THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

Fortune Empires To Merge

International Business Deal Unites Family

Financial newsflash—What do you get when you combine Texas’s and Australia’s most successful ranching operations? A whole lotta honor, a whole lotta ego and a whole lot more money. Wall Street was reeling this week when word leaked that the mammoth Double Crown and Crown Peak ranches will merge, creating the single largest ranching outfit in history. Investors, Inc. says “Fortune” is now the name in ranching.

The deal will skyrocket the Fortune power and wealth to astounding proportions, though it is still too early for solid predictions about the impact on the family’s net worth. But one thing’s for sure…if these folks keep merging, marrying and mothering at this rate, they’re going to give a whole new meaning to Fortune 500!

And on to “love news”…The Tattler’s fashion guru couldn’t help but notice the sudden, drastic change in Teddy Fortune’s only daughter, Matilda. She has traded in her dusty overalls for utterly elegant duds. Could all this focus on her femininity have something to do with exec-to-swoon-for Dawson Prescott? A source amazingly close to the famed family says that Dawson has tried to resist the tomboy-turned-tantalizer, but recent late-night “developments” (involving a boudoir, a shotgun and an ultimatum) might mean one more Fortune will soon bite the marriage dust!

Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Matilda Fortune: From the moment Matilda met Dawson Prescott, he made her heart skip a beat. So the former tomboy transformed herself into a stunning, self-assured woman and hoped the new-and-improved Matilda could win his heart.

Dawson Prescott: When he was found in a compromising position with Matilda, he dutifully married her. Would his new bride turn out to be the perfect wife he hadn’t known he was looking for?

Griffin Fortune: The secret agent didn’t think of himself as the marrying kind. But when he was asked to protect an innocent beauty, he began to second-guess his bachelor status….

Shotgun Vows
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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About the Author

TERESA SOUTHWICK

At the tender age of ten, Teresa Southwick learned to deal with rejection when her four brothers found and “critiqued” one of her medieval stories. Then she could tattle to Mom, who unfortunately didn’t send the blackguards to the gallows, or at the very least the dungeon, as Teresa had hoped. But it would be almost thirty years before she would again put pen to paper—or more accurately, fingers to keyboard.

A California girl born and raised, she spent many blissful hours sitting on the beach reading romance novels. Her fondness for happy endings began with Nancy Drew, and if she’d written those stories, Nancy and Ned would be living happily ever after. The good news is that her fascination with a wonderful love story was alive, well and flourishing in spite of her brothers.

She sold her first book in 1993, and in 1995, she achieved her longtime goal of writing for Silhouette Romance. The best part of writing, she believes, is that there are always more challenges around the corner. When she was asked to participate in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS series, she jumped at the chance to write Shotgun Vows. The experience of working with such a talented and generous group of writers was both daunting and rewarding. The best part was sharing the news with her brothers—blackguards matured into heroes—who never miss a chance these days to brag about their “famous” sister.

Teresa and her husband have two grown sons.

To THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS authors.

It’s been a pleasure and a privilege working with

a talented, generous group of writers.

I’m grateful to be included in your ranks.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

One

It was rumored that Griffin Fortune knew three hundred ways to kill with his bare hands. How could you say no to someone like that?

“You’re absolutely sure you want me to watch out for your sister?” Dawson Prescott asked again.

He studied Griffin, sitting across the desk from him. Dawson wasn’t afraid of him; he was a friend. In spite of Griff’s dangerous reputation, Dawson liked him and his brothers. It was their sister, Matilda, who rubbed him the wrong way.

Griff brushed a hand over his dark brown hair. The short, military cut didn’t move. “You heard me right,” he said. His Australian drawl did nothing to soften the words. If anything, his “down under” accent added intimidation. “I want you to watch over Mattie while I’m gone. We had this discussion already.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dawson said. “I just didn’t think you were serious.” Hoped he wasn’t serious would be more accurate. But Dawson suspected Griff never said anything he didn’t mean.

“Dead serious,” he answered, confirming the suspicion. “If I could put off this job, I would.” He met Dawson’s gaze squarely and a predatory glint crept into his brown eyes. “But I have to go.”

Dawson knew he would say no more about it than that.

Here in the plush carpeted, wood-accented office at Fortune TX, Ltd. where he worked as a financial analyst, it was hard for Dawson to imagine what the other man did when he disappeared. But Dawson had quickly come to like and respect him. Whatever it was that took the man out of town, Dawson instinctively knew Griffin Fortune was one of the good guys.

Dawson pushed his cushy leather chair away from the desk, leaned back, and linked his hands over his abdomen. “But again I have to ask—why me? My baby-sitting skills leave something to be desired.”

“If she were a baby, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Griff said, his Aussie drawl thickening with irony.

As much as he wanted to, Dawson couldn’t argue with the fact that Matilda Fortune was no baby. Every time he heard her name, he instantly thought of her long, shapely legs encased in denim—followed quickly by a flash of those legs wrapped around his waist. He’d only ever seen her in work clothes with her shirt pulled out and hanging loose. If the rest of her was as good as those legs, and he ever got a look at the package, they would all be in trouble.

The weird thing was that in the looks department she was nothing to write home about. Ordinary braided blond hair, average gray eyes, and pale skin all added up to a woman as plain as her name: Matilda. Who thought that up? Dawson only knew that she pushed some of his buttons—all of them wrong. But it was unlikely that anything personal would ever happen with her. Ever since they had laid eyes on each other, sparks had flown between them—and not the good kind.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but isn’t she twenty-one? Why does she need looking after?”

“She’s been sheltered. She trusts everyone and has never met a stranger. My four brothers and I have always watched out for her. But she’s changed since she got to Texas. What do you people put in the water?”

Dawson blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something going around and it’s called Matrimony. Seems to be catching. Soon my brother Brody and Jillian will be tying the knot. But it all started with my brother Reed when he married your sister.”

Dawson and his half sister Mallory hadn’t grown up together. Different mothers. But his gut told him his sister’s match with Griff’s brother was a good one. “I’ve never seen her happier.”

“Reed, too.” One corner of Griff’s mouth lifted as he sat up straighter in the chair. “On top of that, Mattie’s been acting strange ever since she found out that Jillian is going to have a baby. I overheard her tell Jillian that she wants one of her own soon. I wouldn’t put it past her to run off with one of the ranch hands at the Double Crown.”

Dawson couldn’t remember ever hearing Griff string together that many sentences. Obviously the guy was really concerned. With a sister of his own, Dawson could understand the protective instinct. But he was a financial analyst for crying out loud. Granted, he worked for the family company, Fortune TX, Ltd. But surely they wouldn’t expect him to nursemaid Matilda Fortune, the troublemaker cousin from Australia.

The assignment was definitely above and beyond the call of duty. He worked on spreadsheets… Bad choice of words. Instantly he thought of Matilda’s long legs and tangled bed sheets. Damn, this was a bad idea. He’d agreed reluctantly, and only because he’d never actually expected Griff to take him up on it. Now he wished he’d never said yes.

The question was how he could gracefully get out of this. Here goes, he thought ruefully.

“She doesn’t like me much, Griff. Surely you’ve noticed. If looks could kill, I’d be a chalk outline on the floor. Wouldn’t it be better if you found someone else for guard duty?”

“There are three things that make you an ideal candidate for this assignment.” Dawson didn’t miss the harnessed strength in the other man’s wrist and forearm as he held up three fingers. “One—Reed is on his honeymoon, and Brody is too preoccupied with his own upcoming wedding and becoming a father in a couple of months to do the job justice. Two—you’re practically a Fortune, being my cousin Zane’s friend and all. Three—you’re right. She hates your guts.” He grinned. “That makes you perfect for the job, mate.”

“I’ve got number four.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“She’s just a kid.”

He was eleven years her senior, a fact he’d pointed out at his first meeting with the Australian she-devil. Not that he was old. She’d figured that out all by herself. They’d accompanied Reed and Mallory to the rodeo. All Dawson had said was that he hadn’t expected Reed’s sister to be so young. That had instantly gotten Matilda’s back up, and she’d fired off her own verbal shot.

Even if Dawson were attracted to her—at least the “her” that was separate from those dynamite legs—the disparity in their ages was something he would never get past. After his parents had split up, his father had married a much younger woman—a fact that had angered and embittered his mother. She’d had her nose rubbed in the fact that she was no longer young and had no weapons to fight for her man. Dawson had vowed that he would never use a woman and toss her aside like yesterday’s meat loaf. Furthermore, he would never make the same mistakes his father had.

He wasn’t like his father. He would never be like him.

Griff nodded. “By process of elimination as well as default, you’re the ideal candidate.”

Dawson knew he had no choice, and the thought rankled. He wasn’t a man who liked being backed into a corner. “How long are you going to be gone?”

Griff shrugged. “There’s no way to know for sure. I’ll do my best to get back before Brody and Jillian’s wedding.”

That was just over three weeks away, the weekend before Thanksgiving. Dawson figured he could handle Matilda Fortune that long.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t run off with a cowboy.”

“Good. One favor, Dawson.”

“I’m already doing you a favor.”

“Then do yourself one. Don’t let Mattie know what you’re up to.”

“She wouldn’t like it?”

Griff laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “That’s an understatement. She doesn’t like being treated like a kid. She’s a grown woman, she says.”

“Yeah, that message got through loud and clear,” Dawson commented.

“Then if you know what’s good for you, don’t let on that I asked you to keep an eye on her.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

Satisfied, Griff held out his hand. “I owe you, mate.”

And then some, Dawson thought, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret this. It was the first of November and the promise he’d made just about guaranteed that he could kiss off having only good days for three-quarters of the month.

Matilda Fortune listened to the clunk of her boots on the foyer tile as she made her way to the Double Crown Ranch’s great room. She stopped when her heels sank into the thick carpet. The large open hearth held a cheery fire. On the other wall, French doors opened to one of the house’s two courtyards. Large leather couches and comfortable chairs in groupings that invited intimate conversation were arranged in several places in the large room.

Since her arrival from Australia several months ago, she found it was her uncle Ryan and aunt Lily’s custom to spend the evening in the great room. Tonight was no exception. They were sitting side by side on one of the leather sofas, having after-dinner drinks with their other houseguest, Willa Simms. She was Ryan’s goddaughter. Willa’s father and Ryan had been best friends in Vietnam, a bond that remained strong until her dad died of cancer. She was still very close to Uncle Ryan—like one of his children.

Through an archway to her right she could see the dining room and the living room beyond. A huge painted armoire, and Western-style pieces including antler lamps and Native American prints, gave the room warmth and personality. She liked the house in spite of its intimidating size and the fact that she always felt as if she brought the outdoors inside as soon as she walked in.

Mattie moved farther into the room until she faced her aunt and uncle. “I didn’t see Griff’s car outside. Does anyone know where my brother is?”

She knew the answer even as the words came out of her mouth. If Griff’s car were here, she would have known his whereabouts. He was joined at the hip with her. Her shadow. Her keeper. If his car was gone, he must be on one of his mysterious trips.

“He left on business, dear,” her aunt said, confirming Mattie’s guess. “He wasn’t sure when he would be back, but asked me to tell you not to worry.”

“From his mouth to God’s ear.” Mattie whispered her usual fervent prayer.

Telling her not to worry was like asking the wind not to blow. Griff would never confide details to anyone in the family about what he did when he was away. He said the less they knew, the better. How could they not worry when someone they loved said that?

But she smiled at her aunt and uncle, not wanting to upset them or let anyone know her feelings. There was nothing they could do or say to ease her mind.

Mattie studied her aunt and uncle, thighs brushing while holding hands. As always, she was struck by what a handsome couple they were. She knew they were both in their early fifties, but neither looked it. Lily’s eyes were the color of a moonless night, and her shiny black bob, along with the beautiful bone structure in her face, revealed her Spanish and Indian heritage. She was still a lovely woman and must have been a stunner as a young girl.

Uncle Ryan was definitely his wife’s equal. With his dark eyes and hair showing a bit of gray at the temples, and a still-muscular physique, he must have made female hearts flutter in his younger days. And at least one female heart still fluttered, Mattie thought as she saw the glow in his wife’s eyes as she looked up at him. The two were obviously in love, obviously soul mates.

Like her own parents.

Mattie sighed. Would she ever find someone who would love her like that? A man she could respect and care about and raise a family with? A soul mate of her own?

It was her most cherished dream. Unfortunately, her brothers frightened away anyone who showed even the slightest interest in her. That made it darn near impossible to make her fairy tale come true. If Prince Charming didn’t have the guts to face down the Fortune brothers, then she didn’t particularly want to set up housekeeping in his castle. No wimp for her!

When her aunt and uncle had visited Australia and invited her to their ranch in Texas, she’d thought it was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. She’d taken them up on the offer and fallen in love with the state, the air, the wide-open spaces. The men that all the wide-open spaces would hold.

Since horses were her life, where better to find the man of her dreams than a Texas ranch? So many cowboys, so little time. The bad news was that Griff never left her side. The steely-eyed looks he gave any man who even glanced in her direction were enough to make monks out of them.

But Griff was gone. What was that American saying? Make hay while the sun shines. How appropriate on a ranch! And she finally understood the meaning. She would worry terribly about Griff, but with him away, it was definitely hay-making time.

Tonight the Double Crown cowboys held their weekly poker game. She’d almost forgotten, having dismissed the earlier casual reminder because she knew there was no way Griff would let her go. Or worse, he would accompany her—and then no one would have any fun. This was her first chance to join in. Maybe she could finally get one of them to notice her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t hold dinner for you, dear,” her aunt said.

“No worries,” Mattie answered.

“I just love your accent,” Willa chimed in. “It’s so cute.”

“Thanks.” Mattie smiled at her, then looked back at her aunt and uncle. “I’m sorry to be so late. I just couldn’t tear myself away.”

“Your brothers say you have a way with animals, Mattie,” Willa said. “They say when they have a problem horse, you’re the one they go to. That’s such a gift. I’m a little afraid of an animal big enough to stomp me into roadkill without a second thought.”

“You traveled all over the world with your father, Willa,” Uncle Ryan said. “There was never time or opportunity to learn about horses.”

“I’d be happy to work with you and show you some tricks,” Mattie said. “Then you would be more comfortable around them. There’s no reason to be afraid of horses. I can find just the right animal—one with a nature as sweet as yours.”

Willa smiled. “How I envy your ability to do that.”

Not as much as I envy you. Mattie barely held in a sigh. Willa was so petite and pretty. Even her wire-rimmed glasses couldn’t disguise her beautiful blue-gray eyes. Tonight her shoulder-length auburn hair was secured on top of her head with a clip. Mattie made a mental note to ask how she did that. All thumbs herself, she never fussed with her hair. A braid was easy, fast, and worked just fine. That clip contraption wouldn’t hold up when she was riding. But if she had a date, it could work just fine, she thought.

Lily sipped her brandy. “Rosita put the leftovers in the fridge for you, Mattie.”

“Thank you.”

Then she was free. No big brother watching. Whatever was she going to do with all this independence? The pressure was on. She didn’t know how long Griff would be gone. The possibilities were endless. But tonight there was that poker game. Exhilaration surged through her, lifting her spirits.

The coast was clear!

Rosita Perez, the Fortunes’ sixtyish housekeeper, entered the room. Her black hair was pulled back, highlighting the one white streak that started at her forehead and disappeared into the bun at her nape. Mattie liked the motherly woman who dished out hugs almost as plentifully as food. The downside was that she was followed by a man in business clothes.

Mattie felt two parts excitement and one part irritation when she recognized Mr. Stuffed Shirt in the expensive suit. Dawson Prescott.

He hardly looked at her as he walked briskly past her to Uncle Ryan and shook hands. He nodded to her aunt and Willa, then gave Mattie the briefest of glances. Boy, that chapped her hide. Just like their first meeting when he had said she looked eighteen. Ever since, he’d ignored her, as if she didn’t exist. Every time she’d seen him around the Double Crown with her cousin Zane and her brothers, he hadn’t even glanced her way. Cheeky devil, she thought. She tried not to let it bother her, but it damn well did.

“I brought the portfolios for you to look at, Ryan,” he said to her uncle.

“Didn’t I tell you that I trust your judgment? I’ve put together a dynamite staff, the best there is, one that I trust implicitly to handle money matters. Mostly family, I might add.” He looked at Dawson. “Or practically family.”

His wife smiled lovingly at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that pride, even in staff that is practically family, goes before a fall, my darling?” she teased.

He put his arm around her. “Yes. And when mine comes, it’ll be a humdinger. I can only hope there’s a bungee cord attached when it happens. But I trust Dawson. It wasn’t necessary to bring this out here tonight.”

Lily looked at the newcomer. “But since you did, the least we can do is feed you. Have you had dinner yet, Dawson?”

Tell her yes, Mattie said to herself. Yes, yes, yes.

“No, I haven’t,” Dawson answered. “But it’s not necessary—”

“There are plenty of leftovers,” Lily continued. “Can we warm something up for you?”

Say no, Mattie thought. No, no, no.

“That would be great,” he said. “But I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Perverse man, Mattie thought. Completely ignored her mental telepathy. She would have to work on that.

“It’s no trouble, dear,” Lily said. “As a matter of fact, Matilda just walked in, and she hasn’t had dinner yet, either. So now she won’t have to eat alone.” The older woman smiled brightly.

The evening had just gone downhill in a big way, Mattie decided. And it had started out so promising…. Now she was cornered. She wouldn’t insult her family by not extending hospitality to another guest in their home. She would set a record for fast food-consumption, then say her farewells and head for the bunkhouse.

She forced herself to smile at Dawson. “I’m going to go clean up. Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Don’t rush, dear,” Lily said. “We’ll entertain Dawson while you freshen up.”

During her shower and then a quick combing and braiding of her hair afterwards, all Mattie could think was, Why me? Why did she draw the short straw and get stuck with the dude? Although if she had to be stuck with someone she didn’t like, at least he wasn’t hard on the eyes. She hadn’t been that close to him since their first verbal sparring. Then she’d been too annoyed to notice. But tonight, being in the same room with him, she couldn’t miss the intensity that made his hazel eyes seem more green, or the way the light picked up the sunstreaks in his brown hair, or how wide his shoulders looked in that white dress shirt, wrinkled after a day’s work.

“Work?” she said to herself, slipping on a clean pair of jeans. “Number cruncher,” she said disdainfully as she put on a long-sleeved white cotton shirt. She couldn’t think of a more boring or lonely way to make a living. In fact, she might even feel sorry for him—if he was anyone but Dawson Prescott.

She glanced one last time in the mirror, and sighed as she noticed the blond wisps of hair that curled around her face. No matter how hard she tried, her hair had a mind of its own. So she’d quit trying to make it do anything other than braid. Was it her imagination, or did her eyes look a deeper gray than usual? Must be the anticipation of that poker game, she thought.

Mattie made her way to the kitchen. The floor of the large room was tiled with Mexican pavers. A distressed-wood table with eight ladder-back chairs stood in a cozy nook at one end of the room. At the other end was a center island work area, a counter cooktop set into the cream-colored tiles, and a built-in oven. Not to mention the largest side-by-side refrigerator she had ever seen.

That was where she now saw Dawson, half bent at the waist as he scoped out the contents. She noticed that his gray slacks pulled tight across his legs, revealing muscular thighs. She wondered how he managed to produce all those muscles while poring over numbers all day.

“See anything good?” she asked.

“Lily and Ryan said to make myself at home,” he answered, as he continued to study the interior.

Then he looked at her, and she thought his gaze lowered to just about her knees. No doubt he was trying to think of something to say to cut her off just about there. She resolved not to rise to any bait he might set out. She would be the lady her mother always scolded her into trying to be.

She pointed to the open door. “I think pot roast and mashed potatoes were on tonight’s menu. If you’ll allow me?”

He backed away with an outstretched palm. “Be my guest.”

“Actually, I believe you’re my guest.”

“Look, Matilda—”

She held her hand up, palm out. “Stop right there, buster.” She tried to add a teasing note to her voice. “My aunt expects us to keep each other company for this meal. That implies making conversation. To do that you need to get my attention. Especially if I have my back turned. I’ll answer to ‘Hey, you,’ or ‘Yo, babe.’ You can even grunt if you’d like. But I despise being called Matilda. I let my family get away with it sometimes. But never ever, under any circumstances, call me that. Mattie is fine. Tildie will do. But if you call me Matilda, life as you now know it will cease to exist.”

“Tilde?” He stepped back so that she could pull the leftovers from the refrigerator. “That funny little sideways squiggle used in words to indicate nasality? Or in logic and mathematics to show negation?”

She was pulling two leftover dishes out, but stopped to shoot him an impatient glance. “I thought you had more to do at work.”

“How’s that?”

“You must have a lot of time on your hands if you can remember such useless, insignificant information. How do you do it?”

“It’s a gift,” he said with a shrug. “But I could ask you the same thing. How do you do it? Training horses is a lot of work.”

She thought about that as she took two plates and put meat, potatoes, gravy and string beans on them, then put them in the microwave to warm. Then she turned to look at him. “I can’t explain it. I just love animals—especially horses. I study their body language and mentally file away their disposition and character. They have traits, you know. Just like people.”

“So you sort of do what I do. Tuck information away in your head. Some of it useless, some of it not,” he said.

Damn the man. He had her there. Aunt Lily was right. Pride did indeed go before a fall. Her mother was right. She should behave like a lady and be gracious. She would eat a lot less crow that way.

“I guess you’re right,” she said as sweetly as possible. “But you’ve had so many more years than I’ve had to gather information. How do you remember it all?”

He folded his arms over his chest. A very impressive chest, she noted with a small surprising flutter of her heart.

“A world-class memory,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. “And fortunately, I’m not ready to take up residence in the geriatric ward yet.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that what you do boggles the mind. I’ve never been very good with numbers myself. I’m in awe of anyone who can make sense of it.”

“A lot of what I do is guesswork and instinct. Just like you,” he said.

She grinned. “But I bet your numbers don’t give you love and affection like my horses do.”

He laughed. “You win that round. But I have no emotional investment in my numbers the way you do your horses. They can’t break my heart.”

She saw a black look in his eyes. A remembered pain? She would have sworn that’s what it was, and in spite of who he was and how he tweaked her temper, she did feel sorry for him.

“Who broke your heart?” she asked, automatically softening her tone as if she were working with one of the horses.

Instantly the vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by a teasing grin. “What makes you think someone broke my heart?”

“Mother says a person doesn’t get through life without some heartbreak. And you’ve lived so very, very long,” she said teasingly. “Surely there are skeletons in your closet.”

“Only on Halloween.”

“Isn’t there a saying in your country—no pain, no gain?”

“I think I’ve heard that one.” He shrugged. “Either I’m emotionally backward, or I’ve managed to gain without the pain part. What about you? Was your mother right? Have you had your heartbreak in the year-and-a-half you’ve been on this earth?”

“Cute. I’m not that young.” What she was was inexperienced, thanks to her brothers. Except for one single, painful episode. But a stampede of determined Texas mustangs couldn’t force her to share the details of that humiliation with him.

“From where I’m standing, you look hardly more than a baby.”

Her back started to rise at his comment, making her want to show him that she was a full-grown woman. Her next thought was that he’d turned the conversation away from himself and back to her. Interesting. The words were spoken in a joking manner, but she sensed currents of emotion in him. Had someone broken his heart? Or was his pain from something else? She instinctively knew that if she asked, he would put her off.

Instead she watched him, mostly his eyes, then noted the tension in his square jaw. Noted also that he was a very good-looking man, in an older, businessman sort of way. Her heart began to beat very fast, and she grew warm all over. She hadn’t felt this way but once, when she had been hardly more than a baby. Barely sixteen, she’d managed to elude her brothers long enough to develop a crush on a boy. The incident was a disaster.

But Dawson was a man—the first she’d ever been alone with as a woman. Surely that was the reason her body responded this way when she was near him. That, and the fact that she was ready to become a woman in every way. She’d been ready for a long time, but she had way too many brothers who took turns never letting their guard down. The explanation for her reaction to this man had to be that simple. Because Mr. Prescott was absolutely not her type.

But one thought struck her above everything else: her uncle Ryan’s comment about his “dynamite” employees. She had a feeling that if she wasn’t careful, this particular very male employee could light her fuse and blow up her whole world.

Two

Dawson helped Mattie set silverware and napkins on the table. When the microwave signaled that the food was warm, she grabbed a pot holder and took the plates to the table. They sat down at a right angle to each other, and she began to shovel food into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for a month.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Pardon?” she answered. Her gray eyes—very pretty eyes he couldn’t help noticing—met his gaze. Then she resumed eating.

“You’re going to have indigestion if you don’t slow down.”

“No worries. I’ve got the constitution of an elephant.”

Not exactly the way he would describe her, Dawson thought ruefully. Those legs. He would bet every last penny of his considerable annual bonus that her gams were not thick and wrinkled and gray. If they were, he was sure the knot in his gut would disappear. Considering the size of that knot, he had a heck of a nerve warning her about indigestion. Or anything else for that matter.

He wished he’d never agreed to keep an eye on her. Even Ryan had questioned his excuse for dropping over tonight, but it was the best he could come up with. He had to be here to watch her. Long-distance baby-sitting wouldn’t cut it—Dawson didn’t do anything halfway. Besides, just before he’d left, Griff had reminded him that Clint Lockhart was still loose. He had escaped from prison and eluded all law enforcement efforts. The man had sworn revenge on the Fortunes, and was slippery as an eel. He’d already killed Ryan’s second wife Sophia—who knew what he might do next?

Dawson knew that being a Fortune made Mattie vulnerable to Clint. If anything happened to her because Dawson slacked off, he wouldn’t want to face her brother. But more important, he would never forgive himself.

Suddenly Mattie put her fork down, apparently finished. She stared at him. “Are you one of those anal-retentive people who chew each bite of food twenty-seven times?”

“No,” he said, staring at her. “But I don’t swallow it whole, either.”

“Wouldn’t have figured you for a slow eater. You strike me as the kind of man who has places to go, women to meet etcetera, etcetera.”

“Nope.”

“Really?” She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. “So no one is waiting for you at home?”

“Nope. I’m all yours.”

“Until you finish your dinner.” She rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh before glancing at the clock on the stove. She frowned. “You want to hurry it up?”

He looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. He got the feeling she was in a rush. “You going somewhere?”

“No,” she said with a breezy nonchalance that screamed liar. “But it’s getting late. I’ve heard if you eat too much too late at night, you’ll have nightmares. Your body can turn on you if you make it digest all that food when it’s supposed to be resting. Especially when you’re advanced in years. So if I were you, I’d quit eating before you regret it.”

Since when did she care about his digestion? Not only that, but she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What the heck was she up to? “Come clean, Mattie. Tell me what’s going on.”

Before she could answer, Lily Fortune walked into the kitchen.

Dawson envied Ryan. Lily was a lovely woman, and Dawson was glad the two had rekindled their love, which had begun when they were teenagers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said.

“No worries,” Mattie answered.

“You’re not interrupting,” Dawson said at the same time.

The older woman smiled at him, then Mattie. “I just wanted to let you know that Willa’s already gone upstairs, and Ryan and I are going to make an early night of it, too. But please make yourselves at home.”

Dawson nodded. “Thanks.”

“One more thing.” Lily looked from Dawson to his fidgety dinner companion. “Mattie, I just remembered something.”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow a group of schoolchildren are coming to the ranch on a field trip. I think the principal said they were eleven or twelve years old. They won a contest, and their prize is a day of horseback riding on the Double Crown.”

“Can’t think of a better reward,” Mattie answered enthusiastically.

“I have a favor to ask you. Would you supervise choosing horses for the children? You have such a way with the animals, and the kids couldn’t be in better hands than yours.”

A sweet smile transformed Mattie’s face, making her eyes glow. “I would be happy to, Aunt Lily.”

The older woman nodded approvingly. “I understand there will be four or five children. It might be best if you have one of the ranch hands assist you.”

The glow in Mattie’s eyes turned to a gleam that Dawson didn’t trust. He remembered Griff’s warning that she was looking to run off with one of the cowboys. Although she’d been working with them on the ranch for some time, Lily had just reminded him how closely. Because of his promise, it was now his problem. He could only think of one solution.

Before opening his mouth, his last thought was that this must be what it felt like to jump out of a skydiving plane. Then he said, “I would be happy to help her.”

Mattie, just sipping water, started to cough. Lily patted her on the back. “Are you all right, dear?”

Still coughing, Mattie nodded. Then she stared at him and asked, “You?”

“No, Mel Gibson,” he said, hoping to pull this off with humor. “Of course me.”

He would have to take the day off. But he’d been working a lot of hours lately, bringing Brody up to snuff on Fortune financial affairs. Dawson had earned himself a comp day. He was meeting Brody at the office in the afternoon. But he could use the morning for baby-sitting detail. To keep her away from the cowboys, he would stick to her like lint to tape.

“Really, that’s awfully nice of you.” Mattie shot him a look that made a lie of her words. It told him she wished the earth would open and swallow him up. “But one of the ranch hands would probably be more helpful.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve spent a lot of time riding with Zane. I can handle horseback riding basics for kids.”

“You don’t need me to work that out,” Lily said. “I’ll say good-night now.” She smiled at each of them. “Sleep well, you two.”

When they were alone again, Mattie said too sweetly, “Don’t you have some numbers to crunch tomorrow? Some minutiae to commit to memory?”

“It can wait.”

“You’re very generous to offer assistance. But I was thinking of asking Ethan McKenzie.”

She’d sure picked someone quick. Maybe she’d had him on her mind all along. For something of a romantic nature? Or an elopement? He couldn’t help wondering if Griff was right about her determination to run off with a cowboy. Had she already culled one from the herd, so to speak? All the more reason for Dawson to hang around. Although he had a sneaking suspicion that if he tried to cut the cowboy out completely, she would become even more determined to have him. Not only that, but it could push Dawson into a situation that would tip his hand, and she would figure out that he had promised Griff he’d guard her.

As long as Dawson was around to supervise, he didn’t much care who the unfortunate cowboy helper was. “Okay, ask Ethan. But with that many kids, you can probably use more help.”

“Probably.” She nodded. “Kids can try your patience. They’re pretty unpredictable.”

“Then you won’t mind if I hang around, too.”

She looked at him as if he had just said he planned to walk naked from San Antonio to Houston. “Very sporting of you. But I think Ethan and I can handle them. After all, we’re both still limber, and practically children ourselves.”

“True. An oldtimer like myself has brittle bones. I have to be careful not to break anything. But hasn’t anyone ever told you there’s no substitute for wisdom and experience?”

“I’ve heard that. I’ve seen you riding here on the ranch. But what experience have you had with children?”

“Not much, I’ll admit.”

“Then give me three good reasons why you would volunteer to put yourself in harm’s way with them,” she said suspiciously.

“One, maybe it’s about time I tried interacting with them. Two, I could be an uncle soon, and kids are still a real mystery to me. And reason number three—if I hang out with kids, maybe I can figure out what makes you tick,” he said, watching her face and waiting for the sparks to fly. He wasn’t disappointed.

Her gray eyes darkened with something that wasn’t quite anger, but was damn defensive. Or maybe it was a defense mechanism. “And why, pray tell, would you want to get to know me better?”

“Beats the heck out of me,” he said. “But I do.”

Oddly enough, he found that he did want to get to know her better. Something about her intrigued him. Her pride. An indomitable spirit that came through loud and clear. She was barely a woman, but he sensed a strength of character beyond her years.

She met his gaze for several moments, gauging him. Finally she said, “I have to give you points for honesty, Mr. Prescott.”

“Dawson, please. I feel old enough without you making me feel like my father.”

He winced at his own words. After the thoughts he’d had about her, he was hovering way too close to his father’s shortcomings as it was.

“All right, Dawson. It’s your funeral. But I would appreciate an extra pair of hands. Thanks,” she said grinning.

“You’re welcome, I think.”

She stood. “I’ll say good-night then.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s about that time.”

“Oh? And what time would that be?” she asked, the doubtful note in her voice causing her friendly smile to waver.

“Curfew,” he answered.

The words produced exactly the effect he’d intended. Her shoulders stiffened, her gray eyes narrowed and finally her full lips thinned. Oddly, he found himself longing to have her sunny smile back.

“I didn’t have a curfew even when I should have,” she snapped.

“Then what’s your hurry? And don’t insult my intelligence by saying ‘nothing.’”

She peeked over her shoulder as if she were trying to elude surveillance. Then she met his gaze and sighed. “All right. Griff is gone. I suppose it can’t do any harm to tell you. It’s poker night.”

Her brother was right. If she’d known he was a stand-in bodyguard, she would have shut down tighter than a convent school when the fleet was in. “Would you like to expand that explanation a tad?” he asked.

“The ranch hands play poker one evening a week. Tonight’s the night. It’s an open game. Anyone’s invited. I’ve been dying to learn, but Griff would never let me go. Now’s my chance.”

“To learn the game?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes. And get to know the guys better.”

“Guys like Ethan McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“The game is open?” When she nodded, he said, “Then no one will mind if I tag along.”

He started to walk past her, and she grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, buster. Someone will darn well mind.”

“Who?” he asked innocently.

“For starters, me. Why would you want to play poker with a bunch of cowboys? I bet not one of them knows what a tilde is.”

“Could be I just want to play poker.”

“Yeah, and it could be I’m a high-priced fashion model,” she said sarcastically. “Why in the world would you want to spend the evening with a bunch of ranch hands?”

“Like I said before, we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other since you’ve been here. This is as good a time as any.”

“For whom?” she asked.

“For me. After all, if I’m going to help you with the kids tomorrow, it seems to me that we would be a more efficient team if we knew each other better.”

“We’re not a team.”

“We will be.”

“When snowballs survive in hell,” she said.

He ignored her remark and said wistfully, “It’s been a long time since I’ve played poker.”

“Why?” She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Don’t you have any friends of your own?”

“Of course I have friends. What would make you ask that?”

“Now that Zane and Gwen are married, you must be pretty lonesome.” She gave him an impertinent look.

She thought he needed to make friends? She actually thought Zane Fortune was his only friend? She couldn’t genuinely believe that he had no one to hang out with. He cringed at the idea. When Griff got back, they were going to have a long talk about indebtedness. This favor was getting more complicated all the time.

And on top of her zingers, she was actually starting to appeal to him.

“No, I’m not lonesome. I have my spreadsheets to keep me warm,” he said. Not to mention thoughts of her long legs…. That image made him hot all over. “I just like to play cards. Okay?” he asked more abrasively than he had intended.

“Even if I’m there?”

Especially if you’re there and your brother isn’t, he thought. “How can you ask that?” Before she could answer he took her arm and said, “Let’s go, Mattie. Seven card stud awaits.”

“Huh?”

“No worries,” he said, imitating her. “You’ll find out.”

But he didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes at the word stud.

The ranch hands lived in a bunkhouse about three-quarters of a mile from the main house. With Griff around, she’d never had a chance to see the inside. But she’d heard the guys talking, and knew it was Ethan and Bobby Lee’s turn to host tonight’s poker game. Mattie wanted to jump into the truck she used to get herself around the ranch, but Dawson insisted on walking. It seemed odd to her, since there was a chill November wind blowing. But then, it seemed odd that he was with her at all.

She’d been half joking when she’d said it, but maybe he really didn’t have any friends. That, along with the fact that he was cooped up inside far too much, pushing around all those numbers, made her feel kind of sorry for him. It could explain why he wanted to hoof it to the bunkhouse. He must have a fresh air deficiency.

It wasn’t easy keeping up with his long stride. She was slightly winded by the time they stepped onto the wooden bunkhouse porch. Low voices drifted to them from inside. Now that she was here, Mattie was a little nervous. She was almost grateful that Dawson was with her so she didn’t have to walk in alone. It was a bit like going to a school dance with one of her brothers, except that Dawson Prescott would mind his own business and not hers once they were inside. Anticipation chased away her nerves.

She was about to knock, then glanced at him. The light next to the door picked up the angles of his face, making it look rugged and very masculine. And quite attractive. Her heart gave a strange little lurch. When she spoke, her voice was slightly breathless. From their sprint over here, no doubt, she thought. Because she couldn’t believe that he was starting to look good to her.

“You don’t have to do this if you’re tired,” she told him.

“On the contrary. I’m looking forward to it.” He looked at her uncertainly. “I should warn you about something.”

“What?” she asked.

“Cowboys don’t like to play cards with a woman.”

She gaped at him for a moment, then shook her head. “Surely you can do better than that, Dawson.”

He was trying to talk her out of playing. Why? More importantly, why had he suddenly agreed to accompany her? She’d been on the Double Crown for several months, and they’d had little contact. When he’d first suggested coming with her to the game, she’d wondered if, possibly, he was intimidated by Griff and was taking advantage of the fact that her brother was gone to hang out with her. Now she knew she’d been wrong. He was trying to get rid of her. But Matilda Fortune didn’t scare easy.

“Seriously, Mattie. Cowboys are superstitious. They think it’s bad luck to deal a woman in.”

“Then why did they invite me?” She tried to keep her voice level and pleasant. Not easy when she wanted to bop him.

“They’re superstitious and polite.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

“It’s your funeral,” he said. He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, lifting his suit jacket.

It was a blatantly masculine pose in spite of his sissy suit. That made her wonder what he would look like dressed in jeans and boots, like a cowboy. She had a feeling the image would give her no peace of mind.

“Okay,” she answered with an emphatic nod, then rapped on the door.

“Come in.” That was Bobby Lee’s voice.

Mattie turned the knob and pushed the door inward. She was surprised to see that only three cowboys were there. Ethan and Bobby Lee who shared the cabin, and Burch Picket, a hand who had been hired around the time she’d arrived. They looked up from their cards when Mattie walked in.

She had a quick impression of wooden floors and several bunks. In the corner, there were couches and a couple of chairs in front of a television. The other corner held a small kitchen complete with refrigerator and stove. There was an empty space in the middle because they’d pulled the table into the cabin’s main room for the game.

Her gaze rested on dark-haired, brown-eyed Ethan. She knew he was right around her own age, but he looked about seventeen. Even his sunburned face didn’t hide the fact that he’d hardly started shaving yet. She thought he was cute, but was vaguely disturbed that being in the same room with him didn’t produce any sort of physical response on her part. Not the way being around Dawson did. But that probably had something to do with how angry she’d been the first time she met him, and how he baited her every time he opened his mouth. Ethan seemed like a sweetie, and she just had to get to know him better.

“Hi, guys,” she said, greeting all the men.

“What are you doing here, Mattie?” Bobby Lee didn’t look too happy. The blond, blue-eyed cowboy’s frown was a big clue.

Her heart fell. That wasn’t exactly the greeting she’d been hoping for. “It’s poker night,” she said lamely.

“Yeah.” Ethan threw his cards down. “But we didn’t think you would—”

“Howdy, stranger.” Bobby Lee smiled slowly and stood up, walking toward her. “Been a long time.”

“Not that long,” she said, confused.

Then she shivered as she felt him behind her. She’d momentarily forgotten. Dawson. He was so close, and the heat of his body warmed her clear down to her toes. The scent of his cologne tied her stomach in knots. Her heart skipped a beat, kicking her confusion up a notch.

“Yeah, it has been a long time,” Dawson answered, reaching out to shake hands with him.

Ethan joined them, just inside the door. “Good to see you,” the young cowboy said.

“Goes for me, too. We haven’t seen much of you since Zane got married and you quit hanging out here with him.” Bobby Lee chimed in. “Dawson, you know Burch Pickett, right?”

“We’ve met,” he said.

The man nodded. “Howdy.”

“Ethan, pull up a chair for Dawson.”

“What about me?” Mattie asked, hands on her hips.

“Oh, Mattie,” Bobby Lee said. There was less warmth in his voice than when he’d greeted Dawson. “I figured you just brought Dawson down here to be neighborly. You’re really fixin’ t’ play cards, are you?”

“That was my plan.” She felt about as welcome as the plague.

Ethan pulled over another chair and put it next to the first. “Here you go, Mattie,” he said. “Take a load off, Dawson.”

They sat next to each other at the round table, at the center of which sat a bowl of popcorn and another of pretzels. Cards, coins and bills were scattered across the scratched wooden top.

While the men were moving around getting drinks and refilling snack bowls, she whispered to Dawson, “Do you know what the money is for?”

“Betting,” he said. “Makes it more interesting.”

She would have to take his word on that. She had a bigger problem. “I don’t have any money with me. Do you?”

He looked at her as if she had pink hair. “Of course I’ve got money.”

“Can you lend me some? Just until we get back to the house?”

“Okay.” He pulled out some folded bills and handed her a couple as he asked, “Do you know anything about poker?”

“Nope. But how hard can it be?” she asked, taking the money.

Ethan handed Dawson a beer and said, “You deal.”

“Where’s my beer?” Mattie asked, anxious to be a part of the whole thing, to experience everything.

“Are you old enough to drink?” Dawson asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’d ask for ID if I were you,” he said to Ethan.

“Number one, I’m twenty-one,” she said. “Number two, thanks to you, we’re on foot and not driving. So who cares if I have a beer?” It annoyed her no end that none of the cowboys moved until Dawson gave them a nod.

“Thanks,” she said, when Ethan set the beer can in front of her. She looked at Dawson. “Now you can deal.”

“All right, your ladyship.” He looked around at the chuckling men, then his gaze rested on her. She didn’t miss the challenge there. With supreme confidence he began shuffling the deck. “Mattie has never played before.” The remark produced a series of black looks and barely concealed annoyance. “So let’s start with something simple.”

That was the Dawson she’d come to know and not love. He didn’t have to do her any favors. She made a mental note to give him a piece of her mind later. “No need to go easy on me,” she said. “I’ll pick it up fast.”

He smiled, irritating her with the genuine cheerfulness in his look. “All right,” he said. “No special treatment.” He started to deal, letting the cards land facedown in front of each player. “How about seven card, no peek, roll your own, one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches wild?” he asked.

Mattie stared at him. “Roll your own? Is this cigarettes or poker?”

“Poker. Do you want me to deal you out?”

“Not on your life,” she said, sipping her beer. Nasty stuff, she thought. But she would drink the whole can and ask for another before she would let one of them know how much she hated it. “I just have one question. What’s this about one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches?”

Dawson stopped dealing, and quickly riffled through the deck, pulling out the cards in question. He showed her the difference. She nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “You can finish now.”

He buried the cards to everyone’s satisfaction and completed the job. Without a word, Ethan, who sat on Dawson’s right, flipped over his top card. It was a nine of clubs. Then he tossed a dollar into the center of the table. When everyone did the same, she put money in, too. Burch turned over four of his cards, and stopped when he showed a king—clean-shaven, Mattie noticed. He put three dollars on the table, and everyone else did, too. This could get expensive, she thought.

Next Bobby Lee started turning over cards. Since none of them had picked up all their cards, she figured out what “no peek” meant. Then it was her turn. She flipped over four cards before she turned over an ace. She leaned over to Dawson and whispered, “What do I do now?”

“Bet,” he answered.

“On what?” she asked.

“You have the highest card showing.”

“So I win?” She looked at him.

“Not until all the cards are turned over and we see who has the best hand.”

“What’s a hand?” She ignored the groans and sighs from the other men.

Dawson patiently explained. “In poker there are hands—a pair, two pair, three of a kind, full house, etcetera up to the highest, which is a royal flush.”

She looked down at the table again. “It seems sort of foolish to put money out not knowing if I can win.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he said. “But if you don’t want to bet, just say ‘check.’”

“Check,” she answered.

Dawson turned over all his cards and apparently had nothing, because he said, “I’m out.”

They went around the table again. Burch had two kings and two threes—“two pair,” someone said. When it was her turn, she flipped over all her cards and was excited when she saw three aces. All the men groaned.

She looked at Dawson. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. You win,” he said. “All the money is yours.”

“Really?” This was very exciting. No wonder they did it once a week. She scooped up the bills and coins from the center of the table and returned the money she’d borrowed from Dawson. “Who deals next?” she asked.

Ethan picked up the cards and dealt them. The game moved a bit faster, until Dawson had to explain to her again what constituted a hand and what beat what. There was so much groaning in the room, it sounded like a haunted house on Halloween. And when she won the second round, she felt guilty, and tried not to take the pot. But they insisted, albeit angrily. “Beginner’s luck,” one of them grumbled.

“Now who deals?” she asked.

Bobby Lee yawned. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

Mattie glanced at the clock. It was only nine-fifteen.

Burch stood up. “I gotta get goin’. See y’all later.” Faster than you could say “lickety-split,” he was gone.

Ethan yawned again and said, “I have to be up early.”

“Me, too,” Bobby Lee said.

Mattie was confused, a state of mind that was becoming increasingly familiar to her the more time she spent in the company of men who were not her brothers. From all she’d heard, these games went on until the wee hours. This seemed very early to break up. And she had just been getting the hang of it. Was Dawson right about the guys feeling that she was bad luck? Or were they miffed because she had all the good luck? Poor sports! She almost blurted that out, but decided against it.

“Guess we’d better go and let these guys get some shut-eye,” Dawson said. He curved his hand around her arm and pulled her to a standing position with him.

She noticed that Ethan didn’t waste any time opening the door. The chill wind blew in, but it wasn’t as cold as the room had been when she’d raked in the last pot. Still, she figured she could be gracious and not let on that she knew they were upset because she’d won. Having so many brothers had taught her a lot about male pride.

“You’re right. I have to get up early, too,” she said, making her way to the door. “I almost forgot. Aunt Lily asked me to supervise some schoolchildren who are coming to the ranch tomorrow. She suggested that I pick someone to help me with them. How about it, Ethan?” she asked, looking up at him. He was tall and lanky. Not unattractive, but not muscular like Dawson….

She wondered where that thought had come from. It was followed quickly by a fervent hope that this sudden hang-up she’d developed of comparing all men to Dawson Prescott was something she’d get over soon.

“Sure, Mattie,” Ethan said. “I’ll give you a hand. If Mrs. Fortune wants me to,” he answered.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you in the corral around nine-thirty.” She thought Dawson mumbled something. “What did you say?”

“I said, let’s go and let these guys get some sleep.” Dawson took her elbow none too gently and guided her off the porch.

They started walking toward the big house. Mattie was vaguely disturbed at the abrupt way the evening had ended. Since Dawson had witnessed everything, she decided to risk asking him. “Did it seem to you that the guys were bad sports?”

In the moonlight, she read the wry look he gave her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve been around long enough to see them drag to work after a late night of poker. They don’t let an early-morning wake-up call stop them—if they’re winning. Do you think they were upset because I had some beginner’s luck?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It’s the female thing.”

She stared at him. “Define ‘female thing.’”

“Bad luck to play cards with a girl.”

“Then why deal me in at all? Or why mention the game in front of me?”

He shrugged. “You’re the boss’s niece. They couldn’t very well tell you to go home.”

“I just wish they’d been honest.”

Their shoulders happened to brush at that moment and she felt him flinch—or abruptly pull away from the contact. She wasn’t sure which. Before she could puzzle it out, they arrived at her front door.

This was the first time a man had ever escorted her home. That thought produced a nervous sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach. But this was Dawson.

“If I’m bad luck, then you won’t want to help me with the kids tomorrow.”

“I’ll risk it,” he said. “An honorable man doesn’t go back on a promise.”

“Suit yourself,” she said and went inside.

She leaned against the door and thought again about how Dawson reminded her of dynamite. The more time she spent in his company, the closer the match got to her fuse.

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