Gil Addison showed a definite talent for stripping.

If he’d undressed any slower, Bailey would’ve ripped the shirt off. But she had asked for this. All she could do was watch in torment.

With her training, Bailey could bring most men down. But Gil … Gil was the real deal. His body rippled with muscle.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted.

Her legs shaking, she curled her arm around the bedpost. “Just admiring the view.” She touched his chest. “I want to please you.”

“You do, in every way. I love your strength, your integrity. The way you treat my son.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

His finger on her lips silenced her. “I spend all my time being Cade’s father. Tonight … tonight I’m just a man. A man who wants you.”

* * *

Beneath the Stetson is a Texas Cattleman’s Club: The Missing Mogul novel Love and scandal meet in Royal, Texas!

Beneath

the Stetson

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.

Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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For my wonderful Texas friends,

Karen, Rob, Elaine and Bob. Thank you for the fun,

the laughter and the “tall” tales of life in Texas.

I count you among my blessings!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

One

Gil Addison didn’t like Feds. Even when they came wrapped in pretty packages. Perhaps it was the trace of Comanche blood in his veins that kept an atavistic memory alive...all those years of government promises made and broken. Gil was a white man living in a white man’s world, no doubt about it. Nothing much of his Native American heritage lingered except for his black hair, brown eyes and olive skin.

But the distrust remained.

He stood inside the house, hand on an edge of the curtain, and watched as a standard-issue dark sedan made its way down the long driveway. Technically, the woman for whom he waited wasn’t a Fed. She was a state investigator. But she had been trained by Feds, and that was close enough.

“Who is it, Daddy?”

His four-year-old son, Cade, endlessly curious, wrapped an arm around his father’s leg. Gil glanced down at the boy, smiling in spite of his unsettled emotions. “A lady who wants to talk to me. Don’t worry. It won’t take long.” He had promised Cade they would go riding today.

“Is she pretty?”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “Why would that matter?”

The child with the big, far-too-observant eyes grinned. “Well, if she is, you might want to date her and fall in love and then get married and—”

“This again?” Gil kept his hand over the boy’s mouth in a mock insistence on changing the subject. He knelt and looked Cade in the eyes. “I have you. That’s all I need.” Single parenting was not for wimps. Sometimes it was the loneliest job in the world. And Gil wondered constantly if he was making irrevocable mistakes. He hugged his son before standing up again. “I think I’ve been letting you watch too much TV.”

Cade pulled the curtains even farther aside and watched as the car rolled to a stop and parked. The car door opened and the woman stepped out. “She is pretty,” Cade said, practically bouncing with the energy that never seemed to diminish.

Inwardly, Gil agreed with Cade’s assessment, albeit reluctantly. Bailey Collins, despite the professional pantsuit that was as dark and unexceptional as her car, made an impression on a man. Only a few inches shy of Gil’s six-one height, she carried herself with confidence. Wavy, shoulder-length brown hair glinted in the sun with red highlights. Her thick-lashed eyes were almost as dark as Gil’s.

Though she was still too far away for Gil to witness those last two attributes, he had a good memory. Today was not his first encounter with Bailey Collins.

As she mounted his front steps, he opened the door, refusing to acknowledge that his heart beat faster than normal. The first time he met her, they had faced each other across a desk at Royal’s police station. Even then he’d felt a potent mix of sexual hunger and resentment. But Bailey was on his turf now. He’d be calling the shots. She might think her credentials gave her power, but he was not prepared to accept them at face value.

* * *

Bailey caught her toe on the edge of the top step and stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. Fortunately, she regained her balance at the last second, because in the midst of her gyrations the door flew open, and a man she recognized all too well stood framed in the doorway.

Gil Addison.

Even as she acknowledged the jolt to her chest, she was taken aback by the presence of a second male. The man for whom she felt an unwelcome but visceral attraction was not alone. He held the hand of a small boy, most likely—according to Gil’s dossier—his son. Even without written verification, she could have guessed the relationship. The young one was practically a carbon copy of his older counterpart.

The child broke free of his father’s hold and stepped forward to beam at Bailey. “Welcome to the Straight Arrow,” he said, holding out his hand with poignant maturity. His gap-toothed smile was infectious. “I’m Cade.”

Bailey squatted, holding out her hand, as well, feeling the warmth of the small palm as it nestled briefly in hers. “Hello, Cade,” she said. “I’m Bailey.”

“Ms. Collins,” Gil corrected with a slight frown. “I’m trying to teach him manners.”

“It’s not bad manners to use my first name if I offer the privilege,” Bailey said evenly, rising to face the man who had already given her sleepless nights.

Cade looked back and forth between the two adults. The thinly veiled antagonism between them was unfortunate, because Cade seemed first confused and then unhappy. The boy’s chin wobbled. “I wanted my dad to like you,” he whispered, staring up at Bailey with huge blue eyes that must have come from his mother.

Bailey’s heart melted. “Your dad and I like each other just fine,” she told Cade, daring Gil to disagree. “Sometimes grown-ups get frustrated about things, but that doesn’t mean we’re angry.” Even as an adult of thirty-three, she remembered vague impressions of her parents arguing. Yelling. Saying wretched, bitter words that couldn’t be unheard.

Bailey knew what it was like to be a child with no power to shape the course of events. It was because she did understand Cade’s dismay, that she summoned an almost-genuine smile and aimed it in Gil’s direction. “Thank you for seeing me today. If we can sit down for a few moments, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

With Cade standing squarely in between them, there was nothing for Gil to do but agree. He ruffled his son’s hair, love for his child and wry capitulation in his gaze as he spoke. “Why don’t you join us in the kitchen, Ms. Collins? Cade and I usually have lemonade and a snack right about now.”

“You may as well call me Bailey, too,” she muttered, not sure if he heard her or not. She followed the two of them back through the house to the historic but updated kitchen. Gil had taken over the property from his parents when they retired and settled in Austin. The senior Addisons had inherited the Straight Arrow from Gil’s grandparents. The ranch, whose name ironically described its owner to a T, was an enormous operation.

Four years ago when Gil’s wife committed suicide, Gil had hired an army of extra ranch hands and housekeepers, so he could be the primary caregiver for his toddler son. Bailey knew the facts of the situation because she had investigated the man...and admired him for his devotion. But that didn’t make her any more forgiving of the way he had stonewalled her in their earlier interviews. Even though her file on Gil Addison was thorough and extensive, she was no closer to understanding the man himself.

Cade pulled out a chair for Bailey, sealing the deal. The kid was irresistible. Clearly Gil was not kidding when he mentioned teaching manners. Something about witnessing the boy’s interaction with his father made Bailey’s assessment of Gil shift and refocus. Surely a man who could be so caring and careful with a child was not all bad.

Bailey’s own exposure to male parenting was more like a metaphorical slap up the side of the head. Toe the line. Don’t complain. Achieve. Be self-sufficient. Even the most generous assessment of her father’s motives left no room for seeing him as anything other than a bully and a tyrant—presumably the reason Bailey’s mother had walked out, leaving her young daughter behind.

Bailey sat down somewhat self-consciously, and placed her cell phone on the table. While Gil busied himself retrieving glasses from the pine cabinets and slicing apples to go along with peanut butter, Cade grilled Bailey. “Do you have any good games on your phone?”

His hopeful expression made her grin. “A few.”

“Angry Birds?”

“Yes. Are you any good at it?”

Cade shot a glance at his dad and lowered his voice. “He thinks that too much time with electronics will make me...um...” Clearly searching for the desired word, Cade trailed off, his brow furrowed.

“Brain dead.” Gil set the glasses on the table and returned with the plate of apples. Taking a chair directly across from Bailey, he sat down and turned his son’s hand over, palm up. The little fingers were grimy. “Go wash up, Cade. Ms. Collins and I will wait for you.”

When Cade disappeared down the hall to the bathroom, Bailey smiled. “He’s wonderful. And unexpectedly mature for a four-year-old.”

“He’ll be five soon. He didn’t have too many opportunities to be around other children until I began bringing him to the daycare center at the club occasionally, so that accounts for the adult conversation. As much as I’ll miss him, I think it will be good for him to start kindergarten this fall.”

Bailey cocked her head. “I may have misjudged you, Gil Addison. I think you do have a heart.”

“Don’t confuse parental love for weakness, Ms. Collins. I won’t be manipulated into helping you take down one of my friends.”

The sudden attack startled her. Gil’s classic features were set in grim lines, any trace of softness gone. “You really don’t trust me at all, do you?” she asked, her voice husky with regret at this evidence of his animosity.

“I don’t trust your kind,” he clarified, his tone terse. “Alex Santiago was kidnapped, but now he’s been found. Sooner or later he’ll get his memory back and be able to tell us who took him. Why can’t you people drop it and leave us here in Royal to clean up our own messes?”

Bailey glanced toward the hallway, realizing that Cade could return at any moment. “Surely you’re not that naive,” she said quietly. “Because Alex has no memory of what happened to him, trouble could strike again at any time. We have no choice but to track down his abductors. Surely you can see that.”

“What I don’t see is why you think anyone I know is responsible.”

“Alex was well-liked in Royal, though obviously he had at least one enemy. You know a lot of people. Somewhere in the midst of all that I hope to find the truth. It’s my job, Gil. And I’m good at it. All I need is your help.”

Cade popped into the room, the front of his shirt damp from his ablutions. “I’m really hungry,” he said. At a nod from his father, he scooped up two apple slices and started eating.

As Bailey watched, Gil offered her a piece and took one himself. His sharp white teeth bit into the fruit with a crunch. She tried to eat, but the food stuck in her throat. She needed Gil on her side. And she needed him to trust her. Perhaps that would require time.

Biting her lip, she put down her uneaten snack and tried the lemonade instead. As father and son chatted about mundane matters, she strove for composure. Usually it took a lot to rattle her. But for some reason, winning Gil’s approval was important.

When his phone rang, he glanced at the number and grimaced. “Sorry, Ms. Collins. I need to take this in private. I won’t be long.”

Cade glanced up at his dad as Gil stood. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll entertain her.”

* * *

When Gil returned thirty minutes later, he felt a pinch of guilt for abandoning Bailey to his son’s clutches. Not all women were good with children, and Bailey struck him as more of a focused career woman than a nurturer. When he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he pulled up short. There at the table, right where he had left them, were Cade and Bailey. Only now, they were sitting side by side, their heads bent over Bailey’s phone.

The lemonade glasses were empty, as was the plate that had held apples.

Bailey shook her head. “Remember the angles,” she said. “Don’t just fire it off willy-nilly.”

When Gil’s son gazed up at Bailey, Gil’s heart fractured. Never had he seen a boy so starved for feminine attention. Despite Gil’s best efforts at being a perfect parent, nothing could substitute for the love of a mother. If Gil were not careful, Cade would latch onto Bailey and create an embarrassing situation for all of them.

Gil cleared his throat. “Cade. If you’ll give me half an hour to speak with Ms. Collins about some grown-up business, I promise you we’ll leave for our ride immediately after that.”

Cade never looked up from his game. “Sure, Dad. Let me just finish this one—”

Gil took the phone and handed it to Bailey. “You have permission to use the computer in my study. Now scram.”

“Yes, sir.” Cade gave Bailey a cheeky grin on his way out the door. “Will you say goodbye before you leave?”

Bailey rose to her feet and glanced at Gil.

Cade’s father nodded. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

In Cade’s absence an uncomfortable silence reigned. The little boy’s exuberant personality had served to soften the edges of Gil’s aggressive displeasure.

Bailey hesitated, searching for a way to break the ice.

Gil did it for her. He held out an arm. “Since Cade is in my office, we might as well step onto the back porch. If that’s okay with you,” he added stiffly.

Bailey nodded. “Of course.” The January weather was picture-perfect, and as was often the case during the winter, a bit erratic, as well. Last week Royal had endured storms and temperatures in the mid-fifties. Today the thermometer was forecast to hit eighty, almost a record.

As they stepped outside, Bailey had to smile. The Straight Arrow was an enormous, thriving cattle operation. In addition to its efficiency and profitability, every aspect of the ranch’s physical appearance was neat and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It took money to carry out such attention to detail. But Gil had money. Lots of it. Which was a good thing, because his wealth meant he had the luxury of spending time with his son.

Watching and listening to Cade, Bailey understood how very well Gil had managed to give his son emotional security. The child was bright, friendly and well adjusted. Growing up without a mother was no picnic. But Gil’s parenting had mitigated Cade’s loss as much as was possible.

Gil remained standing, so Bailey followed suit. If she had made herself comfortable in one of the cushioned wicker chairs, he would have towered over her. She suspected he would like that.

Bailey, however, had a job to do. She wouldn’t be cowed by Gil’s fiercely masculine personality. She worked in a world where men still dominated the profession. Self-preservation demanded she be tough on the outside, even if she sometimes felt as if she was playing a part.

Gil fired the first shot. “I thought you went back to Dallas.”

She shrugged. “Only for a week. The case is still open. After I finished the earlier interviews, my boss pulled me to work briefly on another project. But we’re in a lull now, and they want me to do some more digging.”

“You didn’t do so well the last time,” he mocked.

Bailey met his hot gaze with composure. “Investigations take time. And just so you know...I get it, Gil.”

“Get what?”

“You were insulted to be on the suspect list. I impugned your honor, and you’re pissed. Have I hit the nail on the head?” She challenged him deliberately, not willing to play the bad guy indefinitely.

His jaw was granite. “I’d think your time would be better spent questioning the criminal element instead of harassing upstanding members of the community.”

Her lips twitched. Hurt masculine pride was a tricky thing. “I have extensive training in psychological evaluation. And you know very well that you were never a suspect. It was my job to speak to anyone and everyone who knew Alex...to look for clues, for any shred of information, no matter how minute, that might help solve the kidnapping.”

“And yet you came up with nothing.”

She tensed, tired of being under attack. “Alex is back in Royal,” she pointed out.

“No thanks to you.”

His mockery lit the fuse of her temper. She could take what he was dishing out, but she didn’t have to like it. “You have no idea what goes on behind the scenes. And I don’t have to justify myself to you. Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

“And that would be?”

As they had exited the house, Gil had scooped up a well-worn Stetson and dropped it on his head with one smooth motion that bespoke the love of a cowboy for his hat. Now the brim shadowed his eyes.

Bailey was not immune to the picture he made. In well-washed denims that rode low on his hips and molded to his long, muscular legs, he was a walking, talking ad for testosterone. His chamois shirt must have been hand-tailored, because it managed to accommodate his broad shoulders nicely. Gil Addison was the real deal, right down to his expensive, though scuffed, leather boots.

Bailey felt the physical pull. Acknowledged it. Experienced a pang of regret for something that would never be. It had been a long time since she had met a man so appealing. But Gil didn’t much like her, and her newest assignment was not going to improve matters.

With an inward sigh for her barren love life, she cut to the chase. “I need access to the membership files at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

“Absolutely not.” He bowed up almost visibly.

Bailey leaned against the porch railing, her hands behind her. It was either that or fasten them around Gil’s tanned neck and squeeze. The man was infuriating. “I have all the necessary warrants and paperwork,” she said mildly. “But I’d prefer not to go in guns blazing. Why don’t you be a gentleman for once and politely invite me to the club as your guest?”

The word he muttered made her wince. “I’m the president of the TCC,” he pointed out...as if she didn’t already know. His scowl was black. “People trust me with their secrets. How is it going to look if I turn all that over to an outsider?”

That last jab hurt, but Bailey held her ground. “You don’t really have a choice...even if you do have a judge or two tucked away in your back pocket. These orders come down from on high. I’m going to comb through those files one way or another. You can either make my life miserable or you can cooperate. Your choice. But I will get the information I need.”

Two

Gil ripped his hat from his head and ran a hand across his damp brow. It was January, damn it. No reason in the world the heat and humidity should be this bad.

Bailey, on the other hand, despite wearing an unflattering suit jacket, seemed cool and collected. She watched him warily, as if he were a dangerous rattlesnake about to bite.

What she didn’t know was that he had fantasized about nibbling her...all the way from her delicate jawline to the vulnerable place where her throat disappeared inside that boring blouse. His body tightened. The woman probably had no idea that her no-nonsense clothing revved his engine. Instead of focusing on the government-employee quasi uniform, he imagined stripping it off her and baring that long, lean body to his gaze.

His sex thickened and lifted, making his jeans uncomfortably tight. With a silent curse, he stared out across the acres of land that belonged to him as far as the eye could see. Searching desperately for a diversion, he fell back on the universal topic of weather.

“Are you familiar with the Civil War general Philip Sheridan?” he asked, keeping his body half-turned to avoid embarrassing them both.

Bailey wrinkled her nose. “History wasn’t my strong suit in school, but yes...I’ve heard of him.”

“After the war, Sheridan was assigned to a post in south Texas. It’s reported he said that if he owned Texas and hell, he would rent out Texas and live in hell.”

“I’m surprised you would mention it. I thought it was heresy to insult the mother ship. All you native Texans are pretty arrogant.”

“We have reason to be...despite the heat,” he added ruefully, replacing his hat and wanting desperately to wrap this up before he pounced on her.

“So I’m to believe that everything in Texas is bigger and better?”

Shock immobilized him. Was Bailey flirting with him? Surely not. He glanced over his shoulder at her. As far as he could tell, nothing in her demeanor was the least bit sexual. Too bad. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I thought you would know that, being from Dallas.”

“I’m not from Dallas. My dad was in the army. We lived all over the world. Dallas is where I’m assigned at the moment.”

“So where do you call home?”

Seconds passed. Two, maybe three. For a brief moment he saw bleak regret in her brown-eyed gaze. “Not anywhere, really.”

Such rootlessness was hard for him to imagine. Texas was as much a part of his lifeblood as breathing. Sensing her unease with the topic, he turned to face her, at last somewhat in control of himself. “Well,” he said laconically, “at least if you weren’t born here, you came as soon as you could.”

Bailey, arms wrapped around her waist, smiled. “I guess you could say that.”

He pursed his lips. “Apparently, I have no choice about your interference. Is that what you’re telling me?” The facts of the matter still stuck in his craw.

“You’ve got it.” Though seeing him admit defeat must have pleased her, Bailey’s expression remained neutral.

“Very well. Meet me at the club at ten in the morning. I’ll show you where to get started.”

“I’m a highly trained computer specialist, Gil. I shouldn’t have to take up more than a week of your life.”

Too bad. He glanced at his watch. “Come say goodbye to Cade.”

In his office, he watched, perturbed, as once again his son lit up at seeing their visitor.

Gil’s son beamed. “I unlocked three more levels, Bailey.”

She nodded. “Good for you.”

Cade looked at his dad. “Are you gonna call her Bailey?”

“I suppose I will,” Gil admitted. “She’s going to be around for a while.”

Cade grinned charmingly. “That’s good.”

Gil pinched the boy’s ear. “Behave, brat. I don’t need your help finding women.”

Bailey’s face turned crimson, affording Gil a definite sense of satisfaction. It was fine by him if she felt uncomfortable. It was only fair. She was messing with his life from stem to stern in all sorts of ways. Not the least of which was his recalcitrant libido. The sooner she finished what she had to do and left town, the better.

* * *

Bailey arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club fifteen minutes early the following morning. A heat wave still held the area in an unseasonable grip. Though by no means reaching the brutal temperatures of July and August, the day was plenty warm. Which meant that the winter clothing Bailey had brought with her was stifling.

Deciding she could maintain a professional demeanor without her blazer, she stripped it off and laid it carefully in the backseat of the car. Rolling up the sleeves of her white silk blouse, she breathed a sigh of relief as she immediately felt cooler.

In all honesty, part of her warmth stemmed from the prospect of facing Gil Addison again. Gil was in the clear as far as the investigation went, but she was going to have to work with him to some extent in order to do her job. The fact that she was attracted to him complicated things.

As she approached the club, she assessed the physical features automatically. Built around 1910, the large, rambling, single-story building was constructed of dark wood and stone with a tall slate roof. For over a century, it had been an entirely male enclave. In the past couple of years, however, a handful of women had finally been admitted as official members. During her stay in Royal, Bailey had heard rumblings of discontent. Not everyone thought change was a good idea.

Despite her early arrival, Gil was waiting for her in the lobby. Guests were admitted only in the company of a member. She wondered if Gil felt he was betraying his position by bringing Bailey into the mix.

She greeted him quietly and looked around. High ceilings gave a sense of spaciousness even as dark floors and big leather-upholstered furniture created a cozy, masculine space. “Nice,” she said. “Is Cade with you?”

Gil pointed to the room just to the left of the entryway. “The old billiards room has been converted into the new day care center. I promised Cade if he behaved nicely for a couple of hours, he could join us for lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “Your son is a pretty awesome kid.”

“I happen to think so.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. Today, perhaps in deference to his position as president, he wore a tweed blazer over a white dress shirt. He hadn’t given up his jeans, however. Although Gil hadn’t worn his hat inside his own home, apparently within the walls of the club, a Stetson was de rigueur.

It wasn’t fair, Bailey thought desperately. How was she supposed to be businesslike when everything about him made her weak in the knees? Well, almost everything, she amended mentally. His arrogance was hard to take. She had come up against Gil’s bullheadedness in her initial interview with him. Pushing for answers had been like a futile military assault against well-fortified defenses.

Gil was a man accustomed to steering his own course. Though she didn’t pick up any vibes that he scoffed at the idea of a woman working in law enforcement, nevertheless she suspected he didn’t like having to cooperate.

As they walked down the hall toward Gil’s TCC office, she asked the question that she should have asked the day before. “Have you been to see Alex since he’s been found?”

Gil pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the solid oak door. Ushering Bailey inside, he nodded. “I did...but since he’s lost his memory, the visit was rather pointless. He had no clue who I was.”

“Were you close before he disappeared?”

“Close enough. Not bosom buddies, but we knew each other pretty well.”

“You probably should go see him again when you have a chance,” she said. “You never know when a face or voice might jog something loose.”

“I’ll think about it....”

She placed her purse and briefcase on a low table. She and Gil were standing in what appeared to be an outer reception area. More masculine leather furniture outfitted this small space. Someone had added a stuffy arrangement of artificial flowers, perhaps hoping to soften the ambience. But with various examples of taxidermy staring down from overhead, it was hard to imagine any woman feeling at home here.

Apparently, the office itself was through the closed door a few steps away. “I don’t want to snarl up your day,” she said. “If you don’t mind writing down the user name and password...and giving me a quick rundown of the program you use to input information, I should be able to work on my own.”

Gil smiled, genuine amusement on his face. That expression alone was enough to shock her. But the momentary appearance of an honest-to-God dimple in his tanned cheek took her aback. “Did I say something funny?”

He stepped past her to open the other door. “See for yourself.”

Expecting to discover the customary computer and printer equipment inside, she drew up short at the sight facing her. A dozen wooden file cabinets, four drawers high, lined the opposite wall. By the window, a deep bookshelf housed a collection of thick leather ledgers. Dust motes danced in a sunbeam that played across a patterned linoleum floor. A battered rolltop desk sat just to the left, its only adornment a brass placard that said President.

She held up her hands in defeat. “You can’t be serious.”

Gil leaned in the doorway, his relaxed posture in direct opposition to her own state of mind. “There’s something you need to understand, Bailey. The Texas Cattleman’s Club is an institution, certainly as much a part of Royal’s history as the churches and the mercantile or the feed store and the saloon. Men have come here for decades to get away from wives and girlfriends...to play poker and make business deals. Anyone who walks through the door as a full member has money and influence.”

“And your point?”

“Heritage and tradition are etched into the walls. The guys around here don’t like change.”

“Which is why the child care center drew so much controversy.”

“Yes. That, and the inclusion of women. So it shouldn’t come as any surprise to see how we keep records. The good old boys may have their iPads and their internet, but when it comes to the TCC, the old ways are the only ways. At least so far.”

“So there’s hope for modernization?”

“Maybe. But I can’t force it on them. It has to be a gradual process. If I’m lucky, and if I can spin it the right way, they’ll think it was their idea to begin with.”

“And it won’t hurt matters if a few of the old guard ride off into the sunset in the meantime.”

“You said it, not me. The TCC was here before I was born, and it will be here long after I’m gone. I’m under no illusions that being president gives me any real power. It’s more of an honorary title, if you want to know the truth.”

“I’m sure they think a great deal of you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why, Ms. Collins. Was that a compliment?”

The teasing grin caught her off guard. Apparently, dumping her in a dusty room full of nothing but file folders sweetened his mood. “I doubt you need compliments of any kind, Mr. Addison. In fact, I’m surprised your head isn’t already too big for that clichéd cowboy hat.”

“Don’t insult my hat,” he said solemnly, though his eyes were dancing. “Since I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future, we might as well drop the formality, don’t you think?”

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

“Not for a minute,” he said promptly. “But I figure it’s my job to keep an eye on you...Bailey.”

The way he said those two syllables made her stomach curl with something that felt a lot like desire. But such an emotion was doomed to wither on the vine. Despite her unwilling host’s humor, she was not deceived. Her presence at the TCC was tolerated at best.

For a man who was innocent of any wrongdoing, Gil seemed curiously suspicious of authority. Was there something in his past that made him so? What did he have to fear from Bailey? Nothing that she could see. So perhaps it was government interference in general he hated. Not a particularly uncommon attitude, especially in this neck of the woods. But she felt the sting of his disapproval nevertheless.

Maybe in time she could prove to him that she was more than an outsider meddling in his business. She liked to think they could get to a place where he regarded her as something more than a nuisance. In a tiny corner of her heart, she wondered what it would be like if she and Gil were on the same side. If no walls between them existed. If they could be just a man and a woman. Exploring the sweet lure of attraction.

“I suppose I’d better get started,” she said, trying not to let him see the way her hands trembled and her breathing quickened at the thought of actually being on friendly terms with the sexy rancher.

“Start where?”

“Are you genuinely interested, or is that another suspicious question?”

He shrugged, straightening and running a hand across the back of his neck. “A little of both, I guess.”

She nodded, deciding not to take offense at his honesty. “My plan is to pull all the files of the people I interviewed in the initial investigation. I’ll comb through them and see if anything stands out.”

“In other words, you’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Despite what television and movies would have you believe, law enforcement is seldom glamorous.”

“Why did you choose this career path?” he asked, his gaze reflecting genuine interest.

Bailey hesitated.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “None of my business.”

“No. It’s okay. I suppose I was debating how to answer that. As a teenager I would have told you I wanted to serve my country.”

“And that’s not true?”

“It is true, but I’m not the starry-eyed idealist I was back then. And I’m a little more self-aware, I think. I’ve come to understand that I do what I do because I wanted to make my father proud of me.”

“I’m sure he must be.”

She grimaced. “Not really. He wanted me to go into the military. He’s a career army guy. But that never seemed like the right fit for me, so state law enforcement was my compromise. I thought he would come around eventually, but he hasn’t.”

“Parents can be shortsighted. Do you regret your choice?”

No one had ever asked her that. Her job was fulfilling and she was good at it. But she wasn’t sure it was going to be her life’s work. “To be honest, I wanted to be a musician. I’m pretty good on the guitar and the piano. I took advantage of almost all my electives when I was in college to sign up for music courses.”

Gil stared at her. Hard. As if trying to see inside her head. “You’re an interesting person, Bailey Collins.”

She might not be the most experienced woman on the planet, but she knew when a man wanted her. The look in Gil’s eyes was unmistakable. There was enough fire and passion in his dark eyes to make her body go liquid with longing. She had felt the spark the first time they met and doggedly ignored it because he was a potential suspect.

But Gil was innocent, and the feelings were still there. If she encouraged his interest, things might get very intense during her time in Royal. The truth was, she was afraid that getting involved with someone who played a role in her investigation was unprofessional at best. Keeping a clear line between business and pleasure was not going to be easy.

She met his gaze reluctantly. “So are you, Gil. So are you.”

He jerked when she said his name. As if her utterance of that single syllable shocked him. Now the frown returned in full force. “I have things to do,” he said gruffly. “Are you all set?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was ready to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m fine,” she said. “How long do I have before we meet Cade for lunch?”

“A couple of hours. He gets a snack at the center, so I made a reservation in the dining room for twelve-thirty. Does that work for you?”

“Of course. And will I be able to come back this afternoon and pick up where I left off?”

“Yes. Feel free to leave everything out. I’ll lock the door when we go to eat, and no one will bother your papers.”

“You’re being very accommodating all of a sudden.”

“I’ve been pretty rough on you,” he admitted, his neutral gaze hard to read. “I know you’re merely doing your job. I don’t like it, but I suppose there’s no point in shooting the messenger.”

She took a step in his direction just as he did the same. Suddenly they were nose to nose in the small office. Her hands fluttered at her sides. “Thank you, Gil. Your cooperation makes my life a lot easier.” She heard the huskiness in her voice and winced inwardly. Her eyes were level with his throat. They stood so close to each other she could see the hint of a dark beard on his firm, sculpted chin.

Without warning, Gil slid his hands beneath her hair, thumbs stroking her neck. He tipped her face up to his, their lips mere centimeters apart. His beautiful eyes teemed with turbulent emotion “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, Bailey Collins?”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant but wanting to hear him admit that the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

His lips brushed hers in a caress that could barely even be called a kiss. She leaned into him, wanting more.

But straight-arrow Gil Addison was a tough man. “Women and government are always trouble. When you put both in the same package, there’s likely to be hell to pay.”

Three

Bailey leaned against the desk for a full three minutes after Gil left the room, her legs like spaghetti. She had wanted to know if he had felt it, too, the heated connection between them. Now she had irrevocable proof. It was a wonder the tiny room full of aging paper hadn’t gone up in flames on the spot.

Fanning her hot face with one hand, she reached for her briefcase and pulled out her laptop and portable scanner. It was one thing to contemplate seducing the steely-eyed rancher, but another entirely to realize that all he had to do was touch her and she melted.

She was here to do a job. Before she contemplated any hanky-panky, she needed to get her priorities in order. Fortunately, she had made a plan already, so even though her concentration was shot, she was able to follow through with her agenda.

The method of attack was fairly simple. Using a list of interviews from her earliest days in Royal, she pulled file folders methodically, keeping them in alphabetical order. Though she hadn’t anticipated the complication of not having anything digitized, she would cope. As long as she didn’t do something stupid like knocking a pile of paper off the desk, she should be able to proceed with relative efficiency.

Thirty minutes later she had finished reading through three folders and had developed a throbbing tension headache. She banged her fist against her forehead. Not only was much of the information not typed or organized in any discernible fashion, but the handwritten portions were barely legible.

To call this mess record-keeping was generous. It was impossible to compare one file with the next, because every member’s information was different. Other than an initial sheet that documented simple details such as name, address and date of initial membership, all the other pages were a hodgepodge of business deals, sporting records and family connections.

It took her another half hour, but she finally managed to come up with a spreadsheet that allowed her to input the pertinent items that might be of use in the investigation. Her stomach growled more than once. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, too nervous about meeting Gil again to be very interested in food.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. The minutes crawled by. Perhaps she was bored with the job, or maybe she was looking forward to lunch with Gil and his precocious son. Her distraction didn’t bode well for the days ahead....

* * *

Gil prowled the familiar halls of the club, pausing again and again to greet and chat with men he had known for years, many of them since he was a child at his father’s side. He was comfortable within these walls, centered, content. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had suffered a few growing pains lately, but it would survive and thrive.

Tradition and stability were important. Which was why Gil had passed the day-to-day running of his ranch over to other hands so he could concentrate on his son’s well-being. One day, everything Gil owned would go to Cade. Cade would get married, settle down and hopefully have better luck in the romance department than his father had.

What really stuck in Gil’s craw was the knowledge that the genesis of his unease sat not far away, her beautiful head bent over a stack of dull club papers, trying to find dirt on someone who might be Gil’s friend. Perhaps the real problem wasn’t that Gil didn’t trust Bailey. Perhaps what bothered him the most was the notion that someone in Royal could have committed such a terrible crime.

Alex was back home, true. But a man with no memory was as vulnerable as a baby in the middle of a busy city street. How would Alex know if the perpetrators came at him again? How would anyone ever know what evil roamed the streets of Royal if Alex never remembered?

For years, Royal had been a great place to live, to raise a family. Occasionally the sheriff was forced to contend with cattle rustlers. And once in a while a two-bit drug dealer might try to set up shop. Of course, there were the usual domestic disturbances, or teenagers letting off steam on a Saturday night. But all in all, Royal was a pretty safe place.

At least it was until Alex Santiago had disappeared. The local and state authorities had crawled all over the town in the beginning. There were rumors of a potential drug war or maybe even bad blood between Alex and Chance McDaniel, who had appeared interested in the same woman. But since that time, everyone Gil knew intimately had been marked off the suspect list.

Which was all well and good except for the fact that still no one knew who the kidnappers were.

Maybe Gil should be more helpful to Bailey. He wanted his town back to normal, and Bailey wanted to close her case. So perhaps it was in Gil’s best interest to help her. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she would leave town and go back to Dallas. That would be the smartest thing that could happen.

Gil didn’t need the complication of an uncomfortable sexual attraction that was not likely to go anywhere. Already, Gil’s son liked Bailey. Which meant that soon Cade would be weaving scenarios where Bailey became his new mom. Gil had seen it happen before. The boy’s unwavering fixation on finding a mother meant that Gil no longer dated in Royal.

Not that he ever had dated much. When his physical needs became too demanding, he either dealt with them via a cold shower, or he met up with an old female friend in another town who was as uninterested in a serious relationship as Gil was. Those encounters left him feeling empty and oddly restless. But Gil had yet to find a woman who came even close to what he thought his son needed.

Bailey was a career woman whose job involved a lot of travel. Though Bailey and Cade had clicked at their first meeting, Bailey didn’t strike Gil as the nurturing type. Cade had lost so much. If and when Gil ever remarried, it would be to a woman with traditional values, a woman who believed in the importance of being a full-time parent.

Gil had played that role for a very long time. And never once regretted his decision. Cade’s sweet spirit and outgoing personality were proof that Gil had at least done something right. But Cade would soon be going to school full time. As much as Gil would miss his son, he was looking forward to once again taking an active role in the management of the Straight Arrow.

What he and Cade needed was a down-to-earth woman, one who would supervise the domestic staff, plan meals for the housekeeper to carry out and organize social events...tasks Gil had no interest in at all.

That paragon of a woman was out there somewhere. Gil had to believe she was, because the prospect of spending his entire life as a single parent and a single man sounded very lonely indeed.

At ten after twelve, he gave up the pretense of being busy and headed back to his office. Bailey didn’t appear to have moved at all since he left her two hours ago. She was surrounded by stacks of paper. Her fingers flew with impressive speed over the keys of her laptop computer.

She didn’t even notice when he came in.

He cleared his throat. Bailey’s head snapped up as she glared at him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to knock,” she said. “You scared me to death.”

“It’s my office,” he responded mildly. “You’re only visiting.” He grabbed a ladder-back chair and turned it around, straddling the seat. Bailey was behind his desk, so he now faced her across the cluttered surface. Her thick russet hair was drawn back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Tendrils waved around her face. Her work must have been frustrating, because the vibe he was getting from her was definitely harried. “Problems, Bailey?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You knew how impossible this was going to be, didn’t you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in your capabilities.” He paused. “Any luck?” He didn’t really want to get involved in what he considered a breach of privacy for the members of the club, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be blindsided with any surprises.

She gnawed her lip, her gaze flitting back to the computer screen. “It’s a little early to tell. But I do have some questions about this man.” She shoved a folder toward Gil. “According to his file, he’s been cited three separate times for fighting on club property. Do you know if he had any kind of grudge against Alex Santiago?”

Gil glanced at the name on the tab and shook his head, grinning. “Just a good ole boy who gets rowdy when he’s had one too many beers. We keep track of such incidents, just in case, but our policy is to prevent members from doing damage to themselves or anyone else. Someone usually takes the offender home and keeps his keys until the following day. I know this guy, Bailey. He didn’t kidnap Alex.”

The slight frown between her brows deepened. She handed him a second file. “And this one? He filed a formal complaint when the club hired a Hispanic chef. His letter includes a number of racial slurs.”

Gil flipped open the folder and shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws. There are bigots everywhere. But that doesn’t mean this guy had any reason to kidnap Alex.” He touched her hand briefly, surprising himself when he felt a zing of something from the simple contact. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be stirring up unnecessary trouble?”

“What do you mean?”

She was so earnest, so dedicated to her work. And clearly able to take care of herself. Even so, Gil felt a distinct urge to protect her. Her white silk blouse was thin, thin enough for Gil to notice the outline of a lacy bra. Despite her extensive training and her credentials, she seemed vulnerable and surprisingly feminine even taking into consideration her deliberately bland and professional clothing.

Bailey’s soft skin, gently rounded breasts, and graceful hands reminded Gil that beneath the outer shell of efficiency, she was a woman. He met her brown-eyed gaze with a calm he didn’t feel. Some way, somehow, he had to convince her to back off this investigation. The feeling in his gut could be called premonition...or simply common sense. But he trusted that feeling...always.

“What you’re doing is dangerous, Bailey. If word gets out that you’re poking around in the TCC records, whoever kidnapped Alex may get spooked and try to harm you.”

She sighed and closed her computer. “Is this genuine concern, or are you trying to get rid of me?”

“All of the above?” He asked it jokingly, but he sobered rapidly. “Alex escaped and made his way back home. Which means somebody out there is really pissed off and may try again. There’s a good chance Alex is still in danger. By involving yourself in his situation, you court the same trouble.”

Her chin lifted. “I’m doing my job. No more, no less.”

“And if your job could get you killed?”

“I’m a paper pusher, Gil.”

“You’re a pain in the butt,” he groused, realizing he wasn’t going to win this round. But hearing her say his name was a small victory, nevertheless. He stood and held out his hand. “I’m starving, and Cade will be, too. Let’s go find him.”

* * *

The club dining room was packed. Bailey looked around with interest as the hostess led them across the floor. In a far corner at a table for two sat Rory and Shannon Fentress, still basking in the glow of being newlyweds. It was rumored that Rory had his eye on the governor’s mansion.

Like Bailey, Shannon was not much of a girlie girl. She owned and managed a working ranch and dressed accordingly when she was in town on business. Judging by the way Rory looked at his new wife, he liked her just the way she was.

Gil had reserved a table by the window because Cade liked to watch the horses outside. Though of course the TCC had a parking lot, it wasn’t at all unusual for someone to ride up, tie his mount to the wooden railings out front, and saunter inside for a bite of lunch.

Cade was his usually bubbly self. “I’m glad you’re eating lunch with us, Miss Bailey.” His form of address was the compromise Gil had allowed in his insistence that his son learn manners.

Bailey smiled at him. “Me, too. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?”

Cade nodded, already filling his mouth with crackers.

Without saying a word, Gil removed the basket from his son’s reach. “I think a lot of the members have been surprised at how nice it is to be able to drop off a son or daughter or even a grandchild and to know that the kids are close by, happy and safe.”

“Do you think the trouble is over?”

“I do. I really do. I still hear grumbling, of course. Particularly from the old guard.”

“You mean like him?” Bailey cocked her head unobtrusively, not letting Cade see. A few tables away sat Paul Windsor, a charter member of the TCC.

Gil grimaced. “Yeah. He’s one of the worst. But even so, I doubt he’d ever actually do anything to cause problems for the center.”

Bailey shuddered inwardly. She had interviewed Paul during her initial investigation, and the man had given her the creeps. Divorced four times, Windsor considered himself a ladies’ man. During the course of her questioning, Bailey had discovered without a doubt that Windsor was perhaps the most overt and obnoxious chauvinist she had ever met. He made no secret of his disdain for Bailey.

“I feel sorry for Cara,” she said, “having such an overbearing father.” Bailey knew what that was like far too well.

“I’ll admit...Windsor can be a jerk. But he wields a lot of influence around here, so it would be a plus to stay on his good side if you want to make any progress with your investigation. If he were to raise a stink, he could convince others that you shouldn’t be here in the club.”

“But I have a legal warrant.”

“Yes. And ultimately that would prevail. In the interim, though, things could get ugly.”

“Is my presence going to cause big problems for you, Gil?” The thought troubled her.

He laughed, his dark eyes warm and teasing. “I can handle trouble, Bailey. Don’t worry about me.”

Cade, tired of being ignored, piped up, a sly smile on his face. “Do you know how to cook, Miss Bailey?”

Bailey raised her eyebrows. “Where did that come from?”

Cade took a bite of the hot dog their server had delivered moments ago. Pausing to chew and swallow, he fixed her with the blue eyes that helped make him such a cute kid. “I dunno,” he said, the picture of innocence. “Dad says when I’m getting to know someone, it’s nice to ask them questions...but not too personal,” he added hastily, glancing at his father with a guilty expression.

“That’s good advice,” Bailey said. “So, in answer to your question, yes...I’m a pretty good cook. I started learning when I was not much bigger than you.”

Cade nodded solemnly, his milk mustache adding to his charm. “And do you like little kids?”

Suddenly, she understood what was happening. She was being interviewed for a job. As Cade’s mommy. Dear Lord. Fortunately for her peace of mind, the rest of their meal arrived, and in the hubbub of drink refills and the server’s chatter, the moment passed.

Bailey had looked forward to an intimate lunch with the two Addison men, but unfortunately, this was not the venue. Gil could barely eat his meal because of repeated interruptions from club members happy to see him. What Bailey suddenly understood was that Gil had sacrificed an enormous amount in choosing intentionally to be the caregiver for his son.

Over the course of almost five years, Gil was wealthy enough to have hired the best nannies in the world. He could have gone about his business, running the ranch, hanging out at the TCC, meeting women, perhaps marrying again. Instead, he had made his son a priority. Fortunately, his current role as TCC president was more of an honorary position than a demanding job.

The enthusiasm with which club members greeted him during one short lunch indicated both that Gil was extremely popular and well-liked, and that he likely was not able to be present at the club as often as many of his cohorts.

Cade bore the intrusion of one table guest after another with equanimity. Several of the men addressed him personally. For a child not yet old enough for school, his composure and patience were commendable.

Not many boys of Bailey’s acquaintance would be able to tolerate an extended meal in public without raising a ruckus. She sneaked him a couple of extra French fries off her plate while Gil was otherwise occupied. “Is it always like this?” she asked.

Cade nodded. “Yep. Everybody likes my dad.” The words were matter-of-fact, but Bailey heard the pride behind them.

“So,” she whispered conspiratorially, “do you think we get dessert?”

Cade wrinkled his nose. “If I eat most of my salad.” He stared dolefully at the small bowl, clearly not a fan of spinach mix.

“I remember once when I was about your age, my mother made me eat black-eyed peas that I didn’t like. I broke out in a rash all over my whole body, and I never had to eat them again.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Cade’s eyes widened with fascination.

“Unfortunately, I think the rash happened because I was so upset. But you could always try using a red marker to put dots all over your skin. I’m kidding,” she said hastily, suddenly visualizing an awful scenario where Gil realized Bailey had been giving his son tips on how to bypass healthy eating.

“I know that.” Cade rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, Miss Bailey.”

Bailey had been called a lot of things in her life...responsible, hardworking, dedicated. But no one had ever called her funny. She kind of liked it. And she very much liked Gil’s precious son.

Gil stood and touched Bailey’s shoulder. “If you two would excuse me for a few moments, I need to speak to a gentleman at that table in the corner. I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Your food will get cold,” Cade said.

“I bet the chef will warm it up for me. Love you, son. Back in a minute.” Gil kissed the top of Cade’s head and strode away.

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