You are cordially invited to the Surprise Wedding of Ex-Libris Bookstore owner Amanda Bradley and Heartbreak Saloon keeper William “Dev” Devlin.

Time: Sunday afternoon

Place: Heartbreak Saloon

Join Shelly and Connor O’Rourke and all of Millionaire, Montana, as we celebrate the sacred, albeit swift, union of Main Street’s much-loved contenders—er, couple—as they begin their married and family life together.

(Special attention should be paid to one Louise Pearson, stuffed-shirt social worker seeking to expose Dev and Amanda’s marriage as a means to keep Liza, Caleb, Patrick and Betsy in the family fold.)

Harlequin American Romance presents MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA, where twelve lucky souls have won a multimillion-dollar jackpot.

Six titles in this captivating series—

JACKPOT BABY by Muriel Jensen

(HAR #953)

BIG-BUCKS BACHELOR by Leah Vale

(HAR #957)

SURPRISE INHERITANCE by Charlotte Douglas

(HAR #961)

FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE by Sharon Swan

(HAR #966)

PRICELESS MARRIAGE by Bonnie Gardner

(HAR #970)

FORTUNE’S TWINS by Kara Lennox

(HAR #974)

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another wonderful month at Harlequin American Romance. You’ll notice our covers have a brand-new look, but rest assured that we still have the editorial you know and love just inside.

What a lineup we have for you, as reader favorite Muriel Jensen helps us celebrate our 20th Anniversary with her latest release. That Summer in Maine is a beautiful tale of a woman who gets an unexpected second chance at love and family with the last man she imagines. And author Sharon Swan pens the fourth title in our ongoing series MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA. You won’t believe what motivates ever-feuding neighbors Dev and Amanda to take a hasty trip to the altar in Four-Karat Fiancée.

Speaking of weddings, we have two other tales of marriage this month. Darlene Scalera pens the story of a jilted bride on the hunt for her disappearing groom in May the Best Man Wed. (Hint: the bride may just be falling for her husband-to-be’s brother.) Dianne Castell’s High-Tide Bride has a runaway bride hiding out in a small town where her attraction to the local sheriff is rising just as fast as the flooding river.

So sit back and enjoy our lovely new look and the always-quality novels we have to offer you this—and every—month at Harlequin American Romance.

Best Wishes,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Four-Karat Fiancée

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Muriel, Leah, Charlotte, Bonnie and Karen, who made doing this story so special And for Melissa Jeglinski, who brought us together creating a town to remember

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.

Books by Sharon Swan

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND *

939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE! *

966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE

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

Prologue

Maybe he should just grab her up and kiss her.

William Devlin fisted his gloved hands at his sides and debated the merits of that plan. At least, he thought, it would keep Amanda Bradley quiet for a while. It was hard to believe that most folks in Jester, Montana, considered this woman a prime example of a real lady. Then again, she wasn’t tearing into most of Jester’s small population on a regular basis. Only him.

For two years, ever since she’d opened her fancy bookstore in the same building that was home to his saloon, he’d been treated to complaints about his business. And for the past six months, with some hard-earned savings in hand at last, he’d been offering to buy her share of the old, sprawling building so he could finally have some peace. Too bad it didn’t look as if he were getting any, because she kept turning him down flat.

“So I’m asking for the umpteenth time what you intend to do about the constant commotion.” Amanda huffed out the words as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her camelhair coat.

Dev tugged the wide brim of his tan Stetson down a notch and reined in his temper, barely. More griping was the last thing he needed on a snowy January evening cold enough to freeze a man’s blood in his veins. What had made him think that he wanted to take a walk anyway? Two steps out of the Heartbreaker Saloon and he’d found himself being confronted by Amanda’s righteous indignation right in the middle of Main Street. Again.

“Look, bars aren’t the quietest places in the world, but I told you I’d try to keep a lid on things,” he replied with all the reasonableness he could muster. Despite his efforts, the words came out gruff. Hell, he used to have a talent for sweet-talking a woman. And he still did, Dev told himself.

Any woman but this one.

Every now and then he’d look at her and forget that she was one ornery female—because she wasn’t bad-looking, he had to admit. She was…petite, he guessed was the word, with a neat and trim figure that could draw a man’s glance. And there was no denying that the long, light brown hair she usually held back with a shiny clip at the nape of her neck had a glossy sheen to it. Her oval face, straight little nose and clear brown eyes were attractive enough to win some notice, as well.

But it was her mouth that for some reason fascinated him.

“I know what you told me,” she said, putting a swift end to his reflections, “and just this afternoon two of your patrons almost came to blows right in front of my store.”

“Probably a slight difference of opinion,” he muttered, lifting a broad shoulder clad in a sheepskin-lined suede jacket. Being put on the defensive didn’t please him one blasted bit.

“Humph.” She raised her chin another haughty level. “I don’t suppose the drinks they downed at your bar had anything to do with it, Mr. Macho.”

He had nearly had it. It irritated him no end when she used that nickname she’d come up with for him, one that typically had him retaliating with a private nickname of his own. In another minute, he thought, he’d be locking his lips with hers. And it would be in pure desperation.

“Look, Ms. Prim, as I’ve explained to you Lord knows how many times, I run a—”

Just then a shout rang out, halting him in midsentence. “We won! Dev, we won!”

He whipped around and saw Dean Kenning hopping up and down on the street outside his barbershop less than a block away, as though the snow-covered asphalt had turned to hot bricks. Beside him, two of Dean’s longtime cronies, bundled against the cold, watched with stunned expressions as their friend did a jig worthy of a man far younger than the barber’s sixty-plus years.

“What in the world—” Dev started to say. Then he remembered it was Tuesday, the day the Big Draw Lottery numbers were announced on Channel 4 right after the evening news. Fifteen states participated, including Montana, and he was one of a dozen hopefuls who contributed a weekly dollar to Jester’s private lottery pool—money the other players forked over to the jovial, ruddy-faced barber so he could purchase tickets for their group at the nearby town of Pine Run. They’d won enough in the past few years to celebrate in a small way, but Dean had never done a jig before. Had they finally lucked out?

Dev took off at a fast clip, vaguely aware of Amanda’s footsteps hurrying along behind him. A second-story window over one of the stores lining the street flew open. “Land sakes, what’s all the commotion about?” a woman asked in a near squeal.

Ignoring that question, the barber kept right on shouting. “We won!”

“What do you mean we won?” Dev shouted back as he skidded to a halt in front of the barbershop.

At last Dean stopped jumping around and held up a small piece of paper. “These are the jackpot numbers I just wrote down. And one of tickets I bought for us matches all of them.”

Dev swallowed, hard. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll read them to you,” Dean told him, his voice beginning to shake as he handed over the ticket.

In the dim light of an old turn-of-the-century streetlamp, Dev checked the printed computer numbers against those the barber quickly read off. And they matched, every…single…one.

“We did win,” Dev said in a rough whisper, feeling as though the bottom had dropped right out of his stomach. Looking up, he saw that a small crowd had gathered, and it wasn’t long before a woman wedged her way through.

“Let me see that,” Shelly Dupree said.

Dev gave the ticket to Shelly, who was another regular in the lottery pool. Over the past few years, the Main Street coffee-shop owner with a ready smile for her customers had become a friend of his. Shelly was also a close friend to Amanda Bradley, he knew, but he’d never held that against her.

“Read them again, Dean,” Shelly told the barber. “Slowly.”

Dean followed instructions, and moments later Shelly lifted her gaze. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“How much did you win?” someone in the crowd asked.

The barber raised his hands to the dark sky above him, as if he were trying to touch heaven, and looking as though he had. “Forty! Million! Dollars!”

Forty million, was all Dev could think. “That’s…” Using a knack for math that had served him well in business, he divided the winning amount twelve ways and soon came up with a figure. “Three million, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, three hundred and…well, you know. One of those numbers with threes that go on forever.”

Someone else brought up the fact that taxes would have to be paid, but Dev was hardly going to carp about that at this point. “We’ll still be millionaires!” he declared with a wide grin. A millionaire…a millionaire. The words echoed in his mind.

Years ago, when he was growing up in Jester, more than a few folks had never expected him to amount to much, not coming from the no-account family he undeniably had. Once, defiant of their judgment, he’d played the bad boy to the hilt, until he’d turned thirty and decided it was time to try to make something of himself—something Jester’s citizens could respect. So he’d left behind the days after high school when he couldn’t wait for his shift to end at his first real job at the slaughterhouse in Pine Run, followed by the years when he’d amused himself in the role of wise-guy bartender at the Heartbreaker Saloon. Instead, he’d scraped up enough cash to buy his uncle’s run-down bar and through sheer hard work had made it a consistently profitable operation.

And now he wasn’t only a successful businessman. He was a millionaire.

Elated, Dev turned to the woman standing beside him and lifted her right off the ground. With a secure grip on a slender waist, he waltzed her around in a wide circle as thick, white flakes rained down on them, holding her close and feeling the length of her petite body snug against his.

And then he realized who that petite body belonged to and set her down in a hurry.

Amanda Bradley stared up at him, eyes wide. She didn’t look anywhere near as jubilant as he felt, Dev noted as he took a swift step back. Then again, she’d never contributed to the weekly pool and wasn’t one of the big winners. Not like he was.

Dev’s own gaze narrowed in speculation at the thought that maybe he had enough money at last to buy her part of the building they shared. Maybe he’d no longer have to rue the day his uncle had sold that piece of property to her parents long ago. Maybe, just maybe, he could make her an offer she couldn’t refuse and finally get some peace.

But all at once her gaze narrowed, too, as though she’d read his mind. He was sure of it when she issued soft words for his ears alone that nonetheless rang with conviction.

“Never in a million years,” Amanda told him, looking him straight in the eye.

And Dev knew that, despite his unbelievably good fortune, he still had his work cut out for him.

Chapter One

Never in a million years, she’d told him. Amanda recalled that ringing statement on a cloudy April afternoon, thinking that she had been as good as her word.

Dev Devlin might now be a wealthy man, especially in comparison to most of Jester’s far-from-affluent residents, but she hadn’t given in to him one inch. Winter had bowed to spring and her quiet bookstore still shared a building with his busy bar—something that continued to rub both parties the wrong way, even though Main Street hadn’t seen a real confrontation between them since the town sheriff had actually stepped in to break up the last one several weeks earlier. Although neither had declared an end to hostilities, the two of them seemed to have struck up a wary truce. Which was just as well, Amanda told herself, because at the moment she had something more important than her problems with the Heartbreak Saloon’s owner to consider.

She had the fate of four children to think about and worry over. Four young kids who had lost their father and mother.

Four orphans she’d only recently discovered existed.

But she couldn’t think about them now. At the moment she had to keep her mind on business, Amanda knew, because today problems had also cropped up at the Ex-Libris, her bookstore.

“What do you plan to do with all this new stock?” Irene Caldwell asked. A widow in her early sixties, Irene was a big reader and faithful Ex-Libris customer who also took on the role of occasional, and very able, helper at the bookstore whenever the need arose.

Amanda braced her elbows on the store’s dark mahogany front counter and studied a copy of Midnight Passions, one of many filling several cartons stacked on the dove gray carpet that stretched the length of the high-ceilinged room. The hardcover novel featured a dusky rose cover slashed with bold ebony letters that left little doubt as to its sexy subject matter.

“Most of the books will be shipped back to the distributor’s warehouse, since I made it plain enough to them over the phone that I didn’t order a hundred copies.” Amanda blew out a breath. “The manager I talked to wasn’t overjoyed at the news, but I told him he was getting them back, regardless.”

Casting another look around, Irene shook a head topped by graying hair worn in an upswept style and slid her hands into the front pockets of her navy wool cardigan. “How many did you order?”

“Ten, and I’m not even sure I can sell all of those. A display will stir some interest, but sales remain to be seen.”

“Hmm. Well, it probably wouldn’t hurt you to take home a copy,” Irene said with a twinkle in her eye.

That had Amanda smiling a faint smile despite everything. “Figure it will put me in the mood for a man…and possibly marriage?” Which, she knew, would please the older woman no end. Having had a happy marriage of her own, Irene would undoubtedly have little objection to seeing the world’s entire adult population pair off into loving couples pursuing a lifetime of wedded bliss.

“I must confess that romance seems to be in the air lately,” Irene said, eyes still twinkling. “First Shelly Dupree stopped running the coffee shop long enough to fall for Jester’s handsome new doctor, Connor O’Rourke. Then Jack Hartman finally took a good look at Melinda Woods, after which the two vets decided to share more than a practice. And then, just recently, Luke McNeil, who’s always been an excellent sheriff but needed more in his life than law enforcement, reconciled with his long-ago sweetheart, Jennifer Faulkner.”

“Mmm,” was the most neutral comment Amanda could offer. Despite Irene’s theory, all she smelled in the air was the fragrant jar of potpourri she’d set beside the cash register.

“You probably wouldn’t still be single yourself,” Irene pointed out, “if you had encouraged one of the nice boys you dated before you went off to college—or one of the nice men who asked you out when you came back to Jester.”

But none of those boys she’d shared popcorn with at Pop’s Movie Theatre—or the men whose dinner invitations she’d mostly declined since her return to Montana nearly three years earlier—had been right, not for her. And while, as the child of divorced parents, she might not believe quite as much in happily ever after as Irene did, Amanda couldn’t deny that she hoped to find Mr. Right someday—a man who just might sweep her off her feet and send her pulse leaping.

Which is exactly what happened four months ago on a snowy January night.

No, Amanda quickly countered in response to that sudden thought. It was just the excitement of the moment.

Unfortunately her more candid side knew that wasn’t the total truth of the matter. Dev Devlin, for all that he irritated her, was an attractive man. Dark blond hair the color of ripening wheat. Deep blue eyes that echoed a Western summer sky. Six feet tall and well-muscled.

Yes, he was quite a sight.

He’d also, however, been more than wild enough in his younger days to have her sure he’d never really settle down. And that alone made him the wrong man for her—because, for all that she valued her independence, she was also a settling-down kind of woman. Deep down, she wanted the kind of marriage Irene felt everyone was entitled to, and that meant waiting for the right man.

Just then the heavy mahogany door sporting a gleaming glass center opened and Finn Hollis stepped in from the sidewalk. Thin and lanky, with a full head of white hair, the retired librarian was another of Jester’s big lottery winners and had become one of the bookstore’s best customers, too, during the past few months. Finn, however, seldom wanted any of the books Amanda had in stock. No, the widower with a slew of children and grandchildren to keep him happily occupied had acquired a passion for collecting rare books, as well. Which usually meant a profit for the store, but could also mean putting some real effort into tracking down the items on Finn’s latest list.

And unless she was mistaken, Amanda mused, the folded piece of white stationery Finn currently held in one large, lined hand was yet another order to be filled.

“Hello, ladies,” Finn said in his normal courteous fashion.

Unlike some of Jester’s residents, the man who owned a sprawling farmhouse north of town didn’t favor Western-style garb. Instead, his tweed jackets and dark trousers implied a more scholarly bent, and Finn did seem to be a font of knowledge on many subjects. Amanda had pitted her brain against his more than once, and despite receiving good enough grades to earn a scholarship to a small yet well-respected college in the Pacific Northwest, she’d seldom bested him. Now she managed to greet him with her second smile of the day, although the nagging worries she couldn’t quite set aside made it a halfhearted effort.

In contrast, Irene’s own wide version looked far more enthusiastic. And amused. “Don’t tell me you’re ordering more books, Finn Hollis.”

His gaze took on a sheepish glint behind wire-rimmed glasses. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

Amanda studied the list he’d handed over. As she’d expected, none of the titles would be simple to find. She’d have to spend several hours at the store’s computer this afternoon just to make a respectable start. “It’s a good thing you have a big home,” she told him.

“Still, if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself up to your ears in the printed word,” Irene tacked on with dry humor.

“That’s why I’ve decided to add on a library wing,” Finn informed the two women. “I suppose if Dev Devlin can build an entire house, and a large one at that, I can indulge my hobby.”

When both her companions slid sidelong glances her way, Amanda knew they’d be far from surprised if she offered a caustic comment in response, not considering what had probably taken on the dimensions of a local feud—or a battle royal between the sexes. But she just wasn’t up to it. Not today.

“I understand the new Devlin house will have six bedrooms,” Finn added after a moment.

“My goodness,” Irene said. “What would a single man need with a half dozen bedrooms?”

“Maybe he plans to fill them with willing women,” Amanda suggested, just a bit archly. No one, not even her, would argue the fact that the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner had a longstanding reputation as a ladies’ man. “He must be getting tired of entertaining his, ah, women friends in the back room he’s living in behind the bar.”

“He doesn’t seem to have, er, entertained anyone for quite a while,” Finn confided in a low murmur, proving that even Jester’s most scholarly resident wasn’t opposed to a bit of gossip. “Not from what I’ve heard, that is.”

And where he’d heard it was at Dean Kenning’s barbershop. Amanda was all but positive of that. Finn and Dean were still great cronies, even though Henry Faulkner, their longtime friend, had recently passed away.

“Well, it hardly matters to me,” she said. “I don’t care who the man in question entertains as long as he does it quietly.”

Irene and Finn exchanged a look at the pointed tone of that last word. “Yes, well, I have to go,” the older woman wasted no time in saying, as though afraid that, if the female half of the battle of the sexes got started on the subject of the male half, the shaky truce Amanda suspected many were watching with interest might collapse—just as the picnic pavilion at Jester Community Park had strangely collapsed last month, prompting an ongoing sheriff’s investigation.

“I believe I have to leave, too,” Finn said. “I appreciate your getting those books for me, Amanda.”

And with that, they both were gone, leaving the Ex-Libris’s owner to her own devices. The proud owner, Amanda couldn’t deny, aiming her gaze around the front of her store. With its wide display window containing an attractive assortment of current literature and its walls covered by tall mahogany bookshelves backed by flocked wallpaper featuring a delicate lilac stripe, it was as classy a place as she’d been able to make it—right down to the lilting notes of the “Violin Masters” CD that currently played softly in the background.

Only the shipping cartons stacked everywhere marred the scene. If they weren’t picked up tomorrow, she would make another call and be even more blunt if she had to about expecting them to be taken back. She hadn’t spent several years after college working for a major bookselling chain in Seattle for nothing. She could get things accomplished.

In fact, she’d risen to the position of assistant manager before concluding that big-city life didn’t really suit her. What she wanted was a bookstore of her own in the small town she thought of as home. So she’d come back with her hard-earned savings in hand, and now, at the age of thirty, she had more than enough experience behind her to get things done.

In the business world, at any rate. There was still, Amanda knew, the fate of four young children to consider. And there, she was far from sure how much she could do.

She only knew she had to try.

BY THE TIME Amanda put the gracefully scribed Closed sign in the front window at six o’clock, she wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in a hot tub. Even beyond that, she knew what she needed was the good night’s sleep she’d failed to get for the past several evenings. Maybe, she mused as she tallied the day’s receipts, taking something with her to read besides the intricate mystery she was currently in the middle of would help. And with that thought, her gaze landed on the copy of Midnight Passions still resting at one side of the counter.

Why not? she asked herself. It would indeed be something different, and that could be just what she needed to relax a bit.

What Amanda didn’t want, and her nerves certainly didn’t need, was to catch sight of one of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s patrons weaving his way toward her as she left the Ex-Libris at just after six-thirty. She recognized Guy Feldon. He was one of the people who had followed hard on the heels of Jester’s newfound wealth.

“Millionaire, Montana,” was how the press had dubbed a place little more than a pinpoint on the state map, and the town had been flooded with reporters. Thankfully, the relentless press coverage seemed to have died down, although some residents’ private business was still being leaked to the media. More than a few of Jester’s citizens suspected that one of their own was acting as informer, but no one really knew who was responsible.

The burly man currently approaching with unsteady steps wasn’t with the media, however. No, Guy Feldon appeared to be basically an opportunist who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of another’s good fortune. He usually played the part of the lazy drifter, but more than one person had remarked on spying a cunning glint in his eye.

Now his gaze was trained on Amanda, and she by no means liked what she saw in it. When it raked her from head to toe, even the fact that most of her body was covered by the classic wide folds of her beige raincoat brought little comfort.

“Well, hi, sugar pie,” Feldon drawled, his speech slurred.

Sugar pie? Amanda’s teeth clenched in response. It didn’t take a genius, she thought, to see that she was headed for trouble. Or, rather, trouble was headed for her.

“Cat got your tongue?” Feldon came to a wavering halt right in front of her. “Have to say I envy it if it does.” His mouth curved in a leer.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way,” Amanda replied with brisk directness. Living in a big city had taught her the value of maintaining a firm front in an environment where crime was an unfortunate fact of life. One of the benefits of returning to Jester was that she never so much as felt uneasy walking alone on an empty street—never until now.

“Too bad I’m of no mind to step aside.” Feldon leaned in. Even in the dimness of a twilight sky, his face looked nearly as flushed as the red checks on his flannel jacket. “I might be persuaded, though, if you gave me a sample of what I’m missing.”

You should live so long, Amanda reflected with disgust. She took a better grip on the book she held, hitched her sleek shoulder bag higher, and prepared to move on. “If you don’t let me pass, I’m turning around and heading to the sheriff’s office.”

Feldon’s hand snaked out to grab her arm. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, his expression suddenly as dark as his shaggy black hair.

Amanda knew it was too late to run. But she could shout for help, she decided even as another large hand came up to cup her chin hard enough to keep her lips clamped shut.

“Maybe I’ll just take, since you don’t feel like giving,” Feldon said, leaning closer, then closer still. Amanda did her best to struggle, but he was almost twice her size. Her pulse began to pound as all-out panic threatened.

And then he was yanked right away from her by someone who stared daggers at Guy Feldon from under the wide brim of a tan Stetson before sending the burly man lurching into the street with a well-placed fist to the jaw.

For once, Amanda was actually glad to see Dev Devlin.

A few people poked their heads outside at that point, as if just aware that something was up on Main Street. Amanda took note of it with a quick glance around her even as most of her attention remained fixed on the two men steps away.

“Come on, Feldon,” Dev said in a near growl, his fists still clenched. “Let’s see you take on someone more your size.”

“Damned if I won’t,” the other man shot back.

Amanda watched what happened next, thinking that it was like a scene straight out of an action movie. Fists flew with abandon and several grunts were exchanged when they found their target, but it wasn’t long before a clear victor emerged as Dev sent his opponent flying with a particularly solid punch.

“More?” he asked after taking a few rapid strides forward to stand over the burly man sprawled in the street.

Feldon looked up. “I’m done.”

“Well then, so are we,” Dev said, “unless the lady wants you dragged over to the sheriff’s place so she can press charges.”

Mindful that several people had gathered for a closer look at the fight, Amanda shook her head. She still wanted nothing more than to go home.

Dev brushed his palms on his snug-fitting Levi’s and reached up to tap his hat down lower on his forehead. “Looks like you’re getting off easy,” he told his opponent as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “I suggest you haul yourself up—and think about leaving town while you’re at it, because I’ve just decided that this place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Feldon mumbled what might have been a curse, then got to his feet and beat a swift retreat.

After watching him disappear around a corner, Dev looked at Amanda. “Are you all right?”

Vaguely aware of other voices echoing that question, she dipped her head in a nod and kept her gaze on the man walking toward her. The truth was that after everything that had happened that day and all she had on her mind, she found herself close to tears. Nevertheless, her pride had her determined not to shed any before an audience.

“Thank you,” she said, gazing into the deep blue eyes of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner. For coming to my rescue, she could have added, and didn’t. It was startling to realize that the person she’d been at odds with for so long had done exactly that.

He studied her, taking in what she hoped was at least a somewhat calm expression. She knew he wasn’t fooled by the way he frowned. “If you’re on your way home, I’ll walk you there.”

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him.

“Whether it is or not, I’m doing it,” he countered.

Too tired to mount a real protest, Amanda surrendered with another nod. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her. Who would have ever thought she’d give in to this man on anything? she asked herself. And did this mark a change in their relationship?

Something told her that just might be the case as she issued an absent goodbye to the people gathered around and fell into step beside him.

Dev’s blood gradually cooled as he concentrated on shortening his stride to match his companion’s. Their footsteps tapped out a slow rhythm as they walked down a darkening street. There was no point in wondering whether he should have kicked Feldon’s butt for good measure, he told himself. Hopefully, the jerk would take the advice he’d been given and leave town. If not, Dev vowed to personally see to it.

He might be a successful businessman—he might be a millionaire—but he could still get a dirty job done if necessary. This evening’s brawl had proved that. He hadn’t lost the knack of putting his fists to good use. Except these days he knew when to back off. Seeing Amanda Bradley safely home had been more important than continuing to pound on the man who’d been forcing himself on her.

A man who’d had more to drink than he should have at the Heartbreaker, Dev’s conscience reminded him.

He frowned in response, thinking that if someone was known to be driving, he and the two bartenders working for him didn’t hesitate to shut them off or take car keys away. But how the hell was anyone supposed to know that a man—a customer—would practically assault a woman steps from the saloon’s doorstep?

Sure, the Heartbreaker’s male regulars could get rowdy at times. But assault a female? No way. Most of them would have liked nothing better than to pound on Feldon themselves, given the chance. So instead of letting guilt nag at him over what had happened, Dev figured everyone would be better off if he just tried to do his damnedest to make sure it never happened again.

“Nice night for a stroll down Mega Bucks Boulevard,” he said in a bid to make conversation.

Amanda glanced up at him and spoke for the first time since they’d started their walk. “Do you find our mayor’s habit of renaming streets since the lottery win to be as bizarre as I do?”

The question, while straightforward enough, was issued in a softer tone than Dev was accustomed to hearing from the Ex-Libris’s owner—who, he remembered, had informed him somewhat haughtily during one of their go-rounds that the store’s name came from a Latin phrase that loosely translated meant “from the books.” And it was just as well she had told him, because he knew he’d have never figured that one out.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t see how renaming a few streets hurts anything.”

Jester’s mayor, Bobby Larson, had also been touting the idea of building a hotel on land now dedicated to the community park, and Dev was less sure how he felt about that plan. The one thing he was dead certain of was a definite desire to avoid town politics. He had plenty of other things to occupy him.

Such as his house, he thought as they crossed Maple Street, where the new Devlin residence would soon reach the move-in stage. He’d been headed there for the daily check he made on it when he’d found himself trading blows with Guy Feldon instead.

“Were you hurt in that fight?” Amanda asked, as though she’d caught the direction his thoughts had taken.

“No.” He had no intention of whining about a few aches and pains. “What have you got there?” he asked, changing the subject as he glanced down at the book she held tightly to her. All he could make out were the edges of a dusky rose cover.

“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. “It’s, ah, a novel, just something I thought I’d try.”

“Something different than you usually read?”

Again she paused. “Well, let’s just say it’s a change from what I’ve been reading lately.”

Her reply was just vague enough to have him wishing he could get a better look at that book. Maybe it would tell him more about the woman he’d come to think of as a thorn in his side. He still believed the best thing he could do was buy her part of the building they shared. He could even knock down the wall separating their properties, make a few changes to spruce up the bar area and expand his business—which was thriving, if he did say so himself.

Her business was another story, he more than suspected. If it weren’t for the pastries usually on hand in a sitting area at the back of the bookstore, along with tea served in fancy cups to wash down a helping of the local news of the day, how many customers would regularly visit the place? Probably not enough to turn a healthy profit. If only he could convince her to sell out to him.

They arrived at Amanda’s one-story white frame house in a matter of minutes. Dev took note of the fact that although it was a long way from new, it appeared well cared for. It was a far cry from the rundown house he’d grown up in on the outskirts of town, that was for sure. This place looked…homey, he guessed was the word, with its front yard enclosed by a short picket fence and what seemed to be, judging by what he could make out in the light coming from a nearby streetlamp, a circle of dried lavender decorating the plain wood door.

“I’ll wait until you get in before I take off,” he told her when they reached the covered front porch.

“All right.” She retrieved a key ring from her shoulder bag and opened the door, then switched on an inside light and turned back to him. “Thank you again for…” Stopping in midsentence, she stared up at him, her gaze narrowing. “You are hurt. There’s blood on your lip.”

That came as no surprise, since he’d started tasting it when they were halfway to her place. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” she replied with a trace of the brisk tone he more often associated with her. “Come in and let me have a look at it.”

He thought about declining. But it could be he’d get another opportunity to bring up the subject of buying her out. Deciding to take his chances, he said, “Okay,” and let her lead him into the house.

The inside seemed as homey as the outside, Dev concluded with a glance around the living room. Again everything looked far from new, but it also looked comfortable, even cozy—a lot cozier, certainly, than anywhere he’d ever lived.

Amanda laid the book she’d been carrying on a small end table and propped her leather shoulder bag on top of it. “Take off your jacket and have a seat,” she told him as she switched on a short brass lamp. “I’ll be right back with a washcloth and the first aid kit.”

He obeyed orders, tossed both his jacket and hat on an overstuffed moss-green chair and sat down on a plump flowered sofa. His gaze was drawn to a photo standing on a narrow wood wall shelf, one he recognized as a shot of a younger Amanda with her mother, who he recalled had passed away about ten years earlier after a short illness. By then, Amanda’s father had long since left town, and under circumstances no one living in Jester at the time had probably forgotten.

Dev leaned his head against the back on the sofa and waited for his hostess to return, then waited some more before he finally began to wonder if something was wrong. Could she be the one who was really injured? After all, she’d been putting up a considerable struggle when he’d yanked Feldon away from her.

She might not appreciate his roaming around her place, but he was going to check on her anyway, he decided. If she got teed off, well she’d been teed off at him plenty already.

Dev got up and started down a narrow hallway toward the rear of the house. Off to one side, he saw light spilling through an open doorway. Not about to stop now, he kept going and soon poked his head in what turned out to be a small bathroom. There, he found Amanda standing at the sink with thin tears running down her cheeks.

She jumped when she spotted him. “I was coming back in a minute,” she said, brushing the tears away. Her face had gone nearly as pale as the high-necked white blouse she wore with pleated wool trousers.

“If that jerk hurt you, I’ll see he pays for it.” It was as firm a promise as Dev could make it. God, he hated to see a woman cry. He’d rather take a solid punch in the chest.

Amanda shook her head. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, really.” She sighed. “It’s just…been a long day.”

Which it may have been, Dev allowed, but he didn’t think that was all of it. If Amanda Bradley could hold her own with him—and she had on many occasions—it was hard to believe she’d wind up teary-eyed unless there was a damn good reason for it. Not, he reminded himself, that it was any of his business.

He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms across the twin front pockets of his denim shirt. “Want to patch me up now?”

Sighing again, this time in what might have been relief that he hadn’t pressed the subject, she nodded and reached up to open the mirrored medicine cabinet. “As long as you’re here, why don’t you wash the blood off first?”

He did, making quick work of cleaning the cut at a corner of his lower lip. Then he propped a hip against the sink and let her fuss over him. As close as they were, he couldn’t help but catch a whiff of the subtle floral scent coming from the person whose pink-tinged mouth, currently pursed in concentration, continued to fascinate him. As to why it fascinated him, he still hadn’t figured that one out.

Right now he did his best to ignore the fact that they were standing a scant inch from each other, telling himself that he’d been without a woman for too long if certain parts of him could even threaten to get stirred up at a time like this. Then the sting of the antiseptic regained his full attention in a hurry.

“Sorry,” she said at his brief flinch.

“No problem.”

The job was done and they were back in the living room in a matter of moments. It was time to take off, Dev knew. Trouble was, the remembered sight of those tears was still eating at him.

“Look,” he said as he reached down for his jacket, “I know it’s flat-out none of my concern, but probably no one knows better than I do that for a small person, you can also be a pretty tough one when your back’s up. To get as upset as you obviously were a few minutes ago, something more than a long day has to be behind it.”

Her gaze met his. “As you said, it’s none of your…” Her voice trailed off as the starch suddenly seemed to go right out of her. She walked over to the sofa and sank onto a plump cushion. “I just need some sleep,” she murmured—more to herself than to him, it seemed, as though she were talking out loud. “I can’t keep tossing and turning night after night.”

He set his jacket down again. “Sounds like you’ve got things on your mind.”

She glanced at him and exhaled a short breath. “You could say so.”

Maybe her store was doing even worse than he’d figured. That was all he could come up with. And if that was the problem, he knew he could offer her a quick solution. “If it’s business—” he started to say before she halted him with a slight wave of one hand.

“I wish it were as straightforward as something to do with business,” she told him.

“Then what is it?” he asked, deciding to be blunt about it. Maybe it was none of his concern, but now that his curiosity was roused, he couldn’t let it go, either. Not unless she kicked him out.

But for once, Amanda Bradley didn’t seem capable of doing that, and as if recognizing she was stuck with him, she said, “What I’ve got on my mind involves four young children.” She paused for a beat. “Relatives, actually.”

That caught Dev off guard. “Relatives?” he repeated after a moment.

“Yes,” she said, again meeting his gaze. “These particular children happen to be my sisters and brothers.”

What? He realized his mouth was in danger of falling open. She was an only child who’d moved to Jester with her parents when she was just a slip of a girl. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. Hell, everyone who’d been in town for a while knew it.

“How in the world,” he had to ask her, “can you have sisters and brothers?”

“I can if my father had more children after he left Jester. Which, I just recently learned, he did.”

Chapter Two

There, it was out, what she’d kept to herself for days.

And having shared it with someone, Amanda had to concede that she felt better. True, she’d never expected to share it with the man who continued to stare down at her. Not any more than she’d expected to find him in her living room. In fact, if anyone had told her that morning that she’d be tending to Dev Devlin’s wounds before the day was over, she would have questioned their sanity. Just as he’d looked ready to question hers moments ago.

“Technically,” he said as his expression settled into more thoughtful lines, “that means you have some half sisters and brothers.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but, to me, it’s one and the same. My father also fathered them, and even if I never saw them face-to-face, I’d still feel there’s nothing ‘half’ about our relationship.”

“Hmm. I suppose you’ve got a point.” He walked over and eased himself down on the other end of the sofa. “Do you plan on seeing them?”

The answer to that one, Amanda recognized, was far more complicated than a simple “yes,” even assuming he’d be satisfied with a single-word reply. She hadn’t missed the probing look accompanying his question. Still, she only had to tell him what she wanted to, and logic prompted her to consider the benefits of discussing as much as she felt comfortable doing. After all, she’d already discovered how a small weight could be lifted from her shoulders by sharing some information.

“I do plan on seeing them,” she replied at last. “In fact, ever since I learned about them days ago, I’ve been determined to at least do that much.”

“I take it,” he said, “that up until then you didn’t know about them at all.”

“Not until I received a phone call from an attorney who not only told me they existed, but that they were orphans and wards of the state.”

It took him less than a minute to absorb that information. “Which means your father is…” His voice trailed off as his expression sobered.

Although Amanda’s throat tightened, she was determined not to shed any more tears. “Yes, I was told that he passed away a year ago in Minnesota.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were simply spoken but seemed completely genuine.

“Thank you,” she said.

And that was all she would say on the subject of her father’s death, the details of which she had no intention of discussing with him, or anyone else in Jester. The town’s longtime residents already had memories of Sherman Bradley, and one of them was hardly flattering. They didn’t need to know everything.

As if he had no trouble recalling that less-than-flattering episode in her family’s history, Dev said, “So after your father, ah, left Jester, he went to Minnesota?”

“You mean after he ran off with Rita Winslow, his attractive young co-worker at the savings and loan,” she corrected, deciding to be candid about what they both knew was the blunt truth of the matter. “Yes, they apparently chose to put some distance between themselves and this town.” In the process, they’d left her and probably most everyone in Jester in a state of shock, Amanda remembered. Up until a few days after her fifteenth birthday, her always dapperly dressed father had been a well-respected accountant, one many considered the image of the ideal family man. Then, just like that, he was gone.

In the months that followed, her mother had filed for a divorce on the grounds of desertion, and five years later Mary Bradley had quietly passed away after a short illness with only her daughter, who’d made a hasty trip back from college, at her side.

“Eventually,” Amanda said, forging on with her story, “my father and Rita Winslow were married, and years later when she found herself a widow, Rita returned to Pine Run, where she was born and raised, even though she had no family left in the area.” Just twenty miles away, Amanda reflected, but she’d had no idea that the larger town southwest of Jester had once again become home to her father’s second wife.

“With Rita,” she continued, “came the children she and my father had brought into the world. A girl who’s now seven years old, two boys now five and four, and another girl, only a baby really, who’s eighteen months old.”

Dev stretched out his long legs and stacked one booted foot over the other. “Sounds as though they waited a while to have kids.”

Amanda nodded, acknowledging the truth of that. After all, fifteen years had passed since Sherman Bradley had disappeared in the middle of the night with his suitcases packed and a brief note left behind to say he wasn’t coming back.

“And then,” she said, “they had four children in fairly rapid succession.”

“Children you referred to earlier as orphans,” he reminded her, “which has to mean that their mother is gone, too.”

“I’m afraid so.” She released a quiet breath. “After Rita returned to Pine Run, she took a job in a local lawyer’s office. When that same lawyer phoned to tell me about my father and the children, he also said that Rita had been killed in an automobile accident over a month ago. As her employer, he’d volunteered to go through her papers to help settle her estate, and that was when he discovered a copy of my parents’ final divorce decree, which my father must have obtained at some point from the district court. Along with it were some small school photos of me he’d apparently taken with him. They were bound together with an old newspaper article in the Pine Run Plain Talker mentioning that Amanda Bradley, a Jester resident, had been one of the winners in a spelling contest.”

“And that’s how the lawyer found you.” He shook his head. “He’d never have found me if he’d had to rely on my winning any spelling contests.”

Which, Dev thought as Amanda only met that rueful remark with silence, had a lot less to do with intelligence than the fact that there had been a time when he’d seldom applied the brains he had. He’d been too busy raising hell on a regular basis. But that had all changed.

“I take it,” he said, “that you’re going to Pine Run to see the kids.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Yes, but beyond just seeing them, there’s a hearing scheduled at the offices of Child and Family Services next Tuesday, and I plan on doing my best to convince the authorities to place the children in my care.”

Well, she had guts to even consider taking on that kind of responsibility. He couldn’t deny that. “Think you’ll be successful?”

Her sudden sigh was long and heartfelt. “I wish I could say so with any certainty, but it may turn out to be an uphill battle if I can’t convince the authorities that I have enough resources to make it the most appealing solution.”

Resources. At least a part of that, Dev figured, had to translate to money, which he now had the ability to supply with little trouble. Of course, that also applied to several other people who’d shared in the lottery. Then again, even though Amanda could count at least a few of those newly wealthy as her friends, she wouldn’t be asking anyone for anything, not unless her back was flat against the wall. He’d be willing to bet on that as a sure thing, because past experience had already gone a long way to show she could be as mule-headed as anybody he’d ever met. If he was right, the last thing she’d do was ask for financial help.

But that wouldn’t be necessary in his case. Given that she had something he wanted, they could make a fair trade.

It was so damn simple…if he could talk her into it.

“If finances are a problem,” he said, keeping his tone mild, “we can solve it here and now. I’m ready to make you a decent enough offer for the bookstore property that you could open another one somewhere else in town and probably still have a healthy profit left over.”

Her chin went up. An automatic response? Dev wondered. Either that or his reviving a sore subject had teed her off all over again. Noting that the color had returned to her face, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her stalk over the door, wrench it open and firmly suggest he waste no time in leaving. But she didn’t.

All at once it seemed far too quiet as seconds ticked by. At last, Amanda broke the silence. “I’ll…think about letting you make me that offer.”

Dev resisted the urge to heave a gusty sigh. Maybe, just maybe, he told himself, he would finally be able to put an end, once and for all, to the continual friction between them. “All right,” he said in the most businesslike tone he could muster, “you can let me know what you decide.”

With that, he got up. “I’ll take off now.” He strode to the chair, retrieved his hat and settled it on his head.

Amanda stood as he pulled on his jacket. “I probably won’t have an answer for you until after the hearing on Tuesday. And I’m not,” she added candidly, “at all sure what it will be.”

If she was telling him not to get his hopes up, Dev knew it was too late. Not that he considered the whole thing anywhere near a done deal, but she’d agreed to think about it, and right now he was counting himself lucky for that much.

“I’ll drop by the bookstore after you get back from Pine Run,” he told her.

She arched a wry eyebrow. “Well, that will be a definite switch. You haven’t exactly been one of my best customers.”

“You haven’t been one of mine, either,” he reminded her with a wry look of his own as he started to turn toward the door. Then his denim-clad thigh brushed against an edge of the shoulder bag resting on the end table and toppled it over. He dropped down to grab it before it hit the floor.

“I’ll take it,” Amanda said, stepping forward.

He straightened and absently handed the bag over, his attention already captured by the book that had been exposed, one featuring a bold cover he now had no trouble making out. “Midnight Passions,” he murmured, reading the title. He glanced at Amanda. “I usually favor the newspaper when it comes to keeping up on things, but I’ve got to admit that your choice in reading material seems…interesting.”

Ignoring that dry comment, she tossed her purse on the chair and stepped past him to head for the door. Although she didn’t wrench it open, she didn’t linger over it, either.

“Good night,” she told him, oh-so-politely.

“Good night,” he replied, matching her tone. “Happy reading,” he added as he walked out, tossing that short statement over his shoulder. The only reply he got was the sound of the door snapping shut. Dev had to grin. Even if it made his cut lip burn like a son of a gun, it was worth it.

He’d finally had the last word with Amanda Bradley.

THE DRIVE TO Pine Run gave Amanda more than enough time to think about several things. Nevertheless, again and again, her thoughts drifted back to Dev Devlin. Could she really sell her share of the building to him? Could she give in at last?

A firm answer to that question continued to elude her as she followed a curve in the two-lane highway cutting a path through the rolling hills that flowed like gentle waves over the eastern part of Montana. She remembered her first sight of the area when she was eight years old and a new arrival from the far flatter plains of the central Midwest. To her, the hills had been mountains, and the town of Jester, with its long Western history, almost a small piece of another world.

Soon after she and her parents had moved into the house Amanda now owned, they’d walked over to Main Street to see the place where her father would be starting his new job. Back then, she hadn’t so much as considered the possibility that she would one day open a bookstore only steps from the old brick building that was home to Jester Savings and Loan.

That was the same sunny summer day she’d seen Dev Devlin for the very first time, she couldn’t help but recall, and even to her pre-adolescent eyes, he’d been a memorable sight when she’d passed him on the sidewalk just doors down from the Heartbreaker Saloon. She’d never expected him, or any teenage boy, to notice her.

Yet he had, giving her a slow smile as their eyes met for a brief moment—a smile she’d done her best to return in her own shy fashion. Then he’d continued on his way, swaggering just a bit in his threadbare T-shirt and battered jeans, and she’d thought that maybe she’d made an acquaintance in town, if not a real friend.

But that was before her young ears had picked up on some pointed comments about the local “bad boy.”

“That Devlin kid,” a longtime Jester resident had contended within Amanda’s hearing, “is primed to go down the same road as the rest of his shiftless family.”

“Any girl who gets involved with him is just plain looking for trouble,” someone else had said.

Having spent most of her brief life being a “good girl” in an effort to please the father she adored, Amanda had taken those comments to heart and given the bad boy a wide berth. Only after she’d returned to Jester as a full-grown woman had she felt ready to take on the man Dev Devlin had become.

The undeniable truth that she’d done it, had taken on both him and his rowdy saloon, made it ever harder to consider selling out to him now. Could she really give in? Amanda wondered yet again.

Yes, she finally decided, releasing a long breath. She not only could do it, she would do it…if the fate of four children depended on it.

Which it just might, Amanda told herself as she swung her gray compact into the parking lot of the brown brick building housing the local division of Child and Family Services. She’d know soon enough what had to be done, she more than suspected. The fact that she still hadn’t shared the news about her sisters and brothers with anyone besides Dev Devlin by no means meant that she’d considered for even one minute backing off on her plan to do everything possible to further her chances of being allowed to provide a home for her newfound relatives.

With that goal still firmly in mind, she straightened the fitted jacket of her cream-colored wool suit and tried to look every inch the competent and responsible woman as she entered a small reception area. There, she met the Pine Run attorney who had stunned her down to her toes when he’d phoned her after being somewhat surprised himself to learn that she existed.

“Pleased to meet you, my dear,” Clarence Whipple told her in the courtly fashion of a silver-haired man probably close to seventy. Short of stature and built along thin lines, he wore a three-piece, pin-striped suit with comfortable ease, as though he’d been born into the legal profession. “I know this must be a very important day for you.”

“It is,” Amanda agreed as they shook hands.

Clarence pulled a small envelope from his well-worn briefcase. “I have the school photos and newspaper article that initially led me to you. I thought you would like to have them.” He gave the sealed envelope to Amanda. “I also took the liberty of including a recent snapshot of your half siblings, one of several I came across.”

She put the envelope in her shoulder bag. “That was very kind of you. I know I must have sounded astonished when you first called me.”

“Yes, you could say that,” he murmured with a trace of wry humor before his expression settled into more serious lines. “I was pleased to be able to tell you about the children, even though I also had the regrettable task of conveying the information that your father had passed away—and under somewhat, er, unfortunate circumstances.”

Yes, those circumstances had definitely been unfortunate, Amanda thought. She had to appreciate Clarence Whipple’s tact in giving the matter no more than a mere mention now. “How difficult do you think it will be for me to get custody?”

The lawyer met her gaze. “I can only say that, on one hand, your being the closest relative still living will work in your favor. On the other hand, a drawback is the fact that you’re single, and placement with a married couple is usually preferred. I believe the outcome will depend on whether we can convince the authorities that putting the children in your care is the most satisfactory solution for them.”

Amanda nodded. “Before things get started, can you tell me more about what their mother was like?” It was something she’d found herself wondering about more than once during the last several days, since she only had the barest memories of the woman who had become her father’s second wife. A tall, full-figured blonde with a ready smile for visitors to Jester Savings and Loan was how Amanda remembered Rita Winslow.

“She applied for a position in my office soon after returning to Montana,” Clarence said. “My first impression was that Rita had changed from the young, and I suppose I have to say somewhat flighty, woman I recalled from her earlier days in Pine Run. Rather than skirting the issue, as some might have been inclined to do, she was forthright about the details of her life in Minnesota and how she’d become a widow there. When she went on to candidly admit that she needed a job to support her children, I decided to take her on for a probationary period to see how things went. As it happened, she turned out to be a good worker, and I came to like her more than enough to be both shocked and saddened by the accident that took her life.”

“Thank goodness the children weren’t with her in the car,” Amanda had to say, having already learned during the initial phone conversation with the lawyer that Rita had been on her way to pick them up at a baby-sitter’s house after work when she’d apparently hit an icy patch in the road.

“Mr. McFadden is ready to see you now,” the young brunette acting as receptionist told them. “His office is just down the hall, first door on the right.”

They followed directions, and in a matter of seconds Amanda met Haynes McFadden, supervisor of the local division. The long and lean man with a balding head rimmed by sandy hair in turn introduced a middle-aged woman occupying one of the visitor’s chairs set in front of a modern oak desk. “This is Louise Pearson, one of our longtime and most dedicated employees. Mrs. Pearson is currently handling the Bradley case.”

That name got Amanda’s attention in a hurry. Although they’d never met face-to-face before, she knew that Louise Pearson was no stranger to Jester. In fact, she’d been the social worker involved in the case of a baby left in the Brimming Cup coffee shop shortly after Amanda’s good friend Shelly Dupree—now Shelly O’Rourke with her recent marriage—had become one of the big jackpot winners. Although the episode had ended happily with the mother’s eventual return to claim her child, Amanda had no trouble recalling how Louise had been described as a person to be reckoned with.

As if to prove it, the woman with dark brown hair well-threaded with gray and pulled back in a neat bun, rose to her feet and squared sturdily built shoulders covered by a plain navy suit. Her sharp hazel eyes met Amanda’s gaze head-on.

“I have the children waiting to meet you in another room,” Louise said, her tone brisk. “I’ve already explained the relationship to them, but I’m sure they still have questions. It might be better if you took a few minutes to get acquainted before we come back here for a more private discussion of the details of your situation.”

Well, this was it, Amanda thought. She drew in a steadying breath. “All right.”

“I’ll wait for you here,” Clarence told her as he lowered himself into a visitor’s chair. Again he was being tactful, and Amanda had to be grateful one more time. It would be hard enough, she suspected, to keep her composure without an audience around.

At a gestured invitation, Amanda followed Louise across the room toward a side door. The older woman paused with one hand on the knob and glanced back at Amanda. “Before we go in, I think it would be wise to get something straight. The bottom line with me is that I want what’s best for these children.”

Recognizing the truth underscoring that straightforward statement, Amanda replied, “So do I.”

Louise studied her for a moment. “I’m glad to find we agree on that.” And with those words, she opened the door.

Stepping through it, Amanda found herself in a narrow conference room. At its center stood an oval-shaped oak table currently covered with a variety of coloring books and crayons, and seated around it were the children who had already made a permanent place for themselves in Amanda’s mind.

Now, watching as four pairs of brown eyes stared back at her—eyes so much like her father’s…and like her own—Amanda felt the impact of that sight hit her straight in the heart. Her sisters and brothers, she thought. On the day each was born, they had become a part of her, and she a part of them.

“Hello,” she said, summoning the brightest smile she could.

It won her a smile in turn from the smallest person in the room, a little charmer with a chubby-cheeked face framed by tiny golden curls. In contrast, the other children, all with hair as short, blond and curly as their youngest sibling, merely continued to stare.

Louise formally introduced them, although Amanda already knew the basics regarding their names and ages. Seven-year-old Liza was the eldest. Like her younger brothers, Caleb and Patrick, she was as slender as a reed. Only eighteen-month-old Betsy was more round than slim. All were dressed in a colorful mix of well-worn cotton pants and long-sleeved T-shirts.

Amanda pulled out a padded oak chair and took a seat next to Liza, who held Betsy in her lap. “I’m so happy to meet you.” She let her gaze connect with each of the children as she looked around the table. “I’m Amanda, your—” she had to swallow against a sudden tightness before she got it out “—big sister.”

“Amadaba,” Betsy said, offering another smile.

“I guess it is quite a mouthful,” Amanda admitted with a slight curve of her lips. “How about if you all call me Mandy?” No one except her parents had ever used that name, but at the moment it seemed undeniably right.

“Mandeee!” Betsy declared, clapping her tiny hands.

“Yes, you’ve got it,” Amanda told the pint-size girl.

“She’s very smart,” Liza offered in a small voice that nonetheless held more than a hint of pride.

Amanda nodded. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. In fact, I wouldn’t be a bit amazed if you’re all smart.”

“Why?” That question came from five-year-old Caleb, who sat across the table.

“Because our father was a very smart man.” Which was no more than pure fact, Amanda reflected with assurance. It would have been surprising if anyone had ever contended that Sherman Bradley was less than intelligent. No, whatever his weaknesses had been, they couldn’t be blamed on any lack of brainpower.

“So we got the same daddy,” Patrick, the youngest boy at four, summed up with a solemn look. “And now he’s in heaven, with my mommy.”

Tears pricked at Amanda’s eyes, but she refused to give in to them. These children, she told herself, didn’t need any more tears in their lives. What they needed was someone to love them.

And she did. There was simply no question about that. The sheer truth was that she’d fallen head over heels at her very first sight of them. “I know you’ve all been through a bad time, but there are better things ahead.”

“Like what?” Caleb wanted to know, a small glint of what might have been hope gleaming in his gaze.

Amanda knew she had to pick her words carefully. She couldn’t tell them they would have a home with her. Not yet. “Well, for one thing, you get to live in Montana.” It was as enthusiastic a statement as she could make it. “You know, not too far west of where we are now there are mountains so tall they almost seem to touch the sky, and rivers that run so fast the fish don’t even have to swim—the water just pushes them along.”

Both boys smiled at that while Betsy clapped again. Only Liza continued to fix Amanda with a wary stare.

“Do cowboys live there?” Caleb asked, seeming to be the most curious of the group.

“Not only there, but all over this state,” Amanda told him. “They wear wide-brimmed hats with straight-legged jeans and shirts with shiny snaps down the front.” All of which described the Western-style clothing the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner favored.

Abruptly an image formed in Amanda’s mind, one she ousted in the next breath. She didn’t want to think about Dev Devlin and the fact that he’d probably waste little time in tracking her down when she returned to Jester. He’d no doubt be champing at the bit to learn if she was going to let him make her an offer for her property. And she was, she knew, if it would mean keeping these children out of a foster home run by strangers.

“I wanna be a cowboy,” Patrick said, regaining her attention.

“Me be cabboy!” Betsy tossed in.

Amanda had to laugh. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t all be cowboys—and cowgirls.” She looked at Liza. “Would you like to be high on a horse’s back riding herd on a bunch of cattle?”

The girl shook her head, her expression still sober. “That’s just make-believe.”

“Not necessarily,” Louise countered in a soft tone, entering the conversation from where she stood near the door. The social worker didn’t look quite as formidable when she spoke to the eldest Bradley child. “Sometimes make-believe can come true.”

Although Liza said nothing in response, she looked far from ready to agree with that concept.

Louise redirected her gaze toward Amanda, and once again her voice turned brisk. “I think it’s time to let the children color some more pictures while we talk.”

No, it’s too soon for me to leave them, Amanda wanted to say. And didn’t. Rising, she again smiled down at her newfound relatives. “Goodbye for now,” she said.

“Bye-bye,” Betsy offered with a little wave.

Amanda’s smiled slipped as she struggled for her composure. Then she waved in return and headed for the door Louise held open for her. All she could think was that, no matter what it took, she had to convince the authorities that she was the right choice to care for four orphaned children. Somehow, she had to do that.

She had to.

DEV FIGURED he was pushing things when he walked into Ex-Libris the following morning, but the plain truth was that he’d had a hard time telling himself to wait at least a couple of days after Amanda returned from Pine Run before he learned how she’d made out. After their earlier conversation, he was just too optimistic to hold back.

With any luck, he thought, she’d tell him that her plan to gain custody was proceeding smoothly enough that all she needed was a hefty contribution to her bank account to seal the deal. Yeah, if good fortune was on his side, it wouldn’t be long until he’d be expanding his business while she relocated hers, and everyone would come out a winner.

Dev glanced around him, not much surprised to find the bookstore empty. It was still early, at least by Main Street standards. More than a few storeowners would just be starting their day. The Ex-Libris’s owner had to be around somewhere, though, he reflected as he walked toward a small sitting area at the rear of the store. And, sure enough, that’s where he found her, seated on one of a pair of burgundy leather love seats. Today she wore another of her tailored blouses with pleated wool trousers and was gazing down at something she held in one hand. As far as he could make out, it was a small photograph.

“Good morning,” he said as he came to a halt inches from a low, bowlegged mahogany table covered with a lacey white cloth. It wasn’t yet loaded with the homemade pastries Gwen Tanner would probably be delivering soon. Gwen was another Big Draw lottery winner and no longer needed to sell her baked goods to supplement the income coming in from her boarding house, but he’d heard that she continued to supply the bookstore, anyway.

Certainly Amanda Bradley looked as though she could use something to tempt her appetite and maybe perk her up a bit. No, a lot, Dev amended on closer inspection. For the second time in less than a week, she seemed to bear little resemblance to the stubborn female who’d regularly raked him over the coals.

“Good morning,” she replied, finally returning his greeting as she glanced up at him. She set the snapshot she’d been holding down on the table.

Dev got a better gander at it as he eased himself into one of the twin burgundy chairs that matched the love seats. Four curly-haired, towheaded kids grinned at the camera in a scene that featured a small Christmas tree in the background along with a few presents that looked freshly unwrapped. Apparently the kids hadn’t gotten a lot from Santa on that particular Christmas morning, but they looked happy enough with what they had. One thing for sure, their expressions were a lot more enthusiastic than Amanda’s.

“Things didn’t go well in Pine Run,” he said, deciding to cut to the chase as he stacked an ankle on a denim-clad knee and reached up to thumb back his Stetson.

“No.” She let out a thin sigh. “I tried everything I could think of to make them see the advantages of placing the children with me, but…”

“But they didn’t go for it,” he finished when her voice drifted off.

“And I don’t for the life of me know what I could have done differently.” All at once she raised a small fist and slapped it down on a plump cushion, displaying a hint of the temper he was more familiar with. “Oh, they were impressed that I owned a home, free and clear. They also appreciated the fact that I had a buyer not only ready but eager to purchase another piece of property, which would increase my immediate income.” The last came out with a wry twist of her lips and a meaningful look aimed his way. “But in the end they felt my sisters and brothers needed, and I quote, ‘a more stable environment than a single caretaker could provide.”’

“That’s a tough one,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“And then—” She leaned her head against the back of the love seat and studied the high ceiling. “And then they went on to say that the children would be placed into permanent foster care. All except the youngest, they told me oh-so-reasonably. Betsy’s only eighteen months old, so she would mostly likely be put up for adoption.”

“Jeez,” Dev muttered under his breath, watching as Amanda let out another, almost soundless, sigh.

“I can’t believe they’ll be separated.” How she felt on that score was as plain as the grim bleakness in her tone. “I’d give anything—do anything—to be able to change what’s about to happen to them.”

But what the hell more could she give? Dev asked himself, his own temper flaring at what seemed liked the injustice of it all. What did a bunch of bureaucrats expect her to do? As far as they were apparently concerned, a “single caretaker”—even one who owned a home and had a golden opportunity to add to her bank account—just didn’t fill the bill, and that was it.

So, being undeniably single, what was Amanda Bradley supposed to do? It was a devil of a problem, all right. And even with his money, he couldn’t help her solve it.

That’s not quite true, Devlin, something inside him said. There’s one thing you could do, but it would have to go a long way beyond getting out your checkbook.

Jolted by that thought, he made a stab at ignoring the voice rumbling in the back of his mind, only to find that he couldn’t block it out. Not any more than he could stop his gaze from again being drawn to the happy faces of four grinning kids—kids who just might be looking a long way from cheerful at the moment. He knew he’d have been a lot more successful in resisting the sight of those rosy-cheeked faces in his younger, wilder days. Back then, he’d had little trouble avoiding anything that didn’t involve his own immediate health and welfare.

But you changed when you decided to show Jester’s residents a thing or two by becoming a person they could respect, the niggling voice contended.

Dev drew in a long breath, admitting the truth of that. Even though he’d never had any desire to get tied up in town politics, these days he was by and large an upstanding citizen. But that didn’t mean the slate was wiped clean. Maybe he still had some private dues to pay for all the years when he mostly hadn’t given a damn about anyone except himself.

The man he’d once been would have scoffed at that notion. The man he’d become flat-out couldn’t.

Trouble was, Dev thought as he slowly lifted his gaze, the woman seated across from him might not hesitate to scoff. “In fact, she just might think I’m crazy if I even mention what I’m considering,” he muttered under his breath.

But the idea had taken hold, he couldn’t deny. Somehow, now that he’d latched on to it, it seemed pretty much the only thing to do. Which didn’t mean that he’d have a lot of choice except to let the whole business go if she did tell him he was crazy.

He just hoped to hell she didn’t laugh at him, because if she did, he was sure to start growling at her again and the truce they’d somehow managed to maintain for weeks would be history.

“It seems to me there might be a way to persuade the authorities to change their mind,” he said, picking his words carefully.

In response, Amanda continued to stare up at the ceiling. “I’ve been racking my brain ever since I left Family Services trying to come up with something. To me, it appears pretty hopeless, but if you’ve got a suggestion, I’m willing to hear it.”

He ran his tongue around his teeth, then just plunged in. “You could get married.”

That got her attention in a hurry. She abandoned the ceiling to stare at him. “I know we haven’t exactly been friendly since I came back to Jester and opened up my store, but most people here could probably pass along the news that I haven’t even been dating anyone lately. Believe me, there’s no husband on the horizon.”

“That could change,” he told her.

“Not anytime soon,” she countered.

“It could…if you married me.”

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