Two classic Westmoreland novels from New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson

WESTMORELAND’S WAY

There is a secret to Dillon Westmoreland’s heritage—and Pamela Novak may have the key. Though the raven-haired beauty is ensnared by her shifty fiancé, there is no way Dillon—eldest of the Denver Westmoreland clan—can resist a mind-blowing night in her arms. And after that kind of incredible passion…well, once a Westmoreland claims the woman he wants, he won’t let anything tear them apart!

HOT WESTMORELAND NIGHTS

Ramsey Westmoreland knows better than to lust after the hired help, but his new cook is just so delectable…. When temptation gets the best of the Denver rancher, he plans to discover if Chloe Burton is as hot in the bedroom as she is in the kitchen. As their affair grows steamier, Ramsey begins to question Chloe’s true motives. And when he discovers her betrayal, he is set to satisfy himself with cold showers. Until he realizes his mistake: never underestimate the power of the human heart, especially a Westmoreland’s.

Wishes for Tomorrow

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Brenda Jackson

A Westmoreland Novel

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

WESTMORELAND’S WAY

HOT WESTMORELAND NIGHTS

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to believe that I introduced the Westmorelands to my readers over ten years ago. Though at the time, little did I know that you would welcome them into your home and hearts the same way I have allowed them into mine. Originally, the Westmoreland family series was intended to be just six books, Delaney and her five brothers—Dare, Thorn, Stone, Storm and Chase. Later, I wanted my readers to meet their cousins—Jared, Spencer, Durango, Ian, Quade and Reggie. Finally, there were Uncle Corey’s triplets—Clint, Cole and Casey.

The Westmorelands living in Denver were a whole new breed but they still had Westmoreland values and of course those Westmoreland good looks. I was able to show the way family connects and the bond that holds them together through the good and bad times. I wanted to display how a family can pull together and stay together as well as look out for each other.

Wishes for Tomorrow contains the first two stories in the Denver Westmorelands saga—Westmoreland’s Way and Hot Westmoreland Nights. In Westmoreland’s Way, we are introduced to Dillon, the head of the Denver clan. In search of the truth about his great-grandfather, he meets Pamela Novak, the woman who is destined to be by his side forever. Then in Hot Westmoreland Nights, we are introduced to Ramsey, a sheep rancher and a man who thinks he doesn’t need a woman around. But Chloe Burton proves just how wrong he is from the first day that she sets foot on his property.

I was very happy when Harlequin Kimani responded to my readers’ requests that the books in the entire Westmoreland series be reprinted. And I’m even happier that the reissues are in a great, two-in-one book format.

I hope you enjoy reading these special romance stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Happy Reading!

Brenda Jackson

To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr. You’re still the one after all these years!

Apply your heart to instruction and your ears to words of knowledge.

—Proverbs 23:12

Westmoreland’s Way

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Prologue

“I know how much finding out everything there is about your grandfather means to you, and I wish you the best in that endeavor. If you ever need anything, you, your brothers and cousins should know that the Atlanta Westmorelands are here. Call on us at any time.”

Dillon Westmoreland drained his wineglass before meeting the older man’s eyes. He’d only met James Westmoreland eleven months ago. He had arrived in Denver, Colorado, with his sons and nephews, claiming to be his kin. They’d had the documentation to prove it.

“Thank you, sir,” Dillon said. Their unexpected appearance at the Shady Tree Ranch had answered a lot of questions, but generated even more. After years of thinking they had no living relatives outside of Denver, it was nice to know there were others—others who hadn’t hesitated to claim them as their own.

Dillon glanced around the wedding reception given for his cousin Reggie and Reggie’s wife, Olivia. Dillon and the other Denver Westmorelands had officially met Reggie with a bunch of other Westmorelands from Atlanta at the family reunion a few months before. All it took was one look to know they were related. Their facial features, complexions and builds were practically the same. No surprise, given the fact their great-grandfathers, Reginald and Raphel, had been identical twins.

Dillon now knew the story of how his great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had split from the family at the age of twenty-two. He’d left Atlanta, Georgia, with the wife of the town’s preacher. It had been considered a despicable act and Raphel had immediately become known as the black sheep in the Westmoreland family, never to be heard from again.

Many assumed he had died before his twenty-fifth birthday with a bounty on his head for wife-stealing. Few knew that Raphel had eventually made it to Denver, married and produced a son who had given him two grandsons, who in turn had blessed him with fifteen great-grands. Dillon was proud to say, at thirty-six, he was the oldest of Raphel’s great-grandchildren. That left the Denver Westmoreland’s legacy right smack on Dillon’s shoulders.

It hadn’t been easy, but he had done his best to lead his family. And he hadn’t done too badly. All fifteen of them were successful in their own right, even the three that were still in college. But then you had to really try hard to overlook his youngest brother, Bane, whose occasional brush with the law kept Dillon down at police headquarters more than he would have liked.

“Are you still determined to find out the truth about whatever happened to your great-grandfather’s other wives, or whether his previous relationships were even wives at all?” James Westmoreland asked him.

“Yes, sir. I’m taking time off from my company later this year, sometime in November, to travel to Wyoming,” Dillon said.

Through James Westmoreland’s genealogy research he had found Dillon’s family. Now it was up to the Denver Westmorelands to find answers to the questions that still plagued them about their ancestry. That was one of the reasons why the trip to Wyoming was so important to him.

“Okay, Dillon, Uncle James has had your ear long enough.”

Dillon couldn’t help but chuckle when his cousin Dare Westmoreland walked up. If there had been a doubt in anyone’s mind that the Atlanta and Denver Westmorelands were related, all they had to do was to compare him to Dare. Their features were so similar they could have been born brothers instead of cousins.

“I don’t mind,” he said truthfully. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well, don’t have too much fun,” Dare responded with a huge grin. “As soon as Reggie and Olivia leave for their honeymoon, we’re heading over to Chase’s Place for a game of poker.”

Dillon raised a brow. “The last time I played poker with you all, I almost lost the shirt off my back,” he said, unable to suppress a grin.

Dare gave him a huge pat on that back. “All I can say to that, Dillon, is welcome to the family.”

Chapter 1

“Have you totally lost your mind, Pam? No matter what you say, we can’t let you do it. You’ve given up so much for us already. We just can’t.”

Pamela Novak smiled as she glanced over her shoulder and saw the three militant faces frowning at her and quickly decided it would be best to give them her full attention. Drying her hands on a towel she turned away from the sink to face them.

She wondered what it would take to make her sisters see reason and understand that she had to do what she had to do. Not just for her own benefit but mainly for theirs. Fletcher was pushing for a Christmas wedding and here it was the first week in November already. So far they hadn’t set a date, but he would bring it up every time she saw him. He’d let it be known that he didn’t want a long engagement and, considering everything, a long engagement wouldn’t be in her best interest, either.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to come up with a quick yet effective strategy. If she could convince her sister Jillian of the importance of what she had to do, then Paige and Nadia would quickly come on board. But convincing Jillian was the big challenge. Jill didn’t like Fletcher.

“And what makes you think it’s something I’m being forced to do, rather than something I want to do?” Pamela finally decided to ask the three of them.

Of course, it was Jillian who stepped out to speak. Jill, as she was called by most people in Gamble, Wyoming, at seventeen was a senior in high school and was a spitfire. She was also smart as a whip. It was Pam’s most fervent desire for Jill to leave Gamble next fall to attend the University of Wyoming in Laramie and pursue her dream of one day becoming a neurosurgeon.

And Paige, fifteen, and Nadia, thirteen, would soon be ready to pursue their aspirations. Pam wanted to make sure that funds were available for college when that time came. She also wanted to make sure that if her sisters wanted to return to Gamble, they would still have a home here. Pam felt certain that accepting Fletcher’s marriage proposal made those things possible.

“You’re sacrificing your happiness, Pam. We aren’t stupid. What woman in her right mind would want to marry a jerk like Fletcher Mallard?” Jill boldly said.

Pam had to fight to keep a straight face when she said, “He is not a jerk. In fact, Fletcher is a nice man.”

“When he’s not being obnoxious and arrogant, which is most of the time. Already he thinks he can run things around here. We’ve been doing just fine without him,” was Jill’s bitter response.

Jill took a quick breather and then went on to say, “We don’t care if we lose this house and it wouldn’t bother us in the least if we don’t get a college education. We refuse to let you marry the likes of that man to protect what you see as our bright futures. Speaking of futures, you should be back in California working on a real movie instead of spending your time teaching students at the acting school. You got a degree in drama, Pam. Being an actress has always been your dream. Your passion. You shouldn’t have given it up for us.”

Pam inhaled deeply. She had been through all of this before with her sisters. The problem was that they knew too much about the situation, something she wished hadn’t happened. Unfortunately for her, they had been home that day when Lester Gadling, her father’s attorney, had dropped by to deliver the bad news and they had overheard Lester’s words.

“But I’m not in California. I’m perfectly satisfied being here in Gamble and running the acting school, giving others the same opportunity that was given to me,” she countered.

She paused for a second and then said, “Listen, ladies, I’ve made these decisions because I love you.”

“And we love you, too, Pammie,” Nadia replied. “But we can’t let you give up the chance to one day meet a really nice guy and—”

“Fletcher is a nice guy,” she interjected. However, all she received for her effort were three pairs of rolling eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Paige spoke up to say. “I was in the bank one day when he went off on one of the tellers for making him wait in line for so long. He thinks he’s all that, just because he owns a chain of grocery stores.”

“Okay, you saw his bad side just that one time,” Pam said. “Deep down he’s a kind person. He’s willing to help us out, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but look what he’ll be getting. Our home and the most beautiful single woman in Gamble,” Jill pointed out.

“A single woman who isn’t getting any younger and who will be turning thirty in a few months. Don’t you think it’s time I get married?”

“Yes, but not to him,” Jill implored. “Anyone but him.”

Pam glanced at the kitchen clock that hung on the wall. Fletcher was coming to dinner and would be arriving any minute, and she needed to make sure her sisters put this behind them. They had to accept that she was now an engaged woman and move on.

She of all people knew that Fletcher had his flaws and could be arrogant at times, but she could deal with that. What she refused to deal with was letting her sisters lose the only home they knew and a chance to fulfill their dreams by attending the colleges they desired.

She couldn’t help but wonder what her father had been thinking to put a second mortgage on their home—a mortgage for which the full balance was due within a year of his death. There was no way she could come up with a million dollars. Fletcher, in the role of a friend, had made her an offer that she couldn’t refuse. It would not be a love match, he was fully aware of that. She would, however, as agreed, perform her wifely duties. He wanted kids one day and so did she. And Pam was determined to make the most of their marriage and be a good wife to him.

“I want the three of you to make me a promise,” she finally said to her sisters.

“What kind of promise?” Jill asked, lifting a suspicious brow.

“I want you to promise me that you will do everything I ask regarding my engagement to Fletcher. That, you will make me, as your oldest sister, happy by supporting my marriage to him.”

“But will you be truly happy, Pammie?” Paige asked with an expression that said she really had to know.

No, she wouldn’t truly be happy, but her sisters didn’t have to know that, Pam thought. They must never know the extent of her sacrifice for them. With that resolve in mind, Pam lifted her chin, looked all three of them in the eyes and told a lie that she knew was going to be well worth it in the end.

“Yes,” she said, plastering a fake smile on her lips. “I will truly be happy. I want to marry Fletcher. Now, make me that promise.”

Jill, Paige and Nadia hesitated only for a moment and then said simultaneously, “We promise.”

“Good.”

When Pam turned back to the sink, the three girls looked at each other and smiled. Their fingers had been crossed behind their backs when they’d made their promise.

* * *

It was probably inconsiderate of him to show up without calling first, Dillon thought, as he turned into the long driveway that was marked as the Novak Homestead.

He had arrived in Gamble, Wyoming, earlier that day, with his mission on his mind. What had happened to his great-grandfather’s other four wives, the ones he had before he married Dillon’s great-grandmother, Gemma? According to the genealogy research James Westmoreland had done, Gamble was the first place Raphel had settled in after leaving Atlanta, and a man by the name of Jay Novak had been his business partner in a dairy business.

Dillon would have called, but he couldn’t get a signal on his cell phone. Roy Davis, the man who owned the only hotel in Gamble, had explained that was because Gamble was in such a rural area, getting a good signal was almost impossible. Dillon had shaken his head. It was absurd that in this day and age there was a town in which you couldn’t get a decent cell signal when you needed it.

He had finally gotten a signal earlier to contact his secretary to check on things back at the office. Not surprisingly, everything was under control, since he had hired the right people to make sure his billion-dollar real estate firm continued to be a success whether or not he was there.

Dillon parked his car behind another car in the yard and glanced up at a huge Victorian house with a shingle roof. It was very similar in design to his home in Denver and he wondered if that was a coincidence.

According to what he’d heard, four sisters occupied the house and the oldest was named Pamela Novak. He understood Ms. Novak had had an up-and-coming acting career in California but had moved back to Gamble upon her father’s death. She was now operating the drama school a former teacher had recently willed to her.

When Dillon got out of the rental car he took time to stretch his legs. Like most Westmorelands he was tall, and because of his height he’d always enjoyed playing basketball. He’d been set to begin a career in the NBA when he’d gotten word of the plane crash that had claimed the lives of his parents and his aunt and uncle, leaving fourteen younger Westmorelands in his care.

It hadn’t been easy and Tammi, his girlfriend from college, had claimed she would stick by his side no matter what. Less than six months into their marriage she had run back home hollering and screaming that she couldn’t handle living on a ranch with a bunch of heathens.

That was after she had failed to convince him to put his youngest brother, Bane, who’d been eight at the time, his cousins—Adrian and Aiden—the twins who’d been ten, and Bailey, who’d been seven, into foster care because they were always getting into some kind of mischief.

He had understood that most of their antics had been for the attention they’d needed after losing their parents. However, Tammi had failed to see it that way and wanted out of the marriage. One good thing that had come out of his divorce was that he’d realized it was meant for him to be single and, as long as he was the head of the family, he would stay that way.

Another good thing about his divorce was that the younger Westmorelands—all of them with the exception of Bane—had felt guilty about Tammi leaving and had improved their behavior. Now the twins and Bailey were in college. Bane...was still Bane.

“You lost, mister?”

Dillon quickly turned around to look into two pairs of dark brown eyes standing a few yards away. Twins? No, but they could pass for such. Now he could see that one of the teenage girls was a head taller than the other.

“Well, are you?”

He smiled. Evidently he hadn’t spoken quick enough to suit them. “No, I’m not lost if this is the Novaks’ place.”

The taller of the two said, “I’m a Novak. We both are.”

Dillon chuckled. “Then I guess I’m at the right place.”

“Who did you want to see?”

“I want to see Pamela Novak.”

The shorter of the two nodded. “That’s our sister. She’s in the house talking to him.”

Dillon raised a brow. He had no idea who him was, and from the distasteful way it had been said, he really wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “If she’s busy I can come back later,” he said, moving back toward the car.

“Yeah, because he might get mad if he thought you’d come calling just to see Pammie,” the taller one said.

A look of mischief shone in their eyes as the two girls looked at each other and smiled. And then, screaming to the top of their voices, they called, “Pammie, a man is here to see you!”

Dillon leaned against his car with arms across his chest, knowing he had been set up, and the two teens were having a little fun at his expense. He wasn’t so sure how he liked it until the door to the house swung open. At that moment he literally forgot to breathe. A strikingly beautiful woman walked out. It didn’t matter that she was frowning. The only thing that mattered was that she was definitely the living, breathing specimen of the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

She couldn’t have been any taller than five-eight, and was slim with just the right curves in the jeans she was wearing. She had shoulder-length black hair flowing around her shoulders and a medium brown complexion that complimented the rest of her features. Her eye color was the same dark brown as the two scamps, and she had a pixie nose that was perfect for her face. She was definitely a stunner. A raven-haired beauty that made him nearly breathless.

“Hey, you’re trespassing. May I help you?”

He looked beyond her to a big hulk of a man standing directly behind her in the doorway who’d asked the question in a high-pitched and agitated tone. And he was glaring at Dillon as if his very presence annoyed the hell out of him.

Dillon quickly figured that this must be the “him” the girls had been referring to, and was about to open his mouth to speak when the taller of the two girls spoke up. “No, you can’t help him because he didn’t come to see you, Fletcher. He came to see Pammie.”

A dark scowl covered the man’s face at the same time a smile touched the teen’s lips. It wasn’t hard to see she was deliberately trying to get a rise out of the man.

“Paige and Nadia, shouldn’t you be upstairs doing your homework?” the gorgeous woman asked the two before turning her curious gaze on Dillon. Unlike her male friend, she smiled brightly and had a cheerful look on her face.

“Pamela Novak?” he heard himself ask, trying to force air into his lungs. He’d seen beautiful women before, but there was something about her that was doing something to everything male within him.

“Yes,” she said, still smiling while stepping down the steps toward him. He pushed away from the car and began moving toward her, as well.

“Wait a minute, Pamela,” the hulk of a man called out. “You don’t know this man. You shouldn’t be so quick to be nice to people.”

“Maybe you should follow her lead, Fletcher.”

A new voice Dillon hadn’t heard before had spoken up, entering the fray. He glanced behind the hulk to see a young woman, probably around seventeen or eighteen, stepping out the door. Another sister, he quickly surmised, due to the similarities in their features.

Pamela Novak continued walking and when she came to a stop in front of Dillon, she offered her hand. “Yes, I’m Pamela Novak, and you are...?”

He accepted her hand and immediately felt a warmth that began to flow all through his body. Then a fluttering he felt in the pit of his stomach began to slide downward. Even the engagement ring he’d noticed her wearing couldn’t stop the sensations engulfing him.

He watched her mouth move, fascinated with her lips and thinking they had a nice shape. He felt his stomach tighten when he raised his gaze from her lips to her eyes. “I’m Dillon Westmoreland.”

He watched her brow lift ever so slightly, although she kept her smile in place. He could tell she was searching her memory for when, how and where she recalled the last name. He decided to help her. “I understand that my great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, was once a business partner of your great-grandfather, Jay Winston Novak.”

The smile on her lips transformed into a full chuckle. “Oh, yes, Raphel Westmoreland. The wife stealer.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching in a smile. “Yes, so I’ve heard. In fact, that’s the reason I’m here. I—”

“What does he want, Pamela?”

Dillon could tell by the stiffening of Pamela Novak’s shoulders that she wished the hulk would keep quiet for once. “Is he your fiancé?” he couldn’t help asking.

She met his gaze and studied it for a moment before saying, “Yes.”

She then inclined her head to call back over her shoulder, “This is Dillon Westmoreland. Our great-grandfathers were once business partners so I consider him a friend of the family.”

She quickly turned back to Dillon, presented him with another smile and whispered, “You know I say that loosely, don’t you, considering your great-grandfather’s reputation.”

Now it was Dillon’s time to chuckle. “The reason I’m here is to find out all I can about that reputation since I only recently discovered he had one and—”

“What does he want, Pamela?”

Before she could respond the shortest of the teen imps said, “We already told you. He wants Pammie.”

The hulk’s frown deepened and Dillon knew the young girl hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but basically she had spoken the truth. He was attracted to Pamela Novak. Encroaching into another man’s territory had been Raphel Westmoreland’s style, but was not his. However, at that moment Dillon didn’t feel any guilt about the thoughts going through his mind, especially since it was apparent the woman was engaged to an ass. But that was her business, not his.

The man came down the steps and moved toward them and Dillon quickly sized him up. He wore a suit and an expensive pair of black leather shoes. His shirt and tie didn’t look cheap, either, which meant he was probably a successful businessman of some sort.

When he stopped in front of him, Dillon offered the man his hand. “I’m Dillon Westmoreland, and like Ms. Novak said, I’m a family friend. The reason I’m here,” he decided to add, “is because I’m doing research on my family’s history.”

The man shook his hand. “And I’m Fletcher Mallard, Pamela’s fiancé,” he said, as if he needed to stake a claim by speaking his position out loud.

Dillon took it in stride and thought that you could tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and this man had all the telltale signs. He was using the squeezing handshake, often used to exert strength and power. A confident man didn’t need such a tactic. This man was insecure.

Mallard looked at Dillon skeptically. “And just what is it you want to know?”

The smile dropped from Pamela Novak’s lips and she actually glared at her fiancé. “There’s no reason for you to ask all these questions, Fletcher. Mr. Westmoreland is a family friend and that’s all that matters right now.”

As if her words settled it, she turned to Dillon with her smile back in place. “Mr. Westmoreland, please join us for dinner, then you can tell me how we can help in your quest to learn more of your family’s history.”

It would have been so easy and less complicated to decline her offer, but there was something about Fletcher Mallard that outright irritated Dillon and pushed him to accept her invitation.

“Thank you, Ms. Novak, and I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Chapter 2

Pam knew she had made a mistake inviting Dillon Westmoreland to dinner the moment he was seated at the table. She wished she could say Fletcher was in rare form, but she’d seen him behave this way before, when another man had shown interest in her.

But what was strange was that Dillon hadn’t actually shown any interest in her, so she couldn’t understand why Fletcher was being so territorial. Unless...he had picked up on her interest in Dillon.

She pushed such utter nonsense from her mind. She was not interested in Dillon. She was merely curious. What woman wouldn’t be interested in a man like Dillon Westmoreland. He was at least six foot four with coffee-colored features. He had an angular face that boasted a firm jaw, a pair of cute dimples, full lips and the darkest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. She was engaged to be married, but not blind. And when he had sat down at the table to join them for dinner, his presence was powerfully masculine in a distracting way. She glanced around the table and couldn’t help noticing her sisters’ fascination with him, as well.

“So just where are you from, Westmoreland?”

Her spine stiffened with Fletcher’s question. She hadn’t invited Dillon to dinner to be interrogated, but she knew Fletcher wouldn’t be satisfied until he got some answers. She also knew once he got them he still wouldn’t be contented.

“I’m from Denver,” Dillon answered.

Fletcher was about to ask another question when Dillon beat him to the punch. “And where are you from, Mallard?”

The question had clearly caught Fletcher off guard. He had a way of trying to intimidate people, but she had a feeling that Dillon Westmoreland was a man who couldn’t be intimidated.

“I’m from Laramie,” Fletcher said gruffly. “I moved to town about five years ago to open a grocery store here. That was my first. Since then I’ve opened over twenty more in other cities in Wyoming and Montana. It’s my goal to have a Mallard Super Store in every state in the union over the next five years.”

Pam couldn’t help but inwardly smile. If Fletcher thought that announcement would get a reaction from Dillon, then he was sadly mistaken. Dillon didn’t show any sign that he was the least impressed.

“Where are you staying while you’re in town?” Fletcher asked, helping himself to the mashed potatoes.

“At the River’s Edge Hotel.”

“Nice place if you can do without cable television,” Jill said, smiling.

Pam watched how easily Dillon returned Jill’s smile. “I can do without it. I don’t watch much television.”

“And what is it that you do?” Fletcher asked in a voice that Pam felt was as cold as the iced tea she was drinking.

Dillon, she saw, gave Fletcher a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he said, “I’m into real estate.”

“Oh, you sell homes,” Fletcher said as if the occupation was beneath him.

“Not quite,” Dillon said pleasantly. “I own a real estate firm. You might have heard of it, Blue Ridge Land Management.”

Pam saw the surprise that lit Fletcher’s eyes before he said, “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

She had to force back a chuckle because she was sure that he had heard of it. Who hadn’t? The Blue Ridge Land Management Company was a billion-dollar corporation, well known in the Mountain States, that had a higher place on the Fortune 500 list than Mallard Super Stores.

Seeing that Fletcher was momentarily speechless, she stepped in to say, “Mr. Westmoreland, you said that—”

“I’m Dillon.”

He had raised his gaze to meet hers and she saw a friendly smile lurking in the dark depths of his eyes. Her heart rate began accelerating in her chest. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “And I’m Pam.”

After taking a sip of her tea, she continued. “Dillon, you said that you were here to research your family’s history?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze still on her. “For years I was told by my parents and grandparents that my brothers, cousins and I didn’t have any living relatives, and that my great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had been an only child. So you could imagine my surprise when one day, out of the clear blue sky, a man, his two sons and three nephews showed up at my ranch to proclaim they were my kin.”

Intrigued by the story, Pam placed her fork next to her plate and gave him her full attention. “How did they find you?”

“Through a genealogy search. The older man, James Westmoreland, knew that his grandfather, Reginald Westmoreland, had an identical-twin brother. It was discovered that that twin brother was my great-grandfather, Raphel, who had left home at twenty-two and had never been heard from again. In fact, the family assumed he’d died. They had no idea that he had eventually settled in Denver, married and had a son, who gave him two grandsons and then a slew of great-grands—fifteen, in fact. I am the oldest of the fifteen great-grands.”

“Wow, that must have been a shocker for you to discover you had other relatives when you assumed there weren’t any,” Jill, who was practically hanging on to Dillon’s every word, said. “What does your wife think about all of this?”

Pam watched Dillon smile and knew he hadn’t been fooled by the way the question had been asked. Jill wanted to know if he was a married man. Pam hated to admit that she was just as curious. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean a thing.

“She didn’t have anything to say because I’m not married,” Dillon replied smoothly. “At least not anymore. I’ve been divorced for close to ten years.”

Pam glanced over at Jill and prayed her sister had the decency not to inquire as to what had happened to end his marriage.

Fletcher, disliking the fact he wasn’t the center of attention, spoke up in an authoritative negative voice. “Sounds pretty crazy to me. Why would you care about a bunch of people who show up at your place claiming they were your relatives, or better yet, why would you want to find out your family history? You should live in the present and not in the past.”

Pam could tell Dillon was fighting hard to hold his temper in check, and his tone was remarkably restrained when he finally responded. “Do you have a family, Fletcher?”

Again, by Fletcher’s expression it was obvious he didn’t appreciate being the one receiving the questions. “No, I was an only child. My parents are deceased, but they didn’t have any siblings, either. I’m the only Mallard around for now.” He glanced over at Pam and smiled. “Of course, that will change once Pamela and I marry.”

Dillon nodded slowly. “But until that changes, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the significance of what a family means. I already do. Westmorelands are big into family and, after meeting my other relatives, my only regret is not having known them sooner.”

He glanced over at her and, for a second, she held his steady gaze. And she felt it. There was a connection between them that they were trying to ignore. She looked down at her plate as she continued eating.

Nadia asked him a question about his siblings and just as comfortably and easily as a man who was confident with himself and who he was, he began telling her everything she wanted to know. Without even trying, Dillon was captivating everyone at the dinner table...with the exception of Fletcher.

“How long do you plan to stay in town?” Fletcher rudely cut into the conversation between Dillon and the sisters.

Dillon glanced over at Fletcher. “Until I get all the questions I have about Raphel Westmoreland answered.”

“That may take a while,” Fletcher said.

Dillon smiled, but Pam knew it was just for Fletcher’s benefit and it wasn’t sincere. “I got time.”

She saw Fletcher open his mouth to make another statement and she cut him off. “Dillon, I should be able to help you with that. My great-grandfather’s old business records, as well as his personal journal, are in the attic. If you want to drop by tomorrow and go up there and look around, you’re welcome to do so.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll be happy to take you up on your offer.”

* * *

“I don’t want you meeting with that man alone, Pamela. Inviting him here tomorrow while your sisters are away at school wasn’t a good idea. And tomorrow I’ll be out of town visiting my stores in Laramie.”

Pam glanced over at Fletcher as she walked him to the door. He was upset and she knew it. In fact, there was no doubt in her mind that everyone at the dinner table had known it since he wasn’t a person who hid his emotions well.

“So,” he continued, “I’ll get word to him tomorrow that you’ve withdrawn the invitation.”

Fletcher’s words stopped her dead in her tracks just a few feet from her living room door. She stared at him, certain she had missed something, like a vital piece of their conversation, somewhere along the way. “Excuse me?”

“I said that since you agree that you shouldn’t be alone with Westmoreland, I’ll get word to him that you’ve withdrawn your invitation for tomorrow.”

She frowned. “I don’t agree to any such nonsense. The invitation I gave to Dillon Westmoreland still stands, Fletcher. You’re acting controlling and territorial and there’s no reason for it.”

She saw the muscle that ticked in his jaw, indicating he was angry. “You’re an attractive woman, Pamela. Westmoreland isn’t blind. He noticed,” he said.

“And what is that supposed to mean? I agreed to marry you but that doesn’t mean you own me. If you’re having seconds thoughts about this engagement, then—”

“Of course I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all. You’re too trusting with people.”

His gaze then flicked over her before returning to her face. “And I think that you’re the one having second thoughts,” he said.

She lifted her chin. “Of course I’m having second thoughts. I agreed to marry you as a way to save my ranch. I appreciate you coming to my rescue but you deserve better than that. And that’s why I plan to pay Lester Gadling another visit this week. I want him to go back over those papers. It’s hard to believe Dad did not make arrangements for the balance on that mortgage to be paid off if anything happened to him.”

Fletcher waited for a moment, then said, “If you feel that strongly about it then I agree that you should go back to Gadling, since he was your father’s attorney, and ask him about it. But don’t worry about what I deserve. I’ll have you as my wife and that will make me a happy man.”

Pamela didn’t say anything. She and Fletcher weren’t entering into their marriage under false assumptions. He knew she was not in love with him.

She took a moment to reflect on a few things. She had left home upon graduating from high school with a full scholarship to attend the University of Southern California Drama School. It was during her sophomore year that Alma, her stepmother, had died. Her father had married Alma when Pam was ten, and Alma had been wonderful in filling the void after losing her mother.

She had thought about dropping out of college and returning home, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. He was adamant about her staying in school and insisted that he would be able to care for her sisters, although Nadia had been only three at the time, the same age she’d been when she’d lost her own mother.

“Pamela?”

Pam blinked upon realizing Fletcher had called her name. “I’m sorry, Fletcher. I was just thinking about happier times, when Dad and Alma were both alive.”

“And you will have even happier times once we’re married, Pamela,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “I know you don’t love me now, but I’m convinced you will grow to love me. Just think of all the things I can give you.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not asking for you to give me all those things, Fletcher. The only things I’ve asked for, and that you’ve promised, are to make sure my sisters retain ownership of our home and to put my sisters through college.”

“I promise all of that. And I’ll promise to give you more if you would just let me,” he said in a low, frustrated tone.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment and knew her silence was probably grating on his nerves, but she couldn’t help it. “I don’t want anything more, Fletcher, so please let’s just leave it at that.”

Pam had met Fletcher four years ago on one of her trips back to Gamble to visit her family. After that, whenever she came to town, he would make it a point to ask her if she would go out with him.

After her father died and she’d moved back home, he had come calling on a regular basis, although she had explained to him that friendship was all there could ever be between them. At the time, he had seemed satisfied with that.

Then Lester Gadling had come visiting and dropped the bombshell that had changed her life forever. Fletcher had stopped by that evening and she had found herself telling him what had happened. He had listened attentively before presenting what he saw as an easy solution. She could marry him and her financial problems would be over.

At first, she’d thought he’d fallen off the deep end, certain he had taken leave of his senses. But the more she’d thought about it, the more his suggestion had taken shape in her mind. All she had to do was marry him and he would see to it that her ranch was saved and would establish a trust fund for her sisters, so when the time came for their college, everything would be set.

She didn’t accept his offer at first, determined to handle things without Fletcher’s help. She had gone to bank after bank trying to secure a loan but time and time again had been turned down. She had only accepted Fletcher’s proposal when she’d seen she had no other choice.

Glancing down at her watch, she said, “It’s getting late.”

“All right. Don’t forget to be careful around Westmoreland. There is something about him that I don’t trust.”

“Like I said, Fletcher, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded before leaning in closer to brush a kiss across her lips. As always she waited for blood to rush fast and furious through her veins, fire to suffuse her insides, but as usual, nothing happened. No stirring sensations. Not a single spark.

For months she had ignored the fact that she was not physically attracted to the man she was going to marry. It hadn’t bothered her until tonight when she discovered she was very physically attracted to another man. And that man’s name was Dillon Westmoreland.

* * *

Dillon eased his body into a huge bathtub filled with warm water. Whatever amenities the little hotel lacked, he would have to say a soak in this tub definitely made up for them. There weren’t too many bathtubs around that could accommodate his height comfortably.

He closed his eyes and stretched out, thinking he’d never been able to relax in a tub before. It had been a while since he’d been able to sit in a tub and not worry about being disturbed by some family member needing his help or advice.

Family.

Damn, but he missed them already. He wasn’t worried about the family he’d left in Denver since he’d left Ramsey in charge. He and Ramsey were only separated in age by seven months and were more like brothers than they were cousins. If truth be told, Ramsey was his best friend. Always had been and always would be.

He couldn’t wait until he began digging into information about Raphel. He could have hired an agency to do it for him, but this was something he wanted to do himself. Something he felt he owed his family. If there was something in his great-grandfather’s past, then he felt he should be the one to uncover it. Good or bad.

Dillon shifted his body. He kept his eyes closed while thinking that tonight he’d met the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. A woman who looked totally out of place in Gamble, Wyoming. A woman whose voice alone could stir something deep inside of him.

A woman who was already taken.

There was no denying he was attracted to her, but wanting her was taboo. So why was he thinking about her even now? And why in the hell was he so eager to see her again tomorrow?

He inhaled deeply, wondering how Fletcher Mallard could get so lucky. It was easy to see the man was a jerk, a pompous pain in the ass. But Fletcher was no concern of his, and neither was the man’s engagement to Pamela Novak. Dillon was in Gamble for one thing and for one thing only. He was there to find out everything he could about Raphel, and not to encroach on another man’s property.

He would do well to remember that.

Chapter 3

Glancing out the window Pam saw Dillon’s car the moment it pulled up in front of the house. She took a sip of her coffee while watching him, grateful that the window was designed in a way that gave her a view of anyone arriving. From what she’d been told, her great-grandfather had deliberately built the house that way to have an advantage over anyone who came calling without their knowledge.

Today she was making full use of that advantage.

After he brought the car to a stop, she watched as he opened the car and got out. He stood for a moment to study her home, which gave her an opportunity to study him.

He was tall—she’d noticed that last night. But last night she hadn’t had time to fully check him out. She couldn’t help but appreciate what she saw now. Nice shoulders. Firm abdomen. Muscled chest. Taut thighs. He was wearing jeans and a blue Western shirt that revealed strong arms, and a black Stetson was on his head.

She sighed deeply, thinking that inviting him to come back today might not have been a good idea after all, just as Fletcher had claimed. She glanced down at her hand holding the coffee cup and couldn’t miss the diamond ring on her finger, the one Fletcher had put there a week ago.

Okay, so she was an engaged woman, one who would be marrying a nice guy in a few months. But being engaged, or married for that matter, didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a fine specimen of a man when she saw one. Besides, her best friend from college, Iris Michaels, would give her hell if she didn’t check him out and then call to give her all the hot-tamale details.

She blinked as she nearly burnt her tongue on a sip of coffee when Dillon looked straight at her through what she’d always considered her secret window. How had he known about the side view? To anyone else it would appear to be a flat wall in the shadow of a huge oak tree.

There was only one way to find out. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. As she made her way out of the kitchen toward the living room, she decided maybe it would be better for him not to know she’d been sitting here watching him since he’d arrived.

She slowly opened the door and was afforded an opportunity to watch him unseen some more when his attention was diverted by a flock of geese in the sky. While he studied the geese, she again studied him, taking in the angle of his face while his head was tilted slightly backward. He was standing with his legs braced apart and with his hands in his pockets. There was something about that stance, that particular pose—especially on him—that made her just want to stand there and stare.

While living in Los Angeles for five years she’d been surrounded by jaw-droppingly, stomach-stirringly handsome men, many from some of the world’s most elite modeling agencies. But none could hold a light to the man presently standing in her yard. His features were distinct—sharp facial bones, firm jaw and full lips. His hair beneath his Stetson was close cut and trimmed neatly around his head.

A moment passed. Possibly two. When suddenly he turned his head and looked over in her direction.

She had been caught.

And she was immediately enveloped in his intense gaze. She was unable to do anything but return his stare while wondering why she was doing so. Why were her senses, her entire being, homed in on everything about him? This wasn’t good, she thought.

At least that was what her mind was telling her, but her common sense hadn’t gotten there yet. It was being held captive within the scope of the darkest pair of eyes she’d ever seen.

Somewhere in the not-too-faraway distance she heard the sound of a car backfiring and the sound ripped right into the moment. It was only then that she was able to slide her gaze away from his to look over across the wide expanse of yard.

After taking a deep breath she returned her gaze to his, wrestled with those same senses she had lost control of earlier, placed a smile on her face and said, “Good morning, Dillon.”

She wasn’t just off the boat, and knew that during the brief moment when their gazes had held, something had happened. Just as it had last night. She wasn’t sure of what, but she knew that it had. She also knew she would pretend that it hadn’t. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she added.

“Yes, it is,” he said, turning to walk over toward her. Holy cow! she thought, swallowing deeply. The man’s strides were sure, confident and deliberately masculine. He had one hell of a sexy walk, and what was so disturbing about it was that it seemed as natural as the sun rising in the morning.

He came to a stop in front of her and met her gaze fleetingly before glancing up at the sun. His gaze then returned to her. “It might rain later, though.”

She nodded. “Yes, it might.” She knew they were trying to get back in sync and to lessen the intensity of what had passed between them.

“I hope I’m not too early,” he said in a deep, husky voice, breaking into her thoughts.

“No, you’re fine. I was just having my morning coffee. Would you like to join me?”

With an ultrasexy shrug of his massive shoulders, he smiled as he removed his hat. “Umm, I don’t know. I feel I’m taking a lot of your time already.”

“No problem. Besides, you want to know about Raphel, right?”

“Yes. Is there something you can tell me other than he was your great-grandfather’s partner and that he ran off with your great-grandmother, Portia Novak?”

Pam chuckled as she led him through the house and headed toward the kitchen. “Portia wasn’t my great-grandmother,” she corrected. “A few years after she’d run off, he met my great-grandmother and they married.”

When he sat down at the table, she said, “I’m sure you’ve heard some stories about Raphel and Portia.” She proceeded to pour him a cup of coffee.

“No, in actuality, I hadn’t. I’d always assumed my great-grandmother Gemma was my great-grandfather’s only wife. It was only after my Atlanta Westmoreland relatives showed up and explained how we were related that I found out about Portia Novak and the others.”

Pam lifted a brow. “There were others?”

He nodded. “Yes, Gemma was his fifth wife.”

Dillon was more than curious about what had happened to a preacher’s wife, a woman by the name of Lila Elms. Although she was already legally married to the preacher, had she and Raphel pretended to be married for a spell before he dumped her for Portia, the wife of Jay Novak?

And then what happened to Clarice, wife number three? And Isabelle, wife four? All four women’s names were rumored to be connected to Raphel in some say. If what they’d discovered so far was true, Raphel had taken up with the four women before his thirty-second birthday, and all had been married to another man or engaged to marry someone else. It seemed Raphel’s reputation as a wife stealer was legendary.

Dillon took a sip of coffee, deciding for the moment not to inform her that the others, like Portia, were women who belonged to other men, legally or otherwise. But he would throw out the name of one she might have heard about already. “My goal is to find out what happened to Lila Elms.”

“The preacher’s wife?”

So, she had heard about Lila. “Yes.” He took another sip and then asked, “How do you know so much about this stuff?”

She chuckled as she sat down at the table with him after refilling her own cup of coffee. “My grandmother. As a little girl we would spend hours and hours on the porch outside shelling peas, and she would fill my ears about all the family history. But the one subject she didn’t shed a lot of light on was Portia. For some reason, any conversation about her was taboo. Jay wanted it that way and my great-grandmother respected his wishes.”

Dillon nodded, trying to concentrate on what she was saying and not on how smoothly her lips would part each time she took a sip of her coffee. How the bottom lip would hang open a little and how the top one would fit perfectly around the rim of the cup.

He felt his gut tightening and took a sip of his coffee. When he had been standing out in her yard and he’d turned and seen her staring at him, he had tried not to speculate just what was going on in her mind. He didn’t want to even consider the possibility that it had been close to what had been going on in his.

Her gaze had touched him deeply, in a way he doubted she even realized. Something about Pamela Novak was calling out to him in the most elemental way, and that wasn’t good. Since his divorce, he had dated on occasion. But if the truth be told, he’d made it a point to date only women who, like him, weren’t interested in anything long term. All of those women had been unattached.

“Are you ready to go up to the attic?”

Her question reined his thoughts back and he glanced over at her and immediately wished he hadn’t. Every muscle in his body immediately seemed to weaken yet at the same time fill him with an intensity that made him draw in a long breath. It was time to acknowledge it for what it was. Sexual chemistry.

He had heard about it but had never actually experienced it for himself. He’d been attracted to women before, but it never went further than an attraction. What he was beginning to feel was an element of something greater than a mere attraction. There were these primitive vibes he was not only emitting but was also receiving. That meant Pamela Novak was in tune to what was going on between them, although she might choose to pretend otherwise. Of course, he understood her reluctance to acknowledge such a thing. After all, she was an engaged woman. And she didn’t come across as one who would deliberately be unfaithful to her fiancé.

But still...

“Yes, I’m ready,” he finally said. “But first I want to clear the air about something.” He watched her lips quiver nervously before she set her cup down and met his gaze. He tensed, trying to ignore the sensations rolling through him every time their eyes met.

“Clear the air about what?”

He’d been too busy watching her lips to pay any attention to the words flowing out of them. He fought back the urge to lift the tip of his finger and run it across those lips.

He cleared his throat. “About last night. My showing up here without calling first. I think I may have rattled your fiancé a little, and I regret doing that. It was not my intent to cause any problems between the two of you.”

He watched as her shoulders gave a feminine shrug. “You didn’t cause any problems. Don’t worry about it.”

She then stood. “I think we should go up to the attic and see what’s there. There’s a trunk that contains a lot of my great-grandfather’s business records.”

Dillon nodded. She had responded to his question and in the same breath, had effectively switched topics, which let him know the subject of her relationship with Fletcher Mallard was not up for discussion.

He pushed his chair back and then got on his feet. “I’m ready, just lead the way.”

She did and he couldn’t help but appreciate the backside that strolled in front of him as he followed.

* * *

With his long legs, it didn’t take Dillon long to catch up with her, Pamela thought. Not that she was trying to leave him behind. But for a few moments she’d needed to get her bearings. The man had a way of making her not think straight.

He was silent as she led him up the stairs and she couldn’t help looking sideways to gaze at his profile. What was it about him that affected her in a way Fletcher didn’t? Her heart rate accelerated when she noticed he even climbed the stairs with an ingrained sexiness that made her senses reel.

When they reached the top landing he moved slightly ahead of her, as if he knew where he was going. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear you’ve been here before,” she said as they continued to walk toward the end of the hall that led to the attic stairs.

He glanced down at her and smiled. “This might sound crazy but this house is very similar to mine back in Denver. Was it built by your great-grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Then that might explain things, since the house I live in was built by Raphel. I’m thinking he liked the design, and when he decided to build his home he did so from his memory of this one.”

“That would explain how you knew about our secret window.” She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. She had just admitted to spying on him out the window when he’d arrived.

“Yes, that’s how I know about it. I have one of my own just like it and in the same place.”

“I see.” But, in a way, she didn’t see, which made her as eager to find out about Raphel as Dillon was.

She then walked on and he joined her. When they reached the door that led to the attic she opened it. Judging from the expression on his face, it was as if he’d seen the view before, and that made her determined to know why his home was a replica of hers.

Unlike the other stairs in her home, the attic steps were narrow and Dillon moved aside for her to go up ahead of him. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. She was tempted to glance over her shoulder but knew that wouldn’t be the appropriate thing to do. So she did the next best thing and engaged him in conversation.

She broke into the silence by saying, “At dinner you mentioned that you were the oldest of Raphel’s fifteen great-grands.” She glanced briefly over her shoulder.

“Yes, and for a number of years I was the legal guardian for ten of them.”

Pamela swung around so quickly, had she been standing on a stair she probably would have lost her balance. “Guardian to ten of them?”

At his nod, she blinked in amazement. “How did that come about?” She stepped aside when he reached her, noting there still wasn’t a lot of room between them, but she was so eager to hear his answer she didn’t make a move to step back any further.

“My parents and my aunt and uncle decided to go away for the weekend together, to visit one of my mother’s friends in Louisiana. On their way back to Denver, their plane developed engine trouble and went down, killing everyone on board.”

“Oh, how awful.”

“Yes, it was. My parents had seven kids and my aunt and uncle had eight. I was the oldest at twenty-one. My brother Micah was nineteen and Jason was eighteen. My other brothers, Riley, Stern, Canyon and Brisbane, were all under sixteen.”

He braced a hip against the stair railing and continued. “My cousin Ramsey was twenty, and his brother Zane was nineteen and Derringer was eighteen. The remaining cousins, Megan, Gemma, the twins Adrian and Aiden, and the youngest, Bailey, were also all under sixteen.”

She also leaned against the rail to face him, still full of questions. “And family services didn’t have a problem with you being responsible for so many little ones?”

“No, everyone knew the Westmorelands would want to stay together. Besides,” he said, chuckling, “no one around our parts wanted to be responsible for Bane.”

“Bane?”

“Yes. It’s short for Brisbane. He’s my youngest brother who likes his share of mischief. He was only eight when my parents were killed and he took their deaths pretty hard.”

“How old is he now?”

“Twenty-two and still hot under the collar in more ways than one. I wish there was something holding his interest these days other than a certain female in Denver.”

Pam nodded. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was a certain female in Denver holding Dillon’s interest, as well.

“Do all of you still live close to one another?” she asked.

“Yes, Great-Grandpa Raphel purchased a lot of land back in the thirties. When each Westmoreland reaches the age of twenty-five they are given a hundred-acre tract of land, which is why we all live in close proximity to each other. As the oldest cousin, I inherited the family home where everyone seems to congregate most of the time.”

He then asked her, “How old were you when your great-grandfather passed?”

“He died before I was born, but I heard a lot about him. What about Raphel? How old were you when he passed?”

“He died before I was born, too. My great-grandmother lived until I was two, so I don’t rightly remember much of her, either. But I do remember my grandparents, Grampa Stern and Gramma Paula. It was Grampa Stern who used to tell us stories about Raphel, but never did he mention anything about past wives or other siblings. In fact, he claimed Raphel had been an only child. That makes me wonder how much he truly knew about his own father.”

Pam paused for a moment and then said, “I guess there are secrets in most families.”

“Yes, like Raphel running off with the preacher’s wife,” he said.

“And you think Raphel eventually married her?”

“Not sure of that, either,” Dillon replied. “Since she was legally married to the preacher, I don’t see how a marriage between them could take place, which is why I’m curious as to what happened to her once they fled Georgia.”

“But her name, as well as Portia’s, are shown as former wives on documents you’ve found?” she asked, trying to get a greater understanding of just what kind of life his great-grandfather may have led.

“Two of my Atlanta cousins, Quade and Cole, own a security firm and they did a background check, going as far back as the early nineteen-hundreds. Old land deeds were discovered for Raphel and they list four separate women as his wives. So far we know two of them—the preacher’s wife and Portia Novak—were already legally married. We can only assume Raphel lived with them pretending to be married.”

He paused a moment and then glanced around and asked, “Do you come up here often?”

His question made her realize they had been standing still long enough and were awfully close, so she shifted toward the attic door. “Not as often as I used to. I just moved back to Gamble last year when my father passed. Like you, I’m the oldest and I wanted to care for my sisters. I am their legal guardian.”

Dillon nodded and stepped back when she opened the attic door. He had noticed the way she had interacted with her sisters last night at dinner. It was obvious they were close.

“That’s my great-grandfather’s trunk over there. It’s my understanding that he and your great-grandfather were partners in a dairy business, which was very profitable at the time. I know there are a lot of business records in there, as well as some of Raphel’s belongings. It seems he made a quick getaway when he left Gamble.”

Dillon shot her a glance. “You have some of Raphel’s belongings?”

“Yes,” she said, moving toward the trunk. “I didn’t mention it at dinner last night.”

He understood the reason she hadn’t done so. Her fiancé probably would have had something to say about it. It was quite obvious the man could make an argument out of just about any subject.

Instead of immediately following her over to the trunk, Dillon stood back for a moment and watched her go. His gaze was focused on her. The possibility that some of his great-grandfather’s belongings might be inside that trunk intrigued him. But she intrigued him more.

She was wearing jeans and a pretty pink blouse that added an ultrafeminine touch. He couldn’t help but notice the seductive curves outlined in those jeans. Walking behind her up the stairs to the attic had been hell. He was certain sweat had popped out on his brow with every step she’d taken.

When she saw he hadn’t followed her, she turned and slanted him a glance. “Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t all right. One part of his brain was trying to convince him that, although she was an engaged woman, she wasn’t married yet, so she was still available. But another part of him, the one looking at the ring on her finger, knew to make a pass in any way would be crossing a line. But hell, he was tempted.

She held his gaze, and he realized at that moment he hadn’t given her an answer. “Yes, I’m fine. Just overwhelmed.” If only she knew how much and the reason why.

“I understand how you feel. What you said last night at dinner is true for me, as well. I consider family important. Although you never knew him, you want to know as much about your great-grandfather as you can learn. I think it is admirable that you want to do so.”

She glanced down at the trunk and then back at him. “I just hope you don’t think you’re going to find out everything there is to know about your great-grandfather in one day, Dillon. Even after I open that trunk it might spur you to ask more questions, seek more answers.”

“And if I need to come back here?” he asked, knowing she knew where he was going with the question.

“You’re welcome to come back for as long as it takes.”

His gaze held hers intensely as he asked, “Will Fletcher be okay with it? Like I said earlier, I don’t want to cause any problems between the two of you.”

“There won’t be any problems. Now, aren’t you going to open this trunk? I’ve been dying to do so for years, but growing up we were always told it was off limits.” Her lips curved at the corners. “But I will admit to defying orders once and poking around in there. At that time, I didn’t see anything that held my interest.”

Dillon smiled as he crossed the floor toward her. Like his at home, the attic here was huge. As a boy, the attic had been one of his favorite places to hide when he wanted some alone time. This room was full of boxes and trunks, but they had been arranged in a neat order, nothing like the way his attic looked back home. And there was that lone, small rectangular window that allowed just enough sunlight to shine through.

Kneeling, he pulled off a key that was taped on the side of the trunk and began working at the lock. Moments later he lifted open the lid. There were a lot of papers, business books, a couple of work shirts that had aged with time, a bottle of wine, a compass and a tattered looking journal.

He glanced up at Pam. “Mind if I take a look at this?”

“No, I don’t mind. In fact, there’s a letter inside.”

He lifted a brow as he opened the journal and, sure enough, a letter whose envelope had turned yellow, lay on the front page. The name on the envelope was still legible. It simply said Westmoreland. He glanced back over at her.

“Like I said, although the trunk was off limits, I couldn’t help but snoop that one time. That’s how I knew about that letter.”

Dillon couldn’t hide his smile as he opened the sealed letter. It read, “Whomever comes to get Raphel’s belongings just needs to know that he was a good and decent man and I don’t blame him for leaving and taking Portia with him.”

It had been signed by Pam’s great-grandfather Jay. Dillon put the letter back in the envelope and glanced up at Pam. “This is all very confusing. Think you can shed some light on it?”

She shook her head. “No, sorry. For a man not to hold any animosity against the man that took his wife is strange. Perhaps Raphel did Jay a favor if he didn’t want to be married to her anyway. But that theory is really stretching it a bit. A man’s wife is a man’s wife, and Portia had been Jay’s wife.”

“And what about Lila Elms?”

She shrugged. “I can’t tell you anything about her, other than they must have parted ways between Atlanta and here, because from all I’ve heard when Raphel arrived in Gamble he was a single man.”

She glanced at her watch. “There are a few phone calls that I need to make, so I’m going to leave you for a while. Take as much time as you like up here, and if you need me for any reason, I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen.”

“All right.”

She moved toward the attic door.

“Pamela?”

She glanced back around. “Yes?”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

She smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

* * *

Dillon released a deep breath the moment Pam left, closing the attic door behind her. Pamela Novak was a temptation he had best leave alone. All the while she had been in this room, he had tried keeping the conversation going, anything to suppress the desires that had run rampant through him.

What was there about her that ruffled his senses every time she was within ten feet of him? What was there about her that made a number of unnamed and undefined sensations run through him? It had been hard as hell to maintain his composure and control around her.

Perhaps his dilemma had to do with her understanding of his need to delve into his family’s history, his desire to know as much about Raphel Westmoreland as he could find out. Even some of his siblings and cousins didn’t understand what was driving him, although they did support him. He appreciated them for it, but support and understanding were two different things.

However, he had a gut feeling Pamela did understand. She not only understood but was willing to help him any way she could...even if it meant stirring her fiancé’s ire.

Deciding he needed to do what he’d come to Gamble to do, he pulled a chair out of a corner and placed it in front of the trunk. Picking up Jay Novak’s journal, he began reading.

Chapter 4

Pam glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Dillon had been up in the attic for over an hour, and she couldn’t help but wonder how things were going. More than once she’d thought about going up to find out but had talked herself out of it. Instead she got busy looking over scripts for new plays her students had submitted.

The ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts and she had a feeling who the caller was without bothering to look at caller ID. Sighing deeply, she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“How are you, Pamela? This is Fletcher.”

“I’m fine, Fletcher. How are things in Laramie?”

“They are fine, but I received a call and I’m going to have to leave here and go to Montana and check on a store there. A massive snowstorm caused a power failure that lasted a couple of days, and a lot of our refrigerated items were destroyed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So am I. That means I’ll be flying to Montana to meet with the insurance company representative. It may take a few days and I might not be back until the end of the week.”

She could lie and say she was sorry to hear that, but she really wasn’t. She had felt the two of them needed space and this was a way she could get it. Since agreeing to marry him, he’d made it a point to see her practically every day.

“You can make me happy and come spend some time with me here.” His words intruded into her thoughts. The two of them hadn’t slept together. Although he had brought up the idea several times, she had avoided the issue with him.

“Thanks for the invite, but I have a lot to do here. Besides, I need to be here for my sisters.”

She didn’t have to see him to know his jaw was probably tight from anger right now. This was not the first time he had tried to talk her into going out of town with him since they’d become engaged.

He didn’t say anything for a moment and when he did speak again, she was not surprised by his change in subject. “And where is Westmoreland? Did he show up today?”

She had no reason to lie. “Yes, he showed up. In fact, he’s still here, upstairs in the attic going through some things.”

“Why couldn’t he take the stuff with him and go through it back at the hotel?”

Fletcher’s tone, as well as his words, annoyed her. “I saw no reason for him to take anything back to the hotel. I regret you evidently have a problem with it.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Pamela,” he said after a brief pause. “I still feel you don’t know the man well enough to be there alone with him.”

“Then I guess you just need to chalk it up as bad judgment on my part. Goodbye, Fletcher.”

Without waiting for him to say anything else, she hung up the phone. He would fume for a few hours and then he would call her back later and apologize once he realized just how controlling he’d acted.

Pam eased back to the table and picked up the papers once again, determined to tuck Fletcher and his attitude away until later. She had agreed to marry him and she would marry him, since her sisters’ futures and not losing her family home meant everything to her.

* * *

Dillon closed the journal and stood to stretch his legs. He was used to being dressed in a business suit every day, instead of casual jeans and a shirt. That morning he had checked in with Ted Boston, his business manager, to see how things were going at his real estate firm and, not surprisingly, Ted had everything under control. He had made his firm into a billion-dollar company with hard work and by hiring the right people to work for him.

He glanced at his watch, finding it hard to believe that two hours had passed already. He looked down at the journal. At least part of his curiosity had been satisfied as to what had happened to Lila, the wife of the preacher from Georgia.

According to what Raphel had shared with Jay, the old preacher had been abusing his young wife. Church members had turned their heads with the mind-set that what went on behind a married couple’s closed doors was their business, especially when it involved a preacher.

Evidently, Raphel hadn’t seen it that way. He had come up with a plan to rescue Lila from the clutches of the abusive preacher—a plan his family had not supported. After taking Lila as far away as Texas, Raphel had helped her get established in the small Texas town of Copperhead, on the outskirts of Austin. Raphel had been her protector, never her lover, and before moving on he had purchased a small tract of land and given it to her to make a new beginning for herself.

Dillon smiled, thinking, at least in the case of Lila, Raphel had been a wife saver and not a wife stealer. Given the woman’s situation, Dillon figured he would have done the same thing. He’d discovered that when it came to the opposite sex, Westmoreland men had this ingrained sense of protection. He just regretted that Raphel had severed ties with his family.

At that moment Dillon’s stomach started to growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since early that morning and it was afternoon already. It was time for him to head back over to the hotel.

* * *

Pam had been intensely involved in reading one of her students’ scripts when suddenly she felt sensations curl inside her stomach at the same time chill bumps began to form on her arms.

She glanced up and met Dillon’s gaze as he stepped into the kitchen. She wondered how her body had known of his presence before her mind. And why even now the sensations curling her stomach had intensified. She decided to speak before he had a chance to do so, not sure what havoc the sensations combined with his deep, disturbingly sexy voice would play on her senses.

“How did things go? Did you discover anything about your great-grandfather that you didn’t know before?” she asked, hoping he didn’t hear the strain in her voice.

He smiled, and the effect of that smile was just as bad as if he’d spoken. He had a dimpled smile that showed beautiful white teeth. “Yes. At least, thanks to your great-grandfather’s journal, I was able to solve the mystery of Lila, woman number one.”

“Did they eventually marry?” she asked, curiously.

“No, from what I read, Lila’s preacher husband was an abusive man and Lila sought out Raphel’s help to escape the situation. He took her as far as Copperhead, Texas, hung around while she got on her feet, established her with a new identity and then moved on.”

Pam nodded. “That explains why he wasn’t married when he arrived here in Gamble.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t explain why he would run off with your great-grandfather’s wife. And so far nothing I’ve read explains it, but then I didn’t get through the entire journal. Not even halfway. Jay would digress and talk about the dairy business and how it was doing. But from what I’ve read so far, it seemed that he and Raphel were close, which doesn’t explain how my great-grandfather could betray him the way he did.”

Pam didn’t say anything for a moment and then she asked, “So, are you taking a break before reading some more?”

“No, it’s getting late and I think it won’t be a good idea to be here when your fiancé arrives this evening. I’ve outstayed my welcome today anyway, and I appreciate you giving me a chance to read the journal.”

“You’re welcome.” And before she could think better of her actions, she said, “And I’d like to invite you to stay for dinner. I’m sure my sisters would love hearing what you’ve discovered today. I think you piqued their interest at dinner yesterday and they see this as some sort of family mystery needing to be solved. At some time or another everyone has heard about Raphel Westmoreland and how he ran off with my great-grandfather’s first wife.”

Dillon leaned against the kitchen cabinet. “I’m surprised no one in your family has been curious enough to find out what really happened.”

Pam shrugged. “I guess you have to understand how some women think, namely my great-grandmother. I’m sure she could have cared less why her predecessor ran off with another man, and the less the family talked about Portia, the better.”

She tilted her head and looked up at him. “So will you take me up on my invitation and stay for dinner?”

Pam’s words intruded into his thoughts and he looked up and over at her, holding her gaze a moment. “And what about Fletcher? How is he going to handle me sitting at your dinner table two evenings in a row?”

He watched as she nervously bit her bottom lip and then lifted her chin. “There’s nothing wrong with me inviting someone I consider a family friend to dinner. Besides, Fletcher is out of town for a few days.”

He nodded, considered her words and decided not to read anything into them. It was an invitation to dinner, nothing more. As long as he remembered she was an engaged woman, everything would be all right.

Only problem with that was that the more he saw her, and the more he was around her, the more he was attracted to her. And the more he was attracted to her, the more he could admit, whether it was honorable or not, that he wanted her.

He swallowed and intentionally glanced out the window, needing to break eye contact with Pam. What he’d just inwardly admitted wasn’t good, but he was being honest with himself. That meant as soon as he could find out all the answers he wanted about Raphel, he hoped in the next couple of days, he would return home.

He glanced back at her, met her gaze, felt the pull, the attraction, and although she might never admit it to anyone, not even to herself, he knew it was mutual. He knew he should ask if he could take the journal back to the hotel and spend the next several days reading it, out of such close proximity to her and this unusual sexual chemistry he felt whenever they were near each other.

But for some reason he couldn’t. “If you’re sure it will be okay then, yes, I’d love to join you and your sisters for dinner.”

* * *

“And you’re sure he’s coming back for dinner, Pammie?” Nadia asked with excitement in her voice as she helped her oldest sister set the table.

Pam lifted a brow. She couldn’t remember the last time Nadia or Paige had gotten excited about someone coming for dinner, least of all a man. The first time she had invited Fletcher, they had almost boycotted dinner until she’d had a good, hard talk about being courteous and displaying Novak manners.

“Yes, he said he was going back to the hotel to change clothes and would be coming back.”

“And don’t you think he’s very handsome, Pam?” Paige chimed in to ask.

Pam turned after placing the last plate on the table and faced her three sisters. Although Jill hadn’t voiced her excitement, Pam knew it was there—she could clearly see it on her face. The one thing she didn’t want her sisters to think was that Dillon’s presence at dinner had anything to do with her engagement to Fletcher. She knew what they were trying to do, and it was time she made sure they understood that it wasn’t working.

“Yes, he is handsome, Paige, but so is Fletcher. But I’m not marrying a man because of his looks. I’m not that vain and I hope the three of you aren’t, either. To set the record straight, so the three of you fully know that what you’re doing isn’t working, I will be marrying Fletcher.”

Jill smiled. “We have no idea what you’re talking about, Pam.”

Pam rolled her eyes and was about to give them a good talking-to when the sound of the doorbell stopped her. “Okay, that’s our guest and I want you on your best behavior, and please keep in mind that I am engaged to marry Fletcher.”

Jill made a face and then said, “Please, don’t remind us.”

* * *

“We’re glad you found out something about your great-grandfather today, Dillon,” Nadia said, smiling.

Dillon couldn’t help but return her smile, thinking she reminded him a lot of his cousin Bailey when she’d been Nadia’s age. There was an innocence about her, while at the same time if you looked into her eyes long enough, there was mischief there, as well. The same thing could be said about Paige, but Jill was a different story.

There was something about her and her antics tonight that reminded him of Bane. The thought of a female Bane made him cringe more than a little. Her eyes twinkled when she encouraged him to talk about his family. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was truly interested, or if her inquisition was a ploy. And he was smart enough to figure out it all came back to the same thing as last night. For some reason Pam’s sisters were not happy with the man she had chosen to marry. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that.

“Would you like something more to eat, Dillon?”

He glanced over at Pam. Their gazes met across the table and he smiled while at the same time fought down the tightening of his gut. He’d never been a man easily distracted by a beautiful face, but in the last forty-eight hours he’d known the real experience of feeling weak in the knees and having his heart thud mercilessly in his chest.

“No, and I appreciate your invitation to dinner.”

“Tell us some more about Bane. He sounds like someone I’d like to meet one day,” Jill said.

“No, he’s not,” both Dillon and Pam said simultaneously, and then they couldn’t help but glance across the table at each other and laugh. They agreed with each other on that point.

Pam excused herself to go get dessert, a chocolate cake she had baked earlier. Dillon smiled at the three females staring at him and, as soon as Pam left the room, he was surprised when they lit into him with questions they dared not ask while their older sister was still in the room.

Nadia went first. Her dark eyes, as beautiful as her older sister’s, stared him down. “Do you think Pammie is pretty?”

He smiled. That was easy enough for him to answer and do so truthfully. “Yes, she’s pretty.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Paige quickly asked.

He chuckled. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Would you be interested in Pam if she wasn’t engaged?”

Jill’s question would have shocked the hell out of him if he hadn’t gotten used to her tactics by now. She shot straight from the hip and he intended to answer her the same way.

“The key point to remember is that your sister is engaged, so whether I would be interested is a moot point, now, isn’t it? But to answer your question, my answer would be yes, I would be interested.”

“Interested in what?” Pam asked, returning and toting a plate with a huge chocolate cake.

“Nothing,” three voices said at once.

Pam lifted a brow as she glanced at her sisters. She then looked over at Dillon and he couldn’t help but smile and shrug his shoulders. Joining Pam and her sisters for dinner made him feel right at home and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

* * *

“I think I need to apologize for anything my sisters might have said that could have grated on your nerves tonight,” Pam said, walking Dillon out to his car. She had convinced herself this would be the only way she could get a few private words in without her sisters’ ears perking at each and every word.

He chuckled. “Hey, it wasn’t bad. I enjoyed their company. Yours, too. And dinner was wonderful.”

“Thanks.”

They didn’t say anything for a few moments and then she asked, “Will you be coming back tomorrow? To continue reading Jay’s journal?”

When they came to his car he leaned against it to face her. “Only if you say it’s okay. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

She chuckled. “You won’t be. Besides, finding out more about Raphel and Portia is like a puzzle waiting to be pieced together.”

Pam knew she probably should suggest that he take the journal with him—that way he wouldn’t have to bother coming back tomorrow—but for some reason she couldn’t do that.

“Well, I guess I’d better let you go now. See you tomorrow,” she said, backing up, putting proper distance between them.

“Good night,” he said.

Dillon opened the door and got into the car but sat there until Pam had raced up the stairs, let herself inside and closed the door behind her. He saw three pairs of curtains automatically fall back into place in upstairs windows, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the notion that he and Pam had been spied on. To be honest, he wasn’t surprised.

As he drove off, he could only shake his head when he remembered his siblings’ and cousins’ reaction to Tammi when he’d brought her home, a year before they’d married. Although his parents and aunt and uncle had tried making the Westmoreland clan behave, it had been pretty obvious that Tammi hadn’t been too well received. But that hadn’t stopped him for marrying her the following year and bringing her home as his wife. Now he wished that it had.

He shifted in his seat to pull his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, hoping tonight he could pick up a signal. He smiled when he did and immediately placed a call home.

Ramsey answered on the second ring. “The Westmorelands.”

“Hey, Ram, it’s Dillon. How are things going?”

“As well as can be expected. Bane’s been behaving, so that’s good.”

Yes, that was good, Dillon thought.

“I went up to the big house and got all your mail,” Ramsey was saying.

“Thanks.”

“You find out anything on Raphel yet?” Ramsey asked.

“Yes.” Dillon then spent the next half hour bringing his cousin up to date on what he’d uncovered that day from Jay’s journal.

“And Jay Novak’s great-granddaughter is actually nice to you? After Raphel ran off with her great-grandfather’s wife?”

Dillon chuckled. “Yes, she’s operating on the premise of good riddance. If Portia hadn’t left then Jay would never have met and married her great-grandmother. Needless to say, Pam has no problem with Raphel running off with the woman.”

“Pam?”

Dillon heard the curiosity in Ramsey’s voice and knew why. Ramsey of all people knew how hard it had been in making the real estate firm he had inherited from his father and uncle into the billion-dollar company it was today, taking care of the Westmoreland stronghold and being responsible for all those Westmorelands who were still dependent while they were away at college.

“Yes, Pam is her name, and before you ask, the answer again is yes, she is beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on.”

And before Ramsey could say anything, he quickly added, “And she’s engaged.”

“Umm, have you met her fiancé?” Ramsey wanted to know.

“Yes, and he’s an ass.”

Ramsey chuckled. “How did a beautiful woman get engaged to an ass?”

“Beats me and it’s none of my business.”

“That’s the difference between me and you, cuz. I would make it my business, especially if she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. You know what they say about it not being over until the fat lady sings? Well, in this case, she’s not off limits until the wedding is over.”

“That’s not my style, Ram.”

“Typically, it’s not mine, either, being the loner that I am, but I’ve learned that with some things you need to know when and how to adjust your thinking, be flexible and restructure your thought process. Especially if it’s a woman you want.”

Dillon blinked, taken aback by Ramsey’s statement. “What makes you think she’s a woman I want?”

“I can hear it in your voice. Do you deny it?”

Dillon opened his mouth to do that very thing and then closed his mouth shut. No, he couldn’t deny it, because his cousin who knew him so well had just spoken the truth. And the question of the hour was whether or not he intended to do anything about it.

Chapter 5

Pam was trying, desperately so, to convince herself that the only reason she was sitting at the kitchen table and staring out the window was to study all the Indian paintbrushes that were still blooming this late in the year.

It wasn’t working.

Just like it wasn’t working to try and convince herself the only reason she’d gone to bed with thoughts of Dillon on her mind instead of the man she was engaged to marry was because Dillon had been to dinner the last couple of nights. The reason that argument wouldn’t hold up was because, although Fletcher had been dropping in for dinner quite often, she had yet to take visions of him to her bed. She had yet to remember, in vivid detail, what he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him, and yet to hear the sound of his voice in her head in the wee hours of the morning.

So why was Dillon Westmoreland causing so much havoc in her life when she should be concentrating on setting the best date to marry Fletcher? The main thing that had been nagging at her since meeting Dillon was the fact that he could arouse feelings and sensations within her that Fletcher didn’t. Was that something she should be concerned about, she wondered.

She quickly decided that it didn’t really matter if she should be concerned, since Fletcher was the only one capable of getting her out of such a dismal situation. Their marriage would not be one of love and, the way things were looking, it wouldn’t be one of passion either. But she would make do. She really didn’t have a choice.

The ringing of the phone intruded her thoughts. Getting up from the table she quickly crossed the room to pick it up, but turned to make sure she still had a good view out the window. “Hello.”

“I called to see if you’ve come to your senses and called off your engagement.”

Pam couldn’t do anything, but shake her head and smile. She wasn’t sure who was worse, her sisters or her best friend from college, Iris Michaels. From Iris’s initial meeting with Fletcher, he had rubbed her the wrong way and she hadn’t gotten over it yet. “No, sorry, the wedding is still on, so I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise to be my maid of honor.”

Pam could picture Iris sitting behind the desk of the PR company she owned in Los Angeles with a beautiful view of the Pacific. Iris would be tapping a pen either on her desk or to the side of her face, trying to think of a way to get out of the promise she’d made their second year in college together over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Their days in college had been hard. Money had been tight, so they had made do, shared practically everything and had become best friends for life.

Right out of college, Iris had met, fallen in love with and married Garlan Knight. Garlan, a stuntman, had been killed while working on a major film less than a year into their marriage. That was four years ago and, although Iris dated on occasion, she had long ago proclaimed that she would never give her heart to another man because the pain of losing the person she loved wasn’t worth it.

“I’m trying to forget I made that promise. So what’s been going on with you lately?”

At first Pam couldn’t decide whether she should mention anything about Dillon and then thought, why not? Chances were, when Iris came to visit, her sisters would tell her about him anyway, and then Iris would accuse her of holding secrets. “Well, there is something I need to tell you about. I had a visitor this week.”

While periodically glancing out the window, Pam told Iris how Dillon had shown up two nights ago. Surprisingly, Iris didn’t ask a lot of questions; she listened attentively, giving Pam the chance to finish. “So, there you have it,” Pam finally said, glad it was over and done with. She made an attempt to move to another subject—about how things were going at the drama school—when Iris stopped her.

“Hey, not so fast, Pam. What aren’t you telling me?”

Pam rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you everything.”

“Then why did you deliberately leave out any details about how this guy looks? You know I’m a visual person.”

Pam breathed in deeply. “He’s good-looking.”

“How good-looking?”

“Very good-looking, Iris,” she said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“On a scale of one to ten with ten being the sexiest, how would you rate him?” Iris asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just answer the question, please,” Iris demanded.

When Pam didn’t say anything for a moment, deciding to keep her lips sealed, Iris said, “I’m waiting.”

Pam rolled her eyes again and then said, “Okay, he’s a ten.”

“A ten?”

“Yes, Iris, a ten. He is so darn pleasing to the eyes it’s a shame,” she said, inwardly blaming Iris for making her tell all.

“What about his personality?”

Pam thought about how dinner had gone yesterday and how pleasant it had been for her sisters to feel included in the dinner discussions. Dillon had held their focus because he had paid attention to them, as if what they had to say was important, not trivial like Fletcher would often do. Yes, she would have to say he had a nice personality.

“He’s nice, Iris, and his personality goes right along with it.”

“Would he be someone that would interest you if you weren’t engaged to Fletcher?”

Pam frowned. “Why would you ask me something like that when I am engaged to Fletcher?”

“Cut all the drama, Pam, and answer the question.”

Pam’s frown deepened because she knew the answer to Iris’s question without thinking much about it. “Yes, he would be. In a heartbeat.” And then because she had to tell someone and Iris, being her best friend, was the likely candidate, she said, “I’m attracted to him. Isn’t that awful?”

“Why is it awful? You and I both know why you’re marrying Fletcher, which I still think is a mistake. I refuse to believe there is not a bank anywhere that will loan you the money you need to pay off that second mortgage.”

“We’re talking about a million dollars, Iris. You know how much hassle you got from the banks when you wanted to borrow half that much to start your PR business. I have very little in savings and what I do have Jill will need for college next year. And Paige and Nadia need a home. I can’t expect them to move away from the only home they’ve known. A home that’s been in the Novak family for over a hundred years.” Pam sighed in frustration. “I still can’t believe Dad didn’t take all that into consideration when he took out that second mortgage.”

“If Fletcher was really a nice guy, he would cosign for you to get that money without any strings attached,” Iris said. “For him to put stipulations on his help by asking you to marry him is just downright underhanded, if you ask me.”

Pam didn’t say anything since she had heard it all from Iris before, several times. When Iris finally ended her spiel, Pam said, “Marrying Fletcher won’t be so bad, Iris.”

“It will be if you’re sentencing yourself to a life without love and passion, and we both know that you are. I loved Garlan and the passion we shared was wonderful. I can’t imagine being married to a man I didn’t love or who didn’t do anything for me sexually.”

Pam was silent for a moment and then said quietly, “Well, I can. I don’t have a choice, Iris.”

For a short while Iris didn’t say anything, either. “Then maybe now is the time to enjoy passion while you can.”

Pam blinked. “Just what are you suggesting?”

“You’ve admitted you’re attracted to Dillon Westmoreland, so take advantage of that attraction and think about yourself for a change, not the house or the land or your sisters. Think about Pamela.”

“I can’t do that,” Pam said.

“Sure you can. Are you going to deny you haven’t been thinking about Dillon Westmoreland in the wee hours of the night?”

Pam almost dropped the phone. “How did you know?”

Iris laughed. “Hey, you said the man is a ten. Men who are tens can’t help but find their way into a woman’s nightly dreams, regardless of whether she’s single, engaged or married. It happens. My advice to you is to bring him out of your dreams into your reality. You will be married to Fletcher until death do you part. Do you want to go through the next fifty, sixty or seventy years without feeling any passion again?”

“I told you about my past experiences with passion, Iris,” she said, remembering the couple of times she had slept with guys and the disappointment she’d felt afterward. She hadn’t heard the bells and whistles, nor had she felt any earthquakes like Iris had claimed she would.

“That’s why you owe it to yourself to try things out one more time. I bet Mr. Ten will deliver.”

At that moment Pam saw Dillon’s car pull into her yard. Moments later she watched him get out. Today he was wearing a pair of khakis and a dark green shirt. And just like yesterday and the day before, he looked handsome and utterly sexy.

Her gaze scanned over his body and, as if he knew she was staring out the window, he turned and looked directly toward her. She immediately felt heat suffuse her body at the same time blood gushed through her veins. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that if given the chance he could deliver.

“Pam?”

“Yes?”

“When will you be seeing him again?”

Pam licked her lips as she continued to stare. Dillon hadn’t moved. He was still standing in that same spot gazing through the window. He couldn’t see her, although she could see him. Yet it was as if he knew she was there, knew he was holding her attention. She wondered if he had any clue about the thoughts flowing through her mind at that particular moment. If he did, he would probably jump back into the car and hightail it off her property.

“Pam?”

“I see him now, Iris. Through the kitchen window. He just drove up and has gotten out the car.”

“Then the ball is now in your court, Pam. And you owe it to yourself to play it.”

* * *

Dillon leaned back against his car as he stared into what he knew was Pam’s secret window. Somehow he knew she was there, looking at him, with the same intensity with which he was looking at her.

Ramsey’s words of last night rang in his ears, and the thought of wanting her made his breathing quicken and his guts clench. If she knew what he was thinking she probably wouldn’t let him within a foot of her, and definitely not inside her house.

He had soaked in the bathtub in his hotel room last night with his eyes closed and thought about her. He had gone to bed thinking about her. And he had awakened that morning thinking about her. A woman who belonged to another man.

Not yet though, as Ramsey had pointed out to him last night.

He would be out of line to make a pass at her, so he wouldn’t. But he intended to do everything to incite her to make a pass at him...if she was interested. If she wasn’t, then he knew he would have to control his urges. But if she was interested, then those urges would be set free.

There was a chance that he was reading too much into the looks they had exchanged across the dinner table last night, or the heat that he’d felt. But there was only one way to find out. If she decided to indulge in this thing he felt between them, then that meant her relationship with Fletcher wasn’t as tight as it needed to be.

Deciding he couldn’t stay outside and stare into the window for the rest of the day, he drew in a deep breath before shifting his eyes away to move toward her front door. He took his time walking up the steps and by the time he lifted his hand to knock, the door had opened and she stood there.

His guts clenched harder as he lowered his hand to his side. She looked as beautiful as usual, but today she was wearing her hair differently. It appeared fluffed up and it billowed around her shoulders like she had used one of those curling irons on it.

His gaze moved from her head to her eyes and saw her watching him as intently as he was watching her. He then moved his gaze lower to her lips. They were the same lips he had dreamed about last night. Many times.

Then his eyes followed the hand that she nervously ran down her throat to the V of her knit top. He couldn’t help but notice how her breasts swelled in perfect formation against the blouse.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, snagging his attention as his gaze shifted back to her face. Captured her eyes.

“I know,” he said in a voice that sounded husky to his own ears.

He didn’t think he needed to explain. For some reason he sensed that she fully understood. “Am I allowed in today?” he asked as a smile touched his lips. She had yet to move from in front of the door.

She blinked as if she’d just realized that fact. “Oops. Sorry about that. Yes, please come in,” she said before stepping aside.

He strolled past her, took a whiff of her scent and felt his entire body respond. Instantly. Why was the sexual chemistry between them stronger today than yesterday? More potent. Today, they seemed to be on instinct, with little or no control.

When she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, she eyed him warily. He didn’t say anything for a while. “And how are you doing today, Pam?”

“I’m doing fine,” she said, in what sounded like a strained voice. “What about you?”

“I’m doing okay,” he said. No need to tell her about his restless night, in which he had dreamed endlessly of her and all the things he wouldn’t mind doing to her.

“I guess you’re eager to get back to reading that journal.”

He chuckled. He was eager all right, but that journal wasn’t what was driving his eagerness. “Sort of.”

Again he wasn’t entirely sure just what was going on between them. What had happened since yesterday to make them so sexually charged that the very air they were breathing sizzled. He pulled in a deep breath, both feeling it and fighting it.

“I’m going up to the attic now,” he said in a low voice, just loud enough for her to hear. “You probably have a lot to do, so forget that I’m here.”

She smiled in a way that sent blood rushing all through him. “I doubt I’ll be able to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked.

She held his gaze. “Forget that you’re here.”

He wanted to ask why, but decided not to do so. She was the one who was engaged. If any boundaries were going to be crossed, she would have to be the one to take the first step over. “You can try,” he suggested.

“And if I can’t?” she asked in a somewhat shaky tone.

Holding her gaze, he breathed in and pulled more sexually charged air into his lungs. He felt it stirring in his chest and flowing in his extremities, causing the lower part of him to harden. Throb. He even felt a sheen of sweat form on his brow, which compelled him to say, “Then you know where I am.”

Without saying anything else, he turned and headed slowly up the stairs to the attic.

* * *

Pam leaned against the door and watched as Dillon disappeared up the stairs before releasing the breath she’d been holding. She was too shaken to think straight, and too tempted to follow him up those stairs to move away from the door.

She glanced down at the ring on her finger, the ring Fletcher had placed there. Instead of feeling guilt, she felt desperation as Iris’s words rang loud in her ears. “Then the ball is now in your court, Pam. And you owe it to yourself to play it.”

If only Iris knew just how much she wanted to play it. Maybe her best friend did know, which was why she’d said what she had. Iris did know love and she understood passion. She had been happy with Garlan and when Garlan had been taken away from her so suddenly and unexpectedly, Iris’s life had nearly fallen apart.

She had been there for Iris, to encourage her to go on with life, and now Iris was there for her, encouraging her to do something for herself before it was too late. Before she legally became Mrs. Fletcher Mallard.

But still, she needed to pull herself together and wondered why she would even consider following her impulses with a man she’d met only three days ago. What was there about Dillon that drew her to him, made her feel things she’d never felt before? Made her desire things she’d never before wanted?

Something you’d tried twice and left you disappointed.

Why did she think with him it would be different? Why did a part deep inside of her know that it would? It might be the way he looked at her, the heated intensity she felt from his gaze, the desire she saw even without him speaking a single word.

Those were the things that were urging her to move away from the door and propelling her to walk up the stairs, one step at a time.

* * *

Dillon stared at the words written in the journal, his eyes feeling the strain of seeing the words but not comprehending them. He had read the same sentence three times, but his mind was not on what Jay Novak had written close to a century ago. Instead his mind was on the woman he had left downstairs.

Why did some things have to be so complicated? Why had the Novaks’ homestead been the first place on his list in his quest to find the key to his heritage as the eldest son of the Denver Westmorelands? And why was he lusting after a woman who another man had already claimed?

Dillon closed the journal and rubbed his hand down his face. Fletcher Mallard was a successful businessman and probably a prime catch for any woman in these parts. Evidently there was something about the man Pam had found to her liking.

And there was evidently something about him that she’d also found lacking.

No matter how things appeared, and regardless of the fact he’d only known her for three days, he refused to believe, or even consider the possibility that Pamela Novak was the type of woman who could love one man and mess around with another. So he could only come to the conclusion that she was not in love with Fletcher. Then why was she marrying him, Dillon wondered.

Wealth? Prestige? Security?

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that Tammi had only been interested in him because he had made the pros, and the thought of being the wife of a professional basketball player had stroked her fancy. When he had given it all up, had walked away to handle his family’s business, he’d known she assumed it was only short term, although he’d always told her differently. When she couldn’t get him to walk away from family obligations, she had left.

Dillon’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He felt a quick tightness in his stomach. His entire being tensed in anticipation, knowing it could be only one person. He could no longer sit, so he stood and had placed the journal aside by the time Pam crossed the threshold.

His heart began beating wildly in his chest and his body automatically hardened at the sight of her standing there. She had come to him. He hadn’t been certain that she would, but she had.

His gaze scanned her body. He had meant to tell her earlier that he thought the outfit she was wearing, a white blouse and a dark blue skirt, looked good on her. It had been the first time he’d seen her legs and they were definitely a beautiful pair.

“Looks like it might rain later,” she said. She strolled over to the window to glance out. While she looked out the window, he was looking at her. The sun was still shining so he wondered how she figured it might rain later. If anything, he figured it might snow. Like Denver, Gamble had its sunny days and cold nights, especially this time of the year. But at the moment he didn’t care about either. The only thing on his mind right now was Pam.

She glanced over at him and he realized he hadn’t responded to her earlier comment about the weather. “Yes, it just might rain,” he said quietly.

She nodded and turned back to the window. His throat had started to go dry, while at the same time liquid fire raced through his veins. At that moment he decided she had made the first move and now it was time to make his.

Helplessly and with an urgency he felt all the way to the bottom of his feet, he slowly crossed the room, knowing each step was taking him closer to the woman he wanted. When he came to a stop behind her, she turned and looked up at him.

He gazed down into her face thinking she looked uncertain and indecisive. “You give. I take. No regrets,” he said in a thick voice.

Dillon hoped she understood because he meant every word. She glanced down at the engagement ring on her hand and his gaze followed hers. And while he watched, she twisted the ring off her finger and then placed it on the windowsill.

Then she looked up, met his gaze and said in a soft, barely audible voice the exact same words he’d spoken to her. “You give. I take. No regrets.”

Her words touched an inner coil within him, made desire drum through his entire body at a pace that had him breathing in deeply.

He took another step toward her and heard himself groan low in his throat at the same moment he reached out and pulled her into his arms. And with a hunger that he felt all the way to his toes, he lowered his mouth as she parted her lips. The connection was explosive, and sensations rocked through him as his mouth greedily took hers, desire flooding him from all corners and settling in his body part right below his belt.

His hands tightened around her waist when she began to tremble in his arms, and she kissed him back in a way that made everything within him, every single molecule, feel new, revitalized and energized. He couldn’t recall the last time he had feasted on a woman’s mouth the way he was feasting on hers.

He didn’t want to take the time to pause to pull air into his lungs. He just wanted to keep kissing her, continue pressing against her middle to let her feel the hard, solid evidence of just what she was doing to him, how she was making him respond.

The kiss went on, seemed unending until the cell phone in his pants pocket sounded. Of all the times to get a damn signal, he thought, and for a moment he refused to release her mouth, needing to ply it over and over again with strokes of his tongue, although each flick inside her mouth was causing his muscles to contract in a way they had never contracted before.

He hoped the phone would stop ringing but when it didn’t, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers, after he’d swept his tongue against her already moist lips.

The ringing had ceased by the time he snatched the phone from his pocket and saw the missed call was a text from Ramsey. He checked the message and it said one word. Bane. Dillon gritted his teeth, wondering what the hell his baby brother had gotten into now.

He glanced over at Pam and thought at that moment he really didn’t care, since Ramsey’s message had interrupted the most passionate kiss of his entire life. Never had a kiss left him with his senses spiraling out of control and his entire body feeling like it had been torched into flames.

He knew Pam had been as affected by the kiss as he had. She seemed to be trying to pull herself together. They had done more than just grasped the moment, they had taken total control of it in a way that had them both still scraping for breath.

He watched as she slowly moved away from him to return to the window. She gazed out and he couldn’t help wondering if she had reneged and now had regrets. He tensed, refusing to let her off his hook that easily. “Come to my hotel room tonight, Pam.”

She swirled around and met his gaze but before she could open her mouth to say a single word, he reached out, pulled her back into his arms and took control of her mouth all over again.

The last time, he had kissed her with a need. This time it was with desperation. He refused to let her incriminate herself in any way, and if kissing her was the way to keep it from happening, then so be it. He would stand here and ply her mouth with his kisses forever if that’s what he had to do.

A short while later, when he finally released her mouth, she looked somewhat dazed and her lips appeared slightly swollen. He lifted his hand and pushed her hair from her face, tempted beyond reason to sink his mouth onto hers again. Just the thought of doing so made his hand tremble. He hoped she knew this wasn’t the end. Just the beginning.

And to make sure of it, he repeated the words he’d said earlier. “Come to my hotel room tonight, Pam.”

Again she looked up and met his gaze. Her lashes fluttered just seconds before she replied, “No.”

But before his heart could drop to the floor, she added, “Mr. Davis, the owner of the hotel, knows me, so that won’t be a good idea. However, my drama school is only a few blocks away on Durand Street. Will you come there?”

He nodded quickly. “What time?”

“Eight,” she said almost in a whisper. “I have a class tonight and everyone should be gone by then.”

A moment of silence purred between them and then she searched his eyes. “So, will you come?”

A smile touched his lips and he reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, leaned closer to her and responded in a low, husky voice, “Sweetheart, nothing short of death is going to keep me away from you tonight.”

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