“Why do you say you don’t want women around, then pick up a baby the first chance you get?”

“She was crying. I wanted you to be able to finish your shower,” Frisco said defensively. “I didn’t know Emmie would fall asleep on me. Now I don’t want her awakened, because she’ll start crying again. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just wonder why you’re working so hard to be tough when you’ve got a soft heart.”

Frisco snorted. “No one says I’ve got a soft heart.”

“You’re letting me sleep in your room.”

“You made yourself at home!”

Annabelle smiled. “I think you’re more softhearted than you care for anyone to know.”

Frisco didn’t like this little lady looking at him so directly. Her big eyes took him in as if she knew him. Annabelle was getting to him. Tomorrow she had to go.

Frisco Joe’s Fiancée
Tina Leonard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her books. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Prologue

“You need help,” Mimi Cannady told Mason Jefferson as they peered at each other with some distrust. Outside, a storm brewed over Union Junction, Texas, crackling and vicious. “You’ll thank me for this later, Mason. I just know it.”

He turned his head to stare at the want ad she’d typed on the glowing computer screen. The room was dim, almost dark, as the February night had fallen swiftly, obliterating the cold light of winter. Mimi was right: he did need help at the ranch. Woman help.

His family: the Jefferson brothers of the Jefferson Ranch, better known as Malfunction Junction. Twelve men, each on a mission of survival in a family that loved each other, but like an old piano, had become woefully out of harmony.

Still, he wasn’t sure Mimi’s unconventional idea was the way to get the help he—or the family—needed. “I don’t like it,” he said for the tenth time. “What if the woman we get is…” He searched for a word that wouldn’t irritate the woman he’d known ever since their childhoods on neighboring ranches. Mimi was spunky, witty, a veritable handful of laughter and quixotic temperament—always into everything. As the daughter of the town sheriff, she’d made a habit of skirting the law, just for fun. “What if the woman we get is not useful to my situation?”

Mimi’s gaze turned from the computer screen to his face, touching every feature, it seemed, in a strangely searching manner. This childhood friend of his had gotten him into trouble more than once—he’d desperately like to know what was behind her blue eyes now. Thunder rumbled, ever closer to Malfunction Junction, the only home Mason and his eleven brothers had ever known.

Eleven wild, almost Grizzly Adams–types.

From Mimi’s point of view, Mason was little better than his younger eleven.

I need help.

“The ad goes through the agency, you can always send her back,” Mimi said, her tone reassuring. “It’s like using a nanny service. If you don’t like her, you let the company know. But my friend, Julia Finehurst, who runs the Honey-Do Agency, has made a reputation matching up the right people to the right situations. I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you want.”

Mimi had told him many things over the years, and, infrequently, she was right on the money. But infrequent was the operative word. He read the overly specific, purposefully careful ad one more time:

Middle-aged man requires live-in housekeeper to cook and clean for family of twelve cowboys on a thousand-acre ranch. Must like ranch living, not be offended by occasional swearing, not be afraid of snakes, large animals, extreme heat, insects, loneliness. Applicant must be forty-five or older, mature, able to cook real well. Best time to interview after nightfall.

“I don’t like the part about me being a middle-aged man,” he protested. “You’ve always said thirty-seven was just right for the picking.”

Mimi cleared her throat, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal. Mason raised a brow, curious to hear what she came up with.

“No female is going to come all the way out here if she suspects she’s going to be man prey. At least no serious job applicant,” she stressed. “We don’t want anyone to misunderstand what kind of position you’re looking to fill.” For a half second, she examined her fingernails, seeming to consider other points of argument. “Besides, that was my only line in the ad, Mason. You added all the other drawbacks that are sure to run off good women. You practically want her to be a goddess.”

“Maybe you should put in something about law-abiding. I don’t want any wild women on the property,” he said, eyeing Mimi’s long blond tresses. Her hair hung to her waist, hardly ever curled or styled, though occasionally she tortured it into a braid so that she could pull it through the back of a baseball cap.

It was hard to believe she was thirty-two.

It was harder to believe that he was the sole caretaker of younger brothers and a family ranch. There was simply too much to do, and while everyone pitched in with the ranch work, the three houses with four brothers each pitifully lacked a woman’s touch to make them homes.

An older woman’s touch, as Mimi had pointed out. A calming, settling influence.

An older woman, even a motherly figure, was fine with Mason, because none of the Jefferson males had expressed the least desire for a wife—mainly because they were all satisfied to continue sowing their wild oats. A younger woman might prove a distraction to their work, and they had enough of those. Plus, a young woman would want a family eventually, and they had more family than they could handle.

“It’s now or never,” Mimi said softly as the trees whipped around the two-story house. “It’s going to take Julia some time to find appropriate applicants.”

Strong wind cried through the branches, and lightning lit the room, showing Mimi’s gaze on him. “Though I’ve attached a picture of you to this e-mail, it’s going to be tough to find a decent woman to want to come out here and live in hard conditions. The cattle sale is in two weeks, and I’m not coming over here to cook and clean up after your crew while you’re gone. I’ve got enough on my hands as it is.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. You might lead my brothers into avoiding their duties.”

The last time Mimi had gotten a harebrained idea, they’d all gone picnicking at the lake. Mimi had brought along some cousins of hers from Idaho, and four of his brothers had proceeded to fistfight over the two girls. Mason had never been so ashamed of his family—a female was no reason to fight! But then Mimi had jumped into the fray, and he’d had to pull her out before she got herself hurt—and she’d slapped him soundly before she realized it was only her good friend rescuing her as a gentleman should. She’d apologized, but on certain days, he was certain his head still rang from the blow she’d landed on him.

His head was ringing now as he stared at her, and he decided maybe it was the storm. “This won’t be the first goony thing you’ve talked me into, Mimi.”

“And it may not be the last. But I promise you this is a guaranteed winner of an idea. You couldn’t do any better if you were betting on a champion thoroughbred on race day.” She smiled at him. “Press Send, Mason. Help will be on the way before you know it.”

It had fallen to Mason as the eldest to rear the unholy bunch of brothers—and lately the situation was about out of control. Frisco was surly. Fannin was talking crazy about packing up and heading out to find out whatever happened to their dad, Maverick, who’d been gone since Mason had turned eighteen nearly twenty years ago. Laredo had mentioned he was thinking about moving east to ease his wandering feet, while his twin, Tex, was cross-pollinating roses with the contentment of an early settler. Calhoun had been eyeing riding the rodeo circuit. Ranger had briefly mentioned enlisting, while his twin, Archer, had taken to writing poetry to a lady pen pal in Australia. Crockett was painting pictures of nudes—from memory, as best as Mason could tell—and his twin, Navarro, was considering going with Calhoun on the rodeo circuit, which would mean the wild boys wreaking havoc on themselves and every female within eyesight. Bandera hadn’t slept in a week and was spouting poetry like Whitman, and Last, well, Last was bugging Mason about when they were going to get some womenfolk and children at the ranch. Lord only knew, with the way Last adored women—and they returned his affection—it was a wonder there wasn’t a small city’s-worth of children at the ranch already.

Something had to be done. The weight of responsibility bore down on Mason, urging him to stay at the helm and not jump ship the way Maverick had. Mason was the father figure, the decision-maker, the authoritarian.

Only with the woman sitting next to him did he relax from the pressure of his life. She gave him other things to go crazy about, giving him a break from thinking about his family’s problems. If he was the captain of the Jefferson ship, she was the storm breaking over his bow, threatening to send him to unknown destinations—and sometimes, her storm seemed safer than the fraternal quicksand under his feet.

He always felt on the edge with Mimi, Mason acknowledged, as he reached out slowly toward the keyboard. Frankly, she scared him just a little, always had. There’d been stitches in his head when he’d fallen from a tree she could climb better than him; there’d been a scolding from his dad when she’d skipped school and he’d gone looking for her. More times than he could count, he’d gone along with the schemes she conjured—and he’d always rued them. Every time, he thought, but like a piper’s music calling to him, he could not resist Mimi’s sense of fun and lightheartedness. His finger trembling, knowing there’d be hell to pay for listening to her, he hesitantly reached out to touch the send key.

Fierce lightning burst over the house, cracking as if it was striking the old stone chimney. Mimi screamed and grabbed for Mason, flattening his hand against the keyboard. Message Sent flashed briefly on the screen as the computer died and the electricity went out, but Mason didn’t notice. It felt so good to have Mimi in his arms—under cover of safe, secure darkness—that he just grinned to himself and held her tight.

Chapter One

Home is what a man feels in his heart

—Maverick Jefferson to his second son, Frisco, when Frisco had boyhood nightmares that the ranch might blow away like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz

“I want you to get your butt over here right now and fix this problem,” Frisco Joe Jefferson said to his older brother, close to cursing before deciding the heck with keeping his anger to himself. He had a crisis on his hands, and Mason could darn well share the misery. “Damn it, Mason, these women say you put up an advertisement for a housekeeper. If you did, then I suggest you come pick one out.”

A moment passed as Frisco listened. Furious, he hung up the phone, turning to stare at his ten younger brothers, all of whom were close to the window in the kitchen of the main house so they could spy on the approximately twenty women gathered shivering on the front lawn. The women were all shapes and sizes, all races, all ages. Luggage dotted the frozen grass. Frisco, as eldest during Mason’s absence, was supposed to be in command. “Mason said to call Mimi.”

“Typical,” Bandera said. “What’s Mimi supposed to do about it?”

Frisco shook his head. “Unless she can make all those ladies disappear, I’m not sure.”

“I’d hate for all of them to disappear,” Fannin said, his gaze longing. “Most of them are pretty cute.”

“And one of them has a baby,” Last said. “I’ll take that one.”

“We’re not taking any of them,” Frisco said with quiet determination. From the window, he could see Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus rumbling back to the bus depot after depositing his travelers. “I’m calling Mimi.”

The brothers went back to their surreptitious peering through the window while Frisco dialed Mimi Cannady’s number.

“Mimi,” Frisco said abruptly when she answered, “I need your help.”

“Uh-uh,” she responded automatically. “No. I told Mason before he left on this two-week business trip that I unequivocally could not be responsible for his responsibilities. It takes up too much time, Frisco. I have my dad to think about.”

What bull-malarkey. Sheriff Cannady was as fit as an untried rodeo rider. So what Mimi had told Mason, then, was best put as “Wake up, buddy. I’m not just the girl next door. I’ve got a life of my own, and I’m not content to be treated like a convenience anymore.”

He sighed, unable to blame Mimi. “Listen, Mimi. I certainly understand how you feel. Mason just seemed to think you might be best able to pick through the housekeepers, in order to choose one he might like. He mentioned you helped him write the advertisement. I’ve got to admit, the rest of us are in the dark about what you two were thinking.”

“Housekeepers?” Mimi echoed, clearly dumbfounded, much as Mason had been. Mason had sounded as if he hadn’t known what Frisco was talking about—initially.

“I guess they’re wanting to be housekeepers,” he said. “There’s about twenty of them out front. It seems as if they came together.”

“Oh, my stars,” Mimi breathed. “Twenty?”

“I’m just estimating. Did you send out an ad for a housekeeper? Because I gotta be honest with you, the rest of us don’t think we need woman help on the ranch.”

“Woman help,” Mimi murmured. She fully remembered writing that ad with Mason. She’d typed the e-mail address to her friend at the Honey-Do Agency. But Julia would have called her before sending out applicants to the ranch, and she would never have sent twenty. Twenty!

Something was wrong. “I did type an ad for Mason, but we never sent it. That bad storm came, the one that toppled the old oak tree, and the lights went out—” She blushed, remembering clutching Mason and loving the feel of his muscles beneath his crisp denim shirt, and the smell of him, and the sound of his heart pounding against her ear.

After that momentary let-down in her facade of just-friends, Mimi had vowed to stay clear of Mason. One day he just might figure out how she felt about him, and then, most certainly, she’d lose his friendship.

Friendship was all she had of him, and she was going to keep it. “We must have accidentally sent it out somehow.” Dimly she remembered one of them hitting the keyboard before the electricity went out, but at the time, she’d blindly grabbed for Mason and forgotten all about housekeepers and other trivial things. Obviously, one of them had smashed incorrect letters, and sent the e-mail to the wrong address.

Now they were all sitting square on top of a huge dilemma. And yet, it would be good for Mason to see that he needed her…in spite of what he said to the contrary, his life would be so much better with her in it.

But he’d have to learn that on his own. It was said that one could lead a horse to water but couldn’t make him drink. Lord only knew, she’d waited so long on Mason that it felt as if her watering can was nearly dry. “Can’t you interview them, Frisco?”

“Seeing as how none of us here think we need a lady at the ranch, I’m not interested in that job,” Frisco said.

“I think you could use a housekeeper. The place is never clean. Or tidy.”

“Then it’s our job to clean our houses better,” Frisco said sternly. “When there’s as much to be done as a property this size requires, we’re not too worried if the dishes stay in the sink an extra day.”

“Precisely my point. You could use the help.”

“But not the aggravation a woman brings. We have you, Mimi, and that’s enough.”

Laughter, not unkind, in the background nettled her. “What does that mean?”

“It means when we need something, you’re kind enough to help us out.”

That was the problem. Mason and all his brothers had the luxury of her jumping whenever they needed something. No wonder Mason saw her as an extension of his family. Not that it was a bad thing to have the Jeffersons looking out for her—it had come in handy over the years.

But it was now or never. The tie that bound them had to be cut on both ends, or she’d always be little Mimi Cannady, almost-sis, tomboy-next-door, for-a-good-gag-call Mimi. Toilet-papering houses, tying cans on goat tails, painting rural mailboxes with smiley faces—they’d done it all.

Together.

“Not this time, Frisco,” she said. “I have a lot going on in my own life right now. Thanks for calling.”

She hung up the phone and went to check on her father.

“SHE’S NOT COMING,” Frisco said, hanging up the phone.

“Mimi is abandoning us in our hour of need?” Last asked, his tone surprised.

“See if we ever go fix her sinks when they back up again,” Laredo grumbled.

“She’d be over here in a snap if it were Mason calling for help,” Ranger grumbled. “That woman’s a jill-in-the-box when it comes to him, popping up like crazy whenever he decides to wind her crank.”

“I’ve never known exactly which one of them was winding whose crank,” Navarro commented.

Calhoun laughed. “She’s been real prickly ever since you drank too much champagne at the Christmas party two months ago and sang that stupid Mimi-and-Mason, sitting-in-a-Christmas-tree—”

“Shut up,” Archer said loudly, the author of the musical ditty.

“Yeah, she has been different since then,” Last said. “Maybe if you’d act your age and not your hat size, we wouldn’t be struggling with this right now. She’d be over here—”

“No.” Frisco shook his head. “No, this is our problem. We can take care of it ourselves.”

The brothers glanced at each other, then huddled around the window. It looked like a garden party on the lawn. There were more women than the ranch had ever seen on the property at one time, and considering there were twelve brothers in the family, that was saying a lot.

Frisco cleared his throat and drew himself up tall, realizing that the mantle of family was clearly on his shoulders. He was determined to bear it well. “I’ll explain that this is a simple miscommunication problem.”

Laredo looked at him. “Do you want us for backup?”

“I think I can handle this. The ladies might be intimidated by all of us.” He was somewhat intimidated by all of them—he hadn’t expected twenty anxious women to show up today. No doubt there would be some initial disappointment that there was no position available, but he could get money out of the Malfunction Junction Ranch’s petty cash to give them for the return bus trip.

“You go, bro,” Bandera encouraged. “We’ll be cheering you on from in here.”

“That’s right,” Tex agreed.

“Couldn’t we keep just one?” Last asked. “Maybe the little blonde over there, holding the baby?”

Frisco peered out, immediately seeing what made Last pick her out of the crowd. “She’s not a puppy. We can’t just ‘keep’ her. Anyway, she’d get lonely out here. Even Mimi gets lonely, and she was born in Union Junction.” He frowned for a second, thinking that the petite blonde would be more tempting as a date than a housekeeper. In fact, he wasn’t certain he’d get any work done at all if he knew she was in his house, cooking his meals, making a home for him.

His mouth began to water at the thought of home-cooked food, prepared by caring hands. A strange humming buzzed in his ears as he watched her press the baby’s head against her lips in a sweet kiss. The baby was crying, probably cold from being outside in February’s brisk chill, despite the bunting encasing the small body. “What would we do with a baby out here, anyway?” he murmured.

They all looked dumbfounded at that.

Fannin shook his head. “Definite drawback. I guess.”

“Maybe we could have them in for a cup of cocoa before we take them to the station,” Last suggested, his tone hopeful.

“No!” Frisco knew exactly where his youngest brother was heading with that idea. Once the ladies were in the house, maybe Frisco would soften his stance…. Last had a sensitive heart where other people were concerned. He had reason to be a bit delicate—too young to really remember when their mother, Mercy, had died; too old not to question why their father, Maverick, had left them for parts unknown. He would sympathize with a single mother and her child.

But this was no place for a woman, a baby or soft hearts. “We can’t, Last,” he said firmly, meeting his brother’s eyes. “I’ll go tell them.”

He went outside, his shoulders squared. “Ladies,” he said loudly, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re not looking for a housekeeper at this time. We’ll be happy to pay your return bus fare to wherever you came from.”

A middle-aged, not-unattractive woman stepped forward to be the spokeswoman. “How come you placed an ad, then?”

“It was a mistake. We’re terribly sorry.”

“You’re not the man who placed the ad. We saw his picture.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We came all the way to apply with him. Where is he?”

“He’s gone for the next two weeks,” Frisco said, determined to be patient, not meeting the blonde’s gaze, though he realized she was staring up at him as he stood on the wide porch. Trying not to look back at her made his scalp tighten and prickle as if he were sweating all over his head. “We’ve contacted our brother, and he said the e-mail was sent in error. As I said, we are happy to take you to the bus station in town. Now, if you all will load into the trucks my brothers will be bringing around in a moment, we’ll get you started on your way back home.”

They didn’t like it; grumbling rose among them, but there was nothing he could do about that. A mistake was a mistake, an honest one.

But he’d handled it, and handling twenty women was easier than he thought it’d be, he decided, opening truck doors and helping them into various seats. He didn’t see the little blonde and the baby; they weren’t among the passengers who jumped into his cab, but he’d be willing to bet Last had eagerly escorted the two of them to his vehicle.

Better him than me.

It was a motley, somewhat sad procession as the brothers drove six trucks to the bus stop, but it was the right thing to do.

They left them in the station, having paid for tickets and making sure they had enough money for snacks. He handed the clump of tickets to the woman he dubbed the spokeswoman, tipped his hat to their silent faces, and feeling guilty as hell, slunk out with his brothers.

“I’m gonna kill Mimi and Mason for this stupid stunt,” he muttered to Fannin. “Reckon they planned this?”

“What for?” Fannin glanced at him as they walked through the parking lot.

“I don’t know. I just know that when those two get together, there’s always hell to pay.”

“I know. That’s why they can’t stay together in one room very long. It’s spontaneous combustion.”

“I’m going home to have a beer,” Frisco said. “And then I’m going to bed.”

“No poker tonight?”

“Heck no. I’m all played out.” That baby wasn’t going to enjoy a long bus ride back to Lonely Hearts Station, he knew. And the little mother had looked so tired.

Damn Mason and Mimi anyway. “See ya,” he said to Fannin, surly again. Then he got in his truck and drove home, deciding to skip the beer and go right upstairs.

He’d been up since 4:00 a.m., and a lot had happened. If he went to sleep now, maybe he could forget all the events of the day.

Stripping to his boxers, he left jeans, boots and his shirt on the floor, crawling quickly between the sheets to escape the slight chill in the room.

His bare skin made instant contact with something small and soft in the bed. “What the hell?” he murmured, flipping on the bedside lamp in a hurry.

It was the baby, no longer wearing her white bunting and sound asleep in the middle of his bed, peacefully sucking her tiny fist.

Chapter Two

“Holy smokes, Frisco,” Navarro said as Frisco came barreling down the stairs. All ten of his brothers glanced at him. “Your drawers on fire?” Navarro asked.

“There’s a baby in my bed!” Frisco shouted. Remembering that a baby could be loud when it was awake, he lowered his voice to an unnerved whisper. “That little blonde put her baby in my bed!”

“Are you sure?” Fannin asked.

Frisco looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “I think I know a baby when I see one!”

“How do you know it’s hers?” Fannin said patiently.

“Because she was the only one who had a child that young with her.” And the picture of her kissing the baby’s head was still fresh in his mind. “I know it’s hers.”

“Dang.” Bandera threw his cards onto the round den table. “I’m certain she didn’t know it was your bed, Frisco. No woman would give your surly butt her sweet, fragile angel.”

His brothers laughed heartily. The instant fear, which had sent Frisco running down the stairs, began to turn to bad humor. “Where is she?” he demanded of Last.

“How would I know?” the youngest Jefferson shot back. “I thought she was getting in your truck.”

“My truck? Oh, no, she definitely was not getting into my truck,” Frisco insisted. He would have noticed that for certain. “I told you we couldn’t keep her, Last. You go find her, and take her and her baby back. Now.”

Last stood up, angry. “I don’t know where she is.”

Tex sighed. “Maybe she’s not here.”

“What?” Frisco stared at him. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m just saying maybe we’d better search the three houses and have a look for her,” Tex said evenly. “And hope she’s not far from her baby.”

“I’m not,” a woman said quietly, as she stepped into the den from the hallway.

The entire roomful of men rose, half for the sake of good manners and half because she’d startled them.

“I’m sorry to be the cause of so much trouble,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, almost shy. “I was changing Emmeline’s diaper when everyone left.”

Frisco’s mouth had dropped open when she walked into the room, holding a baby bottle. Up close, she was even more adorable. He loved worn blue jeans on a woman; he loved blond hair that hung straight to a woman’s chin. He loved sleepy eyes that stared right at him. There was some silent communication going on between them; there was something she was trying to tell him—

Her gaze averted from his, and Ranger coughed. “You might want to go throw on a pair of jeans, Frisco.”

ANNABELLE TURNBERRY knew what a man looked like without his clothes on, of course, or she wouldn’t have two-month-old Emmie. She’d just never seen a man like the one the other men called Frisco—the boxers only hid enough to keep her from being totally mortified.

And fascinated. She almost couldn’t stop staring until his brother reminded him he was sans jeans.

This was a household of men, and it seemed to be a normal routine to move about the house wearing whatever. She frowned. Her ex-fiancé had taken his clothes off in the dark the one time he took her to bed; she wasn’t sure she knew what he looked like. The fact that she’d just seen more of a stranger than she’d ever seen of her ex-fiancé wasn’t comforting.

Frisco shot up the stairs, muttering an apology. He looked just as good from the backside, she thought, taking a fast peek only because…because—

Well, there was no good justification for it. No excuse. It almost seemed wrong to look at another man, especially since she’d recently given birth, but it wasn’t as if she’d been looking out of lust, more out of admiration. After all, if a man who looked like Adonis took off running suddenly, wouldn’t any woman have to look?

She dropped her gaze, thinking that she was in a houseful of Adonises, and maybe therefore in a precarious position. They didn’t know her; she didn’t know them. Maybe she was guilty of breaking and entering or something else that concerned the law.

“It’s okay,” one of the men said, standing up to come over to her. “Next time you see Frisco, he’ll be fully dressed.”

“Oh. Well. I’m so sorry for the—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The man smiled at her, his gaze full of compassion. Annabelle was relieved because she hadn’t known what to say first, or even what she was going to say. There were so many things to apologize for!

“You’re tired. Why don’t you go lie upstairs with your baby until we can get you back to…where was it, again?”

“The Lonely Hearts Salon in Lonely Hearts Station, Texas.” She swallowed. “My name is Annabelle Turnberry.”

The kind man slapped his forehead. “We have manners, we really do. I’m Last Jefferson.”

He put out his hand to her, and she took it, noticing that his grip was gentle.

“These are my brothers, going from the top to the bottom, not counting Mason, who isn’t here.” They stood when he pointed to each one, as he recited, “Frisco’s upstairs, Fannin, Laredo, Tex, Calhoun, Ranger, Archer, Crockett, Navarro, Bandera, and me.”

“Last,” she repeated.

“But never least.”

His smile was devilish, inviting her to join in the harmless repartee. She could easily see that he never allowed himself to be outdone by his older brothers. “I’ll remember that. Last but not least.”

He smiled. “Good girl. Go upstairs and get some rest.”

“No. I don’t think so,” Frisco said, his voice deep as he came down the stairs. He tucked a denim shirt into jeans, he was barefoot, and Annabelle thought he might be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. But he was obviously a bad-humored rascal, and falling for that kind of man was what had landed her in her current predicament.

Or had given her a baby, anyway. Her predicament of being at the ranch with eleven men was her own fault, a direct result of deciding it was time to take charge of her life, stand on her own two feet. Move away from all things familiar and start over.

My life is more out of control than ever.

“She can’t make a bus now, Frisco,” Last said, his tone reasonable.

“And she can’t stay here.”

Annabelle stared at the tall cowboy, her misgivings growing. As far as he was concerned, she was an imposition, which, to be fair, she was, but it wasn’t all her fault. It was his brother who’d put the ad out over the Internet. She’d just thought to apply for a job where her baby would grow up safe. And in a real house, not a room over the beauty salon. Or at least that’s what Delilah had encouraged her to try for. Emmie would be very safe on a ranch with twelve men, the biggest danger probably being teaching her daughter that cows weren’t big doggies.

“Why not?” Last demanded, having appointed himself her champion. The other brothers began a protest that started out, “Come on, Frisco, lighten up,” but Frisco raised his hand to silence them.

“Because she’s a woman, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to stay with eleven bachelors,” he snapped. “Do I have to spell everything out for you lunkheads?”

“Yes. Sometimes,” Last said on a sigh. “So now what?”

“It’s late. The baby’s asleep. I hate to wake her now just to put her in a truck to get hauled off,” the blonde said. Frisco put his hands in his pockets and looked at her.

The dilemma was painful for all. Annabelle realized she was more of a problem than she’d thought. She couldn’t match his nearly-black-eyed stare and glanced at the baby bottle in her hand.

A knock at the front door made everybody turn.

“We expectin’ anybody?” Fannin asked, going to the door.

“Nope,” Frisco replied.

But the door burst open before Fannin could open it, a woman making herself at home as if she always did. “Girl in the house. Everybody decent? Or at least got clothes on?” she called out.

No one yelled back the standard We-got-clothes-on-but-we’re-not-decent line. The newcomer latched a curious gaze on Annabelle.

The room fell silent.

“Two girls in the house, maybe?” Annabelle said. “Decent and fully clothed?” She’d wanted to be light and airy to make a situation that was turning increasingly uncomfortable more easy for all. But by the look on the woman’s face, maybe not.

“Mimi, this is Annabelle Turnberry. Annabelle, Mimi Cannady, our next-door neighbor,” he said.

“How do you do?” Mimi asked politely.

“Fine, thank you.”

“Annabelle’s applying to be our new housekeeper,” Last said cheerfully.

“Housekeeper?” Mimi’s gaze turned worried. “She can’t.”

“Why not?” Annabelle knew she wasn’t in the running for the job—if there was one, Frisco had made it clear she wasn’t under consideration. But maybe Mimi could explain it better, and then Annabelle wouldn’t feel as if she’d simply made another silly mistake in her life by taking off for parts unknown to become a housekeeper.

“You’re not forty-five,” Mimi said. “That was in the ad, if you recall.”

“Forty-five?” Last said. “Why so old?”

“You’d have to ask Mason,” Mimi replied, her tone bright. “He was adamant on the age requirement.”

Annabelle caught the glance that passed between Mimi and Frisco, Mimi’s chin up, Frisco’s gaze narrowed suspiciously.

“Well, Mimi, it seems we agree on one thing,” he said softly.

“Will wonders never cease?” she shot back, her tone too sweet. Yet somehow strong underneath.

Annabelle’s eyebrows raised.

“She’ll have to come home with me,” Mimi said, with a put-upon sigh. “One of you can drive Annabelle back into town tomorrow.”

“Thought you weren’t going to help us anymore,” Last said helpfully. “We sure don’t want to put you out any.”

“That’s okay,” Mimi said, in the voice of a Good Samaritan. “Annabelle will be more comfortable at my house, I feel certain.”

From upstairs, Emmie’s wail floated down, loud and miserable.

“What’s that?” Mimi demanded.

“It’s my baby,” Annabelle said hurriedly. “She suffers from colic and doesn’t sleep well at night. Excuse me.”

She ran off up the stairs, almost glad to be away from whatever unspoken conversation was going on downstairs. One thing she was certain of, Frisco didn’t want her there—and neither did Mimi.

“NICE OF YOU TO GIVE us a hand, Mimi.” Frisco tossed her a wry grin. “We’ll think about you listening to sweet baby tears all night.”

Mimi was about fit to be tied. She’d nearly not come in time! What if these over-eager Jefferson brothers had hired the attractive little blonde? Mason would be back in two weeks, after all, and the last thing she wanted him to find upon his arrival was a dainty housekeeper.

“I’ve never seen you jealous before, Mimi,” Frisco said lazily. “You sure do put on a good show.”

“Shush, Frisco.” Mimi rolled her eyes at him. “If you were only half as smart as you think you are, you’d still only be thinking on a third-grade level.”

“Mimi and Mason, sittin’ in a tree—” one of the brothers started.

She whirled around. “Cut it out, guys, or I leave the lady—and the baby—with you. And none of you will get a wink of sleep tonight, I’ll bet.”

It would be more because of Annabelle than the baby that they might not sleep tonight, but Mimi wasn’t going to let any of them know they’d scored with their baiting of her. She knew how to keep this group of bad boys in check.

It was Mason who threw her for a loop. And she wasn’t about to have him come home to a ready-made family scenario. She didn’t like the fact that her housekeeping scheme had nearly backfired on her.

“We’re just yanking your chain, Mimi.” Frisco grinned at her, eager to make peace.

“I’ll go help Annabelle pack up the baby,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.

A loud pounding sounded on the door, and this time, Fannin waited to see if it would burst open again, with someone else making themselves at home.

No one came in, so he got up and jerked the door open.

To Mimi’s horror, what looked like a sorority stood on the porch, before silently filing into the den. A middle-aged woman stepped forward.

“Annabelle didn’t get on the bus with us,” she announced with grave determination. “And we’re not leaving without her.”

Chapter Three

Desire to get all these women off his property swept over Frisco. “Annabelle and the baby are fine,” he said, somewhat annoyed that the spokeswoman seemed to think some type of transgression might be wrought upon his two short-time house guests.

“We have a right to be concerned. We don’t know you,” she replied.

“Yes, but did all of you have to come back for her? I paid for those bus tickets.” Good money, he could have added, but thought better of it.

“Busses aren’t running.”

Voices murmuring behind her told him that all the women were concurring with her statement. Shock began to spread through his tired brain. “They were running when I left.”

“Apparently, there’s ice on the roads out of Union Junction. Storm on the way in, too. They shut down the station and canceled all outgoing routes. Even Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus-taxi service was closed.”

“How’d you get here?” Bad luck seemed to swirl around him. If the busses weren’t running, he could wind up with a bunch of females—and a colicky baby. The thought was enough to chill his bones. He sent a belligerent glare Mimi’s way so that she’d know this was all her fault. And Mason’s.

“We hitched a ride with the driver of an eighteen-wheeler who loaded us into the back of his truck. He’d stopped across the highway at the truck stop.”

He stared at her, trying to imagine that.

“Twenty minutes in the truck wasn’t bad. Any further than that and we’d have had to spend the night in the bus station,” she admitted. “That would have been miserable. But Jerry made certain we were comfortable.”

Frisco blew out a breath as he looked around at all the women. He wouldn’t have wanted them spending the night in a bus station, especially not since they’d come to Union Junction to apply for a job at the ranch. There was some responsibility involved, he admitted to himself, if not chivalry.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said begrudgingly. “We have three houses on the property that the twelve of us share. We’ll divide you up…” He hesitated at the black look in the spokeswoman’s eye. Clearly there’d be no dividing.

“On the other hand, Navarro’s house should sleep all of you just fine.”

Navarro straightened but wasn’t going to disagree with the pointed look Frisco shot him. “I’ll go pack.”

Three of his brothers went out the door with him, fairly peacefully for four men who’d just given up their home. Frisco was suspicious about the lack of protest. He watched Last shoot a smile toward the ladies and realized he had a bigger problem on his hand.

His brothers saw an advantage to all these women being stuck on the ranch for the night.

He’d have to keep a tight eye on them to make certain there were no shenanigans.

Navarro came back inside, escorting a stranger. “The truck driver was still outside.”

“Hey, Delilah, ladies,” he said to the spokeswoman and her companions, astonishing Frisco, who hadn’t even thought to ask her—or any of them—their names. There were simply too many women, and he’d never remember them all. Nor had he expected to see them again.

Delilah clapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot all about you, Jerry! I’m so sorry! Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll fix you a nice cup of whatever Mr. Jefferson’s got on hand.”

“Miss, er—Ms. Delilah—” Frisco began.

She gave him a straightforward eyeing that said she didn’t think much of his manners. “It’s Ms. Honeycutt.”

At this unspoken verbal wall that was suddenly erected, all the ladies seemed to straighten their backs.

“Delilah,” Jerry said, taking off his cap, “these men haven’t done anything to offend you, have they?”

Frisco shook his head, realizing his brothers had already gained their feet. The females crossed their arms.

“I can take you right back into town. There’s bound to be a place where all of you can hole up. I was under the impression that this was where you wanted to be,” the stocky white-haired-and-bearded Jerry said.

“We merely wanted to come back and rescue our Annabelle and little Em,” Delilah said, her gaze on Frisco. “But we know when we’re not wanted.”

“Now, wait a minute—” Frisco began, then halted as he wondered why he was bothering to argue. He really didn’t want them here. But a look from his brothers hinted that his manners had somehow aggravated a delicate situation. “We were not expecting guests, that’s true, but there’s plenty of room for the girls here at the ranch.”

He was proud of his offer. Jerry gaped at him. “These are not girls, son,” he said sternly. “Haven’t you even made proper introductions with these fine ladies?”

Proper introductions before what? Frisco wanted to demand. He’d wanted them gone. What difference did the niceties make?

“This here’s Delilah Honeycutt,” Jerry said, undertaking the duty of explaining Frisco’s lack of manners to him. “And the rest—first names only, since you don’t seem too interested, and alphabetical, to make it easy for you—are Beatrice, Carly, Daisy, Dixie, Gretchen, Hannah, Jessica, Julie, Katy, Kiki, Lily, Marnie, Remy, Shasta, Tisha, Velvet, Violet. And you apparently already know Annabelle and baby Emmeline, or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

His expression gave no doubt that he figured Frisco and his brothers were up to something heinous.

“How’d you do that?” Frisco demanded.

“Do what?”

“Memorize all their names so fast?”

Jerry looked at Delilah apologetically. “This may not be the brightest light on the truck, Delilah. You might want to think over your options for the night.” He sighed. “I’m a truck driver, son. A good memory helps me when I’m driving transcoastal. And memory games keep me from being bored.”

“That boy appears to be the surly one of all these gentlemen,” Ms. Honeycutt said. “If you were my boy, you’d approach company with much better deportment. Come on, Jerry,” Delilah said, with a slight sniff Frisco’s way. “It’s time you were given a cup of cocoa.”

Frisco’s jaw dropped as the tougher-than-cow-hooves truck driver docilely followed her into his kitchen, some of the ladies following.

“Good going, big bro,” one of his brothers said, but he didn’t pay any attention to the snickers and general laughter. His brain felt short-wired.

For the short term, it appeared that life as he’d known it was going to be very different.

He needed a plan, and some organization. Glancing at Mimi, he saw her trying not to giggle. Well she might laugh, since this was yet another one of her schemes with combustible results.

Vowing not to let it bother him, Frisco realized there was only one thing he could do while he was playing host.

For the first time in his life, he was going to have to be a good sport.

ANNABELLE WAS GLAD her friends had returned, even though Frisco looked very grim about it. Frankly, she’d been afraid when she’d discovered she’d allowed herself to get left behind. Frisco didn’t want her here, and she’d been happy for Mimi’s invitation—even though she sensed Mimi’s invitation wasn’t because she was anxious to get her hands on a baby. There was something else going on with Mimi.

Yet as long as Annabelle had all her friends, she’d be fine. They’d been her support ever since Tom had left her.

Her friends were the reason she hadn’t hesitated to come out here, at the urging of Delilah and the other ladies of the Lonely Hearts Beauty Salon. Darn Dina at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon anyway.

But no, it was Tom who had left her, and that couldn’t be blamed on Dina. Annabelle knew she’d picked the wrong man to fall in love with, if he could be so faithless.

“I’ll never let that happen again,” she said against Emmeline’s soft head. “I always heard three strikes and you’re out. I only intend to strike out once.”

IN FORT WORTH, Mason had a lot of time to think. One of the things he couldn’t stop thinking about was Mimi. She’d been in his thoughts long before he’d told Frisco to call her to solve the minor problem that had cropped up at the ranch.

Mason wondered if he missed Mimi, hellion that she was. He’d as surely miss an ingrown toenail, right?

Fortunately, he had this unwelcome thought while he was sitting in a beer joint, listening to old country tunes on an out-of-whack jukebox. The proper antidote to thinking weird stuff like he was thinking was another beer and a two-step with a cute, obliging regular.

Otherwise, he’d have to start riding rodeo again to knock some sense into himself. He’d been alone way too long if he thought he was missing Mimi Cannady.

Of course, if he wanted to play devil’s advocate with himself, there was the night of the big storm. Remembering the feel of Mimi as she jumped into his arms made his chest spread with warmth. Shaking his head, he swallowed some more beer.

Mimi would drive him crazy sooner or later.

At least for now, things were under control at the ranch. He’d thank her for that later. And the cattle auction had gone better than he’d hoped. Another week, and he’d be home.

His blood picked up as Mimi’s face appeared in his memory. She was laughing at him, the way she always did.

Another beer, another dance, and then surely he’d be tired enough not to think about his nutty little neighbor.

“WE NEED A BATTLE PLAN here,” Frisco told his brothers as they conglomerated in the kitchen of the big house. “We gotta get these women out of here tomorrow.”

“Sh-h,” Laredo said. “They might hear you.”

They’d long since said good-night to the ladies and sent them down to the third house on the property—the one farthest from the other two and his brothers. Mimi had gone down to see to the ladies’ comfort—except for Annabelle, who was upstairs with Emmeline, sound asleep in his bed.

How that particular arrangement had passed Ms. Delilah Honeycutt’s military-style sensibilities, he wasn’t certain. For a moment, he’d thought she might stay herself, but then she’d apparently decided the other group of women needed her chaperonage more. But she’d given him a severe stare that had said, Don’t even think about it. If he’d been hot for Annabelle, the good Ms. Delilah and her icy stare should have cooled him off.

Annabelle and the baby, upstairs in his bed. Sleeping soundly, he hoped. She’d probably pulled off her blue jeans to sleep in…what, exactly? His mouth dried out. He’d never brought a woman home to sleep in his bed. The nice thing about willing women was that they were always willing to take him home to their houses. The upside to this was that he didn’t have to shoo anyone out of his house, didn’t have any messy reminders of the night before, such as makeup in the bathroom, earrings on the side table or perfume in his sheets.

There was a baby—and a woman—in his sheets now. He couldn’t figure what she might be wearing to bed. Something. Maybe nothing. He couldn’t identify the sudden surge of emotions he felt at that thought.

“Why?” Last asked. “Why do they have to go? What are they hurting?” The other brothers murmured, as well.

Frisco decided his brothers needed a cold bucket of water upside their heads. But then, they didn’t have a pile of diapers and a bottle on their bedside table. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and if a storm is coming in, they need to get back to their families. They don’t want to stay here for a week until the back roads clear,” he said sternly, as much to be sharp with them as to clear his head from the realization that he heard water running upstairs. He held his breath, waiting for the water to shut off, but it didn’t.

Water running upstairs meant Annabelle had helped herself to his shower.

She was now definitely naked.

Chills ran all over him. “Don’t ask questions,” he snapped. “Just help me think how we’re going to transport them all back to where they came from!”

“They might be worth keeping,” Tex suggested. “Have you ever considered that?”

Frisco shook his head, ignoring the butterflies he suffered at the suggestion. “Out of the question.”

Suddenly, the sound of a baby crying drifted to the kitchen. Frisco stiffened.

“Sounds like Emmeline’s colic has started back up,” Ranger said. “That poor little baby doesn’t give her mother much of a break, does she?”

Frisco glanced at the stove clock. Annabelle had been naked for approximately three minutes. Showering for approximately three minutes, he amended.

“I’ll go see what’s going on,” he said.

ANNABELLE SIGHED, unable to remember the last time she’d been able to enjoy ten minutes to herself. Em was a wonderful baby and she loved her dearly, but the colic kept her so upset that it was hard to snatch a moment alone.

Even though Tom left me for a Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurl, I’ve still got Em, she thought.

It was worth it.

The pediatrician had said Em would grow out of her colic—these things just took time. She just needed a lot of love and comforting, and reassurance that she didn’t have to suffer alone.

Annabelle completely understood her daughter’s needs, because she felt the same way sometimes herself.

Anyway, Tom was, as Delilah called him, a louse. She had a family of women to rely on now, and she had Em. Life was so much better than it had ever been for her.

Turning around for an extra stolen moment of bliss, she let the hot water pour down her back. The truth was, she didn’t want Tom back.

He hadn’t wanted Em, and she’d never forgive him for that.

Never.

TO FRISCO’S SURPRISE, the baby had managed to worm a piece of blanket over her head as she flailed. “That’s easy enough to fix,” he said quietly to the infant, with a hurried look at the bathroom door. The shower was still running, so it was safe. Annabelle wouldn’t come out in a state of undress he was certain they’d both rather avoid.

He was pretty sure the petite blonde looked good in a towel, though.

“Hey, baby, don’t be so upset,” he said, reaching out to stroke the tiny back. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Baby Emmeline—had Annabelle called her Emmie?—seemed to hesitate in her wails, either at the sound of his voice or the human contact. “Hm. I barely know what to do with an angry woman, but maybe it’s something a man has to work up to. Starting small might be the way to go.” Gingerly he reached to cradle Em in his fingers, and then balanced her in his palms until he was certain he had her positioned properly. Then he lifted her to his chest, cradling her as he hummed.

The crying completely ceased.

“Like falling off a log,” he sang to her to the tune of a low country song. “A man never forgets how to make a woman feel good. At least not if he’s smart.”

She snuffled against him.

“You like my singing, huh? You’re the only one who likes it, then. My brothers show no respect for my vocal attributes.”

Em didn’t object, so he hummed to her and stood, about to leave the room in case Annabelle should put in a towel-clad appearance. “Since you’re obviously a lady who likes late-night excitement, let’s go watch some Classic Sports Channel. I bet if you learned young enough, you’d love football.”

But when he slid into his leather recliner and turned the TV on softly, he realized Em was asleep. “You just wanted to know you’re not alone,” he murmured. “We all feel like that sometimes, little baby.”

LAREDO AND TEX STOOD beside the recliner, staring down at Frisco. The chair was tipped back, his mouth was open, his boots were pointed tips to the ceiling, and there was a baby on his chest. The remote, which would usually lie where the baby was, had fallen to the carpet.

“Are my eyes lying to me?” Laredo whispered.

Tex shook his head, dumbfounded.

“Where’s the camera? Get me the camera. I need a picture of this! No one will ever believe that my foul-tempered brother actually let a baby crawl onto his person.”

Tex handed him the camera and Laredo squeezed off a shot.

“You wake that baby, and Frisco’s gonna chew your head, Laredo.”

They both froze for a second as the baby sighed. Neither brother nor infant awoke, however.

Laredo gestured to Tex to follow him back into the kitchen. “I just had a brainstorm.”

“I’m wary of storms, myself.”

Laredo eyed him wryly. “I’m thinking about all these women.”

Tex raised a brow. “You and all the rest of us. Glad to hear you’re normal, Laredo.”

“I’ll ignore that for the moment, in the spirit of brotherhood.”

Tex grinned.

“I’m serious here. Give me a listen before you shoot this down, Tex. What if a woman was the way to get Frisco in a better frame of mind?”

Tex gave him his most sober look, which was nearly ruined by the twinkle in his eyes. “Frisco’s frame is bent. Totally. I do believe there’s not a woman alive who can make him hang on the level.”

Laredo sighed, used to his brother’s clowning.

“But maybe some womanliness is the way to get Frisco to act like a human being.”

“Like a shot of instant female hormones to counteract his overload of testosterone?”

Laredo shook his head. “No, I’m talking flesh-and-blood woman. Like sweet Annabelle.”

Tex burst out laughing.

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