The tangy scent of masculine after-shave teased Amie’s nose.

Was it wafting from behind her? Or just clinging to her body to remind her of what she’d done?

Her grandmother took Amie’s hand in a cool grasp. Despite her frailty, Mariah’s grip was firm, confident. “Amie, dear, I was just looking for you to introduce you. But I see you and Preston have met.”

Foreboding iced out residual passion. “Preston?”

Amie’s brain worked overtime to make the pieces fit any other way but the one she feared.

Yet the magnetic, compelling man she’d just given herself to in a coat closet stepped around her, his eyebrows now pinched together as he whispered, “Amie?”

Her stomach dropped like she’d just fallen down an elevator shaft. Dawning realization robbed her of speech, her mouth bone-dry.

Her grandmother squeezed Amie’s hand as she smiled at Preston.

“I’m so glad you’ve had a chance to get to know our new CEO.”

* * *

Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO is part of the Diamonds in the Rough trilogy: The McNair cousins must pass their grandmother’s tests to inherit their fortune—and find true love!

Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO

Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN lives on a sunny Florida beach with her flyboy husband and their four children. With more than forty books in print in over twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA® Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! Contact Catherine through her website, www.catherinemann.com, find her on Facebook and Twitter (@CatherineMann1), or reach her by post at PO Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.

To my family—my world

Table of Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Two months ago

Amie McNair had never considered a one-night stand. Until now.

A champagne fountain gurgled beside her as she stared across the ballroom full of partiers gathered to celebrate her cousin’s engagement. The night had been fun so far, but too similar to so many other glittering events that she attended in her work. She’d been thinking up an excuse to leave soon so she could trade her silky dress for the comfort of cotton pajamas. The jeweled choker at her throat was a gorgeous piece, but the yellow diamond at the base of her throat felt heavy. Tight. Like a collar keeping her neck in check. She liked her longer, bohemian-style pendants.

Those mundane thoughts scattered when he entered the room.

The broad-shouldered man striding confidently through the arched entryway pulled the air from her lungs. The connection was instantaneous. She wasn’t quite certain why, but she forgot all about a desire for cotton pj’s or the need to tug off her necklace. Her nerve endings sat up and paid attention.

Sure, he was tall, dark and hunky. But her world was filled with commanding, powerful men—from the cowboys that worked on her family’s Hidden Gem Hobby Ranch, to the executives who worked in the family’s Diamonds in the Rough jewelry-design empire. This man certainly measured up, from his muscled chest in the custom-tailored tuxedo, to the black Stetson he swept from his head and passed to an attendant near the entrance.

Yes, a Stetson and a tux.

And a boldly handsome face, tanned, with a strong square jaw. A face that had been lived in. His coal-black hair had a sprinkling of silver at the temples. That hint of age shouted wisdom, resolve. Experience.

A shiver tingled through her, gathering in all the right places.

Yet, in spite of all that, she found herself drawn most to his eyes. Even from halfway across the ballroom she could see they were a mesmerizing mix of gold and green that shifted ever so slightly with the chandelier sparkling overhead. She’d worked with amber that color in her jewelry designs and the changeable nature of the hue fascinated her. His gaze swept over her, past, then back again.

Holding.

That shiver inside her turned into a full-fledged fire. Her hand trembled and she set aside her champagne glass, her body already drawn forward in an undeniable magnetic pull. The urge to find out more about him propelled her feet across the room in time with the live band playing a classic Patsy Cline love song. Amie walked beneath the oversize, multicolored paper lanterns that decorated the room, toward the mystery man as he angled past guests in tuxes and formal gowns.

Other women noticed him, too, some of them watching every bit as intently as she did. But his eyes stayed on her as he closed the gap one bold step at a time.

Who was he? She knew most of the guests but didn’t recognize him. Still, enough people nodded in greeting to him for her to know he wasn’t a party crasher.

His gaze stroked over her, his hazel eyes gliding along her body like whispery smoke, confirming the awareness was reciprocated. She let herself relish the feeling, because honest to God, the last year had drained her. The grief over her grandmother’s cancer, over the impending loss of the most important person in her life was heavy. Too heavy. From tip to toe, she hurt over losing her grandmother and, knowing Gran’s legacy, her company was in the process of being handed over to a new CEO. So much change. Not the way her family’s business was meant to be handled.

But right now, for the first time since her grandmother had announced her terminal brain tumor, there was a distraction from that ache in her heart.

A compelling, fascinating distraction.

She stopped in front of him, only a few inches apart. The crowd was so thick around them, the hum of their conversation and the band’s tune created a false bubble of privacy. He held his silence, just looking back at her with a furrowed brow. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one baffled by this moment.

She certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, but she couldn’t deny the chemistry, the intense attraction, the connection that felt like more than simple lust. She understood physical attraction but considered herself beyond those superficial types of relationships. After all, her mother had trotted her across pageant stage from toddler days. Hair teased. Makeup. Ruffled custom dresses and shiny tap shoes.

Amie had been judged on her appearance, her walk, her smile for longer than she could remember. She’d seen enough backstabbing beauties with a Mona Lisa smile to know that the true value of a person went much deeper than the surface. Even knowing that, she couldn’t deny how much she wanted this man.

She meant to say hello or introduce herself or ask his name. Instead, she glanced at his hand. No wedding ring. No tan line. “Are you married?”

A dark eyebrow lifted in a brief flash of surprise.

“Are you?” His voice rumbled between them with a hint of twang.

Local? Not quite. But definitely from a nearby region. His voice tripped along her senses, a deep tone that shivered against her skin.

She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

“Me neither,” he answered simply, without touching her. “Are you seeing anyone?”

She liked that it mattered to him. That said something good about him. “No. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Only the woman in front of me.”

Oh. Damn. He was good. A small smile teased the corners of his mouth.

She wasn’t sure exactly who moved first, but somehow her hand was tucked in the crook of his arm and he led her to the dance floor where they moved silently, their bodies in tune, step for step, through a slower country-music classic. The thick clusters of bright paper lanterns made the room glow with a rainbow of colors.

She breathed in his scent, clean but spicy, too. Masculine. Heady. His touch warmed her where he touched her waist. Her hand.

How long had it been since she’d felt a man’s hands on her?

The energy between them crackled like static along her skin. Each chord from the string band strummed her oversensitive senses. She breathed in and he breathed out. Their steps synced effortlessly, her body responding to the slightest movement of his, shadowing his steps as she fell deeper into the spell of his gaze.

The dance gave her rare moments of pleasure in a year of hellish hurt and worry. No wonder she’d been drawn to him. She needed this. And in the same way that she could follow his steps, her body anticipating his next move, she could tell that he needed this, too. It was in his eyes. In the way his hand spanned her waist.

A step and swirl later and they were in the hall, then tucked in the deserted coatroom.

Then in each other’s arms.

The dim lighting cast the room in shadows as she arched up into his kiss, his arms strong around her, but loose enough she could leave if she wanted. But the last thing she wanted was to stop. Pleasure pulsed through her at the angling of his mouth over hers, the touch of his tongue to hers. The kiss went deeper, faster, spiraling out of control in the quiet of the coat closet—a seriously underutilized space since it was spring in Texas.

Still, someone could walk in, and while she wasn’t an exhibitionist, the possibility of discovery added an edge to an already razor-sharp need. The muffled sounds of music and partiers wafted under the door. She pressed herself to the hard planes of his body.

His arms moved up and he cupped her face, looking at her with those intense hazel eyes. “I don’t do this sort of thing, tuck into coat closets with a stranger.”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “We don’t need to make excuses we have no way of knowing are true. This moment just...is. I don’t understand why. But we’re here.” She took a deep breath of courage and said, “Lock the door.”

Without a word, his hand slid behind him and the lock clicked in the long closet. The simple sound unleashed her barely contained passion. She looped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the kiss again. In the feel and fantasy of this man.

Her breasts tingled and tightened into hard beads of achy need. She couldn’t remember when she’d been this turned inside out. She was thirty-one years old, not nearly a virgin. But she was unable to resist the draw of this stranger. The hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach, a heavy pressure that burned right through the silky dress she wore.

She couldn’t deny where this was headed or that she wanted this. Him. Now.

His mouth traveled down her neck, then along her collarbone. “Condom. In my wallet,” he said, his hands grazing under her breasts. “I’ll get it.”

He started to ease back and she stopped him, gripping his lapels.

“Let me.”

Slipping her hand into his tuxedo jacket, she let her fingers stroke across the muscled heat of his chest. This was a man, the very best kind, powerful in body and mind. She tugged his wallet from inside his jacket and considered for an instant looking for a name, ...but her thoughts were scattered by his hands over her hips, gathering her dress. She plucked out a condom packet and tossed his wallet to the floor.

His hands were back on her just as fast, roving, keeping the flame burning.

She unzipped his pants as he lifted her hem. Her gown bunched around her hips, he hitched her up onto the small corner table where the coat check would normally pass out tickets during colder months. The wood was cool against her legs and then she slid them up and around his waist as he pressed against her, into her, with a thick pressure that sent a moan rolling up her throat.

It wasn’t an elegant coupling. Her need was frenzied and his matched hers. This was crazy and out of control. And perfect. She lost herself in the pleasure, her senses heightened until everything felt...more. The tangy scent of his aftershave swirled inside her with every breath. Music muffled from the other room serenaded them, syncing their bodies into the most fundamental of dances.

And then thoughts disintegrated, the pace speeding, rising, bliss swelling inside her until she bit her lip to hold back a cry of pleasure that would betray their hideaway at any moment. He skimmed down the shoulder of her dress, dipping his head to take her breast in his mouth. That warm, moist tug took away the last of her restraint. Her head falling back, she surrendered to the orgasm sparkling through her like the facets off a diamond. The hoarse low sound of his release as he thrust deeply one last time sent another shimmer through her, leaving her languid, replete.

Using a last whisper of energy, she lolled forward. Her head rested on his shoulder as she waited for her racing heart to slow. His hands glided up and down her spine, easing her back to her feet, holding her up.

He smoothed her dress into place again and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We should tal—”

She shook her head. “Please. Don’t say anything.” She tugged her capped sleeve back over her shoulder and skimmed along her hair, the French braid having stayed miraculously in place, right down to the jeweled flower pin she’d clipped to the end of the braid. “Let’s go back out. Go to separate sides of the room. And when, or if, we meet...it will be for the first time. Let this be what it is.”

A fantasy. A once-in-a-lifetime crazy encounter—and she didn’t want to hear it was commonplace for him. Didn’t want to think about what she’d just done. Not while her body still trembled with pleasure and her heartbeat pulsed an erratic rhythm.

She didn’t wait for his answer.

Reaching behind her, she simply unlocked the door, tucking out and around. Her legs were less than steady as she made her way back to the ballroom, and the sound of his footsteps close behind her didn’t help. Was he following her? Was he going to insist or make a scene?

A mix of anticipation and dread made her chest tight with nerves.

The cool blast of the air conditioner in the hall rushed over her heated skin, goose bumps rising along her arms. The band still played, having picked up the speed with vintage Johnny Cash.

And before she could clear her head, she realized her grandmother had blocked her path. Mariah McNair looked regal but frail as she clutched her cane.

The tangy scent of masculine aftershave teased Amie’s nose. Was it wafting from him behind her? Or just clinging to her body to remind her of what she’d done?

Her grandmother gripped the cane in a hand bearing sparkling jeweled rings. One of them was an amethyst heart Amie had designed as a teenager. With her other hand, Mariah took hers in a cool grasp, her skin paper thin and covered with bruises from IVs. Despite her frailty, Mariah’s grip was firm, confident. “Amie, dear, I was just looking for you to introduce you. But I see you and Preston have met.”

Foreboding iced out residual passion. “Preston?”

Her brain worked overtime to make the pieces fit any other way but the one she feared.

Yet the magnetic, compelling man she’d just given herself to in a coat closet stepped around her, his eyebrows now pinched together as he whispered, “Amie?”

Her stomach dropped as if she’d just fallen down an elevator shaft. Dawning realization robbed her of speech, her mouth bone dry.

Her grandmother squeezed Amie’s hand as she smiled at Preston.

“I’m so glad you’ve had a chance to get to know our new CEO.” Mariah extended her hand to the man. “Welcome to the Hidden Gem Ranch.”

One

Two Months Later

Preston Armstrong was not a fan of weddings. Not even when he’d been the groom. Since his divorce ten years ago, he was even less entertained by overpriced ceremonial gatherings. He considered himself a practical businessman. That mind-set had taken him from a poor childhood to the top of the corporate ladder.

So, attending a marriage ceremony and seeing Amie McNair front and center of attention as a bridesmaid took his irritation to a whole deeper level—even now at the reception. Especially given that she’d ignored him for the past two months.

And most especially since she looked sexy as hell in a peach-colored bridesmaid’s dress. Weren’t those gowns supposed to be ugly, hated by bridal attendants around the world? But then, beautiful Amie with her luscious curves and confidence could probably make a burlap sack look sexy as hell. She’d won all those beauty-pageant titles for a reason.

Although he thought she was more alluring now with her at-ease boho look than the old runway-glitz photos that still periodically showed up in the social pages. Even her signature-designed coral teardrop earrings and necklace held his attention. Particularly the way that pendant nestled between the swell of her breasts.

He tipped his aged bourbon back, the sounds of the reception wrapping around him as he put in his required appearance at the McNair wedding event. He glanced at his watch, figuring he had to put in another half hour before he could check out and head back to the office. It was quiet there at night. He got more work done.

If Amie would talk to him alone for five damn minutes, he could reassure her that the closet encounter would never have happened if he’d known who she was. From the horrified expression on her face when her grandmother introduced them, clearly Amie didn’t want anything to do with him either.

Business and pleasure should be kept separate. Always.

He didn’t have the time or patience for awkwardness. He was confident. In charge. But that had all changed the minute he’d looked across the social function and saw a woman who’d flipped his world upside down.

This whole wedding week had gone to a new level of uncomfortable, to say the least. Being around Amie at work, they could keep things professional, if tense. It wasn’t easy with all those thoughts of their explosive encounter hammering through his memory, but he managed to keep his boardroom calm intact.

However, the parties this week reminded him too much of that night he’d met her at the newlyweds’ engagement shindig.

He’d meant it when he’d told her that impulsive encounter wasn’t the norm for him. While he wasn’t a monk, impetuous sex with strangers had never been his style. He’d spent a large part of his adult life married and monogamous. Then after his divorce, affairs had been careful, sensual but civil, with no long-term expectations.

He had affairs. Not hookups. And he sure as hell didn’t have anonymous sex with a woman more than a decade younger than him.

Until Amie. Nothing about her followed a familiar pattern for him.

Keeping his hands to himself today was an exercise in torture, just as at work. Hints of her sucker punched his libido. The soft scent of her perfume lingering in his office after a meeting. The heat of her as she stood near him in a crowded elevator. And the list went on since she worked in the same building, her role as a renowned gemologist crucial to some of the most popular Diamonds in the Rough jewelry lines.

Up on the small stage in the oversize barn, the country band returned from their break, taking their place again and picking up instruments. Although to call it a barn didn’t do the space justice. The reception was being held at the McNairs’ hobby ranch, Hidden Gem, so the place was high end rustic, just like the company jewels.

Gold chandeliers and puffs of white flowers dangled from the rough-hewn rafters. Strings of lights crisscrossed the ceiling, creating a starlit-night atmosphere. Bouquets of baby’s breath and roses tied with burlap bows on the tables made him recall his earlier thought about Amie classing up a burlap sack. The inside had been transformed into rustic elegance, with gold chairs and white tulle draped throughout.

At the entry table next to the leather guestbook, seating cards were tied to horseshoes that had the bride’s and groom’s names engraved along with the wedding date. A cowbell hung on a brass hook with a sign that stated, Ring for a Kiss.

Good God. He wanted out of here. He knocked back the rest of the bourbon.

Amie’s cousin Stone McNair, the former CEO of Diamonds in the Rough, was the groom, and there was no doubt he believed in all this forever, happily-ever-after nonsense as he twirled his blonde bride around on the dance floor.

At least the ceremony in the chapel had been brief. One bridesmaid and one groomsman—Amie and her twin brother, Alex. Amie’s dark brown hair was loose, in thick spiral curls that made him want to tug just to see what she would do.

To hell with standing around. He might as well confront the awkwardness. It wasn’t as if she could run away from him here.

He set aside the cut-crystal glass and strode through the crowd, a who’s who list of Texas rich and famous. Just like that night two months ago, he made his way to her, this time determined for closure rather than a start of something.

Getting her semi-alone here shouldn’t be too tough. The exclusive venue had plenty of dark corners arranged for privacy so guests could visit and catch up.

He stopped behind her, smiling over her shoulder at the mayor. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Miss McNair promised me this dance.”

Amie gasped, her mouth opening to protest. But Preston took her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor before she could speak. He hauled her out in front of the small chamber orchestra, moving quickly before the stunned expression could melt from her elegant face. Before a closed, frosty one took its place. He’d watched that transformation too often over the last eight weeks and it was time to put an end to it.

He slid an arm around her and drew her close, those dark brown curls brushing him. “You look lovely tonight. Especially for being stuck in a bridesmaid’s dress.”

“It would have been nice to be asked if I wanted to dance. What are you doing?”

“Dancing with the groom’s cousin. A perfectly acceptable move, nothing to draw attention to us. Unless you cause a scene out here in front of your whole family, our business acquaintances and some mighty prominent politicians.”

Which he definitely did not want her to do. Then, he would have to let her go. And he liked the feel of her in his arms again too much to have her walk away yet.

“Fine,” she conceded, blue eyes predictably turning to ice as she spoke. “Let’s dance for appearances. Gran’s always saying it’s good for the company if we show a unified front.”

Oh, he had her here for more than appearances and business. He was going to find a way to get past her cold shoulder. He couldn’t stop the attraction, and chances were slim to none that he would be able to act on it. But he could damn well do something to disperse the tension between them.

He hoped.

Preston sidestepped another couple and swept her to a less crowded corner of the dance floor, mindful of the security guards posted around the perimeter of the event. “It’s quite a party tonight. Congratulations to your cousin and his bride on their nuptials.”

If Stone hadn’t given up his role as CEO of Diamonds in the Rough, Preston wouldn’t have been here. And the job was damn important to him. His job was all he had after the crash and burn of his personal life.

She smiled tightly, her body stiff and unyielding in his arms. “We do have all the tools for a first-rate wedding at our disposal.”

The bride’s thirty-thousand-dollar tiara had been custom designed for the event; in fact, a delicately understated piece that Amie had worked on personally for weeks. The tiara alone had created industry buzz and media coverage alike, a key piece in the company’s new bridal collection.

“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve spoken about anything other than business?” He respected her work ethic, and discovering that admirable trait about her made this all the more difficult. Unlike her father, she was more than a figurehead. Amie contributed immeasurably to the company, so Preston crossed her path. Often.

She angled closer and for an instant he thought maybe...his pulse sped. His gaze dropped to her mouth. To her lips, parted.

And then, too soon, her breath teased against his neck as she whispered, “I just want to make it clear, we won’t be heading for the coat closet tonight.”

There was no mistaking her determination. Too bad her method for delivering the news had him ready to sweep her off her feet and back to the cabin he’d reserved on the property for the night.

“I’m quite clear on that after your big chill these past two months.” His hand twitched against her waist, the memory of her satiny skin still burned in his memory. “I’m just glad to know you’re finally willing to acknowledge it happened.”

“Of course it happened,” she hissed between pearly-white teeth. “I was very much there.”

The brush of her body against his was sweet torture. “I remember well.”

Shadows shifted through her sky blue eyes. “Did you know who I was that night?”

Her words slowed his feet, stunning him. He picked up the dance pace again and asked, “Is that what you’ve thought all this time? That I played you on purpose?”

“Forget I said anything.” She pulled back. “It doesn’t matter now.”

He strengthened his hold. “Not that you would believe me regardless of what I say. Although it was more than clear you didn’t know who I was, and if you had, that night wouldn’t have happened.” He touched her face lightly. “And that would have been a damn shame.”

They stood so close, their mouths only a couple of inches apart. He remembered how good she tasted—and how complicated that had made things for them the past couple of months. Having an affair with her would be a bad idea, given he was her boss and she was the granddaughter of the major stockholder.

But God, he was tempted.

So was she. He could see it in her jewel-blue eyes and the way she swayed toward him an instant before she stepped back.

Grasping his wrists, she pulled his arms from her. “I’m not sure what spurred you to reminisce right now since you don’t seem to be the type to get sentimental at weddings. But now is not the time or the place for this discussion.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re willing to talk then? Later?”

She held up a hand. “Talk. Only. I mean that.”

“Let’s step outside—”

“No. Not here. Not tonight.”

He reached for her, sensing already she was just putting him off again. “Amie, if this is another stall tactic—”

“We’ll have our secretaries check our calendars and schedule a lunch next week. Okay? Is that specific enough for you? Now, I need to check on my grandmother.” She spun away in a swirl of peach silk.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor, he watched her walk away, the sway of her hips and those million-dollar legs peeking through a slit in the dress. Stepping off the dance floor, he wondered what the hell he hoped to gain in a conversation with her. An affair, given their work connection, was a bad idea, but he wasn’t in the market for anything long term. Not again.

He charged back to the bar for another bourbon on the rocks, ignoring a waiter’s offering of the evening’s signature beverage, a Mouton Rothschild favored by the couple. Tonight, bourbon would do just fine. Marriage hadn’t worked out well for him. At all. Just ask his ex. He was too absorbed with work, too much of a loner. After all, a boss couldn’t party with his subordinates, which put a serious dent in any kind of social life. He wanted to say that’s what had made him so susceptible to Amie that first night, but he knew it was more than that. He was a man of control. Calm. Yet, the second he’d seen Amie, he’d claimed her with that first look in an explosive chemistry that went beyond any he’d experienced before, even with his ex-wife.

No wonder his marriage had failed early on. He’d made a fortune and in the end it hadn’t made a bit of difference when things mattered most.

Rather than subject their daughter to a divorce, he and his wife had tried to hold it together for their child. But theirs had become a marriage in name only. Eventually, his ex had found someone else. She’d told Preston her new love would at least be around, which was better for Leslie than an absentee father. He’d bought into that, feeling guilty as hell and incapable of giving his child what she needed.

He’d replayed that decision a million times over, wondering if he’d fought harder for his marriage, for his child, if life could have turned out differently. Guilt piled on top of more guilt.

His baby girl had flown out of control during her teen years. Drugs, alcohol, sex. He’d tried grounding her, taking away her car, her allowance. He’d planned to take a vacation week to spend time with her, let her pick the vacation spot. She’d turned him down.

He should have persisted. He’d thought about it. Then it was too late.

Leslie ran off with her boyfriend the day after graduation, seventeen years old, pregnant. She’d ignored all offers of help and advice, determined to put her parents and the lifestyle she hated behind her. She hadn’t cared about wealth or private jets. Hadn’t wanted her own driver or a massive home. She’d even snubbed a doctor’s care.

She and her baby boy had died seven months into the pregnancy. Premature delivery. Something with the placenta presenting first. His daughter, Leslie, bled to death. The baby lived for two days before dying.

The Armstrong portfolio was worth billions and his daughter and grandson had died from lack of prenatal care because she hated him that much. So much, she wouldn’t take a penny or the most basic advice from him.

Some days the senselessness of it made it nearly impossible to hold back the rage.

The pain.

His child. Gone.

His ex blamed him. Damn it all, but he blamed himself, too.

So he put one foot in front of the other and existed.

Until that moment he’d seen Amie McNair. What was it about her? He wasn’t the type to fall for a pretty face. But she was more than that. Not that he’d known as much that night. He’d just looked into her eyes and he’d seen...

Something that scared the hell out of him. Something worth going back for.

A risk he couldn’t take again.

* * *

Pushing her grandmother’s wheelchair down the hall to the family quarters, Amie took comfort from the ever-present scent of oak and pine that permeated the main lodge at Hidden Gem Ranch. The family wing could be accessed privately from the outside, but tonight, she’d taken the easier path through the lobby, waving to the night desk clerk on duty.

Now, as they passed through double doors that required a pass code, Amie could still barely breathe after how close she’d come to kissing Preston right there on the dance floor in front of everyone. She did not need people gossiping about the two of them. Especially not now. Damn him for rattling her. She needed to keep a cool head for her grandmother’s sake.

Amie had never been known for her restraint.

She’d been sorely tempted to steal one more passionate moment with him before the inevitable conversation he’d insisted on having. But then her stomach had started churning and she’d made the excuse about secretaries and calendars before bolting.

Throwing up on his shoes would have been the worst way to tell him their night in the coat closet had created a baby.

Somehow, in spite of the condom, she was undeniably pregnant. She hadn’t been with anyone else in six months, so there was no question about the paternity. She needed to tell him soon and agree on a plan before she shared the news with her grandmother.

Amie glanced down at her grandmother’s gray head, her body frail from cancer, her once-long hair now short, just beginning to grow back from the latest round of treatments and surgeries that had only delayed the inevitable. “You overextended yourself this week, Gran.”

Amie backed into her grandmother’s suite of rooms, a decorative set of cattle horns on the door, an old joke of Gran’s from her days in the corporate boardroom when a competitor had called her bullheaded. Gran had proudly taken to displaying this set on the front of her chauffeur-driven vehicle. These days, they resided on her door, still a reminder of her strength.

“Of course I did.” Gran reached back to pat Amie’s fingers on the handle, hand trembling. “I would rather die a day or two earlier than miss making the most of my grandson’s wedding festivities.”

“Well, that’s blunt.” Amie maneuvered the chair along a Persian rug, past a long leather sofa, the fireplace roaring with a warm blaze despite the summer temperature outside. Her grandmother appreciated the ambience and didn’t mind the extra warmth in her more frail condition.

“You’re one to talk considering you are just like me, stubborn as hell.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.”

Gran would be happy about the baby, no question. But Amie worried about the future because there was no way the critically ill woman would live long enough to see her great-grandchild’s face. Amie couldn’t bear to add more concerns. Beyond making her final days peaceful, stress was also a danger to her already fragile health. Amie needed to get her life together and develop a plan regarding Preston’s role in their child’s life. In this much, at least, she could be like her grandmother. Strong. Driven.

Calculating.

As the wheelchair rolled to a stop, Mariah folded her hands in her lap again. The bedroom was at once familiar and alien with its soaring high ceilings in rustic woodwork, supported by exposed beams in a darker wood. A two-tiered cast-iron chandelier hung over the living area, casting a warm glow, with lights that looked like gently flickering candles. Two wingback chairs bracketed the stone fireplace where she’d shared secrets and hot chocolate with her grandmother. But now there were additions to the place—a wheeled hospital cart of medical supplies and a leather recliner where the night nurse usually kept watch.

No doubt, Gran’s caregiver would report in as soon as Amie sent her a text.

“Can I help you get settled? Bring you anything before I call for the nurse?” She took out her phone but wanted to stay. Wanted to visit the way they used to, never caring how late the hour.

Her eyes burned as she blinked away unexpected tears.

Her grandmother gestured for her to sit. “Amie, I’ve lived a full life. Of course I would have liked to have more, or at the very least live these last days in full health. But I’m making the most of the time I have left. I’ve seen one grandson married and have hopes the other grandson will be settled soon.”

Ouch. No mention of her granddaughter. Just that Stone was married, and Alex had found the perfect woman. She swallowed hard.

“Alex and Nina are happy, and her son, Cody, is precious.” She was happy for Alex. Her twin’s joy was her joy.

“It’s good to see a child here in the house again. I’ve missed the laughter of a little one.”

Did her grandmother know? Was she hinting for an admission or just referencing Cody? Shooting to her feet, she turned away to hide any telltale expressions on her face. Amie picked up the pewter pitcher on the bedside table and refilled her grandmother’s water glass, unable to pull her eyes away from the photo of her grandparents on their wedding day. “You should turn in early and conserve your strength for the family breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’m resting now and my strength isn’t going to return,” she said with a dry laugh. She sipped her water, cleared her throat and continued, “I don’t have to sleep to relax. Let’s talk.”

“About what?” Her skin prickled. She sat on the chaise at the end of the four-poster bed that had been converted into a queen-size hospital bed. Unwilling to think about that—and how hard life had become for her beloved grandmother, Amie bent to breathe in the delicate scent of lilies of the valley in a big bunch on the nightstand.

Gran set aside her glass of water. “Stone and Alex have both passed their test to assure me they can handle their share of the inheritance, that they can carry on the McNair tradition in the spirit I would wish.”

Her cousin Stone had surprised them all by stepping down as CEO of Diamonds in the Rough and developing his nearby land. He’d started an equine therapy camp for children with special needs. Her twin brother, Alex, had gained their grandmother’s trust to keep running the Hidden Gem Ranch and opened up parts of the facility for Stone’s camp.

“Ah, so now you get to the reason for this conversation.” She sagged back, clutching a decorative pillow protectively. “What do you have cooked up for me?”

“You don’t need to look so worried.” A smile lighting her sapphire-blue eyes, Gran smoothed her grandmother-of-the-groom turquoise satin dress, the hem heavy with silver embroidery that mimicked a Diamonds in the Rough necklace she favored.

“Of course I’m worried. And more than a little curious. You saved my test for last for a reason, I’m sure. I assume that’s because my challenge is the most difficult. Or I’m the most difficult to deal with.” A bitter memory from her past seeped in. “Mom always coveted that slot to perform last in a pageant to keep me foremost in the judges’ minds. After the bar had been raised as high as possible, she figured I would know how well I had to perform to win.”

Like the year her mother had changed Amie’s baton-twirling act into a fire-throwing stunt—just half an hour before Amie took the stage—since another girl had done a great baton act. Amie would have never guessed her mother could find a way to light the ends of her batons on fire in thirty minutes. But with McNair wealth and a helpful hotel concierge, anything was possible for a demanding pageant mother. Amie hadn’t burned down the building or set herself on fire, but she hadn’t won and she’d been scared as hell.

Gran’s smile faded and sympathy filled her eyes. “The test I have in mind isn’t like your mother making you compete in all those beauty pageants.”

“Isn’t it?” Amie said bitterly, then felt guilty right away. It wasn’t her grandmother’s fault. “Never mind. Forget I said that. I know you’re not like Bayleigh... You love me, so whatever you’re doing must be for a reason.”

“Your mother loves you, dear, she’s just...”

“Self-absorbed.” There was no denying the truth. “I’ve acknowledged that and moved on. I’m an adult and I accept responsibility for my own feelings.”

Gran tipped her head to the side. “You say that, but until this moment, I never realized this test would make you feel as if my love is conditional...like your mother’s.”

“Does that mean I’m off the hook with my challenge? You’ll fire Preston and put me in charge?” she asked, only half joking.

“Oh dear, you always did have a great sense of humor,” Gran said affectionately. “This isn’t about my love for you. Love isn’t about money. You have millions with your trust fund and personal earnings. This is about figuring out where you best fit professionally in the business.”

“What if I do like Stone and decide to build my own future?” She just wished there was something else she wanted to do, but she lived and breathed to work at Diamonds in the Rough.

Or at least she had until Preston showed up and took away the job she’d hoped for as her own.

“That’s your choice. But keep in mind Stone still took his test because he knew that would put my mind at ease. These requests of mine are because I love you and I want the best for you.”

Amie sighed, exhaustion stealing through her. “I do know that, Gran.”

Her grandmother’s shoulders braced. “This week Preston Armstrong is traveling in support of the unveiling of our new line. I want you to go with him.”

She waited for the rest and...nothing. “That’s it?” Amie asked, incredulous. “That’s my test?”

“Yes, be civil. Don’t cause a scene. Truly show the world that we’re a unified force, even away from the office, and stockholders will be reassured.”

“A week on the road with no scenes.” She’d kept her distance from him for two months, she could do so for longer.

“That’s all.”

“You’re letting me off rather easy,” she conceded, hoping she could finish up some design work on the trip since she’d been working night and day on a secret collection—a labor of love that she worried wasn’t right for Diamonds in the Rough.

“I don’t think so.” Her grandmother shook her head. “Not considering the cold shoulder you’ve given him these past couple of months.”

She could have sworn she’d kept that from her grandmother. Mariah wasn’t at the office often at all. Amie had imagined—hoped—her chilly reception would be perceived as businesslike.

She’d guessed wrong. “I apologize if you think I haven’t been receptive to your new CEO. I thought I was simply being professional.”

“Don’t try that innocent act with me,” Gran snorted. “You won’t even stay in the same room with him unless forced by a meeting. I’m not sure what your differences are and I don’t need to know. We are very lucky to have lured him away from his job in Oklahoma. It was a big sell convincing him this job would increase his corporate appeal as a man of serious net worth and business importance. I do not want to lose him at Diamonds in the Rough, as our stocks continue to rise since we announced he was taking the helm.”

“Rising at the expense of firing some of our most loyal, long-serving middle management,” she reminded her grandmother.

“And I can see you’re still bitter about that decision to consolidate here and expand other offices.”

Amie pressed her lips together to keep from arguing with her grandmother, something that would only stress her out since clearly this battle was already lost.

Gran nodded wearily. “Reconcile with him. Because, like it or not, he is the CEO, and if having you there upsets the flow of business, well, I can’t have that.”

The full weight of her grandmother’s words sunk in. “Are you threatening to fire me?”

And just as troubling, what did Preston have to do with this? Had he been pressuring Gran to nudge her out of the company? Or to find another angle to wrangle his way into her bed?

His approach tonight might not have been coincidental. He could have set this whole thing up, damn him. Anger fired hotter inside her, almost a welcome relief after the frustrated passion, fear for her child—and grief for Gran.

“Let’s not borrow trouble. Focus on the week and learn to forge a friendship with Preston.”

Friendship? With the father of her child from a one-night stand? And how was he going to react to the news of the baby? Gran’s request might not even be possible. “What if Preston doesn’t agree? Or if he’s antagonistic?”

Her grandmother smiled with a narrow-eyed determination Amie recognized well. “Then you’ll just have to win him over. Because, like it or not, your days of avoiding him are done.”

Two

Hands jammed in his tuxedo pockets, Preston strode away from the barn to the resort cabin where he planned to spend the night. Most of the guests were either staying in the main lodge or in one of the bungalows scattered around the property.

He’d done his duty at the reception, put in an appearance. With luck, he could pull out his laptop and log some extra hours preparing for his upcoming business trip. He would try to numb his mind and body against the attraction. Just being near Amie at the wedding had desire pumping through him. He needed to come up with some kind of plan to work with her without this eating them both alive, but damned if he knew which way to turn. For now, burying himself in reports and numbers would have to do.

The reception was still going strong in the towering barn, music and conversation swelling out into the night. The lodge itself held two wings, one for family suites and the other for guests. Then the cabins offered larger, more private space, farther away from the din of the ongoing party.

A movement from the family quarters snagged his attention, a shadowy figure charging across a first-floor veranda. The moonlight cast a glow, illuminating the unmistakable silhouette of... Amie. She paused at the railing, scanning the grounds. She was looking for him—that was clear the second her gaze landed on him.

Her shoulders went back, her breasts straining at the strapless dress, teardrop earrings brushing her bare shoulders. She flicked her long hair over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. She stomped down the porch steps, hem of her bridesmaid’s gown in her fists and hitched to her knees so she could storm closer all the faster. Something had lit her fuse. He wanted her attention back on him anyway.

He stopped in his tracks and waited. Anticipation pumped through him. Even mad, she was incredible, a sight not to be missed. Besides, there was something about knowing he got under her skin this much. That he’d put all that spark and fire inside her.

She stopped in front of him under the shade of a sprawling oak strung with white lights. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, enticingly. “Are you responsible for this?”

Responsible for what? He could hardly think with her so close, her heaving breasts nearly brushing his chest. He would only need to move one step closer. “You’ll need to narrow that down for me.”

“You said on the dance floor that we need to talk soon.” She jabbed him in the chest with one finger.

He grabbed her finger. “And you said our secretaries need to set up a lunch next week.”

“Did you know that couldn’t possibly happen? Did you pressure my grandmother into making me travel with you around the country this week?”

He dropped her hand. He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He was heading out for a week to launch a new line for Diamonds in the Rough, but he’d made no plans to take her along. Apparently she thought otherwise for some reason.

Still, that didn’t explain her angry reaction. They’d worked together for two months. Why was she so upset about this trip? He was missing something and he wasn’t sure what.

But he intended to find out. “Why would I go out of my way to insist on that?”

“For a week of repeats of our encounter in the coat closet two months ago.”

Righteous indignation steamed through him. “Have I pressured you in any way that would make you assume that I would disregard your wishes? Because I take the issue of sexual harassment in the workplace damn seriously.”

“No, you haven’t done anything inappropriate,” she acquiesced, chewing her full bottom lip. “But you sounded determined tonight. I just had to know if you’re manipulating me behind the scenes as well.”

Unable to resist taunting her, he stepped closer, letting his gaze linger on her mouth as their bodies brushed. “Should I have?”

A light flashed in the night sky and an appreciative murmur went up from a crowd gathered on the western lawn. The fireworks show had started to celebrate the nuptials.

“Quit twisting my words around.” She tipped her face toward him without backing down, her creamy skin lit by the purple-and-white lights sparking overhead. “I don’t like being played, that’s all.”

He swept a stray lock of silky dark hair over her shoulder, his knuckles skimming her soft skin, the teardrop earring cool across the top of his hand. “I take this to mean we’re going on a business trip together this week.”

The crowd watching fireworks cheered as a series of pops and bangs ended in a giant red heart burning into the cloudless Texas sky.

Her eyebrows pinched together, her gaze never wavering to watch the display. “You really don’t know about my grandmother’s plan for us?”

Gently, he gripped her shoulders and turned her so she could see the bright red heart before it faded. While she watched, he leaned closer to speak into her ear.

“I have no reason to lie to you.” In fact, he just wanted to open a dialogue with her so they could figure out how to work together—or resume the affair. He couldn’t help but wonder if part of the reason they kept sparking off each other was that they hadn’t let all that attraction run its course. “It’s been tough breaking through your walls these past two months, but I wouldn’t go to someone else to take care of that problem for me. And I certainly wouldn’t worry a terminally ill person with my concerns.”

She turned to face him again, giving him a clipped nod, some of the tension easing from her while the orchestra played a Mozart piece timed to coordinate with the explosions in the air.

He leaned back against the tree trunk and jammed his hands into his pockets and away from temptation. “Now catch me up to speed about what’s going on with this business trip, since it appears to involve us both and Diamonds in the Rough.”

“My grandmother has insisted that I accompany you for the unveiling of the new line to reassure the stockholders that the McNairs fully endorse your leadership.” Sighing, she perched a hand on her hip.

Preston’s gaze fell to her waist, the dips and curves of her so damn alluring his mouth watered. “That’s a sound business decision on her part. What’s the problem?”

He didn’t understand why she was so upset. She’d worked hard on the new line, had invested a lot of time and creative energy toward putting it together. She deserved to see the first public reactions to her work.

But she shook her head. Visibly upset.

“The problem is... She’s an amazing woman and I just want to do what she needs.” She blinked back tears, making her blue eyes shine in the reflected light from the soaring roman candles in a multicolored display. That sheen in her gaze made him want to hold her.

“Amie?” He resisted the urge to reach for her, half certain she would bolt. “Losing someone you love is not easy. I’m sorry about your grandmother’s illness.”

“Me, too.” She swiped her wrist over her eyes, smudging mascara. “So we’re traveling together this week for the unveiling tour. Just the two of us.”

“Apparently so.” He wondered what her grandmother was up to with this last-minute idea and why she hadn’t discussed it with him first. “To Los Angeles, New York City and Atlanta. It may be for the best. We have to figure out how to work together without all this tension.”

He had sensed that Amie was working on a private project these last few weeks and he wondered why she hadn’t shared any details. That kind of closed-off creativity didn’t benefit the larger company. He needed her communicating more.

Had that been Mariah McNair’s intent, to smooth the business waters before she passed away? It wasn’t such an odd wish. The woman did live, eat and breathe the business, even from her sickbed.

Amie crossed her arms over her chest, her breasts pushing even harder against the fabric. “We’ve been doing fine so far at the office.”

“Are you serious?” These had been some of the most tense workweeks in his life. He’d never had personnel problems—until now. Until her.

“Has my work performance been in any way substandard?”

“Of course not,” he admitted, not mentioning the way she’d retreated to her office for long periods at a time with her door closed. “But it would help workplace morale if you didn’t act like you want me dead.”

Her shoulders sagged, her eyes softening. “I do not want you dead.”

“Then how exactly do you want me?” He stepped closer, his eyes falling to her mouth, to her full lips. Amie McNair had a way of knocking the props out from under him by just walking into a room, and he was damn tired of tap dancing around the subject. He was too old for games.

The fireworks on the lawn churned faster, shot after shot popping and exploding, sending showers of sparks into the night sky. The fireworks reflected in Amie’s eyes as she stepped back, expression iced over again. “If we’re going to be away for a week, I should start packing.”

Turning, she marched across the grass, her beautiful body illuminated by white lights in the sky that turned on and off, on and off.

Just like Amie herself.

* * *

Amie was exhausted to her toes. Not just from the wedding but from the shocking talk with her grandmother to the confrontation with Preston.

She was truly going to spend a week alone with him.

Closing her bedroom door, she finally let her guard down. Kneeling, she held out her hands for her cats, a gray tabby in her lap, a Siamese at her feet, both hers, and Mariah’s two Persians as well. Yes, she was just shy of a crazy-cat-lady starter kit, but her furbabies brought her comfort. With a final stroke along each feline’s arched back, she stood. She’d loved growing up on a farm with animals all around, even if her room was far from rustic, a jewel box of a space, from the strands of multicolored glass beads around her bed, to the stained-glass insets in the high windows above her reading area.

Walking out of her shoes, she reached behind her to unzip the bridesmaid’s dress. She shimmied it down and kicked it aside. She sagged to sit on the edge of her bed. She flopped back on the bed, the silk of her camisole and tap pants soft against her skin still tingling from Preston’s touch. Damn it, she hated losing her composure. And to lose it twice in one night?

Her hand slid over her stomach. No baby bump yet, but soon more than just her breasts would be swelling. And her hormones were out of control, leaving her tearful most of the time and nauseated the rest of the time. Her figure would soon be evident to everyone. No more pageant jokes about her size.

She’d been the first runner-up in the Miss Texas pageant over a decade ago, reportedly the first beauty competition she’d lost since her mother had teased up her hair and sent Amie tap-dancing out on the stage at four years old. She’d “Good Ship Lollipopped” her way through puberty into bikinis and spray tans. Her mama had lived for her daughter’s wins.

She didn’t even want to think about her parents’ reaction to her pregnancy.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it tonight and she truly was exhausted. No matter how much she slept, her body demanded more. She reached on the bedside table for her mouth guard by the phone. Tension had made her grind her teeth at night since she was seventeen and entered higher-stakes pageants.

She’d already seen a doctor to confirm and start prenatal vitamins. The appointment had been scary and exciting at the same time. Preston deserved the opportunity to be a part of his child’s life from the start—if he wanted. She would have to tell him about the baby this week. It wasn’t fair to wait any longer. This was his child too. She would just have to find the right time. His reaction would also have a lot to do with how she presented the news to the rest of her family.

If only she knew him better, knew how he would react, how he would want to proceed. She was capable and prepared to take care of the baby herself. But she didn’t want her child to live with a father’s rejection.

She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow, wishing she could will herself to sleep faster.

The phone rang on her bedside table, jarring her. Was something wrong with her grandmother?

Flinging back the covers, she grabbed the receiver and pulled out her mouth guard. “Hello?”

“Amie?” her twin brother’s voice filled her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She tugged the covers back up again. “Why do you ask?”

“You left the reception before it was over. That isn’t like you.”

They always had been in tune with each other’s moods. Her brother wasn’t normally a chatty person, so for him to call, he must sense something was up. But she wasn’t ready to tell him. It wouldn’t be fair to tell anyone before Preston.

“Gran was tired, so I took her back to her room, then I decided to slip out. I did see the fireworks display though. It was a beautiful touch.” No way was she telling him about Gran’s test. He would worry, wonder—question. “I hope you don’t mind that I left the hosting duties to you.”

“Of course I don’t mind. We’re family. You’ve been carrying more than your fair share of the McNair face time for Hidden Gem business this past year. The reception was winding down by the time you left. Mother and Father were in their element entertaining anyway.”

“They do like to play the head-of-the-family role.”

Their parents lived off a trust fund, tightly managed by Gran’s lawyers. Their cousin Stone’s mother also lived off her trust fund, working to stay clean after multiple stints in drug rehab. Leaving the bulk of her estate to her grandchildren was a huge vote of confidence from Gran that Amie didn’t take lightly. Her grandmother’s respect meant everything to her.

Amie was determined to do better by her own child than her stage mom, Bayleigh. Without question, Mariah was the better role model.

Amie tucked the phone more securely under her neck. “Was there anything else?”

“What was up with you and Armstrong on the dance floor? Any progress getting along better with the new boss? He’s really not such a bad guy. We had a good time playing cards at the bachelor party.”

“Have you been talking to Gran?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, I just got to know him better with all the wedding parties this week. We talked some.”

“Talked about what?”

He laughed softly. “You sound nervous.”

The twin bond was sure a pain in the butt sometimes. “I’m not nervous. I’m just exhausted.” Really exhausted. She’d never been as tired in her life as she’d been the past few weeks. “Good night, Alex. Love you.” She hung up the phone and resisted the urge to pull the covers over her head.

Someone was going to guess soon and her secret would be out. She needed to control the telling.

* * *

Sunday morning, Preston waited beside the limo, outside the Hidden Gem Ranch. It wasn’t like Amie to be late. Ever. She was always one of the first at work and last to leave. But she’d kept him out here hanging around for over twenty minutes.

He definitely wasn’t accustomed to anyone making him wait. Maybe she was playing a mind game?

The door to her quarters opened and she backed out onto the veranda, her curvy bottom wriggling as she juggled her purse and some kind of bag. Turning, she faced him and started forward, wearing turquoise high heels, pencil jeans and a flowy white shirt with multiple strands of signature McNair necklaces. The long loops of her necklaces drew his eyes down her body, hinting at the curves that lay beneath the shirt.

As always, he braced for the fact she damn near took his breath away.

His eyes fell to the little pink leopard-print carrier that wobbled back and forth to the side as something fuzzy and shadowy moved around inside. He frowned. “I thought you said you were packing clothes? Not livestock.”

Stopping in front of him, she lifted up the frilly carrier. “Clearly this isn’t large enough for a horse. I sent my bags ahead to the airport. This is one of my carry-ons. It may come as a surprise to you, but I do not travel light.”

He opened the limo door for her. “You’re one of those types that takes a cute little dog everywhere.”

“Don’t let my cat hear you call him a dog. He hates that.” She slid into the long leather seat.

“You travel with a cat?” He dropped into the seat across from her and stared at the carrier beside her. This woman never failed to surprise him in every way possible.

“Are you saying cats miss their humans less than dogs?”

“No—” he chose his words carefully “—cats are more independent. More easily left on their own.”

“Well, I won’t be leaving this one.” Her chin tipped. “If you have a problem with that, you can be the one to call off the trip.” She flashed a thin smile at him. “Could you possibly be allergic?”

Was that her plan? To get him to bail? It would take a lot more than a feline to make that happen. Still, he couldn’t help digging. “I am not allergic to cats—or dogs, for that matter. But surely someone on the staff can handle that. You have other pets.”

“This one is special.” She unzipped the top and the fluffy Siamese’s head popped out. The cat yawned and stared at Preston with blue eyes just as intense as Amie’s. “He’s old and has diabetes. He needs his injections.”

Guilt kinked his neck. “I’m sorry for leaping to conclusions.” He shook his head. “But I have to confess, I still don’t get it. You have the money for fancy pet sitting, including injections. So you need his company? Don’t you have two or three other or a dozen other cats? There are varying accounts around the office of how many. How did you pick which one to bring?”

“Four. Just four,” she said tightly. “My other three cats are staying with Gran. But I only trust Johanna with this one since she’s a vet tech, and as you know, she is on her honeymoon. Other than her, there’s no one I trust to administer the medication who’s also familiar to Roscoe—”

“Roscoe? I thought your family named all people and animals after gems.” Her brother was actually Alexandrite and she was Amethyst. Even their horses had gemstone names.

“My grandmother and my parents did that with the names. I don’t. Trust me, learning to write Amethyst in preschool wasn’t easy. So, this is Roscoe. It fits.” She smoothed a hand over his head. “I know I could hire some high-end pet sitter for him, but his diabetes gets worse when he’s stressed, and when he misses me, he stresses.”

“We can’t have that happening.” He scratched a furry ear and the cat erupted into a low, humming purr.

“This is not a joke,” she snapped, hugging the carrier closer. “I couldn’t bear it if he passed away while I was gone. I’m important to him and he’s important to me.”

He rested his hand on her knee. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just wondering if the cat is going to need jewelry for the galas too.”

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