointed they’re not here,” he said.

His simple statement sounded so sincere, yet she told herself not to take it to heart. There were plenty of guys who pretended they liked kids. Until they were asked if they wanted to be a father, and then they stumbled backward, as if they’d just faced a rattlesnake.

With everyone in the house, the group quickly migrated to a dining room that was beautifully furnished with a carved oak table and chairs, along with a matching sideboard and massive china cabinet. Down the middle of the vast table, vases of orange and gold marigolds mixed with burgundy-colored mums alternated with flickering fat brown candles. Across the room, a row of arched windows revealed a starry night sky competing with the glow of lights illuminating a portion of the ranch yard.

The beauty of the Silver Horn never failed to impress Marcella, but tonight she wasn’t absorbing her surroundings as much as usual. Instead, every cell in her brain was focused on the tall, muscular rancher standing a few steps away.

“Ava and I didn’t bother assigning seats. So everyone just grab a chair,” Lilly announced. “Except for the end seat. That’s for Granddad Bart, of course.”

“You’re wasting your breath, Lilly girl,” Bart boomed out as he took his seat at the head of the table. “Everyone already knows this is my seat. When I’m dead and gone, my son gets it. After that, you grandsons can fight over it.”

Dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks with his thick gray hair brushed neatly back from his rugged features, at eighty-eight, Bart looked as though he was still fit enough to wrestle a bear and ornery enough to try it.

Orin pulled out a chair to his father’s right. “Dad, we’re not going to discuss your passing tonight or any night for that matter. These beautiful women don’t want to hear such morbid talk.”

“Son, I’m eighty-eight years old. What the hell do you think is going to happen? That I’m going to live forever?”

“You’re mean enough to live forever, Granddad,” Bowie spoke up teasingly. “So I say you better not mess around and get nice on us. We might lose you.”

“Bowie! That’s awful,” Ava scolded her young husband.

With a wry shake of his head, Orin looked down the table. “Denver, would you help Marcella into her seat? I’m sure you won’t mind sitting next to our pretty guest tonight.”

“My pleasure,” Denver said.

He stepped over to the table and pulled out the chair nearest to Marcella. As she sank into the padded seat, she felt as though everyone in the room was watching the two of them. And suddenly she wondered if this whole evening had been a setup to throw her and Denver together.

But that was crazy thinking. She hadn’t voiced any interest to Lilly or Ava about the cowboy. Had Denver mentioned something about her to some of the Calhouns? She couldn’t imagine that. He didn’t seem the type to discuss private issues. Even with his friends.

Glancing up at him, she smiled faintly and murmured her thanks. “Sorry. Looks like you’re stuck with me for a dining companion tonight.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage to survive,” he said in a voice only she could hear.

Near the head of the table, Orin said, “Sorry, Colley. You just happened to be on the wrong side of the table tonight.”

“It’s okay, sir,” the horse trainer said. “I don’t think I’ll be getting lonely anytime soon.”

Marcella glanced over at the young man who’d taken a chair next to Bowie. From what Lilly told her a couple months ago, Colley’s wife had divorced him and left town with a man she’d worked with at a financial firm in Carson City. No doubt he was still seeing red whenever he looked at a female.

While the remainder of the group took their seats at the table, Denver had made himself comfortable in the chair next to Marcella, and she found it impossible to keep her attention away from him.

“Lilly told me this was going to be a small group tonight,” she said to him. “I was surprised to see you here—I mean, I’ve never seen you here for dinner before.”

He shrugged, and Marcella’s gaze was drawn to his broad shoulders and the faint movement of muscle beneath the finely woven fabric of his dark gray shirt. A leather bolo tie fashioned with a silver accent set with coral stones was pushed tight against his throat, while matching cuff links fastened the cuffs at his wrist. He looked dark and dangerous and oh so handsome.

“That’s because I don’t visit the big house that often. Rafe twisted my arm to get me here tonight.”

Marcella’s mind began to spin. No way would Lilly and Ava go to this much trouble to throw her and Denver together at the same dinner table. Or would they? For the Calhouns, this gathering was little more than a regular family dinner.

“Oh. Well, Lilly twisted mine. So looks like we’re in the same boat tonight.”

“I’m here to discuss a new feed program with Orin and Rafe. So far that hasn’t happened,” he said. “Why were you invited?”

“To catch Lilly and Ava up on hospital news. So far that hasn’t happened, either,” she added with an impish smile. “But no matter. Getting to eat Greta’s cooking is worth the drive out here.”

“As long as your battery doesn’t die again,” he added jokingly.

She felt her cheeks turning pink. If only he knew how much she’d been thinking of him since that night he’d welcomed her into his home. He’d probably want to have Colley trade chairs with him, she thought.

“I’m happy to say I haven’t had any more car trouble,” she told him.

Before he could make any sort of reply, Bowie caught Denver’s attention, and then Greta appeared with a loaded trolley and began to serve the first course. Marcella glanced down the table to Lilly, and the cunning little smile on her friend’s face left no doubts as to what this dinner party was all about.

The only thing that could save her from this embarrassing situation now, Marcella thought, was if Denver never discovered how the two of them had been pushed at each other.

Chapter Four

As usual, the food was mouthwatering, but Denver could have been eating hay and not noticed the difference. Having Marcella, looking like a dream and smelling like a meadow of wildflowers, sitting next to him throughout the long dinner had jangled his senses.

When she’d first appeared on the patio earlier this evening, he’d been shocked. Although on second thought, he shouldn’t have been all that surprised. She was good friends with Lilly and Ava. For all he knew, she might be a regular dinner guest.

However, during the past week, he’d been telling himself he’d never see the beautiful nurse again. Then she’d suddenly been standing in front of him. It was like his daydreams had suddenly come to life.

A few minutes ago he’d watched Marcella leave the room and so far she hadn’t returned. Damn it, why was he noticing her comings and goings, anyway? She was just a pretty friend of the Calhouns and certainly nothing to him.

“Denver, would you like more cake?”

He glanced up to see that Lilly had paused in front of the chair where he was sitting in the family room.

Smiling, he shook his head. “Thanks, Lilly. It was delicious, but I couldn’t hold another bite.”

She gestured toward the opposite end of the room, where a long bar stretched across one corner. At the moment Bowie was playing bartender to Clancy and Rafe. The brothers were joking and laughing and obviously enjoying the evening. Denver was glad to see the men so relaxed. To an outsider, it probably appeared that the Calhouns had an easy life. But Denver knew firsthand how tirelessly Orin and his sons worked to keep the ranch thriving.

“Bowie has been spiking his brothers’ coffee with apricot brandy,” Lilly said with an impish grin. “You might want to join them.”

His senses were already whirling enough, Denver thought. He didn’t need to make them worse. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stretch my legs a bit and walk out by the fire.”

“Great idea,” she said, then added, “If the fire needs more wood, there’s plenty stacked on the end of the patio.”

Denver thanked her, then left the chair and slipped through the glass doors and onto the dark patio.

The night air had turned very chilly, but the fire was still burning, warming the area around the fire pit to a comfortable temperature. Grabbing a chair from the shadows, he started to drag it closer to the fire when he heard a female voice off to his left.

“You must have needed some fresh air.”

He glanced around to see Marcella walking out of the shadows. Where had she come from, he wondered—another part of the house?

“I thought I’d come out and enjoy the fire.” He gestured to the chair. “Have a seat. I’ll drag up another.”

She smiled and thanked him, and while she made herself comfortable, Denver went after another chair. By the time he’d rejoined her in the orange glow of the firelight, he was wondering if he was the luckiest man alive or the most ill-fated. Sitting out here in the dark with a beautiful redhead could be detrimental to his health, mainly his ability to think.

As he took a seat a short distance away from her, she said, “I’ve been upstairs visiting the kids. So I thought I’d come out here and enjoy the fire a bit before I rejoined everybody in the family room.”

“Do you have a fireplace in your home?” he asked.

She grunted with amusement. “Even if I did, I couldn’t afford to buy wood to burn.” She looked over at him. “I noticed you had a fireplace in your living room. Do you use it very often?”

“No. Although there’s plenty of dead wood up in the mountains here on the Horn that I could gather and burn. By the time I get home in the evenings, it’s easier just to let the heating system do its job.” Maybe if he had someone to sit with him and share the warmth of the flames, he’d feel differently, Denver thought. Maybe someone with soft curves, long red hair and lush pink lips that tilted at the corners would make building a fire all worthwhile.

“My grandparents live in Northern California in the countryside out from Redding,” she told him. “When my brother and I were just youngsters, Grandfather would build a campfire for us. We thought it was wonderful.”

He looked over at her and inwardly groaned at the sight of her delicate features bathed in firelight. Just more pleasant memories he’d have to try to erase from his mind, he thought.

“You have a brother?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s four years younger. He was married for a while, but now he’s divorced.”

“You see him often?”

“When he lived in Carson City, I saw him regularly. But he moved back to Redding to be near our grandparents. Which is a good thing. Since they’re getting older, they need help around the farm.” She cast him a curious glance. “What about you? Do you have siblings?”

“A sister. She’s five years younger than me. She lives in Gillette. Our parents live near Moorcroft. That’s a little town not far away.”

“Do your parents still ranch there?”

The fact that she remembered that much about him not only surprised Denver, but it touched him in a way he never expected. Sure, he could find a woman to have a drink with, or even share a bed with. But none of those women cared about the things that were important to him. This one did seem to care, and that made her very different.

It also makes her as dangerous as hell, Denver. Marcella is a family woman. She’s not looking for casual sex. If she ever went to bed with a man, it would be out of love. Not to ease a basic urge. Just keep remembering that when you look into those sky blue eyes of hers.

He cleared his throat while trying to rid himself of the voice of warning going off in his head. “Yes. Thankfully Dad is still in good health and able to handle the daily work. Mom helps, too. She’s pretty good with horses and a rope.”

Marcella smiled at him. “Sounds like you came by ranching naturally.”

“It’s the only life I’ve known,” he admitted. “What about you? Was your mother a nurse?”

She laughed softly. “Not hardly. Mom panics at the sight of blood. My grandmothers weren’t nurses, either. It was just something that called to me when I was about twelve years old. I like helping people—helping to make them feel well and whole again.”

All the nurses and doctors in the world hadn’t been able to help Christa. But Denver didn’t want to think about her or that part of his past. He’d spent the past twelve years trying his best to forget it. Now was hardly the time to let those dismal memories start creeping in. Or maybe it was the perfect time, he argued with himself. Maybe tonight, more than ever, he needed to remember why he couldn’t let himself get interested in a woman like Marcella. And yet just sitting here with her by the fire made him feel like a ton of weight had been lifted from his heart.

“Does your mother work?” he asked. “I mean, an outside job.”

“Yes. She’s a waitress in a downtown restaurant. Believe it or not, she used to have a nice office job as a secretary to a banker. But it was too stressful. She likes being out among people.”

“And your father?”

“He works for a real estate firm over in Sacramento. He never cared for farming like his father up in Redding.”

“So your parents aren’t together anymore?”

She shook her head. “No. They divorced when Spence and I were teenagers. They’re still friendly, though. And neither one of them ever remarried. I think they still love each other, but throw them together for more than two hours and an argument will break out. You’re very lucky, you know, that your parents are still together and work together. I think that’s so nice.”

Lucky. Yes, in so many ways Denver knew he was blessed. But there were plenty of times, like tonight, when he looked at the Calhoun brothers with their devoted wives and growing families, that he felt like a man with a missing limb. He was surviving without any problems. But a part of him longed to feel whole again.

“Yes. My parents are special,” he replied.

She rose from the chair and backed up to the fire. Denver tried not to notice how the firelight silhouetted her curvy shape or the way it turned her auburn hair into a fiery glow around her head.

“You must like your job here on the Silver Horn a lot,” she said.

“Guess it’s obvious.”

She smiled faintly. “You’ve been here a long time. Twelve years, didn’t you say?”

“That’s right. When I first came here, I wasn’t sure I would like it. I’d never worked on a ranch this big before. But the Calhouns are special people. They made it feel like home. And made it clear that I was appreciated. That means a lot.”

Her expression sober, she nodded. “I guess you must have been here when Claudia, Orin’s wife, died.”

In spite of the fire, Denver suddenly felt cold inside. He’d been working here on the ranch for only two years when Claudia had taken that tragic fall down the staircase and fatally injured her head. Seeing Orin lose his wife so soon after Denver had lost Christa had been like being hit by an avalanche. He’d had to dig himself out of the misery all over again.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “It was tragic for him. For the whole family.”

“I’m glad he’s dating Noreen now,” she commented. “But frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t married her yet.”

“I’m not,” he said bluntly.

Her brows arched slightly, and Denver knew his remark had surprised her.

“Oh. You say that as if you know what’s holding him back.”

“I do. You see, I’m a widower, too.”

She stared at him as everything from shock to empathy flickered across her face. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t say anything wrong. Besides...it happened a long time ago.”

She let out a heavy breath. “Well, I feel awful anyway. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have mentioned anything about Claudia and Orin.”

“Forget it,” he said quietly, then added, “Please.”

She hugged her arms to her and Denver realized she must be getting cold.

He said, “If you’re getting chilly, I can build up the fire.”

“No. I should probably be going back in. I told Ava and Lilly I’d visit the kids for just a few minutes. If I don’t show up soon, they’ll be going upstairs after me.”

He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to sit here with her for hours. Just the two of them alone. He wanted to keep hearing her voice and smelling her flowery scent. He wanted to touch her and feel her touching him.

Had he suddenly lost his mind? Or was he just now waking up after a long sleep? Either way, she was shaking him in ways that were downright scary.

Rising to his feet, he stood next to her and stared into the flames licking around the chunks of mesquite and pine.

“Yeah, I guess I should go back inside, too,” he admitted. “Orin and Clancy still haven’t brought up the subject of the feed program. I think they’ve forgotten the reason I’m here for this gathering tonight.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t think they’ve forgotten.”

Intrigued by her comment, he turned his head and allowed his gaze to slide over her profile. “What do you mean?”

After a brief hesitation, she said, “I’m not sure. Actually, what I’m thinking is...almost too embarrassing to repeat. But I’m beginning to think I should.”

He stepped in front of her. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s a good thing we’re standing in the dark,” she mumbled. “Or you’d see that my face is actually the same color as the fire.”

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