The Lost Springs Ranch for troubled boys is at stake, and it’s a man’s duty to give back…

So there’s going to be an auction!

Bachelor #5

Name: Scott McKay, 33

Occupation: Gentleman rancher

Biggest Achievement: Surviving daring adventures

Blair Townsend didn’t know the meaning of chaos until her holy terror of a nephew came to live with her. Jeffrey needed a positive role model—and Blair wasn’t above buying one at the Lost Springs auction. Sexy-as-sin rancher Scott McKay looks as if he’d have no trouble teaching Jeffrey how to be a man. Except Scott seems far more interested in showing Blair how to be a woman….

Sugar Spinelli’s Little Instruction Book

I can’t believe my eyes. There’s our young conservative lawyer, Blair Townsend—bidding on a cowboy! That reckless adventurer Scott McKay sure doesn’t seem her type. Especially now that she’s raising that nephew of hers, who I hear is quite a rascal. Maybe she’s looking for someone to give her a hand with the boy. I gotta say, Scott does look deceptively steady and respectable in that jacket and tie. I wonder if Blair knows what she’s getting herself into. Because if she doesn’t, there are going to be fireworks—and I sure hope I’m around to see them.…

Dear Reader,

We just knew you wouldn’t want to miss the news event that has all of Wyoming abuzz! There’s a herd of eligible bachelors on their way to Lightning Creek—and they’re all for sale!

Cowboy, park ranger, rancher, P.I.—they all grew up at Lost Springs Ranch, and every one of these mavericks has his price, so long as the money’s going to help keep Lost Springs afloat.

The auction is about to begin! Young and old, every woman in the state wants in on the action, so pony up some cash and join the fun. The man of your dreams might just be up for grabs.…

Marsha Zinberg

Editorial Coordinator, Heart of the West

It Takes a Cowboy

Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A Note from the Author

I’ve always had a thing for cowboys. Perhaps my tastes were influenced by the television programs I watched as a child—The Rifleman, Bonanza, The Big Valley, The High Chaparral, Lancer (“Johnny Madrid” in tight black jeans with silver conchos down the side—oh, my!). There’s just something about a man in a Stetson and a pair of slant-heeled boots...

When I met my future husband, he was a skinny, six-foot-five college freshman with a shy smile and a great laugh. When I found out he owned a palomino named Diablo, a gray mare named Freckles and had a roomful of horse-show ribbons and trophies, I was hooked. We’ve been married for more than twenty years now, and though the horses are long gone, a little cowboy remains in this businessman. He still has his saddle, and the same pair of Dan Post boots he used to wear in those horse shows. And he still has a great laugh.

Blair Townsend thinks a cowboy is the complete opposite of what she needs. But when she buys one by mistake at a charity bachelor auction, she soon learns that it does, indeed, take a cowboy to win her well-guarded heart.

Enjoy,

Gina Wilkins

For all those women with a weakness for Stetsons and boots.

Gina Wilkins is acknowledged

as the author of this work.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN SHE’D FIRST heard about the plan, Blair Townsend had thought a bachelor auction was a desperate and probably futile scheme to save the financially strapped Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. A bachelor auction? Were they joking? What made these people think they could possibly raise a significant sum of money by parading a group of former ranch residents in front of a bunch of man-hungry women? Selling the guys off like...like prize bulls?

Blair had pessimistically predicted that there would be more men up for auction than there would be women to bid on them. And as for the media coverage they were hoping for...she’d thought they would be lucky to get a mention in the Lightning Creek Leader.

Now, as she gazed in awe at the TV news vans and reporters crowding the ranch grounds, she was perfectly willing to admit that she had been wrong.

She didn’t know how they had done it, but somehow ranch owner Lindsay Duncan and director Rex Trowbridge had pulled off an amazing feat. They had a sizable group of gorgeous bachelors, a stadium full of enthusiastic bidders and a whole herd of reporters there to cover the festivities. The public relations benefits alone should go a long way toward helping Lindsay save her ranch—and the lost young boys who needed it.

Blair groaned at the thought of lost young boys. That particular problem hit just a bit too close to home at the moment. A group of boys dashed past her, shouting, laughing, their destination the peeled-log forts and jungle gyms that made up the recently renovated playground. Though somewhat rowdy, they looked as though they were having a great time. It hadn’t occurred to her that so many youngsters would be in attendance at a charity bachelor auction. Now she wondered why she hadn’t expected it—this was, after all, a boys’ ranch.

Maybe she should have brought Jeffrey. It might have been good for him to socialize with other children today. And yet...did she really want him spending time with the residents of Lost Springs? Wasn’t he difficult and rebellious enough without the influence of this group of troubled boys? She’d spent a lot of time lately worrying that if things didn’t improve soon, Jeffrey was going to be a prime candidate for a residential program for boys who were headed for serious problems.

She put a hand to the back of her neck, squeezing the muscle that had tightened there—something that had been happening with uncomfortable regularity since her ten-year-old nephew had moved in with her six months ago. A familiar burning sensation in her stomach made her reach into the pocket of her cream-colored cardigan for a roll of antacids. She popped a couple in her mouth and chewed grimly. The chalky taste made her grimace.

Wanting something to wash away the residue, she looked toward the crowded pavilion where food and drinks were being sold to an eager throng of customers. The tantalizing, smoky smell of barbecue wafted toward her, making her lick her lips. She had only come to observe the activities today, not to participate in them, but she could at least contribute to the cause by purchasing a soft drink and maybe a hot dog. She would love to indulge in a spicy barbecue sandwich, but she was afraid that would only intensify her heartburn.

Barely thirty, she thought ruefully, and she had to eat like a little old lady. And to think she’d moved to Lightning Creek, Wyoming, to reduce the stress in her life! But that had been before she’d become responsible for Jeffrey.

Several acquaintances greeted her as she approached the barbecue pavilion, people she had met during the year since she’d moved to the area from Chicago to take over her uncle’s law practice. Lindsay Duncan, the ranch owner and one of Blair’s clients, rushed by with a clipboard in her hand and a slightly harried look on her face. She gave Blair a distracted smile; Blair sent her a bracing thumbs-up in return, knowing Lindsay didn’t have time for conversation just then.

Blair really hoped this gamble would pay off. The ranch had been in Lindsay’s family for fifty years. Innumerable boys had been housed here, a significant number of them going on to lead successful, productive lives rather than the bleak, dead-end futures they’d faced prior to being assigned to the Lost Springs Ranch. Some had been orphans, some children whose parents had been unable or unwilling to provide for them, others had been deemed incorrigible and had been sent here as a last resort before reform school or jail, but all had been given the finest of care and the best of opportunities. Many had taken advantage of the education and counseling they’d received to turn their lives around. Blair knew that the owners and staff of the ranch grieved over every boy who could not or would not be helped.

That thought made the back of her neck tighten again. She was determined that her brother’s son would not become one of the sad statistics.

Deciding to forgo the hot dog, she ordered a diet soda from one of the volunteers running the concession booth, a woman whose fairly amiable divorce had been one of Blair’s first cases in Lightning Creek. “There you go, hon,” fifty-something Arnette Gibbs said as she exchanged a cup of soda for Blair’s dollar bill. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Arnette. Looks like business is booming.”

The woman’s plump face beamed. “They’re keeping us hopping, that’s for sure. My goodness, would you look at that crowd gathered around Shane Daniels! If he don’t stop signing autographs, he’ll never get to the arena in time for the auction.”

Following the direction of the older woman’s gaze, Blair frowned. “Who is he? A singer? An actor?”

Arnette blinked in surprise that Blair hadn’t recognized the name. “Honey, he’s a rodeo champion. One of the best bull riders the circuit has ever seen.”

“Oh.” Blair’s frown deepened as she studied the outright idolatry on the faces of the boys crowding around the handsome cowboy. A bull rider? Hardly the type of role model she would choose for her nephew.

“The auction’s about to get started,” Arnette announced, pointing toward the rapidly filling arena. “You better get over there before all the good ones are gone.”

Blair’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t come to buy a man. I’m only here to support the fund-raiser.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to bid on one of those fine young hunks,” Arnette advised cheerfully. “Just because I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life catering to Jesse Gibbs’s every cantankerous whim don’t mean I can’t appreciate a pair of broad shoulders and a nice, tight butt. Sure makes for a pleasant diversion on a lazy weekend.”

Laughing and shaking her head, Blair moved away from the folding table that had been set up as a sales counter, giving the people in line behind her a chance to be served. She sipped her slightly watery soda as she strolled toward the arena to watch the auction. She couldn’t help but be curious. It was certainly a beautiful day for the event, unusually warm for mid-June, the sky that intensely clear blue she’d come to identify with Wyoming. Rolling, wildflower-dotted pastures spread into the distance, crisscrossed by fencing, and on the horizon loomed the purply Wind River Range.

A colorful handmade quilt flapping from a branch of an enormous oak tree caught her eye. Blair loved pieced quilts, appreciating the effort and history that went into each one. A raffle box on a folding table had been set up in front of the quilt, along with a banner that read Converse County Hospital—35 Years of Sharing and Caring. A smaller sign proclaimed that proceeds from the quilt raffle would be donated to the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. So many local organizations had pitched in to help today.

Impulsively, Blair stopped at the table, reaching into her pocket again as she greeted the striking redhead manning the raffle table. “Hello, Twyla. That’s a beautiful quilt. I’d like to buy some raffle tickets.”

Her cheeks unusually flushed, her manner a bit flustered, the hairstylist who had been cutting Blair’s dark blond chin-length hair for the past year reached for the roll of raffle tickets. “Hi, Blair. How many tickets do you want? They’re a dollar each.”

Blair glanced at the bill she’d pulled from her pocket. “I’ll take ten.”

Twyla took the bill and handed Blair ten numbered tickets. “The emcee will announce the winning number over the PA system after the auction. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Blair glanced wistfully at the quilt’s lovely log cabin design. “I’d love to win that.”

Someone else approached to buy raffle tickets, and Blair drifted toward the practice arena that had been built for the use of the boys on the ranch. The risers surrounding the arena were filling rapidly, mostly with women. Women of all shapes, descriptions and ages, she thought in amusement, glancing from a group of giggling teenagers to a couple of silver-haired women in spangled jogging suits. As she took an empty space near the front, she noticed that most of the people around her clutched glossy brochures filled with pictures of the men to be auctioned.

“Isn’t that a fine-looking group of studs?” the young woman beside Blair asked with a sigh, eyeing the men beginning to take their places in the folding chairs behind the auctioneer’s podium. “Lordy, what I wouldn’t give for a weekend with any one of them.”

Blair smiled at the brunette, who appeared to be in her early twenties. “Are you going to bid?”

The young woman laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure they’ll all go for more than I can afford. Some of these guys are famous, all of them are prominent in their fields, and there are some seriously rich women here to bid on them. Women from other states, even. I just came to make a donation to the fund-raiser and watch the fun. And maybe to fantasize a little about doing something wild and crazy with a good-looking stranger.”

Wild and crazy. Sounded like a description of Blair’s family. The Townsend reckless streak was notorious for spurring on impulsive and imprudent behavior. It was a part of her own nature that Blair had been suppressing for years, ever since it had become clear that someone in her family had to be responsible. That task had fallen to her at a very early age.

She looked again at the men assembling behind the podium, talking among themselves, some posturing good-naturedly for the women who hooted and whistled and flirted outrageously from the audience. If ever there was an opportunity for a woman to do something daring, this auction was it. They were an exceptionally intriguing-looking group of males. Not all of them could be called classically handsome, but it was obvious they were all comfortable with who they had become since leaving the ranch. They’d progressed a long way from the lost boys they’d once been. It must have been a sense of gratitude and obligation to the ranch that had brought them back for this rather odd occasion.

Blair looked from one self-consciously smiling male face to another. Each of them had at one time been in trouble, poised on the brink of potential disaster. Yet they had all chosen to turn themselves around. To make something of themselves. To...

Her eyes suddenly widened. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She didn’t want Jeffrey spending time with the boys currently at the ranch, but would he benefit from talking to one of these former residents? A man who had been faced with a troubled future but who had chosen the path to success and responsibility instead? Jeffrey had never had a responsible, dependable male role model. Any one of these men would understand what rejection felt like. What it was like to be angry, confused, rebellious, defiant. Maybe they could share the secret of putting those negative emotions behind them so they could get on with their lives.

What if she bought one of these men to spend a weekend with Jeffrey, be a role model for him? It was a crazy idea...but she was desperate enough to give it serious consideration as the emcee took the podium and tried to calm the excited crowd so the auction could get under way.

Her thoughtful gaze moved from one bachelor to another. She wished she had one of those brochures so she could read their bios, pick the ones who seemed most responsible. She tried to make some guesses strictly on appearance. The famous rodeo champion was rejected immediately. A footloose, daredevil cowboy was not at all what she had in mind. Jeffrey’s father was both a wanderer and a thrill-seeker, and he had certainly not been a good influence on his son.

No, she most definitely did not want a cowboy.

A couple of the other bachelors looked a bit too nonconformist for her taste, she mused as her gaze skimmed across a guy with an earring and a ponytail. What she needed was a man who looked as though he understood the importance of conforming to the rules and expectations of society.

The auctioneer finally had everyone’s attention. “So, ladies, put your hands together for our first bachelor, Dr. Robert Carter.”

Doctor? Blair straightened with interest as an absolutely gorgeous man stood and stepped toward the podium. A ripple of appreciation went through the audience, followed by wistful sighs when the man whimsically kissed Lindsay Duncan’s hand. Blair noted his fabulous looks—what woman wouldn’t?—but she was more interested in other details of his appearance. The expensive, conservative haircut. His elegantly casual clothing—a navy golf shirt and crisply pressed khakis. The auctioneer introduced him as a successful pathologist, following that up with an amazing list of professional and personal accomplishments. A weekend with this man, Blair thought, tapping her chin, could be exactly what Jeffrey needed. And she would be making a donation to the ranch, a charity that had become close to her heart during the past year.

The bidding for Dr. Robert Carter started at five hundred dollars. To the apparent delight of the woman sitting next to her, Blair bid six hundred. Within minutes, the amount had risen sharply, as had the level of noise from the giddy, keyed-up crowd. Blair dropped out of the bidding at five thousand dollars. The guy looked nice, she thought, but there was a limit to how much she was willing to pay for a weekend that might not accomplish anything, anyway.

“See?” the brunette next to Blair said with rueful amusement. “I told you there are some high rollers in the crowd today.”

“You were right,” Blair said as the bids topped eight thousand and kept climbing.

The handsome doctor sold for a staggering amount. Blair gasped in surprise—as did a number of others in the audience—when the auctioneer called the name of the winning bidder. Sugar Spinelli was seventy-five years old and had been married for half a century! What did she want with a young stud of a doctor?

Blair was still shaking her head in amazement when the next bachelor was called to the stand. Again, bidding was brisk, though Blair sat this one out. When rodeo star Shane Daniels took the stage, there was a near frenzy of bidding. She didn’t participate in that one, either.

It really had been a dumb idea, she told herself as the auction proceeded. She hadn’t expected the bidders to be so serious about this. It seemed that every winning bidder had a serious agenda motivating her, spurring on high dollars and fierce, though generally good-natured, competition. Blair’s reason for participating was a valid one, but maybe she’d been foolish to even hope she could solve Jeffrey’s problems by buying him a weekend mentor.

By the time a half-dozen bachelors had been auctioned off, Blair was losing interest, her attention caught again by the tantalizing smells drifting over from the barbecue grills. One of those smoked turkey legs sure sounded good. Maybe, now that her stomach had settled a little, she could handle one. Maybe she should buy another batch of raffle tickets for that beautiful quilt. Since it didn’t appear that she was going to be buying a bachelor, she might as well donate to the cause in another way. And she really would love to have that quilt....

“Now, ladies, our next bachelor is Mr. Scott McKay. Scott owns a—”

The latest bachelor’s credentials were drowned out by an outburst from somewhere behind her. Blair turned automatically to see what was going on. It seemed that one of the women had gotten so excited she’d fallen completely off her seat at the end of a row, landing flat on her well-cushioned bottom on the dusty ground below. She wasn’t hurt, Blair noted in relief; in fact, she and her friends were laughing almost hysterically, drawing a lot of shushes from others in the audience who were straining to hear the auctioneer. Blair watched the woman stand with the assistance of a solicitous ranch employee, dust off her too-tight jeans and climb onto her seat, where she and her big-haired friends dissolved into giggles again. Only then did Blair turn, thinking again of that turkey leg. Maybe if she...

Her wandering gaze landed on the bachelor currently on the auction block, and she felt her jaw drop. She closed it quickly, trying to clear her suddenly clouded mind. Must be lack of food, she told herself. Maybe an overload of sound and activity. It couldn’t possibly be that she had just been struck dumb by the sight of an attractive man in a beautifully tailored suit.

The bidding had already climbed to fifteen hundred dollars by the time she could think clearly. She looked at the guy again, trying to be objective. He wasn’t as movie-star gorgeous as the first bachelor, the doctor she had tried to buy earlier. But he was...intriguing. His hair was a rich, glossy brown that glinted in the sun. It was brushed neatly back from a tanned, angular face creased by sexy dimples. From where she sat, his eyes looked very blue, his teeth very white. He held his chin tucked down a bit, so that he seemed to be looking up from beneath his lashes. His brow was creased in an endearingly bemused expression, as if the rowdy attention he was getting from the audience was something he hadn’t expected when he’d signed up for this.

His dark suit fit him to perfection, displaying impressive shoulders, a solid chest and narrow hips. He wore a snowy white shirt and a boldly colored geometric tie. His western boots made her frown a bit, since they didn’t quite fit the image, but then she smiled, deciding he’d probably worn the boots as a tribute to the ranch. Regarded in that respect, it was actually a very sweet gesture.

Someone bid twenty-five hundred dollars.

He certainly looked like a conservative, respectable businessman, Blair mused. And that somewhat befuddled smile could indicate a slight shyness that Jeffrey would identify with. Whatever problems Scott McKay had faced as a boy, he’d apparently put them well behind him. Would he know what to say to a child whose hurt and anger were propelling him down the wrong path?

“Do I hear three thousand dollars?” the auctioneer sang out.

Blair drew a deep breath and lifted her hand, calling once again on the Townsend boldness she so rarely indulged.

“All right. You’re back in the bidding,” the young woman at her left said with a laugh.

Someone else bid thirty-five hundred, followed by a bid for four thousand.

Once again, Blair’s hand shot into the air, raising the stakes to forty-five hundred.

“He is pretty,” the brunette mused. “And he sure sounds like a fun date.”

A fun date? Was there something Blair had missed that she should know? The bidding rose to five thousand dollars, more than she’d intended to spend. She gulped and upped it to fifty-five hundred.

“Wow. You must really like that sexy smile,” the woman next to her murmured.

Blair almost answered that the man’s sexy smile had nothing to do with this. She was buying him for her nephew, not for herself. Although, if she was buying a man for herself, this was definitely one who...

She shook her head, telling herself to concentrate on what she was doing—and why. She waved her hand again when the bidding rose to sixty-five hundred. Scott McKay looked in her direction and grinned.

“Oh, lordy,” the brunette said with a sigh.

Oh, lordy, Blair echoed silently, her nerve endings all aquiver from the smile he’d sent her way.

“Sold for sixty-five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer called. “The residents of Lost Springs Ranch greatly appreciate your generosity, ma’am. Now, let’s hear a warm welcome for our next bachelor....”

“Way to go!” The woman beside Blair cheered, clapping Blair on the back. “You bought yourself a hunk for a weekend.”

“Oh, but I...” Blair’s words dissolved into a groan as the full impact of what she had done sank in. What on earth was she going to do with a hunk for a weekend?

* * *

HAVING ALWAYS BEEN the type to want things settled very quickly, Blair wrote out her check to the auction officials, then immediately went looking for Scott McKay. She wanted to let him know exactly why she had purchased his services—just in case he’d gotten the wrong idea.

She didn’t find him among the other bachelors milling in the arena, surrounded by their buyers and other admirers. She finally located an auction volunteer, a young man who nodded in response to her question and led her to one of the cozy one-room, one-bath cottages where overnight guests and visiting directors were occasionally housed. “He’s in here,” he said, and knocked on the door. “Mr. McKay? Your buyer wants to meet you.”

Blair’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t particularly like being referred to as his buyer. It sounded so ridiculous.

The cottage door opened. And Blair discovered that Scott McKay was even more attractive close up than he had been from the risers. So polished and dignified, she thought in approval. Obviously an important businessman. He looked her over as the volunteer hurried away, leaving them alone. “Hi. So you’re the one who bought me?”

“Well, um, yes. I’m Blair Townsend.”

“And I,” he said, giving her a smile that could have melted concrete, “am delighted.”

Oh, heavens. Blair cleared her throat. “Mr. McKay...”

“Scott. Please, come in.”

“Well, I—”

He reached out, took her arm and hauled her into the neatly furnished little cottage, talking the whole time. “I gotta tell you, Blair,” he said, closing the door. “I was a little worried about who would buy me. Did you see the women out there? Some of them looked like they wanted to eat us alive. And that little granny who bought Rob? What do you suppose she wanted, a grandson for a weekend?”

“I’m not—”

He reached for his tie, yanking it loose and over his head, still knotted. The movement mussed his hair from the neatly brushed-back style of before, causing a heavy lock to fall forward on his forehead. “I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have done this for anyone but Lindsay. I’d rather bungee jump off the Empire State Building or wrestle the meanest bull ever born than stand up on that auction block again.”

Bungee jump? Wrestle bulls? That didn’t sound like something a conservative businessman would say. “Scott, I...”

He tossed his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs and reached for the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I hope they made enough money today to keep them afloat—maybe enough positive PR to keep the donations coming in. Too many kids out there would be in a spit-load of trouble without this place.”

“Yes, I know it’s—”

“Thanks to people like you, Lindsay’s got a real chance to make it. Sixty-five hundred dollars...well, that was incredibly generous. I’ll have to make sure,” he added with a grin, “that you get your money’s worth.”

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the same chair that held his jacket. His bare chest was broad, tanned...and made Blair’s heart almost stop. Her fingers curled at her sides—she assured herself it wasn’t an effort for her to keep from reaching out to touch all that lovely expanse of male skin. She lied, of course.

“Mr. McKay!” she sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m changing clothes,” he said with a smile that was suspiciously bland. “I hate wearing suits, but I thought we were supposed to dress up for this thing. Come to think about it, Lindsay was the one who suggested the tie. I’ll have to figure out a way to repay her for that.”

He snatched a duffel bag off the couch and moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll finish changing in here. Help yourself to something to drink, if you like. There are sodas and juice in that little fridge. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The bathroom door closed in her face. Blair stared at it in dismay. What had just happened here? The dignified, conservative businessman she’d spent a large chunk of her savings on had transformed right in front of her eyes into a bare-chested, fast-talking crazy man.

Oh, how she wished she had read one of those auction brochures before she had made such an uncharacteristically impulsive and imprudent gesture!

She should probably leave now, admit defeat and consider her monetary loss a donation to a very worthwhile cause. She wasn’t at all sure Scott McKay would be the right person to get through to Jeffrey. Pushing a picture of his gorgeous bare chest out of her mind, she took a step toward the exit.

“Hey, Blair!” Scott called through the bathroom door. “Would you mind pouring something cold for me, too? After sitting out there in that arena all afternoon, I’m damned near dried out.”

Blair sighed. His words reminded her of what a generous and unselfish gesture he had made on behalf of the ranch. She would have absolutely hated being paraded in front of a hooting, cheering crowd. Maybe Scott was still just a little nervous and hyper after that experience. That would be understandable, she thought, remembering the slightly bemused expression he’d worn during the auction.

Maybe she should give him a second chance.

“Soda or juice?” she called out.

“Whatever you’re having, darlin’.”

Darlin’. She swallowed a groan, tried again to forget how good he had looked a moment ago and poured orange juice into a glass she found in a cabinet beside the mini-refrigerator. She didn’t want anything for herself. She sincerely hoped Scott would reappear with his hair neatly brushed again, maybe wearing a polo shirt and khakis—something suitably conformist and respectable. Something that would convince her he was the right man for the job she had in mind.

The bathroom door opened and she turned, holding out the glass of juice she had poured for him. And then she nearly dropped it on the floor when he stepped out and she got a good look at him.

“Oh, damn,” she said in consternation. “You’re a cowboy.”

CHAPTER TWO

FOR SOME REASON, Scott was getting the idea that Blair Townsend wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the purchase she had made. In response to her comment, he glanced automatically at the clothes he’d just pulled on—a blue-and-white-striped denim shirt, a pair of jeans cinched with a worn leather belt and the boots he’d had on earlier.

Regular-type clothes, he thought with a frown. Why was she looking at him as if he’d just switched heads instead of shirts? “I’ve been called a cowboy a few times,” he acknowledged. Among other things.

She seemed to brace herself. “Rodeo?”

Reaching for the juice glass, he studied her face, reading disapproval in her expression. When he’d first met Blair Townsend, he’d been relieved that his buyer was young and very attractive—he still shuddered when he wondered what that older woman had wanted from a weekend with poor Rob Carter. He thought Blair looked rather prim and uptight in her conservative clothes—a cream-colored short-sleeve sweater set, pearl necklace and tailored slacks. It was a more professional-looking and less casual outfit than most of the ranch guests had been wearing that afternoon, but other than that, his first impression of her had been quite positive. Now he was beginning to wonder if the old lady might have been more fun. “I rodeo sometimes—when I feel like it.”

“What do you do when you don’t feel like it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve raced cars, motorcycles and speedboats, and I have a few other hobbies that keep me entertained. What do you do?”

She sighed, her expression changing from consternation to resignation. Pulling a roll of antacids out of the pocket of her cardigan, she popped one into her mouth. “I eat a lot of these,” she murmured.

He couldn’t help smiling at her rueful tone. He wondered if she was some sort of high-powered executive. She sure had the look. Her honey-blond hair was cut for practicality in a chin-length bob she kept tucked behind her ears. No wispy bangs to soften the look. Understated makeup—not that her fair, clear complexion needed artificial enhancement, he mused, studying her dark blue eyes, naturally rosy, rounded cheeks and soft, full lips. She was of medium height and slender. Pretty, he thought, but practical.

He hazarded a guess. “Accountant?”

“Lawyer.”

He nodded. Close enough.

“So, Counselor, you looking for some relaxation? Trust me, you’ve bought the right guy. By the time our weekend is over, you’re going to throw the rest of those antacids in the trash. We’re going to have a great time.”

She shook her head. He might have liked her to look a bit more intrigued by his promises. “That wasn’t the reason I bid on you, Mr. McKay. Actually, I think I’ve made a mistake. Maybe it would be best if I just consider my check a donation to the ranch and we’ll both forget about arranging a weekend. I’m sure you’re very busy. I know Lindsay and Rex and the others greatly appreciate the time you gave them today. It was extremely generous of you.”

“Now, just hold on a minute,” he said, holding up a hand. “You spent more than six thousand dollars for a weekend in my company. You must have had some reason for doing so.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So, what did you have in mind? And what have I done to cause you concern?”

She cleared her throat and started to speak. He interrupted her, motioning toward the tweedy couch pushed against one wall. “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable, and then you can tell me all about it.”

“That won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.”

Scott wasn’t the easily riled type, but Blair Townsend was starting to irk him a bit. What the hell had she bought him for if she didn’t want anything to do with him? Had she been so offended by the sight of his bare chest? Or—his pride stung a bit—so disillusioned?

“I’d like to sit for a few minutes,” he said, keeping his tone mild.

She looked momentarily abashed. “Of course. Please, feel free to take a seat.”

Staying where he was, he motioned toward the couch again, indicating that he would be seated when she was. Given little choice, Blair moved to the couch and perched on the edge, her back very straight, her chin high. Scott sank into the chair opposite the one that held his jacket and shirt. He slouched comfortably, stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his booted feet. He set his empty juice glass on the floor beside him, then laced his hands over his stomach. “Okay, what was your plan? And why’d you change your mind?”

“It was an impulse, really,” she answered, suddenly looking flustered. “I don’t act impulsively very often, and I really shouldn’t have.... Anyway, I only came to watch the events today, not to participate. Buying a bachelor was the last thing on my mind when I left home this morning.”

He nodded, growing increasingly curious. “So, what made you decide to bid on me? Was it my big blue eyes? My irresistible smile? My charming personality?”

“It was the tie, I think,” she murmured, sticking a pin directly into his ego.

“The tie?”

She nodded rather glumly. “I had this sudden, crazy idea that I could buy a role model for my nephew, Jeffrey. He’s living with me, and he’s going through a difficult time. He’s angry and rebellious, he doesn’t care about his grades, he isn’t making friends. He seems to have no interest in planning for his future. So, I thought maybe one of you men who have been through rough times and still managed to turn out successfully would have some influence on him. You know, maybe have a good talk with him and convince him of how important it is to follow the rules and focus on the future.”

He felt his eyebrows rising as he digested her unexpected explanation. She had bought him for her nephew? Remembering all the wolf-whistling women who had cheered him from the stands, he wondered how he’d ended up with this one. Not that he was complaining, exactly, he thought, studying her flushed face. “So you want me to have a bracing man-to-man talk with your nephew.”

She cleared her throat. “That was my original idea. But now I think maybe...”

She’d changed her mind, he realized. Somewhere between him taking off that tie and coming out of the bathroom in his regular clothes, she had decided he wasn’t the right one to talk to her nephew, after all. It was a good thing, he thought with a wince, that he had developed a pretty good self-image during the past few years. If he was the sensitive type, Blair Townsend just might have hurt his feelings.

What he should probably do was shrug his shoulders, agree that this had all been a mistake and let her go on her way, both of them having made their contribution to an extremely worthwhile cause. He was no one’s mentor, no kid’s role model. The very idea should have made him laugh. But something about the way she looked at his scuffed boots got his dander up. Her nephew could do worse than to take advice from him. And Blair just might find herself enjoying some time with him, as well.

“So what weekend is good for you?” he asked matter-of-factly.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You bought me to spend a weekend with your nephew. Let’s go for it. Tell me when you want to do it, and I’ll set everything up.”

Blair shook her head. “No, really. I think—”

“You said he’s angry and rebellious and headed for trouble, right? You want him to talk to someone who’s been there, someone who had to choose between freedom and jail, right? Well, lady, I’m your man.”

Blair looked at him thoughtfully. “You really think you can get through to him?”

“I’m no psychologist,” he admitted. “And I’m sure no expert on kids. But I came to this ranch as mean and angry and rebellious as any kid they’d taken in before. There were some who predicted I’d be in prison before I turned twenty-one. Instead, I own a successful ranch and serve on the board of directors of several civic organizations. I pay taxes and vote in every election. You might say I’m a respectable citizen—though I guess there’s a few who’d define me in other ways.”

“You own a ranch?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the brochure?”

“I told you, I didn’t intend to buy anyone. It was just an impulse when the idea occurred to me about Jeffrey.”

“So now that you know I’m an upstanding guy, you want to give it a shot?”

“Well...” She rubbed the back of her neck, as if it had suddenly tightened. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to talk to him.”

“Might even help,” he murmured.

“I suppose that’s possible.”

He wasn’t flattered by the lack of confidence in her voice. It only made him more determined to prove he could do this.

Scott McKay had never been one to back down from a challenge.

“This will work out just fine,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “When d’you want to do it?”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Hey, for your generous donation to the ranch, talking to a kid is a small favor for me to do in return.”

She dug into the leather purse she’d worn over her shoulder and pulled out a thin calendar. “Jeffrey and I are free next weekend. Beginning Friday, he has a three-day break from school.”

“School? Isn’t he out for the summer yet?”

“No, he still has a couple more weeks.”

“So you want to get together next weekend.”

“If that’s convenient for you. Are you available then, or do you need more time to—?”

“Sure, that’ll work.”

She looked surprised at his quick acceptance. “Don’t you need to check your schedule?”

“I don’t keep a schedule. If you want to go next weekend, that’s when we’ll go.”

“How can you run a business if you don’t keep a schedule?”

“I improvise a lot.” He uncrossed his ankles, then crossed them again in the opposite direction. “Okay, so beginning next Friday, you and Jeremy and I will—”

“Jeffrey.”

“Sorry. You and Jeffrey and I will spend some time together, get to know each other, have a good time. Do you have any specific plans?”

“What I would like for you to do is talk to Jeffrey about how crucial it is for him to focus on his future. He needs to know that the grades he makes in school are important, that he has to cultivate the right friends and make the right choices.”

She made it sound as if she was trying to get the kid into Harvard. “How old is he?” he asked, thinking that if the boy was just fifteen or so, she could cut him a little slack. He’d have some time left to have fun before he had to seriously buckle down. Now, if he was, say, a senior in high school, he’d better...

Blair started to answer, but a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Excuse me a minute.” Scott stood and opened the door. Joseph, the ranch teen who’d been assigned as Scott’s host for the day, smiled shyly at him. “They’re wantin’ to take some pictures, Mr. McKay. Out by the arena. Miss Lindsay wants to know if you can come.”

“Well, I...”

“Go ahead, Scott. I have to leave, anyway. My nephew’s expecting me.” Blair stood, slung her purse over her shoulder and handed him a business card. “My numbers are on there. Give me a call after you’ve checked your calendar and we’ll decide where to meet—unless you change your mind, of course, which I would completely understand.”

“I’ll call you.”

She nodded, hesitated, then stuck out her hand. “It was very nice to meet you.”

Because her rather stiff, proper manner amused him, he couldn’t resist taking her hand, then tugging on it to pull her closer so he could brush a kiss against her cheek. “It was very nice being purchased by you. I’ll be in touch.”

Her face was flushed again when she pulled away. She murmured something incoherent and fled, though she made an obvious attempt to be dignified about it.

Joseph grinned as he looked at Blair’s rapidly retreating back. “I think you flustered her, Mr. McKay.”

Scott returned his grin. “I think you’re right.”

And you ain’t seen nothing yet, pretty Blair Townsend.

* * *

BLAIR WISHED just once Jeffrey would look happy to see her after they’d spent a day apart. But when she stopped by her aunt’s house to collect him after the auction, he greeted her with the same unenthusiastic mumble she heard from him every afternoon when she picked him up after work. Her retired aunt, Wanda, lived next door to Blair, so Jeffrey stayed with her after school until Blair got home—a convenient arrangement for all of them.

“Did you like the videos we rented for you to watch this afternoon?” Blair asked Jeffrey.

He tossed his shaggy hair out of his face—he refused to wear a neater, more conservative cut, and Blair hadn’t insisted on that yet since there had been so many other problems to tackle. “They were kind of lame,” he grumbled about the films she had so carefully selected. “I wanted to see the new slasher movie. All the guys have seen it but me.”

“I don’t think all the fourth graders at your school have seen that movie. I’m sure there are plenty of parents who agree with me that it isn’t suitable for children your age.”

Jeffrey shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”

“Get your things and we’ll go have dinner.”

He ambled off without looking back.

Blair turned to Wanda Townsend, who hovered nearby. “Was he much trouble?”

Wanda shook her gray head, her eyes dark with concern. “He just sat in front of the TV all afternoon, watching those films. I asked if he wanted to go outside and play, but he wasn’t interested.”

It had been Wanda’s late husband, Edgar, who had started the law office Blair managed. She and her uncle had been discussing Blair leaving her stressful, incredibly demanding position with a firm in Chicago and becoming a partner in Edgar’s practice. Just as she had decided to agree to his offer, Edgar had died of an unexpected heart attack, leaving his practice to Blair. It still distressed her that they’d never had the opportunity to work together. Instead, she’d had to scramble to catch up with his cases and keep his office afloat. She’d lived here only six months and was just beginning to feel comfortably settled in Lightning Creek when her brother, Kirk, had arrived with his motherless son in tow. Three days later, Kirk was off on another of his crazy get-rich-quick schemes, and Blair had been left with her sullen, resentful nephew. Six months had passed since that day, and there had been only a couple of telephone calls and a postcard from Kirk since.

Wanda had tried to help with the boy, but never having children of her own, she’d often been at a loss in the face of Jeffrey’s moodiness. Blair had no experience with children, either, but she’d made a valiant effort to give the boy a good home. She’d bought and read dozens of parenting books, spent several hours in consultation with the counselor at Lander Elementary School and had tried to help Jeffrey find friends and interests here. Her efforts had been met with little reward. Every time she thought she was getting through to him a little, he pulled back again.

He seemed to make a determined effort to hold other children at a distance. His grades were not good, though Blair knew he was much brighter than he let on. He refused to participate in sports, Scouts or any of the other diversions Blair suggested to him. And he was growing increasingly belligerent toward authority. She was becoming more and more worried that Jeffrey was a prime candidate for the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys—either that or reform school.

Was it any wonder she’d gotten desperate enough to buy him a role model for a weekend?

Jeffrey trudged into the room, dragging his backpack behind him. “I’m ready.”

“Tell Aunt Wanda thank-you for letting you spend the afternoon with her.”

Jeffrey gave Blair an annoyed look, but muttered, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll see you Monday after school.”

“Yeah. See ya.” Jeffrey headed for the door.

Blair and her aunt exchanged worried glances. “I really think you should consider getting him some professional counseling,” Wanda murmured. “Maybe there’s a medication that could help him.”

Blair cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m taking Jeffrey to see someone next week. Someone who has a great deal of experience with troubled boys.” She saw no need to add that her expert was a cowboy, not a counselor, especially since her aunt seemed so encouraged by the news.

They were both getting desperate, it seemed.

* * *

BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Blair was beginning to wonder if Scott McKay had forgotten all about her. If they were supposed to get together on Friday, they needed to make plans. Coordinate their schedules. Perhaps make a list of the things she wanted Scott to talk about with Jeffrey.

She would feel a lot better about all of this if she could just make a few lists.

Maybe she should call him, she thought, sitting in her office Wednesday afternoon, too distracted to concentrate on the stacks of paperwork piled on the desk in front of her. Scott hadn’t given her his number, but she imagined it would be easy enough to get it from Lindsay Duncan. She could call him and simply ask if something else had come up. Or if he’d perhaps changed his mind.

But he was the one who had talked her into agreeing with this outing, even after she had decided it wasn’t such a good idea, she reminded herself. Why should she call him? It was his responsibility to follow up on his offer.

Still, she had paid sixty-five hundred dollars for a weekend of his time....

Her phone rang just as she was telling herself she should probably write off the donation and forget the whole thing. She picked up the receiver. “Blair Townsend.”

“Ms. Townsend, this is Carolyn Roberts. I work for Scott McKay.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. McKay asked me to call you to inquire if ten o’clock Friday morning is a convenient time for you and your nephew to meet him.”

Blair wondered why Scott hadn’t called her himself. She glanced at the calendar, though she knew nothing was written on it for Friday. She’d been keeping that day open for this. “Ten o’clock will be fine. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“At the Lightning Creek airstrip. Do you have a fax machine?”

Blinking in surprise at the unexpected question, Blair replied, “Yes, I do. Why—”

“If you’ll give me your fax number, I’ll send you the list of items Mr. McKay recommends that you bring with you.”

A list? While Blair approved of lists in general, she wondered why Scott was sending her a list of supplies. Just what was he planning, anyway? “May I speak to Mr. McKay?” she requested, thinking this would be much easier without the middleman—or rather, middle person.

“Mr. McKay is in Japan. He won’t be back in this country until Thursday evening.”

“He’s in Japan?” Blair parroted blankly.

“Yes. He left all the information he thought you might require. He said if you have any questions, you should feel free to call me and I’ll relay them to him.”

It sounded like more trouble than it was worth; much easier to simply go along with Scott’s plans. Had that been his intention?

Carolyn Roberts recited her telephone number, which Blair quickly jotted down. “Call me anytime tomorrow if there’s anything you need. I’ll fax Mr. McKay’s list to you within the half hour.”

Blair felt a bit dazed when she hung up the phone. What was Scott doing in Japan and why had he had his—secretary? assistant? housekeeper? mistress?—whatever she was, call Blair? And what was this list being faxed to her?

She prowled the office for ten minutes before the fax machine rang. She practically pounced on the pages it spat out. One look at the list had her sinking bonelessly into her chair again.

Clothes for three days—jeans, T-shirts, lightweight jackets. Hiking boots. Sunscreen. Toiletries. Favorite pillows and teddy bears.

“Cute,” she muttered, reading the last. “Where on earth are you planning to take us, Scott McKay?”

She should probably call Carolyn back immediately and tell her the weekend was off unless Scott called personally to discuss his plans—even if he had to call from Japan. Blair didn’t care for surprises, and she was not an outdoorsy type. This list hinted strongly at both possibilities.

But then she pictured Jeffrey hiking along a nice trail, enjoying the fresh air and wonders of nature, responding—despite himself—to Scott’s easy, cheerful banter. Apparently, Scott had arranged for them to stay in a rustic lodge or cabin. Perhaps he could take Jeffrey fishing or something, which would give them a chance to talk while male bonding. Blair wouldn’t mind sitting on a porch swing with a good book while Scott tried to communicate with her nephew. She hadn’t had a vacation in the entire year since she’d moved to Lightning Creek—nor the year before that, actually—and she could use a break.

Maybe she’d even do a little hiking herself, she mused, imagining a leisurely amble along a well-marked path with frequent stops to sniff a wildflower or read a park information sign.

She’d lived in Wyoming for a year and hadn’t even seen Yellowstone Park yet. Was that where Scott was taking them? She supposed that wouldn’t be so bad. And most important, perhaps Jeffrey would enjoy it.

She would go through with this, she thought. But only for Jeffrey.

What other reason could there be?

* * *

“WHO IS THIS GUY we’re going to meet?” Jeffrey asked, not for the first time, as Blair drove toward the airport Friday morning.

“His name—as I’ve told you before—is Scott McKay. He’s a rancher and a businessman. A former resident of Lost Springs.”

“Oh, great,” Jeffrey grumbled. “A geek.”

“He’s not a geek,” Blair corrected. Not even close, she thought with an unwelcome mental image of his strong, bare chest. She ordered herself immediately to stop doing that.

Jeffrey tossed his brown hair out of his face. “So where are we going? Why’d we pack all that stuff?”

“I’m not sure where we’re going, exactly. Scott’s going to surprise us. It should be fun,” she added, trying to convince herself as well as her nephew.

Jeffrey’s grunt was not encouraging. “I guess it beats being in school,” he muttered.

“Just let yourself have a good time, okay, Jeffrey? It’s okay to have fun. And listen to Mr. McKay. There are probably a lot of things you can learn from him.”

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat, looking as if he were on his way to a root canal. Blair had to try one more time to put him in the proper frame of mind for this experiment. “Come on, Jeffrey. Surely you like being outdoors. Having adventures. Seeing new things.”

“I like having adventures with my dad. Not with strangers.”

The boy’s sullen response made Blair’s heart ache. She was trying so hard to repair the damage her careless, irresponsible brother had caused this child. But she was beginning to believe it was something she couldn’t accomplish alone.

“Just give Scott a chance,” she repeated quietly. “Maybe you’ll like him.”

The boy shrugged. “What does it matter if I like him or not? He won’t be around long. Nobody is.”

“I will be,” Blair told him firmly. “Don’t you doubt that.”

Her nephew merely looked out the window beside him, his expression unreadable, much too contained for his years. Either he didn’t believe her reassurances that she wouldn’t abandon him, as everyone else in his life had, or he was afraid to believe her for fear of being disappointed yet again. But she knew she still had a long way to go before she reached him—if ever.

CHAPTER THREE

SIPPING STRONG airport coffee, Scott lounged in the metal building that comprised the office of the one-strip airport that served the private pilots of the Lightning Creek area. There weren’t many people around this morning—a couple of other pilots preparing for takeoff, a mechanic who’d been hired to work on someone’s two-seater, the airport owner, and his wife, who served as his partner and assistant. Scott enjoyed airports like this one and had visited dozens of them across the country, finding a bond with other flying enthusiasts who owned small aircraft.

He kept his eyes on the gravel road that approached the airport from town, watching for Blair’s car. Surely she would have sent word if she wasn’t going to show. He imagined she was a little annoyed with him for not calling her himself, but he’d been very busy since the auction. He’d had to leave most of the arrangements for this weekend to Carolyn, his invaluable, long-suffering assistant. And besides, he thought sheepishly, he hadn’t wanted to give Blair a chance to refuse. His ego had taken enough shots from her after the auction.

It was going to take an even bigger blow if she stood him up today. Had she decided he wasn’t qualified to talk to her nephew, after all?

But then he spotted a neat little white sedan bumping down the road toward the airport and he relaxed, somehow knowing it was Blair. It looked exactly like the kind of car she would drive, he mused with a smile, thinking of his own customized four-by-four. He glanced toward the green-and-white Cessna 172 waiting by the runway, already prepped for flight. He hoped neither Blair nor her nephew was a nervous flyer. Teenage boys usually liked flying, wouldn’t admit their fears even if they had them.

He was generally comfortable with teenagers—even the surly ones. He made it a point to hire several for afternoon and summer work at the ranch, believing that honest work was a boost to any kid’s self-confidence. He hoped he would get along well with Blair’s nephew, maybe even have a positive influence on the kid. It was too bad that he and Blair had been interrupted before they could talk more about Jeffrey. It would help if he knew more about their circumstances—how Blair had ended up with the kid, why the boy was so angry and rebellious, what she had done so far to get through to him.

He tossed his foam coffee cup in an overflowing trash can and headed outside to greet them as the car turned into the graveled parking lot. Maybe he’d give the boy a flying lesson, he thought, remembering when a kindly old pilot had given him his first lesson. Teenagers usually loved to be behind the wheel of anything that moved.

He stopped in his tracks when Blair and her nephew—her very short nephew—climbed out of the car. Her nephew was most definitely not a teenager, Scott realized immediately. He couldn’t be more than ten years old.

This was the boy Blair wanted to have buckle down and plan the course of his life? The one she worried wasn’t taking his studies and his future seriously enough? The kid didn’t look old enough to spell future, much less to blueprint it!

Rapidly revising several of the plans he’d made for the upcoming weekend, he turned his attention to Blair. She looked great, he noticed. She was dressed more casually than the last time he had seen her, in snug jeans and a forest-green camp shirt unbuttoned over a white T-shirt. Her feet were laced into a pair of hiking boots that looked small enough to fit her young nephew.

He was hit again with the attraction he’d felt for her when he’d met her after the auction. Whether dressed in her professional lawyer clothes or this outdoorsy outfit, she looked spectacular. But it was more than just her appearance that appealed to him; he was drawn to the intelligence in her eyes, the challenge in the tilt of her chin, the confident yet undeniably sexy way she walked. “Hi, Blair.”

“Good morning, Scott.” Her manner was briskly polite, as if she were greeting one of her legal clients rather than a weekend companion. “This is my nephew, Jeffrey. Jeffrey, this is Scott McKay.”

Jeffrey tossed his longish, center-parted hair out of his face and subjected Scott to an intense scrutiny. Scott had the sensation that the boy didn’t miss one detail of his appearance, from his breeze-tossed hair to his denim shirt, faded jeans and scuffed western boots. And he got the distinct feeling the kid wasn’t particularly impressed with what he saw.

“Hi, Jeff. How’s it going?” Scott said casually, careful not to be overly friendly.

The boy shrugged and mumbled something.

He looked so damned young, Scott thought again. So small in his oversize jersey and baggy jeans. So vulnerable behind the defiance in his snub-nosed face. Looking at this boy, Scott recognized emotions he had thought long since behind him.

He cleared his throat, determined to show the kid a good time this weekend—for Jeffrey’s sake, and not just because he wanted to impress the boy’s aunt. “Did you bring the stuff I suggested?” he asked Blair.

She nodded. “It’s in the car.”

“Great. Want to help me load the plane, Jeff?”

“The plane?” Blair repeated as the boy shrugged again. “We’re going in a plane?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’re at an airport. Did you think we were going by submarine?”

Jeffrey chuckled, then looked rather surprised that he had done so. Blair glanced at him quickly, her expression softening. And then she turned toward Scott again. “I thought you flew in this morning and wanted to meet here for convenience.”

“No, we’re flying. You like flying, Jeff?”

“I’ve never been in a little plane,” the boy answered, glancing at the two-, four-and six-seaters parked nearby.

“I bet you’ll like it,” Scott predicted, then moved toward the back of Blair’s car. “The stuff’s in the trunk?”

In response, she opened the trunk, still looking a bit worried. “Have you chartered a plane? Who’s our pilot?”

“It’s my plane, and I’m the pilot.”

“You’re a, um, good pilot, I hope?”

Grinning at her, he quipped, “You bet. I’ve had my license for a whole week tomorrow. Bought it out of the back of a magazine. You know, one of those ads that begin, ‘You, too, can soar like an eagle....’”

“That’s not funny.”

“Jeff thought it was. He’s smiling.”

The boy immediately changed his expression to a scowl. “Am not.”

Scott knew better than to push it. “Whatever. Got all your stuff?”

Jeffrey pulled a grubby backpack out of the car and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay.”

Blair locked the car, slipped her purse beneath her arm and turned toward Scott with the general air of a turkey at Thanksgiving. “We’re ready.”

Scott grinned and slung an arm around her shoulders for a quick, bracing squeeze. “Trust me,” he said. “it’s going to be a very interesting weekend.”

* * *

BLAIR INSISTED that Jeffrey should take the copilot’s spot in the little four-seater Scott led them to. She explained that she would be much more comfortable in the back, though she was really hoping Jeffrey would find the ride more exciting in the front. She wanted so badly for him to take pleasure from the weekend, to show some excitement about anything. Maybe if he enjoyed being with Scott, he would be more likely to listen when Scott talked to him.

Buckled very tightly into the snug back seat, she watched as Scott matter-of-factly showed Jeffrey all the instruments and gave him a quick explanation of their purpose. After he started the noisy engine, she wasn’t able to hear much of what they were saying, but she noticed that Jeffrey seemed to be listening closely as Scott continued to talk.

She remembered the look of surprise on Scott’s face when she and Jeffrey had climbed out of her car. What was it about Jeffrey’s appearance that had startled Scott? Whatever it was, he had recovered quickly. He’d been quite pleasant to the boy since, using a man-to-man tone that Jeffrey seemed to respond well to. Blair was aware of how much her nephew hated being talked to like a cute little boy.

The plane began to move, the engine noise increasing. Blair swallowed and tightened her seat belt. She wasn’t afraid of flying commercially, but small planes made her a bit nervous. This was the smallest she’d ever been in. And how did she know Scott was a good pilot? Was she crazy to put her life and her nephew’s in the hands of a man she hardly knew?

She kept her eyes on Scott as he taxied the plane to the end of the runway. He’d slid a pair of aviator sunglasses onto his nose, and that, combined with his headphones, made him look the part of a competent pilot. She began to relax a bit, reassured, perhaps, by the image he projected. There was just something about this guy that inspired confidence—which probably explained why she was here with him now.

The engines revved and the plane began to roll down the runway, picking up speed until it lifted, then climbing rapidly until the ground was far beneath them. Blair yawned to clear her ears, looking from the vista beneath them to her nephew’s face. It was the first time in weeks that Jeffrey had looked genuinely enthused. She began to take heart that she had done the right thing this weekend, after all.

Forcing herself to relax, she leaned back against the seat. The droning engine noise cocooned her, isolating her from Scott and Jeffrey in the front. She could see their mouths moving and hear an occasional word, but she made no real effort to follow their conversation. She looked out the window for a while, then pulled a book out of her tote bag. It was a recent nonfiction bestseller, a densely written dissection of the political overview for the U.S. in the new millennium. She’d intended to read it for some time but had been too busy to tackle it. She planned to get well into it this weekend while Scott worked with Jeffrey.

A couple of days of reading and relaxation while someone else took care of her nephew, she thought with a sigh. This weekend might just prove to be well worth the money she’d spent for it.

She read the first page of the book, then glanced toward the front of the plane again. Scott was half turned in his seat to look at Jeffrey, leaning slightly toward the boy as he pointed to one of the cockpit gauges. The midmorning sun filtered in through the tinted glass, highlighting his glossy brown hair. His aviator glasses covered the upper half of his face, and his deep, intriguing dimples flashed beneath them. Had she been standing, her knees would have gone weak. As it was, she sank back into her seat, suddenly unable to look away from him. The wave of sheer physical attraction caught her unprepared, held her motionless for several long moments.

She didn’t have time for this, she reminded herself. The circumstances were all wrong, considering that Jeffrey was sitting right there in front of her. And Scott McKay was hardly her type, anyway. She had never allowed herself to get involved with anyone strictly on the basis of physical attraction. And she couldn’t see how she and Scott could have anything in common—even if he felt a modicum of answering attraction for her.

As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked over his shoulder. “You doing okay back there?” he asked, raising his voice over the engine noise.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She forced her attention to her book, not that she was able to concentrate on it. Her gaze kept drifting toward the front seats, and even she didn’t believe her feeble mental excuse that she was only checking on her nephew.

She was so involved in what was going on inside the plane that she hardly noticed the landscape passing beneath them until they started to descend. She noted then that they were headed toward a grass landing strip carved out of a stand of trees surrounded by mountains. She saw no lodge or resort nearby. Surely Scott had a place for them to stay. He didn’t expect them to sleep on the ground, did he?

Her stomach tensed as the plane seemed to dive straight toward the trees. The runway hardly looked long enough as they approached it. The trees and mountains loomed on either side, crowding closer the lower they dropped. At the last minute, she squeezed her eyes shut, keeping them that way until the landing was over. She opened them only when the plane came to a complete stop—still apparently in one piece.

Scott was looking at her when she opened her eyes. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he looked amused. “Sorry,” he said. “Grass strips are a bit bumpier than paved runways.”

Annoyed with her momentary cowardice, she cleared her throat. “It didn’t bother me at all,” she lied. “You weren’t frightened, were you, Jeffrey?”

The boy looked insulted. “No. I thought it was sort of cool.”

Sort of cool. High praise from this particular boy, Blair mused. She supposed the landing hadn’t been so bad, after all, if it had been fun for her nephew. She looked out the window, noting that the surrounding landscape was beautiful but untamed. The only building in sight was a metal hangar at one side of the airstrip. A heavy padlock dangled from the wide sliding doors. Scott revved the engine just enough to taxi toward the building.

He pulled up almost to the doors, then parked and killed the engine. The sudden silence was startling. Blair’s ears were still buzzing; she shook her head slightly to clear them. Her voice sounded too loud when she asked, “Where are we?” She didn’t even know if they were still in Wyoming.

“The outback,” Scott replied with a grin.

She frowned. “Where?”

“Out back of nowhere.” He opened his door and hopped lightly out of the plane, leaving Blair staring after him in confusion. While Scott unlocked the padlock of the hangar, Blair and Jeffrey climbed out of the plane, Blair a bit stiffly. Scott disappeared into the building and reappeared moments later driving a sturdy-looking Jeep. He parked nearby, jumped out and, with Jeffrey’s help, began to transfer their belongings from the plane to the Jeep. Blair wondered again where he was taking them, but she was afraid to ask, considering the last answer he’d given her.

When the Jeep was loaded, Scott asked Blair and Jeffrey to help him push the plane into the hangar. He blocked the wheels, closed the doors and secured the massive padlock again. Then he turned to them, rubbing his hands and looking satisfied. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Blair asked, following him to the Jeep.

“Farther out back,” he quipped, opening the passenger door for her. “You sure ask a lot of questions, Counselor.”

“I like to know what’s going on,” she answered a bit primly, watching Jeffrey scramble into the back seat.

Scott held out a hand to assist her into the high vehicle. “Don’t you like to be surprised? Just go with the flow?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted. “I’m a planner. A list maker.”

He chuckled. “Not this weekend, you’re not.”

He closed her door and loped around the front of the vehicle to his own seat behind the wheel. “Everybody buckle up,” he said, starting the engine. “The ride gets bumpy.”

Where was he taking them? Blair was beginning to wonder again what on earth had gotten into her at that bachelor auction.

* * *

“THIS IS IT? This is where we’re staying for the weekend?” Blair stared in disbelief at the cabin tucked into the side of a wooded mountain. They’d spent forty-five minutes negotiating heart-stoppingly steep and winding roads to get here. The cabin hardly looked big enough for one person, much less three. And where were the other cabins? The lodge? The restaurant?

“This is it. What do you think, Jeff?” Scott asked casually.

Apparently deciding he’d been much too agreeable so far that day, Jeffrey scowled. “Looks like a dump to me.”

That was unfair, Blair thought immediately. The cabin was small, but tidy and obviously in good repair. “It is not a dump,” she said firmly. “It’s a nice little cabin.”

Jeffrey shrugged.

Apparently unperturbed by the boy’s mood change, Scott opened the back of the Jeep. “Let’s get our stuff inside and unpack so we can start having fun.”

Blair was afraid to ask what Scott’s idea of fun might be.

To her relief, the cabin was larger than it had appeared from the outside. They entered a good-size main room. Blair noted immediately that, despite the rustic appearance of the place, the furnishings were of good quality, heavy wood with a hand-rubbed finish, the couch sporting duck-print tapestry cushions. Hunting prints hung on the wood-paneled walls. A rock fireplace dominated one wall, and another was made up of bookcases, crowded with paperback and hardcover novels. A spiral staircase in one corner led to a loft, which obviously served as a sleeping area, and two closed doors probably indicated more bedrooms downstairs. An eat-in kitchen opened off the back of the main room. The cabin was isolated but certainly beat sleeping on the ground, she decided.

“Hardly a dump,” she murmured to her nephew, who only shrugged in response.

“Anybody hungry?” Scott asked, carrying the last load in from the Jeep. “Why don’t we stash our stuff and then have lunch? Jeff, your bedroom is the far door there. It’s just big enough to turn around in, but it’s got a bed. I’ll take the other small bedroom. Blair, the sleeping loft is yours.”

She suspected he was giving her his usual room. “I don’t mind taking one of the small rooms.”

He shook his head. “These two share a bath. The loft has its own bathroom. It will be more comfortable for you, I think. Jeff, help your aunt carry her things up while I stash some of this other stuff.”

Jeffrey had already settled onto the couch. “She can carry her own stuff. It’s not that heavy.”

Scott crossed his arms over his chest, dipped his chin and looked at the boy from beneath lowered brows. “I’m sure she’s quite capable of carrying her own things, but the polite thing to do is to help her.” His lazy drawl made him sound like an old-time movie cowboy, Blair couldn’t help thinking, even as she bit her lip to keep from interfering before Jeffrey broke into one of his rare, but formidable, tantrums.

Jeffrey glared at Scott with the defiant scowl Blair had come to know all too well. “I don’t want to. I’m hungry. I want to eat.”

Scott’s voice was still very mild when he replied, “We’ll eat when the bags are stowed away. You take this one upstairs,” he said, nudging an overnight case with his boot.

“What if I say no?” Jeffrey challenged.

Scott’s smile was quick and easy. “Then you don’t eat. Around here, everyone pulls his weight. Unless you’re afraid this bag is too heavy for you to handle? I guess you can take her pillow up, if that’s the case. It only weighs a few ounces.”

The boy’s scowl deepened. “I can carry the bag. I just don’t want to.”

“I don’t know.” Scott nudged it again. “It is kind of heavy. And you’re sort of scrawny. Blair, why don’t you hand Jeff the pillow and you carry this bag while I bring the heavier suitcase up?”

The boy let out a gusty sigh, snatched the bag in question and hauled it toward the staircase, his head high, his back straight. If he had any trouble carrying the moderately heavy bag up the stairs, his young male pride didn’t allow it to show.

Scott sent Blair a grin. “Did I mention I’ve done some calf wrangling?”

“Well, this little calf is probably the most stubborn one you’ve ever taken on,” she warned dryly. She noted that Scott didn’t look particularly concerned.

She waited until her nephew had stomped back down the narrow staircase before she carried her own bag up. She was immediately charmed by the loft bedroom. The big iron bed was covered with a hand-pieced quilt in a colorful lone star design; it reminded her of the beautiful log-cabin quilt she’d tried to win at the bachelor auction. Someone else had won that one, and she’d ended up here.

Shaking her head at life’s oddities, she continued her inspection of the room. The mirrored dresser was obviously an antique, as were the nightstand and small stained-glass lamp it held. A little round window cut into the back wall gave a breathtaking view of the mountainside. A skylight in the roof above the bed showed blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds; at night, she would be able to see the stars.

“Scott, this is lovely,” she said, turning to him as he set her suitcase at the foot of the bed. “Is this your cabin or are you renting it for the weekend?”

“It’s mine. Sometimes I need a place to rest and recharge. This is it.”

“It’s wonderful. Are you sure you want to give this room up to sleep downstairs?”

“Don’t mind a bit,” he assured her. “Being downstairs with Jeff will give me a chance to get to know him better. He seems like a good kid beneath the bravado.”

Blair bit her lip. She wanted so badly to believe there was a good kid beneath her nephew’s troubled behavior. She had tried so hard to get through to him, to make up for the neglect he’d received during his first nine and a half years of life. She refused to believe it was too late to reach him.

Remembering the excitement on Jeffrey’s face during the plane ride, she hoped again that Scott would be the one to help him. She was encouraged by the way Scott had bested the boy in their brief battle of wills without setting off a tantrum. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “Jeffrey can be...difficult.”

“He’s dealing with the champ when it comes to that,” Scott answered with another of his quick smiles. “I want to talk to you about him after lunch. I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, aware that Scott couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

He turned to look around the bedroom again. “I think you’ll be comfortable here. The bed,” he added, his eyes meeting hers as he patted the quilt with one hand, “sleeps great. I’ve spent many cozy nights in it.”

She swallowed, knowing it was inevitable that she would think of him when she crawled beneath the covers tonight. Had that been his intention? She couldn’t help wondering how many women had shared those cozy nights with him.

“We’d better get back to Jeffrey,” she said, reminding him—and maybe herself—that there would be no shenanigans this weekend.

She thought she heard Scott chuckle as she turned to hurry down the stairs. He seemed to find it amusing when he flustered her. Unless she wanted to spend the weekend being laughed at by him, she was going to have to start doing a better job of hiding her reactions to him.

Downstairs, Scott produced the picnic basket he’d brought with him and set it on the round oak pedestal table at the back of the main room. “Did you say you’re hungry, Jeff? We’ve got plenty of food here.”

Jeffrey looked torn between hunger and sulking. Hunger won. He sauntered to the table, obviously trying not to look too eager. “What’ve you got?”

Scott unloaded fried chicken, coleslaw, fruit and brownies from the basket, along with paper plates and napkins. It was all nicely prepared and packaged and looked quite appetizing. There wasn’t much conversation during the meal; everyone was too busy eating. By the time they’d finished, not a scrap of food remained. Blair didn’t know what they would eat the rest of the weekend, but she assumed Scott had made plans.

Blair asked Jeffrey to help with the cleanup afterward. He did so without enthusiasm, but also without argument, probably because he knew he would lose again.

“Okay, what does everyone want to do now?” Scott asked.

Jeffrey looked around the room. “Got a TV?”

“Nope,” Scott replied cheerfully. “Don’t need one up here. There are too many other things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Fishing. Hiking. Climbing. Watching birds and wildlife. Reading. Thinking.”

Jeffrey rolled his eyes. “I’d rather play video games.”

“You won’t find any of those up here, either. Looks like you’re going to have to find something else to do to entertain yourself.”

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Blair suggested.

Scott smiled. “Good idea. I think you’ll approve of the scenery I’ve provided. Are you up to a hike, Jeff?”

“Maybe I’ll just hang out in here,” the boy answered, dropping onto the couch with his ever-present backpack beside him.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Scott drawled in that steely cowboy voice he’d used earlier. “Let’s all go for a walk.”

With a deep, long-suffering sigh, Jeffrey rose to his feet. “This is really lame,” he grumbled.

Scott only laughed and casually ruffled the boy’s hair. “Try to contain your enthusiasm, will you, pal? All this hyperactivity is wearing me out.”

Blair would have sworn she saw a quick flash of answering amusement in her nephew’s eyes, but he quenched it almost immediately. Scott definitely had his work cut out for him if he thought he could tame this little calf, she mused.

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