“Well, now, Margaret, seems to me I got somethin’ special to keep in my memory out of it. I can live with people teasin’ me.”

Tony leaned in to kiss her.

“Could you live with it for a few more months?” she asked before their lips touched.

He pulled back, met her gaze. “Meaning?”

“Last night when I said I knew who you were, that you owned the ranch, you said your ranch owns you. Am I remembering that right?”

“You are.”

Maggie drew a deep breath. “OK. So, then, I have a proposition for you.”

The last one had resulted in their being naked together. If this one involved that again, he’d be saying yes faster than a bronc bursts out of a chute.

“I’m listenin’, darlin’.”

“Marry me.”

Available in July 2009
from Mills & Boon® Cherish

Heart of Stone

by Diana Palmer

The Rancher’s Surprise Marriage

by Susan Crosby

Hannah’s Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

Her Texas Lawman

by Stella Bagwell

The Prince’s Royal Dilemma

by Brenda Harlen

The Baby Plan

by Kate Little

SUSAN CROSBY

believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true–as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things–married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and will always believe in happily ever after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

The Rancher’s Surprise Marriage
SUSAN CROSBY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Larry and Peggy Ingham, and Kevin

and Stephanie Kennedy–generous, selfless,

inspired and industrious people who know

what’s important in life and go about achieving

it. I admire you all so much.

Chapter One

Maggie McShane blamed her lifelong weakness for cowboys on John Wayne movie marathons, a New Year’s Day family tradition. Those happy childhood memories pierced Maggie as she watched a cowboy mosey onto her Arizona movie set. He rivaled the Duke in looks, from his thick brown hair and blue eyes to his looming height. She felt caught in his crosshairs, the way his gaze zeroed in on her, and it was everything she could do to turn away from him, and prepare for her next take outside a rustic old barn on a working cattle ranch.

“Take your mark, please, Maggie,” the director said.

“Quiet on the set!”

The take was a different angle of an earlier shot, a sweeping arc that would end on a close-up of her face. Her expression was supposed to convey determination, but also a little insecurity.

“Cut! Let’s do it again. A little more grit this time, Maggie.”

“Right.” Maggie wondered who the cowboy was. Why was he on the set? Who gave him—

“Cut! Where’s your head, Maggie?” the director, Mac Iverson, asked.

Startled, she met his gaze, seeing more than curiosity there. Maggie was always prepared, always on cue. Darn cowboy. “Sorry, Mac.”

“All right. Once more. Action!”

The cowboy stuck his hat back on his head, covering that beautiful hair that curled down his neck a little…

“Cut!” Mac came up to her. “Do you need a break or water or something?”

“It’s the heat,” she said, lying, embarrassed at not being her usual professional self. “This time. I promise.”

After two more takes, Mac said, “Good job, thanks.” Noise and activity picked up again. They were winding down for the day. Only two shots left, neither requiring her presence.

Leesa Post, Maggie’s longtime personal assistant, approached, her ever-present notebook in hand. “Looks like we’re getting out of here early tonight, Mags. What do you want to do about dinner?”

“Room service, but first a long, hot shower. I’ve got dust in every pore.”

“Arizona in September. Pretty dry stuff.”

“I’m learning that.” Maggie lowered her voice. “Who’s the cowboy talking to Mac?”

“I dunno. Want me to find out?”

Did she? He’d already brought back too many memories—and distracted her in other ways, too. Not a good thing. And yet, she wanted to know. “If you can, discreetly.”

Leesa cocked her head and grinned. “You’re an engaged woman.”

Maggie rubbed her left ring finger, but the diamond-and-platinum engagement band Scott Gibson had given her three weeks ago was in her bodyguard’s pocket for safekeeping. “I’m not looking for a date, Leesa. I’m just curious. Mac doesn’t allow many strangers onto his set.”

“Probably a money guy. I’ll be right back.”

Leesa was the queen of efficiency. She’d been an extra on a TV sitcom Maggie had starred in as a child. They’d become fast friends at the age of six, twenty-five years ago. When Maggie had needed a full-time assistant, Leesa jumped on the bandwagon, deciding she hated being on that side of the camera, and wanted a shot at helping take care of Maggie’s skyrocketing career.

“His name is Tony Young. He owns this ranch,” Leesa announced quietly when she returned, holding up her tablet as if taking notes from Maggie.

“Is he as tall as he seems?”

“Ninety-five percent of the world’s adult population can see the top of my head. Everyone is tall to me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you it’s time to get your roots done.”

“Ha, ha. Mac says you can go—7:00 a.m. call tomorrow. I’ve got your pages, and Dino’s getting the car.”

Maggie would have to walk past Tony Young, ranch owner, the Duke personified, to get to her trailer to change into street clothes. Manners dictated that she stop and introduce herself, but there was something about him, even from this distance, that made her hesitate. Definitely the John Wayne connection, she decided, therefore the emotional link to her parents and their time spent watching old Westerns. Even though they had died a long time ago, the loss was still raw sometimes. It was the reason she’d waited so long to do a Western. She’d thought she was finally ready for it. Maybe she was wrong.

“Hey, Maggie,” one of the cameraman said, coming up to her. “A few of us are headed to the Red Rock Saloon, outside of Sedona. We checked it out a couple of nights ago. Wanna come?”

“Thanks, Pete, but I’m wiped out. Another time, though, okay?”

“You got it.”

She started to head to her trailer, then turned around. “Is it a real cowboy bar?”

“It’s nothin’ fancy, that’s for sure. Got pool tables, though.” He grinned, knowing how much she loved to play the game.

“Then you’d better save some of your hard-earned cash for when I do come.” She waved and walked away, noting that the cowboy had left during the exchange. So. The decision was taken out of her hands. He was gone. She hadn’t even heard his voice to know if he sounded like John Wayne, too.

Silly thought…

In the car a half hour later, Leesa said to Maggie, “You want a laugh?”

“Always.”

Leesa placed a copy of Meteor in Maggie’s lap. The gossip weekly’s cover photo had Maggie resting her hand on her abdomen and a wistful expression on her face. “‘Twins on board? The real reason for Maggie and Scott’s quick wedding.’”

Knowing Leesa expected her to smile, Maggie did, but something twisted inside her, too. Twins. She should be so lucky. She craved a family. After being orphaned at ten, she’d been raised by her maternal grandparents, the paternal set having died before she was born. Now her beloved Gram and Gramp who’d raised her were gone, too. She knew she shouldn’t complain—after all, a lot of people loved her—but she wanted someone who was…hers. Scott would be that, then before too long, children, she hoped. Family. Stability. She would prove it could be done successfully in Hollywood.

“So, seven weeks now constitutes a quick wedding?” Maggie asked, handing the magazine back to Leesa.

“For you. In the public’s minds, anyway. Your fans would’ve expected a long engagement from you, and a ceremony to rival royalty.”

“Which is pretty much what’s happening, isn’t it? I’ve been promised it’ll be the wedding of the year.” Even though she would’ve preferred a small ceremony with her closest friends, she’d agreed to a big, elegant, star-studded event as a favor to an old friend, Jenny Warren, who’d convinced her to hold the wedding at a brand-new hotel, The Taka San Francisco. More important, Jenny was counting on Maggie, and Maggie never let her friends down. Regret had dogged Maggie ever since she’d said yes. She should’ve trusted her instincts and done the intimate, surprise wedding. Now it was too late. She couldn’t let down Jenny and her family. They were counting on the publicity.

Even more important, Scott had admitted to wanting the big splashy affair, too. And Maggie wanted to make him happy.

Maggie’s car pulled into the Desert Canyon Resort and Spa parking lot a while later. She followed her bodyguard/driver, Dino, as they climbed to her room on the upper level. He’d been with her as long as Leesa. Sometimes Maggie had to keep a team of bodyguards with her, but the production company had private security on set, and she was keeping a low profile in Sedona, not in need of an entourage, hotel security doing extra duty there, too.

“You’ve been quiet, even for you,” Maggie said to Dino as she toyed with her engagement ring. He’d handed it to her as she’d climbed into the car.

“Yep,” Dino said, hands clasped, legs spread and planted, staring straight ahead after he unlocked the room door and stepped aside.

A few seconds passed. “You, too, actually,” she said to Leesa. “For you.”

Leesa grinned. “Yep.”

Maggie pointed a finger at her. “You’ve got a secret. You’re both in on it.”

Dino and Leesa exchanged looks then said, “Yep,” just as Maggie opened the door directly into the living room of the elegant suite. A tall, blond man rose from the sofa. Blond? She almost didn’t recognize Scott, her fiancé of three weeks. His hair had been dark brown two weeks ago. On the other hand, she’d been blond instead of her current auburn. Such was the nature of film roles.

Funny—her heart didn’t skip a beat at seeing him. But she put that thought from her mind, telling herself she was very glad he’d come, and wondering why she was trying to convince herself this should be so.

“We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Leesa said. “Let me know if you need anything. Have fun.” She winked at Maggie, then she and Dino headed to their adjoining private suites.

“Well.” Maggie hurried toward Scott, smiling. “No warning? No fanfare? Just you?” When he didn’t answer, she wondered if she’d said something wrong, and she tried to laugh it off.

“This is a wonderful surprise, Scott, although I think it means our publicists are falling down on the job. Usually events like these are orchestrated for maximum press. Which reminds me, did you see the latest issue of Meteor? Apparently I’m pregnant with twins, which is why we’re getting married so quickly.” She laughed again, then put her arms around him. When he didn’t hug her in return, she leaned back, realizing that not only had he not smiled at her yet, but he hadn’t even spoken a word. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you on location?”

“It’s a quick trip, just for tonight. Maggie…”

She didn’t like how he said her name. She let her arms fall to her sides. “Should I be sitting down?” she asked.

After a moment he took her hand and led her to the sofa. His head bent, he ran his thumb over her diamond.

Her stomach churned as realization hit her. “You’re breaking our engagement,” she said, pulling free.

He nodded.

Maggie swallowed around the hot lump forming in her throat. Abandoned. Again. “Another woman?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Someone I know? Someone you’re working with on the movie?”

He rubbed his face with his hands. “You’ll find out soon enough. Gennifer Bodine.”

Gennifer? She stared at him, speechless, until she gathered her senses. “Are you crazy? The woman sleeps with all her leading men. And then some.”

“Rumors.”

“Oh, maybe she skipped Charles Jansek. He’s seventy-two, after all.” Then it hit her. “You’ve slept with her already.”

He finally met her gaze. “I’m in love with her. I’m really sorry, Maggie.”

She shoved herself up and walked across the room. Tears burned her eyes and throat. Not now, she thought, pressing her fingers to her eyes. She’d known all along that their “romance” was one-sided. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. And he wasn’t worth tears…

Calm down. Just calm down. Think this through.

She stood at the picture window staring at the glorious view of the red rocks of Sedona, feeling…feeling what? She wasn’t sure. A mix of confusion, hurt and…relief? How could she feel relief?

“So, how do you want to handle things?” Scott asked. “I’ll take all the heat, of course, but do you want the announcement to come from your team or mine?”

Maggie made herself focus on the situation. The breakup had to be dealt with carefully in the press. She would have time for her emotions to surface later, to figure out how she felt and how she would deal with it. She’d gotten way too good at keeping her feelings at bay.

“I have to think about it,” she said. “And talk to my agent and my manager. And Garnet. Can’t make a move without my publicist’s input, right? You know the drill.” Anger began to take center stage, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction. “What I need at the moment is for you to keep it to yourself for a while so that I can figure out the next step.”

He crossed his arms. “Two days, Maggie. That’s plenty of time. I want to move forward.”

“Go public, you mean.” Just as he had three weeks ago when they’d announced their engagement to the world. He’d been in a hurry to make their relationship public then, too. “I’ll be in touch. You can go now.”

“I’m really sor—”

“Just get out.”

He got to the door, put his hand on the knob.

“Wait.” She yanked off her engagement ring and tossed it. He caught it on the fly. “I’ve heard Gennifer doesn’t mind secondhand goods.”

He looked at her with the puppy-dog gaze that made women everywhere swoon. “Someday you’ll be glad about this.”

“That would ease your conscience, wouldn’t it?” She watched the door close then latched it behind him. She didn’t want any more surprises.

No wonder she’d barely heard from him. His movies, all hard-driving, nonstop action, took longer and were more physically exhausting than hers, so she’d believed him when he said he hadn’t had any free time.

What a joke.

They’d had a deal. A commitment.

Maggie clenched her fists. Her jaw hurt. She couldn’t stay in the hotel, couldn’t spend the evening as if it was like every other evening. Her gaze landed on the envelope with the script pages she was supposed to learn for tomorrow.

“Later,” she muttered. She wouldn’t sleep tonight, anyway. She headed to the shower, tried to wash off Scott’s betrayal along with the ranch dirt.

The ranch. She turned off the water, reached for a towel. The cowboy. The cowboy bar.

That’s what she could do. She could meet the crew at the Red Rock Saloon.

But how to get herself there? She didn’t want Dino to drive her. He was way too good at reading her, so she needed to stay away from him, at least for tonight. She wanted to just hang out with the crew, figure out how to announce her broken engagement. For tonight, anyway, she could fake that life was still okay, or else she didn’t have the right to call herself an actor.

Maggie phoned the concierge, generally the most discreet employee in the hotel. After a short discussion, she’d lined up transportation. Then she called Leesa and Dino and told them she didn’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances until 6:00 a.m. Dino grunted assent. Leesa gave her the verbal equivalent of a wink.

Maggie dressed in her favorite jeans and boots, added a new red Western shirt bought for the trip, stuffed her ID and some bills in her pocket and sneaked out of the room. She felt better wearing the outfit. Stronger, more in control. The boots gave her confidence, too, as if her father was walking beside her. He’d instilled in her his love for John Wayne and the cowboy ideal of standing tall. If her father were here he’d be reminding her she’d survived a whole lot worse than her fiancé falling in love with someone else.

She left her hair down so that it could fall against her face, hiding her as much as possible. The concierge met her in the parking lot, handed over the keys to his own car and gave her directions to the Red Rock Saloon.

She was bound to be recognized, no matter where she went, but she hoped for enough time to anesthetize her pain a little first.

Maggie counted eight vehicles in the saloon parking lot: six pickups, one van and a motorcycle. She parked her borrowed, ridiculously out-of-place Ford Focus next to the van she figured belonged to the film crew.

Deciding to get the lay of the land first, she stepped over an evening’s worth of cigarette butts on the ground and eased open the back door, wincing as it creaked. She slipped inside. The jukebox played a twangy ballad. Pool balls clacked. Low, male voices drifted down the dark-paneled, rough-hewn hallway, then the higher pitch of a woman’s laugh. The scent of beer filled the air. The bar probably served little else.

It was her kind of place, a statement that would surprise a whole lot of people. She may have grown up in front of the camera, but behind the scenes she’d been raised simply. She felt ten times more comfortable in a bar like this than a fancy restaurant or trendy club. And tonight, when she was hurting, the whole place seemed to wrap her in a hug.

Maggie peered into the main room. She counted thirteen people, including the bartender. Four were from her crew, all crowded around the pool table. Only two were women, both in their twenties. The other patrons hung out in small groups, either at the long bar or around tables.

Absurd disappointment struck her. She’d hoped the cowboy would be there. Why would he? Should he be able to read her mind? Catch her wish drifting through the air that she wanted to see him, the memories he evoked both comforting and exciting? Crazy. It was absolutely crazy to be thinking like that.

She walked to the pool table, dug into her pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, which she plunked down by a corner pocket. “I’ll take the winner,” she said, getting the attention of the players, cameraman Pete and grip Warren.

“Hey,” Pete said, grinning. “Thought you were tired.”

“Got my second wind.”

“Grab yourself a cold one. Warren here’s gonna be done in a minute.”

She wandered over to the bar. “I’ll have a glass of what’s on tap,” she said.

The sixty-something, ponytailed bartender nodded and grabbed an ice-cold mug.

She put a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. “That’s for me and those four over by the pool table. Let me know when you need more, okay?”

He eyed her. “Okay.”

“Aw, Mags. You don’t hafta do that,” Pete called out.

“You’ll be paying for it one way or another,” she said in return. “I’ll just be using your winnings.”

Hoots and hollers came from her friends. She grinned. She leaned against the bar and took a sip. As she lowered her mug she saw a photograph of herself on the wall, among a slew of other star photos, male and female. She moved closer to look at them. A few were autographed to a guy named Tex. Most weren’t signed at all.

A black-and-white drew her closer. It was her cowboy in full rodeo gear, his signature scrawled across one corner. The shot looked to be maybe twenty years old.

“Are you Tex?” she asked the bartender.

“Sure am.”

“These people all been through here?”

“Most. Some are just particular favorites of mine or my regulars.”

Which meant she was a particular favorite. She took another long sip, happy to be honored at the Red Rock Saloon, then started toward the pool table.

“Miss?” Tex said, gesturing with his head to come closer.

Maybe he didn’t recognize her. After all, she was platinum-blond in the picture and wearing a gold sequined dress—the Oscars ceremony from a few years back, when she was a presenter.

“I’d be honored if you’d sign your photograph before you leave,” Tex said. “And in case you’re wondering, if anyone here bothers you, I’ll send ’em on their way.”

She appreciated his concern. “I’d be happy to sign the picture for you. I’d be happier still to send you a new one from this film, in my ranch gear.”

“That’d be mighty kind of you.”

She smiled then took herself over to the pool table to let her natural competitiveness dispatch her erstwhile fiancé from her mind for a little while longer.

Pete handed her a cue stick then lifted the rack away, indicating she should make the break. She chalked the tip and took her position.

The back door creaked open. Boot steps echoed on the wood floor, strong and steady, but she ignored them, concentrating on her shot.

“Hey, champ,” Tex called out. “Been a while. What brings you out this way?”

“Just wonderin’ what the wind blew in,” the newcomer said.

“Want your usual?” Tex asked.

“You remember my usual?”

Maggie aimed, made her shot, scattered the balls. One dropped into a pocket. Oh, yeah, this felt good. Focus, shoot, play. Forget.

It was just what the get-over-him doctor ordered.

Chapter Two

Mug in hand, Tony Young walked over to a corner table where he could watch the whole room, not just the star attraction, Maggie McShane. She was so focused on the game she was playing, she hadn’t noticed him come in, hadn’t looked his way once, which he found interesting. He would’ve thought she’d be aware of everyone in a public place like this.

She was a good-looking woman, even prettier without all that movie makeup. Seemed to him she hadn’t bothered with any tonight, like maybe people wouldn’t recognize her with a clean-scrubbed face. Hell, he’d known it was her the moment he’d come into the room, without even seeing her face. The woman had a body on her that—Well, it was fine. Why she’d always been billed as the girl-next-door type made him scratch his head. She played those roles, sure, but didn’t anyone factor in her body? Images of red satin sheets came to his mind right away, not country-blue denim.

America’s Sweetheart, people always pegged her. It was kinda sad they couldn’t be more clever.

He wondered how she felt about the nickname. Was curious, too, about how big her ego was.

He watched her line up her next shot, leaning over the pool table, giving him a nice full-on view of her rear, all tight and round in her second-skin jeans. She was friendly with the guys, but not overly, and they were respectful of her, for all that she was wiping the floor with them at pool.

Tony kept an eye on the other patrons, too. He didn’t know any of them, as he wasn’t a regular anymore. What drinking he did was usually at home, with trusted friends. His hard-drinking days had ended with his rodeo career. He didn’t miss either of them much.

The music on the jukebox stopped. He was thinking about choosing some songs when the two other women in the place went over and plunked some quarters in the machine. One of them gave him the eye, smiling a little. Hell, she was young enough to be his…well, his little sister, anyway. He was forty, and she probably hadn’t been legal for long. He looked away, then something made him look back. She was focusing on Maggie McShane with her cell phone camera.

Tony let his chair drop to all fours. He shoved himself up and moved into her line of vision, then kept going forward, hitching a thumb toward Tex to take care of the woman. Tony kept walking until he came up behind Maggie, still blocking the view.

Maggie straightened slowly. He didn’t move. Although he wasn’t quite touching her, he was close enough to feel heat, so he knew she could, too.

“Move back,” she said calmly.

Her friends descended on him. He stopped them with a look, then waited for Maggie to turn around and face him, which she finally did, blushing slightly when she met his gaze.

“Unless you want a photograph of your pretty little behind spreading like wildfire around the Internet, you’ll stay right here with me until Tex deals with that amateur paparazzi over by the jukebox. She got a good bead on you when you were chuggin’ your beer, America’s Sweetheart,” he said, continuing to be her personal barricade from photo ops. “And maybe you could call off your posse, too, since I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“It’s you,” she whispered. “John Wayne.”

“No,” he said slowly, wondering about her sanity. “The name’s Tony Young.”

“Oh, I—I know. I asked…”

She’d asked? About him? When? Why?

“You own the ranch.”

“Well, technically, it owns me,” he said, then was bumped from behind by one of her friends.

“Look, cowboy, you need to give her space. Now.”

He did. Not because the guy said to, but because he could see Tex escorting the picture taker and her friend out of the bar. Two men followed, swearing the whole way, but whether it was at Tex or the women, Tony didn’t know. Maggie peeked around him, watching the scene.

Heat. She was all fire and heat. On top of that, up close she was stunning, all bright blue eyes and dark, rich hair and soft, full lips—and freckles, pale and scattered across her nose and cheeks.

“She’s used to having her picture taken wherever she goes,” her friend said.

“I don’t doubt that.” He didn’t take his eyes off her, and she was staring right back.

“I appreciate your running interference, Mr. Young,” she said.

“Tony.” Her head reached his chin. It was rare for a woman to match him so well in height. “Where’s your entourage?”

“I ditched them. I…needed to get out. Had something to think over.” She leaned around him again and said to her friends, “I’ve taken enough of your hard-earned dollars tonight.”

Tony noticed her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He also noticed she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. Woman like that should be sporting a rock that would blind you. “You know the two-step?” he asked her.

Her brows arched high. “Actually I just learned it for the movie. Big scene at a barn dance. Why?”

He tossed his hat onto a nearby table and held out a hand in invitation. “Let’s see if you had a good teacher.”

It took her a few seconds but she finally stepped into his arms, where she fit perfectly. Tony liked the two-step. It was one of those dances where the closer you got, the better you did together. Man leads, woman follows. Simple. Could be a sexy dance, depending, but didn’t have to be. Given the heat flowing from both of them, though, he figured it was going to knock sexy into the next territory.

He was right. The heat was combustible as he drew her a little closer every so often, until he could feel her breasts touch his chest. He heard her suck in a breath, but she didn’t try to move back. Their thighs glided against each other—

“How am I doing?” she asked, a little breathless, her gaze not leaving his.

The music stopped, leaving only the sound of their boots against the old wood-plank floor. He didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to let go of her.

“One more dance, and you’re probably good to go,” he said as another song started.

She moved herself even closer and stared at his mouth. “You’re easy to follow.”

“That’s my job. I’m easy about other things, too.”

Her lips parted. “Yeah? Like what?”

“For one, listening when a pretty lady has a problem.”

“What makes you think I have a problem?” she asked, her gaze lifting to meet his again.

“Intuition.” He had a problem, too. A physical one, especially when she angled her body differently, pressing against his pelvis, a sparkle of something he couldn’t quite define in her eyes.

“You’re making me forget everything,” she said.

“Is that good?”

“I’m not sure.”

Time passed. Fire burned. Need intensified. “What was with the John Wayne deal?” he asked, changing subjects.

She looked away, as if deciding what to say. He waited. Patience was something he had plenty of, too. Plus, he was enjoying the hell out of dancing with her, her body close to him, all curves and temptation, his body painfully aroused as they moved around the floor, the rhythm of the music powerful and enticing. He wanted to find the nearest bed, and dance skin to skin.

“When I spotted you on the set today,” she said, “I thought you looked like him. John Wayne.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“You should. He’s my all-time favorite cowboy.”

“Okay. Except I’m a cattleman. Bit of a difference. Not taking into account that he was just an actor playing a part.”

The front door burst open, and a young man with a big, fancy camera came in, snapping as he went. “Look this way, Miss McShane!”

“Maybe I should get you out of here,” Tony said, intending to take her out the back way.

Her fingers dug into his arms. “No,” she said, almost a whisper, then louder, “no.”

He tried to be her barricade again but the photographer was moving fast to get them in his frame, bypassing the men going after him.

“I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to tell me,” he said, more than a little curious at her wild-eyed look, like she was about to go over the edge.

“Kiss me,” she said, harsh and low.

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

“Kiss me. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

“Them who?”

“Everyone. The vultures. I’m so sick of it all. So sick of always doing the right thing. Please.”

Hell, he was only a man. How could he pass up an opportunity like that?

So he kissed her, a bare brush of lips, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, having seen in her eyes it was the wrong thing to do, for the wrong reasons. But reason flew out the window when his lips touched hers. He pulled her closer, looked deeper, and kissed her the way he’d wanted to since first laying eyes on her.

He heard her friends grapple with the photographer, then the door open and close. And then everything went quiet. No music. No conversation. No pool balls.

She put her hand to her mouth. “Get me out of here. Please,” she whispered, panic in her voice. She must have finally realized her mistake.

Tony didn’t ask questions, but pushed her ahead of him, scooping up his hat on the way. When they reached the back parking lot, he urged her toward his truck.

“I have a car,” she said, pointing. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you going back to your hotel?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, do you know your way around?”

“I can stop for directions…”

Even as she said it, he saw her realize she probably couldn’t do that, either. It must be hell sometimes, being famous. He took over, taking her keys from her, maneuvering his big body into the driver’s seat, motioning to her to get in, his knees hitting the steering wheel, even with the seat all the way back. “You can trust me. I’ll take you where you want to go.”

“How will you get back to get your truck?” she asked after she slammed the passenger door shut.

“Walk. Hitch. Hell, that’s the least of it, don’t you think?” He revved the engine and took off, heading nowhere in particular. “Who do you think that was with the camera?”

“Who knows? Someone trying to make a fast buck. Lots of people have professional cameras these days. Maybe one of those women had called someone.”

So, he hadn’t been her hero, after all, hadn’t noticed anyone making a call, alerting someone to come and take shots—if that’s what had happened.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she said, looking straight out the windshield.

“What? Kissed me on purpose for the camera?”

“I don’t do things like that.”

He knew that much about her, too, even without really knowing her. Was more than a little curious himself, but she didn’t elaborate. After a few blocks with no one following, he said, “Where to?”

Her hands were clenched in her lap.

“Where’re you staying?” he asked.

“I don’t want to go there.”

“Okay. Then where?”

“Someplace quiet.”

“Not sure there are too many places where you wouldn’t be recognized. And I don’t have connections for private rooms and such at restaurants.” He pretty much kept to himself, but he didn’t tell her that. She might think he was dangerous or something.

“There,” she said, pointing.

All he saw was the Red Rock Motor Inn. “The motel?”

She nodded.

“Look, I—”

“I’m not propositioning you,” she interrupted. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d check in, then I’ll use the room. I don’t want to go back to my hotel yet. I still have some thinking to do. Would they know you here?”

He pulled into the parking lot. “By name. Some folks, anyway.”

“If you pay cash, could you use an alias?”

“Don’t see why not.”

She reached into her pocket.

“I’ll get it,” he said and opened the car door before she could protest. The woman fascinated him. What was the big deal she needed to think about? Why had she intentionally kissed him for a photographer? She had a squeaky-clean image, yet was defying it now.

He registered, climbed back into the car and drove around to the back side of the complex, parking by the assigned room. “You’re registered as John Wayne,” he said, slanting her a look.

She laughed, a little shaky, but still a laugh. “Thanks.”

He walked her to the door, unlocked it, found the light switch. “Not what you’re used to,” he said as she walked past him.

“It’ll do.” She held out her hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping me out. I feel horrible that you have to find your way back to your truck.”

He put the car key and room key in her hand, his fingers brushing her skin, cold to the touch now. He could’ve left her without too much problem, knowing she’d be on his ranch the next day. But the fact was, he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d taken the room next to hers for the night. “Couldn’t let the Duke down, could I?”

She smiled. “The Code of the West is alive and well.”

“And we’re proud to say so.” He tipped his hat. “Good night, then, Miss McShane.” He got about six steps away when she called his name.

“It’s Maggie,” she said. “Call me Maggie.”

“Your given name Margaret?”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

“Would you…like to come in for a bit?” she asked.

He hesitated, not because he didn’t want to go inside, but because he wondered what she wanted. Someone to listen? Someone to watch TV with? She didn’t strike him as a person who spent a lot of time by herself. Maybe she wasn’t capable of it. Maybe she was scared to be alone.

And maybe he was just too tempted by her. His body still hummed from the dance and the kiss.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said finally. He waited until she shut the door then went to the next room, opening the door quietly, creeping in. He didn’t turn on the television, didn’t make a sound, just propped himself against some pillows on the bed and read the brochures from the desktop.

The walls were thin. He heard her television come on, then go off again shortly. He heard her move around the room. Television on again. Off. She must not have bothered taking off her boots because he could hear her pace. Finally a new sound—crying. Then she told herself to stop it, and she did. No more sobs.

Vulnerable. He wouldn’t have put that word to her if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

She paced again. And the crying started again. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He went outside and tapped on her door. “It’s Tony,” he said quietly.

The curtain moved. He put himself in a position where she could see him. Then the door opened.

“Couldn’t you get a ride?” she asked.

He could see she was giving it her all to appear calm and composed. But for all her acting abilities, the look she gave him was anything but.

“Didn’t try. I wasn’t comfortable with leaving you here alone. Took the room next door. I could hear you—pacing. Figured, you know, maybe you might want to talk.”

She opened the door wider and stepped back, extending her invitation a second time, silently.

He took off his hat and went into the room, heard the door shut and the lock slide into place, then the chain being fastened. He tossed his hat onto the bed, a typical motel queen-size with a muted-stripes bedspread that had seen better days. Sterile room, usual odors of cleaning products and stale fabrics. He’d spent plenty of nights in ones just like this or worse. He’d bet she hadn’t.

He faced her. She hadn’t moved. And where her composure had failed when she’d answered the door, it was back now. She was a damn fine actress, he decided, to be able to make her face a blank like that. What was going on in her head? Why was he there?

“How can I help you?” he asked.

She tossed back her hair a little, bringing her chin up a notch. “I want to sleep with you.”

A stampede started in his midsection then branched out. He tried for as little expression as she had. “For the sake of clarification, ‘sleeping’ with me means?”

“More than actually sleeping in the same bed.”

“You want to have sex?”

“Yes.”

More questions came to mind. In particular, Why me? And, What about your famous fiancé?

Their kiss in the saloon reverberated in his head, made its way down his body. Who was he to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? The kind of guy who realized that maybe she didn’t mean what she was saying, he thought.

But then she started to pull the snaps on her shirt apart. He stopped her, his hand covering both of hers, his fingers pressed to her warm, cushiony chest.

“Some reason why you’re in such an all-fired-up hurry?” he asked.

“Yes.” She yanked her shirt open, revealing a lacy red bra cupping not-girl-next-door breasts.

Usually he took his time to do things right. Less chance of regrets that way. And somehow he had a feeling that regrets were going to come fast and furious if he followed through. No way was he going to do this, even though it had been a while since he’d enjoyed a roll in the hay. But this woman had been occupying his thoughts for several days and nights, pretty much since he saw her walk onto his ranch a few days ago, and the moment she touched her lips to his, pressed herself against him, he was lost.

Her kisses seared him, her touch sent him soaring. He lost his ability to think clearly. They wasted no time in undressing and getting skin to skin on the bed. She was wild and demanding and giving. He barely managed to say, “Birth control?”

“On the pill,” she managed back.

And then he was inside her and she was arching and digging her fingers into him and making flattering sounds of pleasure, and then of satisfaction. A moment later, he did, too.

He eased to his side, taking her along. After a minute he realized she was crying. Again.

He didn’t ask her why, and she didn’t say.

Tony’s internal alarm clock woke him before dawn. He reached for Maggie, but his hand landed on a piece of paper instead of a warm, curvy body. He held the paper toward the window, where the outside light offered minimal illumination.

One word, printed as if in a rush: Thanks.

It should’ve made him happy, since he wasn’t much for mornings-after, either, but it only annoyed him.

He rolled off the bed and snagged his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, then called his foreman, Butch Kelly.

“I need a ride,” Tony said.

“Where are you?”

Tony could hear the rustle of clothing as Butch dressed. “Red Rock Motor Inn. Know where it is?”

“Spent my high-school graduation night there. Fond memories. So, where’s your truck?”

“Elsewhere.”

A beat passed then, “Okay. I’m on my way.”

Tony hung up and finished dressing. It was hard to believe she’d left without him hearing her go. He wondered how long ago she’d taken off. Sometime after three, because that was when they’d made love a second time.

He waited for Butch in front of the motel, his irritation increasing with each passing vehicle. Her note burned a hole in his shirt pocket. She could’ve said goodbye, at least. People who sleep together deserve that much.

She obviously didn’t deserve her driven-snow reputation—supposedly she was engaged to that Hollywood beefcake. She sure hadn’t acted engaged last night. In fact, she’d seemed like a woman who hadn’t been made love to in a long time. He wondered about that, and about her morals, sleeping with him like she had.

But, hell, who was he to spout morals? He’d had his share of affairs, some that never should’ve happened.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, and hunched against the cool morning, remembering. She was amazing in bed. He wouldn’t mind repeating the experience, not at all. Yeah, why not have some good times together while she was in town? They’d be private about it. He didn’t want or need media attention, and she would need secrecy from her fiancé. Could be tricky, though.

Where the hell was Butch, anyway?

He blew out a long breath, digging for the patience he was known for. It was probably just karma catching up with him, payback for the times in his youth he’d done the same thing, left a woman without saying goodbye, before he’d wised up and gotten civil about such things.

A Lucky Hand Ranch pickup pulled up to the curb. “Took you long enough,” Tony muttered as he climbed in, not feeling charitable, too much on his mind.

Butch shoved a to-go cup at him. Coffee, hot and black. “So, shoot me. Figured you’d need this, so I made a stop.”

They were the same age, had done the rodeo circuit together for years. Butch’s knees were worse than Tony’s, although Tony had broken more bones. “Okay. You’re forgiven,” Tony said.

Butch grinned. “So, can I ask what you were doin’ at the motel?”

Tony gave him a long look as he sipped his coffee. His cell rang. He checked to see who it was. “Pretty early, Mom, even for you,” he said after he opened the phone.

Sue-Ellen Young laughed. “I’ve already baked two pies and checked my e-mail. Nice picture of you, by the way, on celebrityscoop.com, kissing Maggie McShane.”

And so it began, Tony thought. But how would it end?

Chapter Three

Maggie’s stomach lurched as she focused on the computer screen being shoved close to her face.

“Tell me this is a look-alike,” Leesa almost screamed. She’d stomped into Maggie’s hotel suite a minute ago, holding up her laptop. “One of those fake celebrities. Tell me that.”

Embarrassed by her behavior, Maggie picked up her purse and headed toward the door. “It’s not a look-alike.”

“How did this happen? When did it happen?”

“Last night. Are you ready to go? You know I don’t like being late to the set. Dino’s got the car waiting.” When she’d gotten back to her hotel room around 4:00 a.m. she’d had to memorize the day’s lines, meaning she’d had little sleep, only the two hours between the first and second time she and Tony had made love. Her makeup artist was going to get after her for the bags under her eyes.

“How can you be so blasé about this? You’re engaged! You were caught kissing a local cowboy at a bar!” She grabbed script pages and a couple other items off the table.

“Cattleman.”

Leesa stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“He’s a cattleman. He says there’s a difference.” It was costing Maggie to act unconcerned by the online-gossip site’s photo, but she had to. Until she came up with a plan, she had to seem as if she knew what she was doing. Appearances were everything. She didn’t want to compound stupidity with idiocy.

“I don’t get it,” Leesa said, exasperated. “Last night Scott was here. You asked for privacy for the whole night, just the two of you. What happened?”

They stepped onto the landing. Maggie put a hand on her friend’s arm. “The less you know, the better. For your sake, not mine, okay? You’re just going to have to trust me. I want you to be able to say it was a big surprise to you, too, and mean it.”

Leesa clamped her mouth hard for a minute, then said, “So, the rumors about Scott were true.”

“What rumors?”

“That he and Gennifer were messing around.”

So. Even Leesa had known. “Had you planned to tell me?” Maggie asked, hurt making her throat burn.

“They were only rumors. I’d been trying to get them confirmed, but no luck. I wouldn’t have let you marry him without telling you, Mags. Did you know already? Did you call it off?”

Dino pulled up in the car and got out. Maggie couldn’t tell from his expression if he knew about the photo, but he didn’t hold out his hand for her to pass him her engagement ring as he always did, which told her enough.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Just super.”

“You know, if you don’t trust me, you should fire me.”

She jerked back. “I trust you.”

“I wouldn’t have let anyone get a picture, and I don’t pass judgment. You shouldn’t leave me behind.”

“I had to.” She couldn’t tell him any more than that. Not yet.

“I’ll keep your secrets until the day I die, Maggie.”

She felt about a foot tall. How many people had she disappointed or hurt with her impulsive actions?

“Thank you, Dino. I do know that.” She climbed into the car and said to Leesa, “Let’s run lines.”

Leesa huffed but pulled out the pages.

At the location, Maggie went straight into hair and makeup. She’d barely settled into the chair when Mac Iverson came in. “Give us a few minutes,” the director said to the two women working on her, then he leaned against the counter and gave her the eye. “So. You’re big news today.”

She assumed that meant her photo was everywhere now. Her manager and publicist would already be fielding calls from the various media entertainment-news shows, and magazines, too. Leesa would be fielding calls from her manager and publicist, and any others who had her phone number.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said to Mac. She never brought controversy to a film. Mac wouldn’t work with her if she did. He was old-school, running a close-knit, familylike atmosphere, but demanding and getting the best work out of everyone. They’d worked together six times. There were good reasons for that.

“I met Tony Young for the first time last year when we were scouting locations,” Mac said. “I wanted realism, not a studio set. At the time he was living in the old homestead we’re shooting in, but his new house was almost ready. He agreed to hold off on remodeling the old place for his foreman until after we filmed, appreciating what I promised to bring to the movie—an honest portrayal of a cattleman’s life, not the romanticized version of most fiction. He’s a decent, hardworking, self-made man. He shouldn’t have to deal with the kind of media attention he’s bound to get now.”

Maggie felt like a child being chewed out by her favorite teacher, except…shouldn’t Tony take some of blame? She hadn’t acted alone. “I know.”

“Have you and Scott broken your engagement?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Good. That’s good. And is Mr. Young in the picture now?”

Maggie realized right then what she needed to do, how she needed to resolve the situation. She had to talk to Tony first, however. “Can I just say that I’ll issue a statement later today and leave it at that for the moment?”

“Is this going to interfere with my production?”

“I’m trying not to let it, Mac. I’m sorry that it’s considered newsworthy.”

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a Goody Two-shoes…” He smiled then and pushed himself from the counter. “Wonder what the clever headline writers will do with America’s Sweetheart now.”

“If it makes them stop using that awful nickname, it might all be worth it. It’s been pretty hard to live up to, you know.”

“Not while your grandparents were alive.”

She finally smiled. “True. They did keep me on the straight and narrow, whether I wanted to be or not.”

Mac patted her shoulder then left. When she was finished in hair and makeup she headed to her trailer to get into costume. Leesa popped up off the sofa, her cell phone to her ear.

“She’s here,” she said into the phone. “Hang on.” Leesa held out the phone to her. “It’s Garnet.”

Garnet Halvorsen had been Maggie’s publicist for ten years, ever since Maggie lured her away from a big studio. She should’ve been the first call Maggie had made once she’d seen the photograph.

“I’ll call her later,” Maggie said. She kept walking, her dresser coming into the trailer behind her with the outfit for the morning’s shoot.

“But—”

“La-ter.”

Maggie heard Leesa try to soothe Garnet, who seemed to be yelling. Maggie signaled to her assistant to end the call, which she did. “Let it go to voice mail for now, please, Leesa.”

A few minutes later someone knocked, saying they were ready for her. Maggie put an arm around Leesa’s shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Maggie wanted to believe her own words, but it really depended on Tony. “I need you to get in touch with Tony Young and ask him to meet me at seven o’clock tonight at the hotel. And apologize to him in advance for all the stalkers he’ll have today.”

“I don’t mind making that call, Mags, but don’t you think it should come from you? That any apology should come from you?”

Without a doubt. But since he would have questions that she’d rather answer in person, she hoped he would agree to come. Needed him to come. Her reputation depended on it, although he owed her nothing.

“Please just make the call.” Maggie opened the trailer door, her stomach full of hot lead, especially about Tony’s life being turned upside down, but she put on her game face and headed out to the set.

The tone now was completely different from previous days. She always got along with everyone, but she’d never been involved in a scandal before, and no one seemed to know what to say or how to act, except that cameraman Pete came up, allegedly to give her some change from the fifty dollars she’d given the bartender, then whispered to her that he could call Scott and tell him that it had all been innocent between Maggie and the cowboy.

Innocent? Not by a long shot, but Maggie was touched by Pete’s loyalty. She politely declined, more guilt pressing on her.

Once action was called, everyone got down to business, and the morning flew by. They were filming inside the old homestead. She tried to picture Tony there, wondered how much had been changed for the movie. Necessary people and equipment filled the space, not as small as it looked from the outside. Which bedroom had Tony slept in? Where was his new house? He must own a lot of acres not to have another house visible on the horizon, although other ranch structures were in sight.

And where were the cattle? It was a cattle ranch, after all, and she hadn’t spotted one, not even on the long, beautiful drive in and out each day.

Between takes she looked to Leesa for a signal that she’d reached Tony, but she shook her head each time. At the end of the day, Maggie was tempted to get directions to his new house and go there personally, except that she’d probably have to battle paparazzi, unless Tony had figured out a way to get rid of them.

At least the set was closed, and the passenger windows on her car were tinted, so Dino should be able to get her back to the hotel without being followed. Maybe. Mac had already upped the number of security people. Dino was talking about bringing in extra security of his own. She left the decision to him.

Why hadn’t Tony returned Leesa’s call? How furious was he? Or maybe embarrassed was a better word. If he wouldn’t come to her, how could she get to him? She didn’t think she could handle this…situation over the phone, but a personal plea via telephone to come see her might be the only way to get him. She didn’t want to make assumptions about why he hadn’t called. He may not even be at home, and she didn’t have his cell phone number—and didn’t want to ask Mac for it. His residence number, amazingly, was listed in the directory.

On top of that, she and Scott had played phone tag all day, but with both of them actively filming, they hadn’t caught each other during downtimes. She preferred to wait to talk to him until she’d met with Tony, anyway, so that’d been okay.

Maggie managed to keep working all day, presenting a happy face until she stepped into her hotel shower at the end of the day. In the privacy of that space she broke down, giving in to the overwhelming emotions of the past twenty-four hours, first Scott breaking up with her, then sleeping with a man she barely knew, then her reputation taking a major hit of her own making, along with the reputation of a man innocent of such treatment, when all he’d done was rescue her.

No one’s reputation had ever suffered because of her actions. Until now.

“Maggie?” Leesa called through the bathroom door. “Mr. Young is here.”

So. He’d shown up at seven o’clock, just as she’d asked. He just hadn’t bothered to let her know he was coming. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Offer him something to drink, please.”

Maggie turned off the shower, made quick work of drying off then slipped into cropped pants and a sleeveless top. She towel-dried her hair, put on a little lip gloss, screwed up her courage, and went to greet him.

Well, damn, she’d wanted him here at seven, he got here at seven, and she was in the shower? Some consideration. Movie stars. Who needs ’em?

Tony stood at the living-room window, his hands shoved into his pockets, and looked out at the view. The sunset colors were brilliant but fading fast.

He’d had a helluva day, had been badgered by his sister, both brothers and just about everyone else who knew his phone number. He’d stopped answering around 10:00 a.m. There were eighteen messages he hadn’t returned, didn’t plan on returning. Of his family, only his father hadn’t weighed in, but Tony figured he’d hear something before too long. Hoyt Young always had an opinion on how his youngest son was living his life, and the fact it looked like Tony had been entertaining someone else’s fiancée wouldn’t sit well with his highly moral father.

Hell, it didn’t sit well with Tony, either, high morals or otherwise.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” came Maggie’s voice from behind him. “I didn’t know you were coming or I would’ve been ready.”

He angled toward her, was surprised to see her dressed so casually. Her hair was wet, leaving damp spots where it touched her blouse. She was barefoot. She looked ready to bolt, too—nervous and fidgety.

“I was ordered to be here at seven,” he said.

“I hope that’s not true. I hope Leesa extended an invitation for you to come, not ordered you.”

“It may have been politely stated, but it wasn’t a question.”

“Then I apologize. Leesa was pretty frazzled this morning, fielding the frenzy to our photograph, which I assume you saw?”

“My mother let me know this morning around four-thirty.”

“Your—I’m so sorry. Please, would you have a seat? Did Leesa get you something to drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” He sat in a leather chair. She perched on the edge of the sofa, as if incapable of settling back or relaxing. Her fingers were interlocked. He remembered how she’d cried last night….

“Were the paparazzi hounding you?” she asked.

“They tried. I made sure they didn’t follow me here.” It had actually been fun ducking them, but he wouldn’t want it on a regular basis.

“I owe you an explanation,” she said.

“I’m all ears.”

“Please understand that I’m going to tell you things I haven’t told anyone else. Even though I’ve turned your world upside down, I’m asking for your discretion. I know I have no right to ask but—”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

She closed her eyes a moment. Her vulnerability hit him hard. Like last night, he wanted to protect her, even though he didn’t know from what. He could easily be a fool for this woman.

“I assume by now you know I was engaged to Scott Gibson,” she said.

“Hard to miss that bit of information.”

“What no one else knows is that he broke it off yesterday. He was here waiting for me after shooting. He said he’d fallen in love with someone else.”

Which answered a lot of Tony’s questions about why she’d slept with him last night—and why she’d been crying. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She looked at her lap. “Okay. Biggest confidence now. I’m not sorry. Scott even said as he was leaving that someday I would be happy about it. That someday came a lot faster than I would’ve thought. It came today.”

“How can you get over it that fast?”

“I know it sounds heartless, and the rest of what I’m going to tell you won’t put me in a good light, either, but you deserve the truth, after all the trouble I’ve caused you.” She pushed herself up, moved to stand at the window.

He found he couldn’t sit still, either, so he joined her.

“It’s an incredible landscape, isn’t it?” she asked, apparently stalling. “Not lush but starkly beautiful, especially here, surrounded by the enormous red rocks.”

“Most beautiful in the whole country.”

“You’ve traveled a lot?”

“I did the rodeo circuit for about twelve years. It’s a nomadic kind of life. When it was time to settle down, there was no place for me but here.”

She nodded. “I’m looking to settle down myself.”

He waited, knowing she was working up to what she needed to say.

“It’s why I was marrying Scott. I wanted a home. Some stability.”

“You didn’t love him?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“I’ve got nothin’ but time, Margaret.”

“So, you’ve decided to call me Margaret? Trying to be different?”

“I’m thinking Margaret suits you.” Maggie was who the world saw—strong and feisty. Margaret was vulnerable…and passionate.

She met his gaze and smiled a little. He ignored the tug inside his chest.

“Scott and I met when we were set up to attend a premiere together by our mutual agent and our publicists. It wasn’t the first time I’d done such a thing. It’s part of the job, good publicity for both parties, yada, yada. But things clicked between Scott and me. We liked each other right away and started dating, as much as our situations allowed. We discovered one of the biggest things we had in common was that we’d both lost our parents at a young age. My grandparents had taken me in, raised me with a very strict upbringing, one I didn’t rebel from. He’d grown up in the foster system. We were both searching for a fantasy life, I think.”

“I think we all do that,” he said, glad to see she’d calmed some.

“You, too?”

“Of course. I was even married once. One big fantasy, that’s for sure. Ended with a hard dose of reality.” He hardly ever thought about her anymore, it had been so long. A man who didn’t put the past behind him couldn’t move forward. He’d been bitter for a while, but time had cured that, too.

“Well, Scott understood the pressures of the business, as well as the media, of course. One night he asked me to marry him and I said yes, figuring we had a better-than-average chance for success, since we had similar backgrounds.”

“You didn’t love him? He didn’t love you?”

“We each said so, but looking back, I don’t know. I think we got caught up in the romance of it all. And then before we had time to sit back and reconsider, our publicity machines went into overdrive and the whole world was involved.”

“You could’ve backed out. Better that than make a bigger mistake.”

She turned around, leaned against the window frame and finally looked at him. “Of course you’re right. But by then an old friend of mine, Jenny Warren, had called and asked a big favor. Her family is about to open two luxury hotels, The Taka San Francisco and The Taka Kyoto. The San Francisco opening is scheduled for around the end of September. Jenny asked if I’d hold the wedding there, have a huge, lavish event. They’d assumed all costs. I could just tell them what I want, and it would be done. Publicity for everyone. Win-win, right? Scott wanted the big splash, too, so I said yes. And regretted it right away. ‘Big’ isn’t my style.”

“So you felt stuck?”

“I never put that word to it. I felt…rushed. But then I had this movie to film, and Scott had his, so there wasn’t time to hash it out.”

“In all the headlines I read today, I didn’t see anything about your engagement being over, only that you were caught kissing a cowboy. In fact, nothing from your…Scott at all.”

“That’s because I told him I needed a couple of days to figure out how to handle it. Then instead of staying home and working it out alone, I handled it by taking myself to a cowboy bar and dancing with a tall, dark and handsome cattleman. And then kissing him so that a photographer could film it.” She put a hand on his chest, lightly, briefly, and smiled.

“At least no one knows about us sharing a motel room,” he said. “I’m sure my foreman, who came to get me, put two and two together, but he won’t say a word.” He finally gave in to the need to touch her and brushed her hair back from her face with his fingertips. He wouldn’t mind hauling her off to her bedroom. Wouldn’t mind it at all.

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble this has caused you, Tony.”

Hell, his family’s admiration of him had gone up a notch or two. It was a shame that’s what it took for them to see how successful he was. He’d built his ranch from almost nothing, making it what it was today. He was damn proud of it. He still had a ways to go, but he’d done it himself—mostly, anyway. He had something to prove, especially to his father, but sleeping with a movie star wasn’t how he’d envisioned proving himself.

“Well, now, Margaret,” Tony said, putting on the cowboy act thick for her, “seems to me I got somethin’ special to keep in my memory out of it. I can live with people teasin’ me.” He leaned in to kiss her.

“Could you live with it for a few more months?” she asked before their lips touched.

He pulled back, met her gaze, saw that her jitters were back. “Meaning?”

“Last night when I said I knew who you were, that you owned the ranch, you said your ranch owns you. Am I remembering that right?”

“You are.”

She drew a deep breath. “Okay. So, then, I have a proposition for you.”

The last one had resulted in their being naked together. If this one involved that again, he’d be saying yes faster than a bronc bursts out of a chute.

“I’m listenin’, darlin’.”

“Marry me.”

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