“I’m here to see Ellie Kincaid,” he said. “I’m Santa Claus.”

Marisa just stared at him. He was in his seventies and fit the Santa persona to a T, including the rounded stomach and red cheeks, although he wasn’t wearing a costume. But that was minor. The store had done a great job in hiring someone so authentic.

He sat down on one of the office chairs and Ellie climbed onto his knee. “What did you want to see me about, little angel?”

“I wrote you a lot of letters asking for a mommy, and you never sent me one.”

“Don’t fret, Ellie,” he said. “You’ll have your mommy before Christmas.”

Ellie threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.” She leaned back and tugged on his beard. “My friend Lori says you’re not real and that your beard’s fake, but it is real, just like I told her.”

He stood, setting the child on her feet. “Yes, I’m real. Never be afraid to believe, Ellie. It’s a very powerful emotion.”

The man walked to the door and then stopped. He touched the back of his hand to Marisa’s face. “You’re never too old to believe, Marisa.”

She was so surprised by his touch and the sincerity in his eyes that words eluded her. What did he mean? And how did he know her name?

Dear Reader,

Fifteen years ago I had an idea for a book. At the time I was recovering from several surgeries and my mind was clouded by medication. That’s my only excuse. But I’d read Harlequin romances for years, so I was sure I had an understanding of what was required in a story. Even today as I think about my stupidity, it’s hard to keep from laughing.

I started writing longhand in a spiral notebook. I wrote every day and soon I had a stack of notebooks. My husband bought me an electric typewriter, and it took me several months to type and edit my story into manuscript form.

When I finished, I mailed my treasured work to Harlequin. I promptly got a rejection. Then another. And another. One editor sent me a nice two-page rejection letter. Ten years later I made my first sale (a Harlequin Superromance novel called The Truth about Jane Doe) to that editor. In one of our talks a while back, she asked me about my first manuscript. I was stunned. She suggested I write another proposal based on that idea. I did. She bought it. The Silent Cradle from long ago is now The Christmas Cradle for American Romance.

This book is very dear to my heart and I hope you will feel some of the real emotion that went into its creation.

Warmly—and with best wishes for a wonderful Christmas,

Linda Warren

P.S. I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at lw1508@aol.com or visit my Web site, www.lindawarren.net or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. I will always answer your letters.

The Christmas Cradle
Linda Warren

MILLS & BOON

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To Paula Eykelhof, who gave this book a second chance

and

to Beth Sobczak. Without your loving generosity,

this book would never have been published. Thanks.

Acknowledgment:

Thanks to Carolyn Lightsey and Brenda Mott for sharing your knowledge of horses and the rodeo. And to Amy Landry, pediatric nurse, for the crash course on childbirth.

Any errors are strictly mine.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Dear Santa,

I’ve been real good this year, but could you please send Daddy and me a mommy for Christmas? Someone who’s nice and pretty and likes dogs and horses. That’s all I want for Christmas.

Love,

Ellie Kincaid

Ellie was stuffing the letter into an envelope and licking the flap as Colter Kincaid walked into the room.

“What are you doing, angelface?”

“I wrote a letter to Santa. Could you mail it for me, please?” Her bright green eyes waited for an answer.

A knot formed in Colter’s stomach. He knew what she’d written because this was the same letter his daughter wrote every year—asking Santa for a mother. He’d helped her when she was three and four, but after that she’d printed them herself.

She was seven now, a mother was all she ever thought about. Instead of enjoying her childhood, Ellie spent her time thinking of ways to get a mother; she’d landed him in a few embarrassing situations by asking women out to the ranch.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d never fall in love again and that she’d never have the mother she wanted. Life was cruel and love was painful, but he wouldn’t tell his daughter that. She’d learn soon enough.

“First thing in the morning,” he replied, taking the letter from her. “Now it’s time for bed.”

Ellie made a face. “Why do I have to go to bed at nine? I don’t have school tomorrow ’cause it’s Saturday. We’re going shopping with Aunt Becky in Dallas.”

“Because we have rules around here.”

“Tulley doesn’t obey the rules. He goes to bed when he wants to.”

Colter pulled back the covers. “When you’re Tulley’s age, you can go to bed when you please.”

“Oh boy.” Ellie crawled into bed. Her dog, Sooner, jumped up beside her. “How old is Tulley? How long do I have to wait?”

“Tulley’s seventy. You do the math.”

Her face fell again. “I’ll never be that old.”

Colter gathered her in his arms. “Yes, you will, but you’ll always be my little girl.”

“I love you, Daddy.” She gave him several loud kisses.

He kissed her soft cheek. “I love you, too, angelface.”

No matter what happened in his life, this child would always be the center of it, and he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness.

And that meant he couldn’t tell her the truth about her mother.

MARISA PRESTON SAT at her desk and wondered what she was doing in her Dallas office on a Saturday afternoon. She didn’t usually come in on weekends, but today she had to stay busy, to keep from thinking. She got up and headed down to the busy hub of Dalton’s Department Store. The firm she’d hired to do the Christmas decorations had done an outstanding job, or so her secretary and father had informed her. Maybe looking at the decorations would inspire a little Christmas spirit. This time of year always left her with a lonely, empty feeling that was hard to shake.

She found herself in the gift section full of special items they’d gotten in for the holidays. Her eyes went to it immediately—the Christmas Cradle. They had one every year. A man who lived in Austin designed and crafted them, and each one was made from a single block of wood. He didn’t use a single screw or hinge. His wife sewed the delicate bedding of white silk and lace. It was an antique design, and the wood was stained, not painted. All the intricate designs carved on the cradle denoted “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” making it one of a kind.

Unable to stop herself, she walked over and touched the beautiful cradle. As it rocked gently, she suddenly felt suffocated. Closing her eyes, she drew several deep breaths, but she couldn’t block out the sound—the sound of her baby crying.

She was powerless to halt the memories. This was the day she’d met him. She remembered it vividly; her friends, Stacy and Rhonda, had wanted her to go on an adventure to Las Vegas early in December. Back then, she’d lived in a New York penthouse with her mother and adhered to a strict regimen of training to be a concert pianist. While her mother was away in Europe, she had the opportunity to escape. She’d yearned for fun and freedom.

The National Rodeo Finals were taking place, and Stacy and Rhonda wanted to attend some of the events, to get a glimpse of a real cowboy. Once they were sitting in the audience, all of Marisa’s attention was on one cowboy. He wasn’t bigger or taller than any of the others, but he rode with such self-assurance and confidence, and he seemed to have a genuine respect for the animal he was riding.

He was the best and they all knew it. Not only had the announcer said he was the top rider in the country, he had numerous awards to prove it.

He’d been very impressive to a young girl from New York. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. Once, when he’d finished a ride, the pickup riders let him down right in front of where she was sitting. He’d bent to retrieve his hat and as he straightened and slapped his hat against the side of his leg, he’d looked directly at her.

He had the most unusual green eyes. They were light green, the color of grapes in summer. She remembered that first stirring of desire she’d experienced gazing into those eyes, and she’d known he would be far more stimulating than any nectar grapes could produce.

And he was. He was a true-blue Texas cowboy, with a brooding look that could make a young girl’s heart flutter. He was handsome, exciting and very much a man. She’d fallen in love with him instantly.

If her mother… She exhaled a painful breath as other emotions crowded in—the shock, the heartache that followed. But those were only minor compared to the pain of her son’s birth and his death. She still wasn’t over it, and she believed a woman never got over losing a child. She hadn’t. The memory of her son was always with her.

That was why at Christmastime she always managed to find her way to the cradle. It would soon be sold to a lucky expectant mother, but for a moment she could imagine… No, no, don’t.

Shoving the memories away, she glanced around the large store, its merchandise and salespeople upscale and the very best. Dalton’s was important to her and her family. Her grandfather, her mother’s father, had started the business in the 1930s, and today it was one of the most successful family-owned chains in Texas. This was her heritage and she was proud of it.

She just wished she felt more enjoyment, more pleasure in her work. What she actually felt was trapped. As senior vice-president, she should have more responsibility for making decisions, but her father, Richard Preston, was the driving force behind Dalton’s and nothing was ever done without his approval.

The decorations were perfect, she thought, studying the beautiful gold and silver bells and garlands and the red accents that seemed to reflect the cheer and enthusiasm of the busy shoppers.

Several of the employees watched her, but none spoke. She hated her father’s rules: no fraternizing with the staff and vice versa. She’d been reprimanded more than once for speaking to employees while on the floor. If she had something to say, her father had told her, she was to summon that person to her office. Since her best friend worked on the floor, it was hard to follow the rules, but then, her father didn’t need to know every little detail of her life. Although she resented his rigidity and control, she’d always be grateful to him because he’d been there when she’d really needed someone. Her mother she refused to think about—especially today.

She stopped abruptly as she caught sight of a man standing by the gift-wrap counter. No. Her breath congealed in her throat. It can’t be. It can’t be him! Not today.

Was she hallucinating? Thinking about him too much? The tall lean figure had to be a trick of her imagination. But as she took in the long legs in tight-fitting Wranglers, the silver buckle, the cowboy boots, the brown leather jacket, she knew this was real. He was real—as real as he’d been eight years ago.

Colter Kincaid, the man she’d loved so passionately and promised to marry when she was seventeen, the father of her son, was standing a few feet away.

She hadn’t seen him even once since that morning in the motel, but she would’ve known him anywhere: the proud way he held his head, the sharp lines of his face, those broad shoulders. All these things were the same and yet he seemed so different. It was as if time and maturity had added another dimension that she knew nothing about. What was he doing here? Marisa fought an unwelcome surge of excitement as she trembled with an awareness she thought she’d long forgotten.

She felt that awareness like a raw wound, deep in her heart. Her first encounter with love had almost destroyed her. That all-consuming passion had controlled her mind, body and soul, and she never wanted to experience it again.

Yet she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, was unable to do anything but stare at him. The years had enhanced his appeal, not dimmed it, but there was a hardness around his eyes that she didn’t remember. She had waited so long for this meeting, for a chance to explain about the past. But the words wouldn’t come and she felt as tongue-tied as the first time she’d met him.

COLTER GLANCED IMPATIENTLY at his watch. How long could it possibly take to wrap three packages? God, he hated shopping. That was part of being a parent, though. He did a lot of things he didn’t really enjoy. Like having a multitude of little girls over for a slumber party and listening to them giggle all night, not to mention listening to music that could easily break the sound barrier. But when his daughter put her arms around his neck and said, “You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” it was all worth it. He sighed, checking his watch again.

His impatience vanished as an eerie feeling came over him. He could actually feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, as if his body sensed danger. Raising his head, he received a jolt that he would remember for a long time. He felt winded and gasped, struggling for breath. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her. But he knew it was as he looked into the brown eyes of a woman he’d hoped never to see again.

They stood there silently, staring at each other, and against every conscious objection on his part, the years rolled back. He remembered that time in Las Vegas, the love they’d shared, the days and nights of sensual magic only their bodies could create. The happiness and pleasure of those weeks flashed through him, only to be overshadowed by the pain left in its aftermath.

Colter’s first instinct was to turn his back on her and walk away. He didn’t want to acknowledge her presence, but a force deep inside moved him forward until he was standing in front of her.

From a distance he could tell she’d changed, but he wasn’t prepared for the impact of seeing her face-to-face. The young girl he remembered had matured into a beautiful woman. His eyes made a quick, thorough assessment of her, taking in the ash-blond hair around her oval face, the dark eyes that shimmered like brown satin, the delicately carved facial bones and the soft curve of her mouth. His appraisal missed nothing, not the beige linen dress and matching jacket, nor the way she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. A provocative gesture he remembered well.

She was beautiful; he’d thought that years ago, too. Bitterness quickly filled his mind, reminding him what a fool he’d been—a stupid, infatuated fool. Her beauty was only a facade. She was not beautiful on the inside.

“Marisa Preston?” Her name erupted from his lips and came out as a question, and he couldn’t imagine why, because he definitely knew who she was.

“YES,” SHE ANSWERED with a quaver in her voice, feeling as if her knees were going to buckle. “It’s been a long time. Do you live in Dallas now?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She’d only been trying to make the best of an awkward situation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

The bluntness of the question took her by surprise, but she answered without a pause. “I work here.”

He frowned. “Work? Here?” He made no attempt to hide the incredulity in his voice as his eyes slid over her again.

“In the executive office,” she amended.

“The executive office?” The frown deepened. “I assumed you’d be playing in concert halls all over the world by now. Isn’t that what your mother planned for you?”

“You know I never wanted to do that,” she answered almost inaudibly, wondering if that was what he’d believed—that she’d left him to pursue her career as a concert pianist.

“I never knew what you wanted,” he said in a harsh tone. “I never knew you at all.”

Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t expected him to be so cold, so angry. After all these years, she’d expected idle curiosity about why she’d left him, but he didn’t seem too concerned with her reasons for leaving. Her head began to throb and she lightly touched her temple to ease the ache.

His eyes caught the small gesture. “What’s the matter? Do thoughts of the past upset you?”

If he only knew. Feelings of guilt mounted inside her. “Some thoughts,” she acknowledged, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “But that was a long time ago, and I was very young.” The statement sounded inane even to her own ears, so she tried again. “I made a lot of bad choices that I’m not proud of, but I’ve managed to put them behind me.”

“How convenient for you,” he muttered, urging himself to walk away. He couldn’t do it, though. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just leave? It had to be the shock of seeing her, of knowing what she’d done to his life. She’d ruined him for other women. After her, he couldn’t trust a woman again. He’d tried, but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t fully love again, either—the way a man should love a woman. Not even for his daughter had he been able to do that. All because of this woman.

She called it a bad choice, said she’d been young. Was he supposed to accept that and now have a pleasant conversation with her? Her gall was unbelievable! He mentally shook himself, fighting to keep his emotions under control.

MARISA HAD IMAGINED this meeting a thousand times, but she was unprepared for this hostile stranger, especially since he’d married Shannon four months after Marisa had left him. Her mother was glad to tell her the details. So why would he still be so angry with a young girl who’d broken her promise of marriage?

She blinked nervously under his hard stare, unable to stop herself from asking, “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? After all, it was a long time ago.”

“Overreacting!” he repeated, his voice sharp as a whiplash. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

How dare he ask her that? He was a married man. He had no right to judge her without knowing the truth. The truth. She suddenly knew she had to tell him that truth, the truth that had tortured her for years.

“Yes, it bothered me for a while,” she began, lifting her chin, meeting his icy gaze as she struggled for the right words. “But as I said, I was young and—”

“Oh, please,” he cut in. “Spare me your pretty speech. Why don’t you just admit that you were a spoiled rich girl who couldn’t handle responsibility or commitment, so you ran home to mother?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she denied, hating the picture he held of her in his mind.

“It was just like that. Tulley warned me. Shannon warned me, but—”

“Please,” she begged, her head beginning to ache in earnest. “You don’t understand.”

“No. I’ll never understand.”

“If you’d just listen, I can explain.”

“It may surprise you, but I’m not interested in anything you have to say—now or ever. I’ve moved on.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, hoping for a weakening in his implacable attitude. He quickly disillusioned her.

“No, of course not,” he replied in a scornful voice. “You never thought about me or my feelings. You just left.”

“Please, listen—”

“I told you I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I had a feeling you were trouble the first moment I met you, but you seemed so different from the other girls who hung around the rodeos—or so I thought. You had me wrapped so tight around your little finger, I couldn’t see the real woman behind the beautiful face.” His eyes slid over her, sending a tiny shiver through her body. “It’s hard to imagine I ever considered myself in love…with you.”

“Mr. Kincaid, your packages are ready,” a woman called from the gift-wrap counter.

Colter whirled toward her.

“Daddy,” a little girl shouted, running up to him with a pair of low-rise jeans in her hands. Rhinestones glittered on the pockets and around the hem. “Can I have these? I really like them.”

Colter grabbed his packages and turned to face the child. “You’re too young for jeans like that.”

“But all the girls in my class are wearing them.”

“Ellie—”

He and Shannon had a daughter—a beautiful little girl with blond hair and green eyes. The Kincaid green eyes. She appeared to be around six or seven, and Marisa couldn’t look away. Through the panic rising in her, she realized Colter and Shannon had started a family very soon after she’d left.

Before she could assimilate this piece of information, another child with blond hair came running up.

“Daddy said I can’t have them,” the girl called Ellie told the other one.

Marisa’s stomach tensed in pain. Colter has two daughters.

“Go put the jeans back,” Colter said.

“Aw, Daddy.”

“Ellie.”

“Okay, c’mon, Lori, we’ll find something else.”

They ran off and Colter followed. He didn’t give Marisa a second glance.

Colter stopped and put his arm around a woman who had her back to Marisa. Marisa couldn’t see the woman clearly, but it had to be Shannon Wells—Colter’s wife.

Almost in slow motion, Marisa walked to the executive elevators. Once the doors closed, she jabbed the stop button and the elevator stalled. She sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her trembling body and began to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as pain encompassed every part of her. Why today? Why did she have to see him and his perfect family today?

And why, after so many years, did it still hurt so much?

“MS. PRESTON? MS. PRESTON? Are you stuck in the elevator?”

Marisa heard the man’s voice over the intercom and rose slowly to her feet. She hit Talk and released the stop button. “I’m fine, thank you. The elevator’s moving now.”

When it reached the executive floor, the maintenance man was waiting. “Ms. Preston—”

“I’m fine,” she murmured again, brushing past him and hurrying to her office, not wanting him to see she’d been crying. The news would quickly get back to her father, and she couldn’t deal with that right now.

She went over to the window that overlooked downtown Dallas, she didn’t see anything except Colter’s angry face. So many years she’d waited to tell him about their son, yet she couldn’t even bring herself to utter the words in his presence. We had a son. He died. How could she say that to him? Oh God, she had to talk to someone.

She picked up her phone. “Send Cari Michaels to my office, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” her secretary responded.

Marisa wrapped her arms around her waist again to still her agitated nerves, and waited, staring out the window. Within minutes, Cari came through the door. Petite with dark eyes and hair, Cari had started working at Dalton’s as a sales-clerk. Today she was head of staff and, even though she had an office, she spent a lot of time on the floor making sure the store ran smoothly. Marisa had met her the first year she’d returned to Texas and they’d become fast friends, best friends. Cari knew all of Marisa’s secrets.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Cari teased. “You keep forgetting I’m not allowed on the executive floor.”

The executive floor was for the Preston family. Her father had a large suite of offices, as did she and her brother, Reed.

Marisa turned from the window.

“What’s wrong?” Cari asked immediately.

“I saw him.”

Cari frowned. “Him? Who?”

“Him,” Marisa emphasized.

“Oh, no.” Cari understood now, and Marisa blurted out what happened.

“He was awful and I…I don’t understand.” Marisa was trembling visibly, and Cari quickly got her a glass of water.

“Here—” Cari handed her the glass. “Sit down before you collapse.”

Marisa sank into her chair and took a sip.

“Are you okay?”

Marisa nodded. “Seeing him was such a shock and he was so hateful, not at all like the man I once knew. It brought back so many memories. I wanted to tell him about our son, but he wouldn’t listen. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. I wanted him to know—” Her voice wavered as emotion closed her throat.

Cari knelt beside her. “Marisa, don’t do this to yourself. You were so young, and you did the best you could under the circumstances.”

“Did I?” Marisa jerked to her feet and began to pace. “I don’t think so. I was weak and I let my mother control my life.”

Cari stood, too. “Marisa, what good will it do to—”

“My mother has these priceless crystal eggs that have figurines in them. I feel like one of those figurines, encased in glass, sheltered from the world, not allowed to live or make my own choices. That’s how both my parents treat me—like a piece of crystal.”

Cari didn’t say anything.

“Everyone knows my father created this job for me. I’m nothing but a figurehead. I’m allowed to decorate the store. That’s rich. That’s a joke.”

“Marisa, please—”

“But not anymore, Cari,” she said with renewed vigor. “No one’s going to treat me like that—including Colter Kincaid.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have to see him again and tell him what really happened. That’s the only way I’ll have any peace.” She drew a deep breath. “But I don’t know where he lives. I never knew, even when we were together.”

“Do you really not know?”

Marisa swung to face her friend. “What?”

“I guess it was inevitable that you’d run into him one day.”

“What do you mean?”

A look of momentary discomfort crossed Cari’s face. “He has a large horse ranch somewhere outside Mesquite.”

“How do you know?” Marisa asked, pushing hair from her face.

“A couple of years ago, he was featured in Texas magazine. The story talked about his success as a horse rancher—and in the western wear business. His name’s on everything from boots to belt buckles.”

“What?” she whispered. “He was just a cowboy when I met him. And now he…”

“Marisa.” Cari’s eyes filled with compassion. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to upset you—and what good could it possibly have done? You’ve come too far to let this get the better of you.”

Marisa licked her dry lips. “Where’s his ranch?”

Cari shook her head. “I’ve just read about it, that’s all.”

“Please, Cari, I need his address.” Marisa stared into her friend’s eyes with a silent plea.

Cari sighed. “Marisa, I have this feeling you’re going to get hurt.”

“More than I’m hurting right now? I don’t think that’s possible.”

Cari flung up her hands. “Okay, let’s try the Dallas and Mesquite phone books.”

Marisa opened a drawer and pulled out the directories. Colter wasn’t listed, but his company had a Dallas address.

“That doesn’t help,” Marisa said. “And I’m sure his company won’t divulge his home address.”

“Your father has a lot of contacts,” Cari suggested. “I’m sure he could find the address in no time.”

“I don’t want my father involved in this,” Marisa replied, her tone abrupt.

Cari shrugged. “Just an idea. Now, let’s think. There must be a lot of people who know him.” Cari grew thoughtful. “Wait a minute. Why didn’t I think of this before? My sister’s husband works for one of those large feed-supply places. Colter has horses, so maybe he buys feed from them.”

“Call him, Cari, please.”

As Cari punched out a number, Marisa’s nerves were taut. She knew she should just forget about Colter and get on with her life. He had, so why couldn’t she? She didn’t have an answer. All she knew was that she had to find him.

Cari haggled with her brother-in-law, it was clear he didn’t want to give out the information. Finally Cari scribbled something on a pad and Marisa’s heartbeat accelerated.

Cari hung up, then handed her the paper. “I had to use a little family blackmail, but there it is.”

Marisa hugged her. “Thanks, Cari. Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t tell anyone where you got the address, or Charlie could lose his job.”

“I won’t breathe a word. I promise.” She grabbed her purse and coat.

“You’re going now?” Cari asked, sounding dismayed.

“Yes. I need to do this and I need to do it now.”

“But sleet’s in the forecast. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t,” Marisa said. “I’ll be back before the weather turns bad. Mesquite is only about fifteen minutes from Dallas, and the ranch can’t be much farther.”

“Marisa—”

A tap on the door interrupted Cari. Reed Preston, Marisa’s brother, walked in and shook his head at Cari. “You know you’re not supposed to be on this floor,” he said.

Cari didn’t bat an eye at Reed’s censure. “Don’t worry, junior, I was just leaving.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Cari lifted an eyebrow, then glanced at Marisa. “Call me later.” She sauntered out the door.

“I don’t appreciate it when you talk to my friends like that,” Marisa said once the other woman had left.

“Cari? She’s tough as nails, and if I didn’t reprimand her, she’d think I was ill.”

“Still, she’s my friend and I invited her here.”

“Point taken.” Reed grinned at her.

He was five years older than Marisa and a younger version of their father, very tall and handsome with a disarming smile. She was four years old when she and her mother moved to New York, and nine-year-old Reed had stayed with their father in Dallas. It was well known that Harold Dalton had arranged the marriage of his only daughter, Vanessa, to Richard Preston. His daughter didn’t have much interest in the stores, and her grandfather wanted a man who could control her and control the empire he’d built.

The marriage had been a disaster from the start, but they’d stuck it out until Harold Dalton passed away. Then they’d received a shock. Harold had left half his estate to Vanessa and the other half to Richard. If they divorced, they’d lose everything. Her grandfather had sentenced them to a life together. But her parents figured out a way around it—living separate lives without a divorce, and in the process making their children’s lives a nightmare.

“I stopped by to see if you wanted to go with me to the airport to pick up Mother.”

“Oh, no, sorry. I have other plans.” She couldn’t believe her mother’s visit had completely slipped her mind. She’d been dreading it for days. Now other, more important, matters took precedence.

Reed watched her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, why?”

“You seem a little nervous.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I know you and Mother have had problems, but that’s all in the past, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

In her youth, her mother’s complete domination of her life had turned her into a shy, insecure teenager. Vanessa had dreams and plans for Marisa—dreams Marisa didn’t share. She’d rebelled only once, when she’d run away to Vegas, and that had been the happiest and yet most debilitating part of her life. She had thought she’d never recover, but after the death of her son, her father had brought her back to Texas. With his love and support, she’d stood up to her mother and refused to return to New York. For the first time in her life, she made her own plans. She went to university and earned a degree in business and then began working for Dalton Department Stores, much to her father’s delight.

She’d grown confident and stronger and was now able to cope with her mother on an adult level. She still had difficulty sorting out her feelings about Vanessa, but she did love her, although at times she found it impossible to like her.

“I really have to go,” she said, brushing past Reed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be home in time for dinner.” She threw the words over her shoulder.

As she drove out of Dallas, her nerve began to falter, especially when she thought about Colter’s wife. Shannon had been crazy about him back then and she hadn’t liked it when Colter took an interest in Marisa. Colter had said they were just friends, but Marisa knew it was far more for Shannon. In the end, Shannon had won. Colter had married her. That hurt, even now, but she didn’t want to cause any problems in Colter’s marriage. However, she had to tell him the truth, for her own peace of mind, her sanity. She couldn’t live with the guilt any longer, and there was only one solution. To see Colter—and to tell him about their son.

Chapter Two

Colter sat at his kitchen table clutching a cup of coffee, unable to get her out of his mind. What was she doing in Dallas? Working, she’d said, but somehow that didn’t fit the Marisa he’d known. She’d lived in New York with her mother who was wealthy, and Marisa was a daughter of that environment. She was so far out of his realm that he didn’t understand why he’d gotten involved with her in the first place.

He shifted uneasily. What did she expect from him? She was the one who’d left. What did she hope to gain by trying to make amends?

He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d somehow known that someday they’d meet again. But she would not make a fool of him again—not now that he had his daughter. Ellie was his top priority, and ever since her mother had decided she didn’t want to be a mother, he had devoted his life to her, making sure she had roots, stability and a home. He didn’t bring other women into their lives and he realized that had probably been a bad decision. He’d thought his sisters would fill that void in Ellie’s life, but they hadn’t.

Ellie’s quest reminded him of the mistakes he’d made after Marisa had disappeared from his life. Marrying Shannon had been one of them. He hadn’t loved her the way he had Marisa, but he’d honestly believed they could make it work and raise a family.

Early on, it became clear he couldn’t get Marisa out of his head, and Shannon had reacted in anger. After a heated argument, she left and went home to Wyoming. She never called or asked about Ellie, which bothered him. He’d received divorce papers in the mail. Shannon didn’t want a thing and didn’t even ask for visitation rights. She’d severed all ties.

He should have taken Ellie and gone to Wyoming to talk things out. Once she saw Ellie, she might have changed her mind. He couldn’t do it, though. Shannon was as miserable as he was in the marriage, and staying together for Ellie’s sake wasn’t the solution. But he’d thought Shannon would make some effort to see Ellie. When she didn’t, he’d decided to raise his daughter alone.

Ellie was the best part of his life, and he didn’t want Marisa anywhere near her. That might be a little extreme, but it was the way he felt.

A familiar anger welled up in him. Seeing her, listening to her rekindled that pain of rejection, and he knew that he hadn’t learned to control his feelings for her.

And he didn’t know if he ever would.

AS MARISA DROVE, memories of Colter wrapped around her. In the early days, thoughts of him had been painful, but time had eased the pain and she could now think calmly about the past. Or some aspects of the past, she reminded herself. Not her baby…

She’d first seen him at the rodeo, then later at one of the parties given for the cowboys. She’d never met anyone like Colter, and without knowing how, she’d realized he was going to change her life.

He had made her feel so special, so alive, so much a woman, and when he’d asked her to marry him, she had happily agreed. They loved each other and nothing else seemed important. The stupidity of youth still astonished her. Why had she ever thought—?

She inhaled deeply, but it didn’t stop the memories. When her mother had returned home and found her gone, she’d called Stacy, who was then back in New York, and got the whole story—that Marisa had decided to stay in Nevada and was getting married. Announcing the news was like putting a match to gasoline, and the scenes that had followed were not pleasant. It had been the beginning of Marisa’s nightmare.

A sob left her throat and she forced herself to look at the directions in her hand. She turned off the highway onto a blacktop country road. As she did, she noticed the dark thunderclouds. A storm was brewing, as Cari had said, but she’d be back in Dallas before it broke. Dinner with her mother would be an ironic ending to the task ahead of her.

TULLEY CAME THROUGH the back door, removed his hat and folded himself into a chair opposite Colter. Jackson Tulley was like a father to him. Everything Colter knew about riding, Tulley had taught him. He’d been there for every win and every loss. He also understood every hurt and pain Colter suffered, because he suffered them, too.

Tulley and Colter’s father, James Kincaid, had been best friends, riding the rodeo circuit in their off time. James died when Colter was ten, and Tulley nurtured the boy’s rodeo interest with his mother’s approval. Looking back, Colter didn’t know what he would’ve done without Tulley in his life.

“You still brooding about seeing her today?” Tulley asked, watching Colter’s dark expression.

Colter tightened the hold on the cup. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I turned around and there she was. I couldn’t make myself walk away from her. I wanted to say so many things, but I’m not sure what I actually said. I just don’t know what she was doing there.”

Tulley ran one hand through his thinning gray hair. “Think about it, boy.”

Colter raised his head. “What?”

“Marisa Preston.”

“Yeah. What are you getting at?”

“Either you’re getting dense or you have a mental block.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Tulley?”

“Richard Preston, owner of Dalton’s Department Stores. Marisa Preston. There has to be a connection.”

“God, I never put it together.” Colter ran both hands over his face. “She said her father lived in Texas, but she never mentioned what he did.”

“Back then you two didn’t do much talking.”

Colter thought they had, but in reality Tulley was right. They had hardly known each other. He couldn’t understand why his memories of her were still so strong.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Colter replied. “She’s obviously working for her father now. What happened to the pianist career I don’t know, nor do I care. She’s not going to get her hooks into me again.”

Tulley’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she show any interest?”

“No, not really. She wanted to tell me something about the past and I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran his hands over his face again. “God, Tulley, why can’t I forget her? It’s been years and yet—”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yeah.” Colter gazed out the window, his eyes matching the dark clouds gathering outside. “When I won at the finals in Vegas and she was there, I felt like king of the world. I spent a lot of my winnings on a ring, and when I got back to the motel room, she was gone. I hit the ground so hard, I’ve never recovered. No other woman ever made me feel like that. Not even Ellie’s birth dimmed it.”

Tulley just nodded. He’d heard the story before, and he cursed the young girl who had the power to hurt this man so much. Changing the subject seemed like the best thing to do.

“Becky got everything set for the stores in Austin?”

Colter took a long breath. “Yeah. She’s worked nonstop to get Kincaid Boots into more western stores.”

“That girl has a good head on her shoulders. Both girls do. You’ve done great with your sisters.”

Colter’s mother had died when he was eighteen and he’d become solely responsible for his two younger sisters, Jennifer and Rebecca. Tulley and his wife, Cora, had moved in with them and Cora had stayed with the girls while the men were on the circuit. But his sisters had always been level-headed and responsible and never given him any problems.

Becky and Jen had business degrees, and together they ran the Kincaid Boot Company. Colter put his expertise into the design of the boot, and Bart, Jen’s husband, who had a marketing degree, had turned Kincaid Boots into a thriving enterprise. Thanks to Becky’s drive, Jen’s management skills and Bart’s commercial savvy, a lot of western stores were carrying the Kincaid Boot. Accessories had recently been added.

Years ago they’d all lived in a small three-bedroom house, and when Colter had built this house he’d wanted it big, with enough room for everyone. But by then everyone was older and going off in different directions.

The girls were in college when Cora passed away. It had been a difficult time for all of them, but they’d had each other, and had adjusted. Jen was already dating Bart and soon married him. Becky lived in the house for a while, but then she became so involved in making Kincaid Boots a success that she was gone a lot. He’d encouraged her to rent an apartment in town because he didn’t want her to feel honor-bound to stay because of Ellie.

Ellie was his responsibility, and Becky deserved her own life. After many discussions, she finally rented a place not far from the Kincaid offices, but he still kept a room for her and Jen to use whenever they wanted to come home. It was just the three of them there now—Ellie, Tulley and him.

Colter took a sip of coffee. “I’m very proud of them. They’ve done wonders with Kincaid Boots. Of course, Bart helped a lot, too.”

“I think your name had a little something to do with it.”

“Yeah, but they did all the work.” He stared at his cup. “I was busy raising Ellie.”

There was silence for a second.

Tulley cleared his throat. “Jen will probably spend less and less time on the business now that she and Bart are expecting.”

“Jennifer’s always been a homebody, and if she wants to stay home with her baby, then I’m all for that. A baby needs a mother.”

Silence again.

“Dammit, Colt, boy,” Tulley said, reading his mind. “Shorty’s fine without a mother.” That was what he called Ellie—and had since the first day he held her.

“I don’t know. She has a dog that she insists talks to her and she writes all these letters to Santa. I’ve mailed four already this year. I’m at a loss as to how to deal with some of these problems.”

“She’s a little girl and she’ll outgrow them. All I see is a happy, imaginative child—and so should you.”

“Speaking of my child, where is she?”

“She’s at the corral looking at that new horse you bought.”

Colter jumped to his feet. “I don’t want her anywhere near that horse. He’s not broke.”

Tulley shook his head. “Lordy, boy, you’re jumpy. Give Ellie some credit. She knows not to get in a pen with an un-broke horse. We taught her better than that.”

Colter sank back into his chair with a groan. “I’m not thinking straight and I’m all keyed up.”

Before Tulley could answer, Ellie and Sooner came charging through the back door. Ellie rarely walked; she was always in a run, her ponytail bouncing. She slid onto Colter’s lap, and Colter held her tight, maybe a little too tight.

“That horse is real mean, Daddy,” she told him. “He’s pawing the ground, and Sooner growled at him. Sooner said he’s not scared of him, but I think he’s lying.”

Sooner barked.

“Yes, you are, Sooner,” Ellie said, and Colter closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t want to have another conversation about whether or not she could hear Sooner talk, not today. He had to get rid of this restless energy.

“Let’s go see just how mean that horse is.”

Ellie’s eyes grew big.

Tulley swallowed a curse word.

Colter got to his feet. “A good ride will calm him right down.”

“Have you noticed the weather?” Tulley asked. “There’s a storm coming and the temperature’s dropping fast. This is no time to be breaking a horse.”

“Getting soft?” Colter teased, but he knew he was about to do a stupid thing. It wouldn’t be the first time, he told himself, but if he could obliterate Marisa’s memory for those few minutes, it would be worth it.

COLTER HAD A RURAL ADDRESS, but it was easy to find. A couple of miles down the country road she came to a large brick entrance with a huge overhead sign in wrought-iron letters that read Circle K Ranch. She drove over the cattle guard onto a gravel road that led to a house.

Her eyes opened wide in appreciation of the scene that met her. The land was flat and a two-story brick colonial house nestled among huge oaks. Now bare, the trees stood proudly against the chilling wind, enhancing the beauty of the house with its white pillars and mullioned windows. Beyond the detached four-car garage were various barns, outbuildings and corrals, all neatly maintained. She couldn’t help thinking that even her mother would be impressed.

Parking on the circular drive, she took a steadying breath, then ran up the paved walk to the front door. The wind bit through her clothes; it had definitely grown colder. She pulled her cashmere coat tighter around her and rang the doorbell.

There was no answer, so she rang it again. Still no answer. She felt a deep sense of disappointment. It’d been difficult to make the trip at all, and now that she was here, she hated to leave without seeing him. But it seemed she had no choice. It was after four, anyway, and she needed to return to Dallas for the dinner party her father had planned.

As she left the circular drive, a movement from one of the corrals caught her eye. A small child sat perched atop a fence, and Marisa drove in that direction. She stopped some distance away, got out and ran over, hoping she might find Colter.

The child, huddled in a winter coat with the hood pulled over her head, was too engrossed in what was going on inside the corral to notice Marisa. Following the child’s gaze, she caught her breath at the sight of Colter astride a big red stallion.

The horse jumped and twisted, determined to dislodge his rider. Bending his head close to the ground, the horse struck out with his back legs, to no avail.

Marisa walked closer so she could see better. Too late, she realized her mistake. The child turned to look at her at the same time Colter did. As his concentration was diverted, the horse gave a wild kick that sent him flying against the fence.

Stunned, Marisa watched the horse run wild, his hooves threatening to trample Colter’s inert body lying in the dirt. Without thinking, she hitched her skirt high and climbed over the fence. Someone yelled, “Stay back! Stay back!” but she didn’t stop until she heard the sound of hooves close by.

She saw a man waving a rope above his head, trying to guide the horse into another pen. She felt a wave of panic as she realized she was in the corral with a wild horse. All those years ago, she’d been afraid of horses, that hadn’t changed. She held her breath as the horse thundered past her through a gate.

Her high heels hindered her progress over the loose dirt but nothing deterred her as she hurried to Colter’s side. When she reached him, the child called Ellie was already there, holding Colter’s head, crying, “Daddy, wake up! Please wake up.”

Marisa squatted beside them, her hand gently brushing the brown hair from his face. He was completely motionless, and her whole body felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

Ellie glanced up at Marisa, tears streaming down her face. “Is my daddy dead?”

“No, no,” Marisa insisted, staring into green eyes so much like Colter’s. She quickly looked back at Colter, feeling the cold hand of fear grip her heart as she stared at his eyelashes, so dark against the pallor of his skin. His broad chest moved slightly, and she sucked in a breath of frosty air.

Her eyes traveled down to his legs. “Oh, my God,” she said. Something on the fence had ripped his jeans and blood was soaking through the denim.

The man came running over. “Is Colter okay?”

“He’s cut his leg. Would you get me a clean cloth to stop the bleeding?” she asked him.

The man hesitated for a second, then walked off to the double doors that opened into the barn and came back with a small towel. She pulled the jeans away and saw a gash about three inches long. It wasn’t deep. That was good, anyway. She pressed the towel against the wound and gave a sigh of relief as the bleeding slowed.

Colter’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Ellie cried, kissing his face.

“Oooh,” he groaned, his eyes blinking. “What happened?”

“That mean old horse threw you,” Ellie told him.

“Damn.” He sat up, and as his hand went to his head, his eyes caught hers. “What are—?”

“You cut your leg on the fence,” she broke in.

Colter’s dazed eyes focused on her.

“Please leave,” he muttered in a thick voice.

“Colter, you’re hurt and…” Her voice trailed away as he struggled to his feet.

Marisa and Tulley immediately tried to help him.

Colter shook off Marisa’s arm.

“Who are you?” Ellie asked, staring at her.

“Uh—I’m Marisa Preston, a friend of your dad’s. I knew him a long time ago.” Silence followed.

“Lots of people know my daddy,” Ellie declared a moment later. “He’s a famous rodeo rider.”

The two men walked slowly to the house, Ellie and a grayish brown dog running ahead. There was no invitation for Marisa to come in, but she hesitated only a fraction of a second before trailing after them. She had to talk to Colter.

As they walked to a covered walkway, a light sleet began to fall and the cold wind tugged at their clothes. Shivering, she followed the others through the door and down a hallway—there was a laundry room to the right and a closet on the left. They entered a spacious breakfast nook and a kitchen decorated in a lovely country style. Touches of cobalt-blue and white milk glass were here and there, and the white-and-blue tiled floor only added to the feeling of warmth.

Marisa looked around for Shannon but didn’t see her. It suddenly dawned on her that this was inappropriate. She shouldn’t be here interrupting his family life. She should have called and arranged a meeting—that would’ve been the proper thing to do. Since confronting him in the store, though, she hadn’t been thinking too clearly.

“Ellie, turn up the heat. It’s getting cold,” Colter said, and slumped into a chair.

Ellie disappeared, and the man knelt in front of Colter with a first-aid kit and began to clean the jagged cut.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“I’ve been fixing his cuts, bruises and broken bones for more years than I care to remember,” the man replied. “So, no, I don’t need any help.”

That voice finally jogged her memory. “I’m sorry, Tulley, I didn’t recognize you.”

Tulley slit Colter’s jeans slightly to bandage the cut, then rose and faced her. “It’s been a long time, Marisa, and under the circumstances I think it’d be best if you left.”

Marisa bit her lip for fear it would start to quiver. This man had been kind to her once, but now kindness was not extended. She should leave; she’d already acknowledged that, but for some reason she couldn’t make herself go. The urge to talk to Colter was still strong, overriding good manners and common sense, and it kept her rooted to the spot.

“Daddy, what’s all that noise?” Ellie asked, running into the kitchen.

The adults had been so involved with one another that they hadn’t noticed it was sleeting in earnest now and that the wind howled.

“It’s just sleet, angelface.”

“Oh boy! Is it gonna snow, Daddy?”

“I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, Sooner, let’s go see,” Ellie shouted, and rushed out the door with the dog behind her.

“Ellie…”

“I’ll get her,” Tulley offered, glancing from Colter to Marisa. Colter nodded and Tulley left.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” she said as his eyes bore into her. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your life with Shannon and your daughters, and I…”

Colter looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I just saw Shannon from a distance in the store and I assumed the other little girl was yours, too.”

“If you saw Shannon, you have very good eyesight. She lives in Wyoming. The other little girl is Lori, my daughter’s best friend. The woman was my sister, Becky. It’s just Ellie and me now.”

“Oh.” Marisa didn’t know quite what to say. She’d pictured a perfect, happy marriage for him, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation now that she knew differently. Leaving would be the best course of action. But she couldn’t go without telling him about their son. It was now or never.

“After seeing you today, I felt I needed to explain about the past,” she plunged in.

He shook his head. “Marisa, I thought I made this clear, but evidently you didn’t understand. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. We had a brief time together. It was over years ago. Nothing you say can change a thing, and I don’t care about your excuses anymore. It just doesn’t matter.”

It just doesn’t matter. Their son didn’t matter. She swallowed hard, trying to accept that, but nobody, not even Colter, could ever make her believe the short time their son was alive inside her didn’t matter. Their son had changed her life, and her perception of life in general. Losing him had given her the strength to stand up to her mother. She was still struggling to find herself, to find her niche in the world, but that had been a start.

It just doesn’t matter, he’d said. Maybe to him it didn’t. He had a new life, a new child, and Marisa was the only one not able to accept the past and move on. Suddenly she could see that Colter was right; telling him wouldn’t change a thing except maybe to cause him more hurt. And what would that accomplish? Nothing.

Losing their son was her own private pain and she had to deal with it on her own. Mistakenly she’d believed that sharing the truth about their baby with Colter would ease her heartache. But she was the only one who could overcome that grief.

“Please leave and don’t come back.” Colter’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “There’s nothing left to say.”

They stared at each other like strangers, total strangers, and Marisa felt the numbness of that reality. She had to leave.

But before she could move her feet, Ellie burst through the back door, followed by the big dog.

“Daddy, you should see,” Ellie shouted, pushing back the hood of her coat. “Ice is everywhere. It’s like a big skating ring, and Sooner says it’s gonna snow, too.”

Momentarily diverted, Marisa patted the dog’s head. “Sooner?” she repeated.

“Yeah, he’s part German shepherd and we don’t know what else, and Daddy named him Sooner ’cause he’d sooner eat and sleep than do anything else.” Ellie gave the dog a big hug. “Daddy, Sooner says he’s not going back outside ’cause it’s too cold.”

“Ellie, that dog does not talk.”

“Does, too.” Ellie pouted. “You just can’t hear him.”

“Ellie.” There was a note of warning in Colter’s voice. “We’ve been through this before. Sooner does not talk.”

Marisa didn’t understand how Colter could be so harsh. Lots of kids had imaginary friends, especially the lonely ones like her. She’d talked to a doll when she was about Ellie’s age, and she’d outgrown it, as would Ellie. She could offer Colter some reassurance, but she knew it wouldn’t be welcomed.

Ellie wriggled onto Colter’s lap and put her arms around his neck. “Does your leg hurt, Daddy?”

“Naw,” Colter answered, kissing her cheek.

Clearly Colter had a good relationship with his daughter. She couldn’t help thinking that while she’d been lying in a New York clinic in labor with their child, he’d already married someone else, started a new life, a family. A pang of jealousy pierced her as she realized he’d gotten over her with remarkable ease.

She wondered about his marriage. Were he and Shannon separated? Divorced? She couldn’t imagine Shannon ever leaving Colter or their child. What had happened?

Ellie didn’t look much like Colter, she thought, but the green eyes were definitely his. They’d said her son’s eyes were blue. Most babies were born with blue eyes, though. Later, would he have had the Kincaid green eyes or— Stop it. Her son was dead.

It was time to let go of the memories. It was time….

Chapter Three

Marisa turned to leave and just then, the electricity went out, shrouding the house in darkness. Outside the light was fading and nightfall wasn’t far away. She should’ve left already.

“Oooh, Daddy, what’s happening?” Ellie curled closer against Colter.

“The storm’s probably taken down some power lines. The electricity’s been out before, remember?”

Ellie raised her head to look at him. “Yeah, and we lit candles. I’ll go get the candles.” She jumped off his lap and ran to the cabinet, opened drawers.

“Top drawer on the left, angelface,” Colter said, and Marisa noticed how gentle and reassuring he was.

He was a great father. She felt an ache deep inside her, in a private place kept only for her son, a son Colter would never know.

Tulley came into the room with a battery-operated radio, and Marisa switched her focus to him, unable to deal with all the emotions railing within her.

“The Dallas-Fort Worth area and Mesquite are under a weather advisory,” Tulley said. “Some places, like here, don’t have power, and people are being advised to stay off the roads because of the ice.”

Ellie plopped several candles on the table, then handed Colter a box of matches. He absently lit a couple, and Marisa could see he was absorbing Tulley’s news.

“I need to get back to Dallas,” she said.

Tulley shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Colter’s eyes darkened in the glow of the candlelight. “Are you sure?”

Tulley set the radio on the table and turned it on. Through the static they heard, “…Do not drive unless it’s an emergency. Road conditions are hazardous…” The warning faded away into silence.

“DADDY, aren’t you gonna light another candle?” Ellie piped up.

Colter stared into Marisa’s eyes, trying to accept that she was here for the duration, trying to accept that he had to deal with her presence and, above all, trying not to lose his temper.

Ellie tugged at his arm. “Daddy?”

“Uh.” His gaze swung to his daughter. “Okay.” He lit several more candles.

“I’ll take one to the den,” Ellie offered.

Colter grabbed her before she got too far. “Walk, don’t run, and be careful.”

“Okay.” Ellie slowly walked to the den with the candle held tightly in both hands, Sooner at her heels.

Colter stood, his eyes holding Marisa’s. “I don’t want your death on my conscience, so it seems I have no choice but to let you stay here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a need to apologize.

“I don’t think you are. You barge into my life, my home, without any regard for my feelings. I fail to understand how something that happened more than eight years ago could be so damn important. Say what you have to say and then get the hell out of my life.”

She gritted her teeth, the words stalled in her throat. She couldn’t tell him like this—not when he was so angry.

“Nothing to say, huh?” he asked, his words loaded with sarcasm.

“No.” She stiffened her backbone, tired of being the recipient of his insults. “And I will not apologize again. You don’t deserve it.”

His eyes narrowed to mere slits, but before he could vent his rage, Tulley stepped in. “Calm down. Ellie’s in the next room.”

Colter swerved around her and grabbed a big coat off the peg of a closet door. “Ellie, let’s go,” he called.

Ellie came running, with Sooner, as usual, right behind. “Where we going?”

“We’ll check on the horses and make sure they have enough feed and water to outlast the storm, then we have to bring in more wood for the fireplace. It might be the only heat we have for a while.”

Tulley spoke up. “I can do that. You should rest your leg. You were knocked out for a bit, too.”

“It’s just a scratch.” Colter dismissed Tulley’s warning. “And I’ve been knocked out so many times I’ve lost track.”

“All the more reason—”

Colter cut him off. “Let’s go.”

Ellie secured the hood of her coat over her head, glancing at Marisa. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No. Ms. Preston is not coming,” Colter said before she could find her voice. He quickly ushered Ellie out the door.

Tulley stared at her with a sad expression.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” Colter might not deserve an apology, but she felt Tulley did.

“Not sure why you did.”

“I’m wondering that myself.”

Tulley removed his worn hat and scratched his head. “When you left, it was worse than when that horse trampled him in Cheyenne. He recovered from those bruises, but he’s never fully recovered from what you did to his pride, his heart.”

For the first time she realized how much she must have hurt him. But he obviously didn’t suffer long. She gestured at the darkened room. “He seems to have moved on rather easily.” Colter’s dream had been to own a horse ranch. He’d already bought the land and was saving to build a house when he retired from the rodeo circuit. After meeting her, he’d decided it was time to quit and settle down, and she’d wanted so desperately to be part of his dream. But she never had the chance….

“Not so easily,” Tulley said dryly. “I thought he’d kill himself with the drinking and the partying, then something happened that turned him around.”

She raised her eyes to his. “Ellie?”

“Yeah. When he found out about her, it changed his whole life. Her…her mother decided she couldn’t be a mother, and Colter took full responsibility.”

To say Marisa was shocked was putting it mildly. She couldn’t imagine Shannon not wanting their child. Shannon had been crazy about Colter and they had shared the same interests—horses and the rodeo. What had gone wrong?

She swallowed. “Colter’s a good father.”

“Does that bother you?”

“A little,” she admitted reluctantly. A lot would have been closer to the truth. Colter should know he’d had a son, too.

Tulley crammed his hat back on his head. “That little girl is the center of Colter’s world. Everything he does, he does for her. Please don’t come between them.”

“Oh, Tulley, I would never do that.”

He nodded. “I’m glad. And for good measure I’m asking you not to hurt him again. He didn’t deserve it eight years ago, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it now.”

“Tul—” But Tulley was gone and all she heard was the slamming of the door.

She watched the candles on the table, her emotions flickering and wavering like the glow of the flames. One minute she wanted to tell Colter the truth, the next she didn’t. She took a deep breath, recognizing that her actions were thoughtless and inconsiderate. She’d only been thinking about herself. Maybe Colter was right that she hadn’t changed. Maybe her mother— Oh God, her mother! Her parents were probably waiting for her this very minute to sit down to dinner. She had to call.

Through the dimness she saw a phone on the kitchen wall. She reached for it, but the line was dead. Now what? Her cell phone might work. Looking around for her purse, she realized it was still in her car at the corral. She’d have to go herself, because she certainly wasn’t asking Colter for any favors.

She opened the back door, then immediately closed it. The temperature was freezing, and she needed a heavier coat. Her eyes settled on the closet full of coats—surely Colter wouldn’t mind? She rummaged until she found a heavy navy wind-breaker with a hood. Holding the jacket to her face, she breathed in the leather and musk scent—Colter. She remembered that tantalizing fragrance, and for a moment she was lost in its magic.

She slipped on the jacket, which was rather large but would do. She zipped it up and tucked her hair beneath the hood.

Outside she stopped as the frigid air took her breath away. It was bitterly cold—the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees. Light sleet fell to the ground. Icicles hung from the roof and the trees, and the wind added to the chill factor. She had to get her phone in a hurry.

There was no ice under the covered walkway, but as soon as her heels touched the grass, it crunched beneath her feet. Suede heels were not the ideal footwear for this weather. They’d be ruined, but she didn’t particularly care. Her goal was to reach her car without breaking her neck.

She judged each step carefully, but a few yards from her car her feet slid out from under her and she landed on her butt with a thud that jarred her whole body. Sleet peppered her head, and her face, hands and feet were numb. Tears weren’t far away. Everything seemed to close in on her at once.

What am I doing here? What am I doing here?

Sitting there, miserable, she felt her life become as clear as the chill in her bones. She’d believed she’d grown stronger and more confident, but in reality she hadn’t. That was why she was so dissatisfied with her work. She’d traded living with her mother for living with her father, and he was just as domineering and controlling. Yet she clung to that security. Why? At almost twenty-six, she should be making a life for herself. She was a pampered little rich girl, just as Colter had said, unable to stand on her own two feet.

At the moment, that was the actual truth. Her body shook with cold, and she made a promise, a vow to herself. She was going to change her life completely—get away from her parents. Now if she could just get to her feet…

Colter dumped fifty pounds of feed into a trough under the eaves of the barn. He turned—and saw Marisa as she fell. He dropped the bag and ran for the gate. She wasn’t getting up. Was she hurt? His feet slowed as he realized what he was doing—going to her aid. The past came full circle, and so many feelings were choking him, he fought to breathe. I don’t care about her. I don’t. He’d help anyone who needed help. I don’t care about her. I don’t. Over and over, he repeated the words, but he never stopped in his movement toward her.

“Are you hurt?”

Marisa glanced at him, squinting against the sleet. “No. Just my pride.”

“Well, get up. It’s freezing out here.”

“I’ve tried, but my feet keep slipping out from under me.”

Without a word, he held out his leather-gloved hands.

She placed her cold hands in his and he pulled her to her feet. When she slid into him, he caught her, holding her steady. He hadn’t touched her in eight years and the sensation radiated a warmth that dispelled the cold. It brought back so many wonderful memories of touching her, loving her, until the warmth became a blazing flame. He hated the fact that he could remember those emotions so clearly.

“Were you trying to leave?” he asked, suddenly releasing her.

She brushed sleet from her nose. “I was trying to reach my car to get my cell phone. I need to call my parents, and the phone at the house is dead.”

At the mention of her parents, he stepped away from her. “Mommy still keeping tabs on you?” he asked, unable to disguise his sarcasm.

She stuck out her chin in defiance. “I live with my father in Dallas.”

“I don’t—” He stopped and sucked air into his lungs. “Get in your car and drive into the garage and call whoever the hell you have to.” Saying that, he strolled back to the barn.

Marisa shoved away the pain of his words and quickly drove her car into the garage. Not because he’d told her to, but because it was the sensible thing to do. She let the motor run, hoping the interior would soon warm up. She found her cell phone, but when she tried to call, there was nothing but static.

The clock on the dash told her it was seven o’clock. Dinner was at six, so by now they would be wondering where she was. Lamar Norris and his son, Adam, were dinner guests, and her father was not going to be happy she wasn’t there. He’d been trying for the past few months to arrange a date between her and Adam. She had stoically refused. She was not attracted to Adam. He didn’t wear cowboy boots or a Stetson hat or have green eyes. Every man she met she compared to Colter, and they all came up short. She’d never admitted that to herself before. She hadn’t moved on at all. She continued to wallow in the emotions of the past.

The man in question didn’t want her anywhere near him or his daughter. He’d made that very plain. Yet here she was, stuck for the night.

She wondered if her mother had arrived safely. If she had any idea where Marisa was, she’d have a fit. Cari was the only one who knew. She hoped her parents assumed she’d sought shelter from the storm. They’d be worried, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Hearing voices, she turned the motor off and climbed out. She grabbed her purse, then followed Colter, Ellie and Sooner into the house. Colter carried an armload of wood and Ellie held the door for him. Tulley was outside piling more wood on the patio.

Colter had a roaring fire going in a matter of minutes, and Marisa realized she had a problem: her clothes were dirty and wet. But she wasn’t going to mention it. She’d caused enough trouble. She huddled closer to the fire.

Tulley came through the patio doors with a couple of flashlights. “Ah, it feels better in here already.”

“Ellie, take the flashlight and see if you can find Ms. Preston some dry clothes in Becky’s room.” Colter spoke from the doorway, and she could feel his eyes on her.

“Are you wet?” Ellie asked, still wrapped in her big coat.

“Yes. I went out to my car.”

“You have to walk fast. That way you don’t get wet.”

“I’ll remember that,” she replied with a grin.

“Ellie, the clothes,” Colter said in an impatient voice.

“Okay. Okay.” Ellie took the flashlight from Tulley and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll go with you,” Marisa offered.

“There’s no need,” Colter snapped.

“She has to put them on, Daddy,” Ellie said, as if she were talking to a child.

There was a long pause. “Okay, but hurry. It’s cold up there.”

Marisa trailed Ellie and Sooner up the stairs onto a balcony overlooking the den. She could see the fire blazing and Colter and Tulley silhouetted against it. They were talking—probably about her—and she wished this night was over.

Ellie found her a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, wool socks and a corduroy jacket. The jeans were a tad big in the waist, but everything else fit fine. Her cashmere coat was ruined, as were her shoes.

Ellie shone the light on her high heels. “Wow. Can I try them on?”

“Sure, but let’s take them downstairs. It’s warmer there.”

“Okay.” Ellie took off running with the heels, and Marisa followed more slowly.

In the den, Colter and Tulley had made a pallet with blankets and quilts, and there were more quilts on the sofa.

“Oh boy,” Ellie cried, falling down on the pallet, the heels forgotten. “We’re having a slumber party.”

“It’s not a party,” Colter said, his voice stern.

“Is, too,” Ellie insisted.

Colter sighed. “Tulley’s put out some cold cuts, fruit and soft drinks, so eat, and then we’ll all get some sleep.”

They sat on the floor around the coffee table. Colter ate sitting on the sofa, and she noticed a telltale grimace when he leaned over to reach for the mustard. His leg must be hurting, but he’d never admit it.

Marisa wasn’t aware of what she was eating. The fire was warm and cozy and the candlelight flickered hypnotically. She felt as if she’d slipped into another time, another place, where she should’ve been eight years ago—here with Colter… She stopped those thoughts immediately.

Tulley gathered up the leftovers. “I’ll throw this in the trash, then I’m off to my featherbed.”

Ellie ran and gave him a kiss. “’Night, Tulley.”

“’Night, shorty.”

“Tulley’s tough,” Ellie told her. “He grew up in the— What did he grow up in, Daddy?”

“The Depression.”

“Yeah, and sometimes all he had to eat was bread and water. He didn’t have any shoes, either, and he had to walk ten miles to school.”

“Tulley’s pretty impressive.” She smiled.

“He also tells impressive stories,” Colter said under his breath.

“’Night, everyone,” Tulley called, and Marisa could hear the laughter in his voice.

Colter stood. “You take the sofa.” He didn’t call her by name, but she knew he was talking to her.

“No. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You’ll sleep on the sofa.” His words were final.

“Let her sleep with me, Daddy, please,” Ellie begged. “We’re having a slumber party.”

“Ellie.” He groaned in frustration.

Ellie quickly removed her coat and crawled beneath the covers, Marisa did the same before Colter could object.

“’Night, Daddy,” Ellie said.

Marisa heard a long, irritated sigh, then the squeak of the sofa. He was giving in, and she felt as if she’d achieved a small victory.

“Oh, oh.” Ellie jumped up and ran to Colter. “I forgot to kiss you.”

In a moment she was back. “I kiss Daddy every morning and every night. He can’t live without my sugar—ain’t that right, Daddy?”

“Isn’t that right?” Colter corrected.

“Yeah. It is.”

Marisa smiled as Ellie crawled beneath the covers again. Sooner nuzzled his way beside her. How could any woman give up this child? She was adorable.

“Do you have kids?” Ellie asked.

“No—” she answered with a catch in her voice.

“Are you married?”

“Ellie.” Colter’s voice rang out.

“Daddy’s kind of grouchy,” Ellie whispered to her.

“Go to sleep,” Colter said.

“It’s too early.”

“I’m not in a mood to argue about that tonight. Just go to sleep.”

“He’s real grouchy,” Ellie amended.

COLTER CLOSED his eyes, hardly able to believe that Marisa Preston was here in his house, talking to his child, and there was nothing he could do about it. This was going to be the longest night of his life.

He knew Ellie wouldn’t stop asking her questions. She did that with every woman she thought might be a mother candidate. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that Marisa wasn’t the motherly type, that there was no way in hell he’d ever get involved with her again.

No way. Under no circumstances.

Chapter Four

“Where the hell is she?”

Richard Preston paced back and forth in the library of the Dalton mansion in Highland Park. Vanessa Preston and Reed watched him.

“The police haven’t been able to find her car, so she’s not stranded on any of the highways. Where could she be? It took me forever to get Lamar and Adam here, and she does a disappearing act. This isn’t like her.” Richard turned to Reed. “She didn’t say where she was going?”

“I’ve already told you, Father. She said she had somewhere to go and that she’d be back for dinner.”

“Why the hell did you allow her to go out in this weather?”

Reed’s eyebrows darted up. “Allow?”

“She’s not strong like you. She needs protection.”

“I—”

“Lay off Reed, Richard.” Medium height with blond good looks, Vanessa Preston crossed her legs and smoothed her silk skirt over her knees. “You’re missing the obvious, as usual.”

Richard glared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Me, Richard. She’s avoiding me.”

“That’s absurd. Marisa’s gotten over the past.”

“Mother might be right,” Reed said. “Marisa was very nervous about something, and Cari…” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I interrupted Cari and Marisa talking, so she’s either with Cari or Cari knows where she is.”

“Call her,” Richard ordered.

Reed dialed Cari’s number and she answered on the second ring. “Cari, this is Reed Preston.”

“Hi, junior, what can I do for you?”

Reed’s mouth tightened. “I’m looking for Marisa.”

“Isn’t she at home?”

“No, and it’s late and we’re getting worried.”

“Oh, no.”

“What? Where’s Marisa?”

“I’m not telling you anything, junior.”

Reed took a deep breath. “In this weather she could be stranded somewhere, maybe needing medical attention. Please tell us where she went so we can check on her.”

Reed listened for a few seconds, then said a curt goodbye and hung up. He stared at his parents.

“What?” Richard demanded. “Where is she?”

“She…she went to see Colter Kincaid.”

Silence.

“Oh, my God,” Vanessa muttered.

“No, no.” Richard shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that, not after what he did to her life.”

Reed shrugged. “That’s what Cari said.”

“Richard, do something.” Vanessa twisted the pearls around her neck.

“I will,” Richard said. “I’ll make sure that man never hurts my daughter again.”

THE FIRE BURNED BRIGHTLY, enclosing the room in its inviting warmth. Marisa stared into the darkness, listening to the howl of the wind and the icy refrain of the storm, but she wasn’t afraid. Oddly, she experienced a peacefulness that was comforting.

“Are you asleep?” Ellie whispered so Colter wouldn’t hear.

“No,” Marisa whispered back.

“Me, neither.” Ellie scooted closer. “Are you married?”

Marisa smiled. Ellie remembered she hadn’t responded to that question earlier, and it seemed Ellie needed an answer.

“No. I’m not married.”

“Daddy’s not, either.” A slight pause. “He’s handsome, don’t you think?”

At seventeen, she’d thought Colter the handsomest man she’d ever met. Her opinion hadn’t changed. “Yes. I suppose.”

“Did Santa Claus send you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you see, I wrote Santa for a mommy, and you appeared out of nowhere, so I figured he answered my letter.”

Marisa hated to disappoint Ellie, but she couldn’t lie. “No, sweetie. Santa didn’t send me.”

“Oh, gee, that’s not fair. Why can’t I have a mommy?”

“You have your father,” Marisa reminded her, not sure how to handle this conversation.

“Yeah, and he’s the best daddy in the whole world, but he doesn’t know any girl things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, my friend Lori has a sister. Her name’s Ashley, and she started her period. Lori and me didn’t know what that was, so her mom explained. When I got home I told Daddy, and his ears turned red. He said I was still too young, but it happened to all girls and when it did I was supposed to tell him and we’d buy what I need. That’s gross, though. Aunt Becky said she’d come and help me, and Lori’s mom offered to help, too. But I don’t want Aunt Becky or Lori’s mom. I want my own mommy. She’d know all about things like that.”

“I’m sure she would.” Poor Ellie. Clearly she wanted a mother any way she could get one. “But you have to leave that up to your father.”

“Oh, no. My mother broke his heart and he’s never falling in love again, but I’m not giving up.”

Colter had been in love with Shannon. She couldn’t believe how much that hurt—and it shouldn’t. She’d left him, so he had had every right to get on with his life. How she wished she’d been able to do the same.

“Lori and me heard Santa’s coming to Dalton’s Department Store, and I’m going to see him. I want to ask him why he hasn’t sent me a mommy. I’ve asked a bunch of times. Lori says Santa Claus isn’t real, but I believe in him. Do you believe, Ms. Preston?”

Ellie’s words danced in her head with childish candor. “Yes. I believe.” She believed in anything that made another person happy, and believing in Santa made Ellie happy—that was obvious.

“Since I work at Dalton’s, I’ll make sure you get a private sitting with Santa. How’s that?” Colter wouldn’t like her interfering, but she couldn’t help herself. She certainly wasn’t telling Ellie there wasn’t a Santa Claus.

“You do?” Ellie sat up, her voice excited. “That’s awesome.”

Colter lay listening to the conversation, biting his tongue and clamping his jaw so tightly his head hurt. If he stopped Ellie, she’d just start again with the questions. They’d been through this many times, and Ellie never gave up. He didn’t understand her strong desire for a mother. He’d done everything he could to fill that gap, but he’d failed. And he had never felt that more than he did at this moment.

The menstrual cycle talk had caught him off guard. Considering the nature of the subject, he thought he’d done a good job. Clearly he hadn’t. He wasn’t even aware his ears had turned red.

Ellie needed a woman to discuss things with, that was very plain now. However, Marisa Preston was the last woman he wanted Ellie talking to.

“Are you sure Santa didn’t send you?”

“Ellie Kincaid, go to sleep this instant.” Colter’s voice shot through the darkness, and Ellie dived beneath the covers.

“I gotta go to sleep before Daddy has a coronary,” she said. “That means a heart attack—Tulley told me.” Then she whispered in Marisa’s ear. “I’ll be at Dalton’s.” Ellie snuggled against Sooner and silence prevailed.

Marisa stared into the glow of the fire with so many questions running through her mind. Why hadn’t Colter remarried? Ellie had said he’d loved Shannon. Maybe he still did.

She’d thought the love she and Colter had shared was special—a once-in-a-lifetime love. She saw now that as a naive young girl, she’d been in love with love. She also saw that she’d needed to come here—to see Colter and his family. It was cathartic. This was what she needed to bury the past and get on with her life.

And she prayed she could.

COLTER TOSSED AND TURNED so much that his leg started to throb. Dammit. Would this night never end? At least Ellie had fallen asleep, and the quiet outside signaled that the storm had stopped.

He sat up, grabbed a flashlight and made his way to the bathroom near the laundry room. A couple of Tylenols would help. He got a bottle of water, swallowed two pills and headed back to the den. As he did, the lights came on. Thank God. Looking at his watch he saw it was 5:00 a.m.

The heat came on, but he stoked the fire and threw on a couple of logs. He glanced down at Marisa and Ellie sleeping on the floor. His eyes centered on Marisa, her blond hair disheveled, her features serene. She had that same appeal, that same look of innocence and beauty she’d had back then. He drew a deep breath. She wasn’t innocent or beautiful. Try as he might, though, he found himself wishing she could’ve been Ellie’s mother. The pain of that stabbed him.

Marisa stirred and sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears.

His stomach tightened at the gesture, and he remembered mornings like this when she’d wake and smile at him and the world became a brighter place. It had all been a lie, though. At the first sign of trouble, she’d given in to her mother and left him behind without even saying goodbye.

“The lights are on,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“Yeah. They just came on.” He walked to the sofa and sat on the arm, gazing down at her. He had to do this, so he might as well get it over with. “You came here to tell me something. What?”

She blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. He wanted to listen, and she welcomed this opportunity. She’d decided it would be better for him not to know, but suddenly she changed her mind—maybe because his voice wasn’t so angry anymore.

Searching for the right words, she glanced at Ellie, unsure of whether to talk in front of her.

Colter followed her eyes. “She’s sound asleep and she doesn’t wake up until about seven.”

Marisa swallowed. “I wanted to tell you why I left.”

“Does it make a difference?”

She looked him in the eye. “Yes—to me.”

He shrugged. “You let your mother force you into leaving, and that pretty much said how you felt about me and the future we’d planned. What can you add to that?”

“Have you ever wondered how she forced me?”

“From what you said about her, she wielded immense power over you and your life. When she showed up, you caved and went home like the dutiful daughter.”

Marisa shook her head. “No, it didn’t happen like that. I refused to go with her.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you went.”

“She didn’t leave me much choice. When I refused, she said she’d have you charged with statutory rape.”

“What!”

“There was a policeman waiting outside, and I knew she meant what she’d said.”

“You were twenty-one.”

She locked her fingers together. “I lied. I was only seventeen, a month from my eighteenth birthday.”

He stood and jammed both hands through his hair. “Seventeen? I was ten years older than you. You were seventeen?”

“Yes. My friend Stacy had a friend who knew someone who made fake IDs. We just wanted to have some fun, and that was the only way we could get into the casinos.”

“You never said anything.”

“You never asked.”

“I just assumed— God, you were seventeen.”

“Yes.” A flush of guilt stained her cheeks. “I couldn’t let you go to jail, so I went with my mother. As soon as I reached New York, I called the motel, but you’d checked out. I was devastated. You didn’t give me an address or a phone number, and I didn’t know how to get in touch. I kept trying for weeks, then I hired a private investigator.”

Colter’s gaze sharpened. “Evidently he didn’t find me.”

“I made the mistake of writing him a check. My mother had access to my account, and she contacted him. She was furious at what I’d done and we had a big scene. In the end she gave me the information the investigator had found out—that you’d already married someone else.”

“I wasn’t married then,” he said in a controlled voice.

The fire crackled behind her, and daylight peeped through the blinds, but she was only aware of his words. They didn’t make sense. “What?”

“I married Shannon after Ellie was born.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flared. “Your mother lied to you.”

It took a moment to assimilate this, to believe her mother would do that to her. But then, her mother would’ve done anything to keep her away from Colter. That little lie was supposed to make Marisa forget all about him. It had done just the opposite. Every day she’d carried their son she had thought about Colter constantly, and over the years he’d never been far from her mind.

“Let’s stop playing games, Marisa. The decision you made years ago, under whatever circumstances, is final. The past is over and it’s been over for so long that I don’t even care anymore. Ellie’s birth may not have been the way I wanted it, but that’s something I’m honest about. I don’t think you even know what the word means.” He swallowed visibly. “As soon as the ice melts, I want you out of here.”

She paled at the cruelty of his words. The anger was back, and his eyes blazed as hot as the fire. Before she could retaliate, someone rang the doorbell, then knocked loudly at the front door.

“What the hell?” Colter hurried to answer it.

Marisa got to her feet and realized she was shaking. She wrapped her arms around her waist to still that reaction. After a moment, she heard raised voices and moved toward the foyer, surprised the racket hadn’t awakened Ellie.

“I’m sorry, Colter. I have orders,” a man was saying. “I have a warrant to search your house. Richard Preston says you kidnapped his daughter, and he has the Dallas Police Department in an uproar. The sheriff wants me to check it out before they call in the FBI.”

“Search away,” Colter replied. “But you might want to ask the woman herself what she’s doing here.”

Marisa stood in the doorway, her eyes big and troubled.

“Ms. Marisa Preston?” the man asked.

“Yes,” she answered in a weak voice.

The man stepped forward. “I’m Deputy Jimmy Walsh. Are you being held against your will?”

“Of course not! Why on earth would you think that?”

“Your family believes Mr. Kincaid kidnapped you and they’re very worried.”

Mother. She wasn’t going to stop…until Marisa stopped her. The only person who’d ever kidnapped her was her mother. She’d taken away her childhood and now she was trying to destroy what little peace Marisa had managed to find. A white rage filled her.

“Mr. Kincaid doesn’t even want me here. I came of my own free will, and you can tell my mother—”

The deputy held up his hand. “I’ve only spoken with your father, so if you’ll get your things, I’ll take you back to Dallas and your family.”

Her mother could manipulate her father into doing anything. This time she wasn’t giving in. She was fighting back.

“Are the roads passable?” she asked.

“The highway department’s been working all night and I managed to get here without too much of a problem.”

“Then I’ll follow you in my car.”

“It’d be better if you came with me.”

“Am I under arrest?”

His face turned slightly red. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll drive my own car.” She whirled toward the den.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Colter,” she heard the deputy say.

She sank onto the pallet, where she found the corduroy jacket and slipped it on. Ellie stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“The lights are on,” she said.

“Yes,” Marisa answered, looking around for her shoes.

“Are you leaving?” Ellie asked.

“Yes. I have to go.”

“Then Santa didn’t send you.” The forlorn voice bothered Marisa.

“No. Santa didn’t send me, but here’s an early Christmas present.” She handed her the high heels.

“Cool.”

Marisa stood. “Goodbye, Ellie.”

“‘Bye. You sure you don’t need your shoes? It’s cold.”

“I have wool socks on, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” She stroked Sooner. “Can I still come and see Santa?”

Marisa could feel Colter’s eyes boring into her, but she wasn’t going to disappoint Ellie. She didn’t care how angry he got. “Sure. Anytime you want.”

Ellie smiled. “Thanks.”

Marisa picked up her purse and walked toward the back door. Tulley was in the kitchen drinking coffee. “’Bye, Tulley,” she said, but didn’t stop. She had to get away.

Colter caught her at the door. “Let’s be clear about one thing.”

She’d had all she could take from him. “No,” she snapped. “I’m not listening to any more of your nastiness or your insults. I made some bad choices—very bad choices—but I had my reasons. Reasons I thought were valid at the time. If you could stop thinking about your pride for one tiny second, you might want to hear those reasons. Until then, I have nothing to say to you.”

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