In the final second before Ashley pressed her lips to his, she closed her eyes.

Sensation sizzled through her, but not just from sexual chemistry. The knowledge that she and Rick fit made her bold, curious. What would it be like to be involved with a man who didn’t hesitate to teach her, to consider her an equal, to love her for real, not just for her money?

Putting her hands on Rick’s shoulder, Ashley stepped closer, deepening the kiss.

Dear Reader,

July might be a month for kicking back and spending time with family at outdoor barbecues, beach cottages and family reunions. But it’s an especially busy month for the romance industry as we prepare for our annual conference. This is a time in which the romance authors gather to hone their skills at workshops, share their experiences and recognize the year’s best books. Of course, to me, this month’s selection in Silhouette Romance represents some of the best elements of the genre.

Cara Colter concludes her poignant A FATHER’S WISH trilogy this month with Priceless Gifts (#1822). Accustomed to people loving her for her beauty and wealth, the young heiress is caught off guard when her dutiful bodyguard sees beyond her facade…and gives her a most precious gift. Judy Christenberry never disappoints, and The Bride’s Best Man (#1823) will delight loyal readers as a pretend dating scheme goes deliciously awry. Susan Meier continues THE CUPID CAMPAIGN with One Man and a Baby, (#1824) in which adversaries unite to raise a motherless child. Finally, Holly Jacobs concludes the month with Here with Me (#1825). A heroine who thought she craved the quiet life finds her life invaded by her suddenly meddlesome parents and a man she’s never forgotten and his adorable toddler.

Be sure to return next month when Susan Meier concludes her CUPID CAMPAIGN trilogy and reader-favorite Patricia Thayer returns to the line to launch the exciting new BRIDES OF BELLA LUCIA miniseries.

Happy reading!

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

One Man and a Baby

The Cupid Campaign

Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my brothers and sisters and friends.

If you hadn’t endured hours of phone conversations and encouraged me, I wouldn’t be here today.

Books by Susan Meier

Silhouette Romance

Stand-In Mom #1022

Temporarily Hers #1109

Wife in Training #1184

Merry Christmas, Daddy #1192

In Care of the Sheriff #1283

Guess What? We’re Married! #1338

Husband from 9 to 5 #1354

The Rancher and the Heiress #1374

The Baby Bequest #1420

Bringing up Babies #1427

Oh, Babies! #1433

His Expectant Neighbor #1468

Hunter’s Vow #1487

Cinderella and the CEO #1498

Marrying Money #1519

The Boss’s Urgent Proposal #1566

Married Right Away #1579

Married in the Morning #1601

Baby on Board #1639

The Tycoon’s Double Trouble #1650

The Nanny Solution #1662

Love, Your Secret Admirer #1684

Twice a Princess #1758

Baby Before Business #1774

Prince Baby #1783

Snowbound Baby #1791

Wishing and Hoping #1819

One Man and a Baby #1824

Silhouette Desire

Take the Risk #567

SUSAN MEIER

is one of eleven children, and though she’s yet to write a book about a big family, many of her books explore the dynamics of “unusual” family situations, such as large work “families,” bosses who behave like overprotective fathers or “sister” bonds created between friends. Because she has more than twenty nieces and nephews, children also are always popping up in her stories. Many of the funny scenes in her books are based on experiences raising her own children or interacting with her nieces and nephews. She was born and raised in western Pennsylvania and continues to live in Pennsylvania.

Dear Reader,

This second installment of The Cupid Campaign has bad boy Rick Capriotti meeting his match in Ashley Meljac. Competing for the same job, they set out to exploit each other’s weaknesses. Instead, they find an incredible attraction that seems all wrong but just won’t go away.

Ashley was a great character to create and explore because she’s a strong, determined woman. Taken for half of her inheritance once before, Ashley has something to prove. And if she falls for Rick, she’ll become a laughingstock.

But Rick is handsome, sexy and the best kisser on the planet. He’s also got a secret tucked away that he’ll defend at all costs….

It’s a fun book about serious subjects that made me laugh and cry as I was writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Susan Meier

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

“If you want the job as manager of Seven Hills Horse Farm, it’s yours.”

Standing in the doorway of her father’s office, Ashley Meljac gaped in horror as her dad offered her job to a man in a black T-shirt and tight-fitting jeans that were molded to a very well shaped backside. She’d asked for the job four years ago and her father had refused because she’d just come home after losing half her trust fund to an opportunist she had married, but he’d promised that she’d get her shot someday. Since then she’d more than proven she’d learned from her marriage mistake and she wasn’t letting her dad off the hook of his promise.

“What are you doing!”

His green eyes wide with surprise, Gene Meljac sprang from his seat behind the heavy mahogany desk. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he was dressed almost the same as the man with his back to her, but compared to the tall man in the black jeans, Ashley’s dad looked short and stout.

“Princess! I thought you weren’t home.”

“Well, I am,” Ashley said, striding across the mustard-colored Oriental rug beneath the tan leather sofa and chair in front of her dad’s desk.

“Ashley, this is Rick Capriotti,” her dad said hastily. “Rick, this is my daughter, Ashley.”

Stetson in hand, Rick Capriotti politely faced her. His black hair casually fell to his forehead and brushed his shirt collar as if he’d forgotten his last trim. His blue eyes were so pretty they seemed almost too feminine in a face with chiseled cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose.

Those intense blue eyes caught her gaze. “Your daughter and I already know each other.”

Ashley took a breath, ignoring the sexual sparkle in his beautiful eyes. She wasn’t one of the legions of Calhoun Corners co-eds who had spent their high school years giggling after the mayor’s two bad-boy, heartthrob sons. She only knew Rick because she had been the freshman assigned to tutor him so he could pass American Literature in his senior year. He’d expected her to fall at his feet with hero worship and ghostwrite his midterm paper and any other papers he needed for the class. She’d insisted on actually teaching him. So he’d asked for and gotten another tutor, but from that day on he’d harassed her and teased her every chance he got.

Yeah, she was thrilled to see him.

Especially since she wanted the job that he had been offered and she intended to get it.

She faced her dad again. “Why are you giving him my job?”

“I’m not giving him your job,” her father assured her as he scrambled around his desk to catch her hands. “I’m hiring Rick to run things during my vacation. I’m taking more sailing lessons, remember? Advanced lessons that require the commitment of some real time. I won’t be home until February.”

Ashley said nothing, still smarting over the fact that her father had chosen to spend Christmas away from her. She knew he was head-over-heels in love with sailing, but he was breaking the pact they had made to always spend holidays together. When he’d told her about the trip and she’d reminded him of their pact, he’d told her that he hadn’t forgotten the sleepless snowy night right after her mother and brother were killed when he’d promised she’d never be alone. He simply felt they were both beyond the grief, and they should be moving on with their lives.

She’d retreated then, telling him it was fine for him to spend the holiday sailing. She’d have plenty to do. She wouldn’t, but she also wouldn’t tell him that on a lost bet. She didn’t think he’d understand that buried in his argument for moving on was the fact that his plans clearly didn’t include her. That hurt just a little too much. So she’d consoled herself with the knowledge that someday she’d run this farm, and that being intimately involved in the process and with the people would make it even more her home, but now it appeared he was breaking that promise, too.

“Besides, Mr. Capriotti isn’t looking for permanent employment. He just needs a job for a few months while he considers his options.”

As her father turned to walk back to the chair behind his desk, Ashley flicked a glance at the man in question and just barely held back a snort of disbelief. Right. She wouldn’t believe anything Rick Capriotti said. He hadn’t been just a kid who smashed mailboxes and deflowered virgins like his brother, Jericho. Rick was a finagler. When his dad took away Jericho’s car as punishment, Rick was the one who got the class nerd Eric Brown a date with a cheerleader in exchange for the use of Eric’s wheels. Rick was the one who sweet-talked two girls into providing alibis for him and his brother when the distributor caps went missing from all the high school buses before the first day of class in Jericho’s senior year. Rick was the one who talked teachers into grading on a curve and talked himself out of detention. More than that, though, despite the fact that his family hadn’t been wealthy back when Rick and Jericho were in high school, Rick had never, ever been without money.

Rick was somebody who figured all the angles and got exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. Now that Ashley thought about it, he was Calhoun Corners’s equivalent to her scheming ex-husband. Which meant she really did not want him anywhere near her family’s fortune.

“But you told me that I could take over the farm,” she said, grabbing her father’s forearm to stop him before he reached his chair.

“I said someday you could take over the farm. Not today. You’re not ready.”

“How do you know? You’ve never given me a chance—”

“You’re an accountant?”

At the deep-voiced comment from the man she was trying to ignore, Ashley quietly said, “This is none of your concern.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick said, so polite Ashley wanted to shake him. “But it is my concern. A lot of people who live on farms like this one don’t realize the behind-the-scenes work that goes into keeping them afloat.”

She glared at him. “I studied business in college.”

“But you’ve never used those skills,” her father reminded her gently. “And Rick’s right. You haven’t seen half the behind-the-scenes work. You ride, you care for your own horse and you might even talk shop with Toby, but you don’t know the intricacies that go into keeping this farm successful.”

“Because you haven’t shown me!”

“And now I’m leaving,” her father said, as if she’d just made his argument. “And Mr. Capriotti will handle things.”

Turning away from Ashley, Gene put his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Let’s introduce you around this morning. Then you can jump right in tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Ashley gasped.

“Yes, I leave tonight.”

“I thought you were leaving next week! When did your plans change? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sweetheart, my plans just changed yesterday.”

Ashley’s chest tightened. His plans had changed the day before? Twenty-four long hours ago. He could have told her last night or at breakfast. Yet he hadn’t. Since his last visit to the Bahamas, he’d been consumed with sailing. With him giving up control of the farm, not caring that he spent the holidays away, and forgetting to even mention his change of plans, Ashley had to concede that he wasn’t “moving” on; he’d already “moved” on.

Which made her all the more determined that she wouldn’t lose control of the farm. If she had nothing else in her life, at least she’d have the farm to keep her busy and give her a sense of home.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized because she had to get this situation in hand and she had to do it now. “I know how excited you are about sailing. But that’s all the more reason for you to teach me how to run the farm.”

Her dad smiled. “You really want to learn to run the farm?”

“Yes.”

“Great!” Gene shifted his gaze to Rick. “So, Mr. Capriotti, it looks like you just got yourself another assignment while I’m gone. My daughter here wants to learn the ropes and since I’ll be away, that means you’re the guy who gets to teach her.”

Ashley gasped. “What?”

Rick’s voice sounded confused. “What?”

“It’s perfect. Ashley really did take enough accounting and business courses to be able to manage the farm. After three months of you explaining the technicalities and putting her through the paces, and me working with her for three or four months after that, she could take over next summer when I sail around the world.”

Ashley swallowed. “Sail around the world?”

“Yes. I hadn’t made concrete plans yet, but that’s always been my ultimate goal. And now that everything seems to be falling into place here, I can put this thing in motion.” He headed for the door. “Before I give Rick the tour of the farm, I’m going to run upstairs and grab my cell phone.” He faced Rick. “I’ll just be a minute.”

With that he walked out of the den and absolute silence reigned. Ashley was so stunned she couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. Rick Capriotti had no trouble finding his voice.

“Congratulations, Ms. American Literature Tutor, it looks like the tables have officially turned for us.”

At seven o’clock that night, tired and furious, Rick jerked his extended cab pickup to a stop in front of his sister Tia’s house. After a hectic day of not only being shown around Seven Hills Horse Farm and meeting hands, but also being reminded every thirty seconds of things he would need to teach Ashley, Rick’s nerves were strung so tightly that he worried he’d snap.

He didn’t like the idea of having to show the ropes to the woman who he remembered as being a spoiled rich girl too snotty to do him a favor back in high school. He liked even less that he’d continually noticed that she had grown up rather nicely. All day his attention had been snagged by the way the sun glimmered off her pretty yellow hair. Or the way her green eyes seemed to catch fire when she held back her anger. Or the way the jeans she’d put on to tag along on Rick’s tour of the farm made her look tall and sexy. The whole time he was supposed to be remembering names of employees and details of the farm, he was noticing her. And he didn’t even like her. Hell, he didn’t want to like her.

Frustrated, he ran his hands down his face. He needed a shower and a beer. Too bad he wasn’t going to get either for at least two hours.

Jumping out of his truck, Rick glanced at the neat and proper French Colonial house before him. His sister Tia and her new husband, Drew, who had been a neighbor of the Capriotti family for more than ten years, were expecting their first child, so she was doing most of her work as an advertising consultant from home. Knowing how busy she was, he’d hated to impose on her to babysit his six-month-old daughter, but when he, Tia and his mother sat down to figure out his dilemma, it was Tia who suggested he leave Ruthie with her.

He jogged up the three steps of the wood plank front porch to the entryway. Before he could knock, Tia opened the door, holding Ruthie on her arm. Tia had dressed the baby in lime-green one-piece pajamas and tied a white ribbon bow on the wisp of nearly black hair on the top of her head. That little bit of feminine fussing combined with the way Ruthie’s blue eyes sparkled, sent a tremor of guilt through Rick. He did not know how to care for a baby. He was lucky to get Ruthie through the day with the basics. He never thought of the nice things Tia did as second nature. His poor daughter had really drawn a losing number in life’s parent lottery.

Reaching for Ruthie, he said, “I can’t begin to thank you, Tia, for babysitting her.”

His dark-haired, blue-eyed sister laughed. “Rick, this is my pleasure. Not only is Ruthie the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen, but also I need the practice.” She smoothed her hand along her stomach, which still looked fairly flat to Rick, but he knew better than to say anything. Tia was thrilled to be pregnant and ready to shout it from rooftops. She wanted to be showing.

“Besides, my caring for Ruthie here at the farm, away from prying eyes in town, is the perfect way for us to keep her a secret until you figure out how you want to handle this.”

Tia motioned for Rick to follow her into the foyer, then down the hall to the gray, yellow and beige kitchen. As Tia began packing the baby’s rattles and plush animal toys into the diaper bag, which sat on one of the kitchen chairs of the oak table in the breakfast nook, Rick said, “I just don’t like the idea that we even have to keep her a secret from Dad.”

“It can’t be helped. Dad’s already nervous because it’s the first time in over a decade that he has an opponent in the mayoral election. If we tell him about Ruthie, especially that she’s Senator Paul Martin’s granddaughter, he won’t be able to hold a conversation without Mark Fegan knowing something’s wrong,” she said referring to the editor of the Calhoun Corners Chronicle who supported her dad’s opponent, Auggie Malloy.

“You’ll be the most logical reason for Dad’s extra nervousness, since your being home is the new thing in Dad’s life. I’m guessing Mark will assign his daughter Rayne to investigate and with her experience on the Baltimore newspaper she’ll easily uncover that you spent four years on and off running with Senator Martin’s daughter. And once Rayne finds Jen Martin, she’ll find Ruthie.”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Jen lived with her mother in Europe while she was pregnant and had Ruthie there. No other paper has picked up on it.”

“Maybe not. But what if Rayne does? What do you think her instincts will tell her to do if she discovers that while Senator Paul Martin, high-profile member of the board of directors for Americans for Morals, was preaching family and commitment in his latest campaign, his daughter abandoned her child to a guy most noted for being a rodeo bum?”

Not insulted by Tia’s description because it was accurate, Rick knew exactly what Rayne would do. She would sell the story to a national newspaper or magazine. Then Rick would be in big trouble. There was only one way for a man who made a career out of being a staunch supporter of family to counter his own daughter abandoning a child: rescue the child from her disreputable parents and raise the child himself.

Rick kissed Ruthie’s cheek. There was no way on God’s green earth he was going to let that happen. Not only did he love Ruthie, but Jen had told Rick a thing or two about Senator Martin after seeing her dad posturing on television one day. The most revealing of which was that he’d forced her mother to sign a nondisclosure agreement when they divorced because he had been physically abusive toward both Jen and her mother. Jen had had no reason to lie, and Rick couldn’t think why the senator would want a nondisclosure agreement unless he’d done things in the marriage that he couldn’t afford to have revealed. That also explained why Jen’s mom found it necessary to move halfway around the world to be away from him. She was afraid of him.

It wouldn’t be the first time a politician lived a double life. And, truth be told, Rick didn’t give a damn if Senator Martin preached one thing and practiced another, as long as he didn’t try to get custody of Rick’s baby.

“If you think this through,” Rick said, as his sister continued to gather toys and stuff them into the navy-blue quilted diaper bag, “there’s really no reason for me to ever tell anybody who Ruthie’s mother is.”

Tia shrugged. “For now. As long as nobody goes digging, you may never even have to bring up who Ruthie’s mother is. But you’re eventually going to have to tell Ruthie.”

“Not really. I was toying with the idea of telling Ruthie that her mom is dead.”

Tia grimaced, as she continued to gather Ruthie’s things. “I don’t know, Rick. I think that might come back to burn you. Jen could change. She could suddenly grow up and want to see her little girl and then she will look like the mom desperately trying to have a relationship with her daughter and you’ll look like the dad who lied.”

Knowing that was true, Rick said nothing.

Zipping the diaper bag closed, Tia said, “You don’t have to make any decisions today, Rick. You have two whole weeks until the election.”

“You mean two long weeks to hide her.”

“Yes, but once the election is over your secret will be safe. Whether dad’s reelected or not, Rayne will lose interest in him and have no reason to check into your life.”

“Except that she’s just plain mean.”

Tia laughed. “Hey, stop worrying. Until all this is settled, between Mom and me, you’ll always have a babysitter. And since you don’t get off work until after dark, it’s not as if you have to sneak Ruthie into the Meljac’s guesthouse. If you think about it, technically, we’re not even really keeping Ruthie a secret. We simply aren’t announcing her.”

Tia walked to the refrigerator. “I made some more formula,” she said, changing the subject as she slid the bottles into the side compartment of the diaper bag. “I also went online and found a pediatrician for you. Since I was already surfing the net I read up on what and how much she’s supposed to eat and I discovered it is okay for her to be eating the rice cereal that her mother had put in the diaper bag she left with you.”

Rick smiled and nodded, glad he’d done the right thing by guessing Jen had been feeding Ruthie the cereal since a box had been packed with her things. But inside he was anything but happy. When Jen had showed up at his door with Ruthie, he’d thought she’d come back to him because she loved him. He’d foolishly thought that becoming a mother had caused her to see how right they were for each other and that it was time for them to be a family. He remembered how joy had flooded him. He had loved her with ever fiber of his being and when she had left him the year before it had damned near killed him. So, when she suddenly appeared that night, all he could think of was being grateful for a second chance.

After Jen put Ruthie to sleep, they’d made love and he had been the happiest man alive. It had never occurred to him that she was conning him, suckering him into believing everything was fine so he wouldn’t suspect that she intended to sneak out in the middle of the night. Nothing had surprised him more than when he awakened to find himself alone with the baby. Her note had actually threatened a lawsuit if he told anyone she was Ruthie’s mom. She had so casually, calculatedly left him and their baby that anything he felt for her died an instant death.

Now, all he wanted was to raise his baby in peace. As long as Jen kept Ruthie a secret and Rick kept Ruthie a secret there was no reason for her dad to find their baby and get involved. And that was exactly what Rick wanted. Privacy.

“All packed,” Tia announced, helping him hook the strap of the diaper bag on his left shoulder since Ruthie was nestled against his right. “I’ll see you in the morning. At four or so.”

He grimaced. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Hey, it’s not a problem. Drew gets up when you do, so I do, too. Besides, as I said, I need the practice.”

Rick smiled his thanks and left his sister’s house. Ten minutes later he pulled his pickup in front of the guesthouse for Seven Hills Farms. Ruthie pounded her rattle on her car seat, which he had strapped onto the backseat of his extended cab, and Rick turned around.

“Didn’t we talk about this?”

She cooed and gurgled and Rick shook his head, then shoved his way out of his truck and opened the back door that gave him access to Ruthie. She slapped his nose with her rattle.

“Didn’t Daddy tell you that you have to keep down the noise?”

She tilted her head in question, as he lifted her from the car seat. Perching her on his left arm, he reached inside to loop his fingers through the strap of the diaper bag and yanked it out.

Making his way up the steps of the small porch to the front door, he glanced around at the little Cape Cod house, thinking how perfect it was for him and Ruthie. There were two bedrooms on the second floor, so they could sleep in the same general area and he could hear her when she cried in the middle of the night. Gene had shown him a cozy green kitchen filled with appliances, a living room furnished with a comfortable overstuffed sofa and chairs and a den where he could put his computer and network into the farm’s system to do the books. Best of all, it was far enough away from the farmhouse that no one could see or hear what he did. A side road veered off Seven Hills’s main access route and brought him to the secluded guesthouse. He didn’t even have to pass the Meljac residence to get home.

That was another thing that had fallen into place with this job. Being so far away from the main house, there was no danger Ashley Meljac would discover Ruthie. It was clear from their meeting that morning that Ashley would like nothing better than to be rid of him. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Gene Meljac hadn’t precisely said that he was retiring, but he was showing all the signs. This time next month Gene could call, find everything running smoothly without him and realize he didn’t need to run the farm anymore. Then this job with the perfect house, far enough out of civilization where a man really could keep a secret, would be his.

He wasn’t letting some born-to-shop Paris Hilton wannabe run him off. Especially since he was absolutely positive that once she saw the real work of managing a farm she’d turn up her nose and hightail it to the nearest mall.

In fact, now that Rick thought about it, by this time tomorrow he intended to have proven to Princess Ashley that she didn’t really want to run a farm at all.

Chapter Two

Rick only had to open three doors in the convoluted maze of halls in the upstairs of Gene Meljac’s sprawling home before he found Ashley’s bedroom.

He flicked a switch as he stepped inside, lighting the two lamps on her bedside tables. Those, unfortunately, illuminated a ten-foot-tall tufted white leather headboard that led to yard after yard of crinkled pink material that looped around to create a canopy. A pink rosebud bedspread covered the small lump he assumed was Ashley. At least twenty pillows of varying shapes and sizes—and shades of pink—were scattered about on the bed to cushion her every move.

He shook his head. Wow. He’d certainly pegged this one right.

“Come on, princess,” he said, grabbing the thick rosebud comforter and yanking it off.

He instantly regretted that. The sight that greeted him took his breath away, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling from Ashley’s pink-tipped toes, up her bare long legs, to the pink fur-trimmed hem of her tiny pink nightgown with some kind of top that looked like a fur-trimmed bra.

He sucked in some air. He should have left the cover on. But it was too late now.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her foot to pull her off the bed but she was so silky soft he couldn’t get a grip. His hand slid from her heel to her toe and she giggled.

“Stop that!” She nestled into her pillow. “And come back to bed.”

Rick’s mouth fell open in shock, but his libido instantly decided joining her was a fabulous idea. He nearly slapped himself for even considering it. Never in a million years would he again be interested in another woman accustomed to creature comforts. Ashley might not be so spoiled as to abandon a child in favor of trips to the Mediterranean the way Jen had, but she was obviously pampered. All he had to do was look at the multiple doors on the right-hand wall. They undoubtedly led to a closet, dressing room and private bath, most likely with a spa. This suite was bigger than any bedroom in his parents’ home. Hell, this suite was bigger than any apartment he’d lived in since he’d struck out on his own. He didn’t want anything to do with another woman who needed an entire room for her clothes.

“Get up!” he yelled, resisting the urge to smack her butt to get her moving. “You want to run the farm, fine. Then I’ll teach you to run the farm. But that means you have to get up!”

She shifted on the rosebud sheets. “What?”

“Today’s the day you start learning to run the farm, remember?”

Her eyes popped open. She bolted up in bed, saw him, glanced down at herself and screamed.

“No one’s here,” he said frantically searching the room until he found a frothy see-through pink thing that he assumed was the “cover-up” to her little pink nightie. He scooped it up and as he released it to toss it to her, the pink fur tickled his palm. His blood began to hum through his veins. Wild thoughts scampered through his brain. Luckily he was smart enough to ignore all of it.

“So screaming won’t do any good. Besides, I’m here to get you for work, not for what you apparently offered somebody last night.” He shook his head. “I’ll bet you have some dreams in that getup.”

She snatched her cover-up in midair. “My dreams are none of your concern.”

“Except your dream about running this farm.” He crossed his arms on his chest. No matter what his percolating hormones thought, he didn’t intend to deviate from his plan to get rid of her. Not even for the various and sundry fun and games that automatically sprang to mind just looking at that nightgown.

“Now get up.”

She tied the belt of the pointless robe. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am up.”

He looked at his watch. “Great. And only twenty minutes after everybody else is in the barn.”

She gaped at him. “What?”

“What do you think? Horses sleep until noon? Fat chance. Kiss your late nights goodbye, sweetheart.”

She drew a breath. “If farm managers have to get up at—” she peered at the digital clock on her bedside table “—four-thirty! Are you insane?” She jumped out of bed and stormed over to him.

Rick forced his eyes away from her legs only to find himself staring at her breasts, then the long column of her neck, then her blazing green eyes.

“I’ll get up at five.”

“All rightie, then. When your dad calls I’ll tell him you must not want to learn because you refuse to get up when everybody else does.” He turned and strode toward her bedroom door.

“You wouldn’t!”

He faced her again. “I would. You think a farm is a big game?” he asked, motioning around the room. “With your pretty pink foo-foo stuff all over the place? But most of us live and die by whether or not this farm makes money and while I’m here, it will.” With that he pivoted toward the door again. “You’re in the barn in ten minutes or I’ll be telling your dad.”

He left the room and Ashley fumed. Not because he threatened her but because he’d had the audacity to come into her room. She ripped off her cover-up as she marched into her walk-in closet and searched for a pair of jeans suitable for a day in the barn.

He hadn’t merely come into her room, he’d come in and pulled off her covers. She glanced down at her basically see-through nightgown and groaned. It would probably take less than five minutes for her fetish for pretty nighties to get around the barn. She’d just handed Rick Capriotti the ammunition he needed to keep her from gaining the respect of the hands.

Damn! This was not at all how she had pictured this morning would turn out. She hadn’t exactly seen herself arriving at the barn, shaking hands with Rick and giving everyone in the barn a pep talk. She hadn’t even imagined herself and Rick Capriotti getting along. But she had envisioned some sort of compromise. This farm was her home and her heritage and she wanted to run it with the grace and dignity of a well-bred Southern lady. But right at this very minute, Rick Capriotti was probably robbing her of that chance by telling everyone she wore a little pink nightie trimmed in fur that made her look like one of Santa’s off-season elves.

She took a breath, told herself not to panic and decided the only way to handle the gossip would be to meet it head-on. That was the lesson she’d learned when she came home after her marriage crumbled. For four long weeks every room she had walked into had suddenly gotten quiet. Then she had realized that if she would talk about her disastrous marriage, admit she lost half her trust fund and answer any questions, eventually the gossip would die, if only because the townspeople would have nothing to speculate about. They would know everything.

So, she’d spilled her guts to Ellen Johnson, wife of the diner owner, who usually acted as hostess, and it worked like a charm. Within a week, everybody knew her story, and bored because there were no unanswered questions, they moved on to the next gossip topic.

And that was exactly how she’d handle the nightie scandal. She would address it head-on.

Ten minutes later she was in the main barn, striding down the cement aisle that separated the two long rows of stalls. When she stepped into the office, Rick glanced at her, looked at his watch, then smiled. “You had thirty seconds to spare.”

Not about to be baited, she returned his smile. “I didn’t shower.”

“Most of us don’t before a day of mucking stalls.”

Her pretty smile collapsed. “Mucking stalls!”

“What? You think you’re going to start at the top?”

“I am the top! I own this farm.”

“Let’s get something straight. Your dad owns the farm or I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be putting up with me.”

Toby Ford walked into the office, carrying the morning paper and a cup of store-bought coffee, and wearing a flat tweed cap that made him look like the epitome of the English gentleman that he was. Though he was close to forty, his boyish face and rakish charm reminded Ashley of someone her own age.

“Morning, Miz Meljac,” he said, taking off his hat, and not meeting her gaze. From his awkwardness Ashley guessed Toby was the first person Rick had told about her nightgown, and the place she’d have to start with damage control.

She straightened her shoulders. “No need to be so formal, Toby, since it’s clear you probably know more about me this morning than you knew this time yesterday.”

Toby peeked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, now. If we’re all going to work together, we might as well be honest.”

“About what?” Toby’s eyes widened.

Ashley glanced from Toby to Rick, who was smirking, and then back to Toby again. “He didn’t tell you anything…about…well, this morning?”

“I just got here,” Toby replied at the same time that Rick said, “A gentleman doesn’t tell what he sees in a lady’s bedroom.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed.

This time when she spoke she had to ungrit her teeth. “Mr. Capriotti felt it was okay to come into my bedroom to wake me this morning.”

Leaning back on the old-fashioned wooden office chair that sat behind the gunmetal-gray desk, Rick linked his hands behind his neck. “Let me ask you something, Toby. If you had a laborer who wasn’t on time for work, what would you do?”

Toby shrugged. “Fire him.”

“My point exactly.” Rick turned his gaze on Ashley. “So you had a choice, sunshine. Get your butt down to this barn or get fired. Since I suspected you didn’t know that rule, I did you a favor by waking you.”

He rose. “Let’s go get you set up to do some mucking.”

“Mucking?” Toby gasped.

“Sure.” Rick smiled at Toby. “Isn’t that how you started most hands when they came to that big farm you ran in England?”

“Well, yes.”

“But I’m not really starting here,” Ashley said, turning her smile on Toby. “Right, Toby? I’ve been around my whole life.”

“Yet, you’ve never mucked a stall,” Rick said.

She took a breath. “No. But I’m fairly certain I have the principle down pat.”

“You probably do,” Rick agreed. “But if you really want to become the boss over people who have been here for the decades you were only riding the horses they cared for, you have to let them see that you don’t think you’re better than they are. That you understand what it’s like to work.”

She held his gaze. More than anything else she wanted her workers’ respect. They would become like family to her, if only because they would be the people she spent the most time with. She needed what Rick was offering her. The chance to prove she believed they were all equal. Family.

He was right. She had to do this.

“Let’s go.”

Ashley wasn’t in the shower until six o’clock that night. The hot water that sluiced over her was like a soothing balm to muscles that ached from the strain of manual labor.

She pressed her face into the steady stream of hot water. Even her cheeks were tired. Her hair smelled like manure. Her legs were so overworked that her thighs quivered. Her hands had blisters.

She looked down and tears filled her eyes. Her hands had blisters. Real blisters. No matter how much she had enjoyed the camaraderie of the farmhands with whom she worked, she couldn’t muck stalls again tomorrow. Not unless she wanted to get blisters on top of her blisters and she did not. Somehow or another she had to get out of mucking tomorrow without giving the employees the impression she thought she was better than they were. Because if she couldn’t she might as well quit…

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. That was what Rick wanted. He wanted her to quit! It made sense that he would be trying to get her to give up before she was trained so that when her dad came home in February he’d be the only one in the running for her job.

With water sluicing over from her hair to her neck and aching shoulders, she realized that even if it wasn’t Rick’s intention to get her to quit, he would still win when her dad came home. If he kept her mucking stalls instead of involved in what she needed to learn, he would remain the better choice to run the farm when her dad’s fixation with sailing turned into full-blown retirement next summer. Because she knew it would. She’d already accepted that her dad had moved on. Officially retiring was just the next step. He might come home in February after this three-month sailing excursion, but when he did, she suspected it would only be to pick a replacement.

And that meant there was no way she could let Rick win.

She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, blew her hair dry and brushed her teeth. But instead of sliding into the pair of pink silk pajamas—long pants and a shirt in case Rick decided to wake her again—that she’d laid out on the bed, she marched to her dresser and grabbed a pair of jeans and a clean chambray shirt. She pulled on socks and boots and even got out one of her old cowboy hats, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to look the part of the job she wanted, then she ran downstairs and out the back door to her SUV.

It was only about a quarter mile to the guesthouse. On a day when her legs weren’t still rubbery from exertion, she probably would have walked. But in order to assure that she didn’t crumble on Rick’s doorstep, Ashley drove, pulling her SUV beside his extended cab pickup, then dragging herself up the three steps to the wood plank porch.

A screen door protected the open front door of the living room. The glow from one of the end table lamps provided enough light that she could see no one was on the floral sofa. There appeared to be a lot of “stuff” on the floor, but nobody around.

She glanced down the hall and noticed the kitchen light was on and decided somebody had to be inside. Mustering energy she absolutely didn’t have, she lifted her hand to the door and rapped twice.

No one answered.

“Rick?” she called through the open screen.

No answer.

She knew he was in there. Only an idiot left a house with so many lights on. She frowned. Or maybe he was on the back porch?

Not about to walk down the three porch steps, around the front of the house to the side and down the length of the house to get to the back porch on her shaky, achy legs, she opened the door, stepped into the living room and nearly tripped over a little chair.

She peered down at it and frowned. It looked like a baby seat of some sort. One of those carrier things? Maybe a car seat?

Confused, she stooped down to examine it more closely and two seconds later she heard the sound of feet pounding down the steps. She glanced up to see Rick frozen about midway on the staircase.

Their gazes caught and held. The shadow of beard on his chin and cheeks said he hadn’t yet had time to shave, but his clean jeans and shirt, and slicked-back wet hair said he’d showered.

“I thought this house was mine, for my use.”

Ashley took a breath and rose. “It is. I’m sorry. I saw the lights and assumed you were home.”

He finished his walk down the stairs. “If you’ve come here to tell me that you’re done playing farmhand,” he said, scooping up the chair Ashley was now positive was some sort of baby chair and tossing it behind the overstuffed green sofa in the corner of the room. “Then I’m okay with you just walking into my house. If not—”

“If not what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “I seem to remember you coming straight into my bedroom this morning, without my permission, when there were no lights on…oh, and, in a house you don’t own.”

His face hardened. “You might own this one, princess, but you assigned it to me. It’s just like a rental. You can’t come in without my permission.”

“And you can’t come into my bedroom without my permission.”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “So, I guess we’ll just call it even?”

She smiled and strolled over to the floral sofa. “I don’t think so,” she said, pulling the baby seat from behind it. “What’s this?”

He didn’t say anything.

She held it up to inspect it. “I’m not a genius. I’m not even a woman who’s particularly familiar with babies, but I’m guessing this belongs to a baby.”

He still said nothing.

“And if you didn’t have a baby around here somewhere, right now you’d be saying something. Anything. Like maybe, yeah, it’s a baby seat. I bought it for my sister Tia for when her baby is born.”

“It’s a baby carrier. I bought it for my sister Tia.”

She smiled. “Too late. Too, too, late.” She took a breath, glanced at the seat again. “So where is she?”

“She?”

“I know it’s a girl.” She pulled a tiny hair clip from a fold in the plastic padding of seat. “There’s no way in hell you’d put one of these on a boy.”

“She’s upstairs.”

Ashley’s aching muscles all but cheered with relief. “So, you and I are about to start a little bargaining session.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do. The very fact that you slid this chair behind the sofa like I was some sort of ninny who would forget she saw it if you got it out of my sight, proves that you’re hiding your child.” She paused, tilted her head. “It is your child, right?”

He said nothing.

“You know,” she said, walking around Rick as if he were a thoroughbred at an auction. “I’m not that good at ferreting out information, but I bet if I called Rayne Fegan and I told her you had a baby in here, she could figure it all out.”

“Don’t.”

“So we are bargaining.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t want to have to muck out stalls.”

“Your job can’t be on the table.”

“My job is the only thing I want on the table!”

“Forget it. If you really do get to be manager of Seven Hills, the people who work for you have to see you don’t think you’re above them.”

“Nice try, but one day of sweating and making friends with the staff got that point across. If you keep me mucking any longer I’ll know you’re just doing it so you don’t have to teach me the things I need to know.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Your dad told me he wanted you trained. Putting you through the paces is my first responsibility, whether you like what I do or not. If you really want to lead, you have to understand the people who work for you, how tired they get so you can balance their workloads.”

“So you weren’t avoiding training me?”

“No. What I was really doing was throwing you into the fire. If anything I expected you to accuse me of trying to get you to quit.”

Her eyes narrowed. That had crossed her mind. “Were you trying to get me to quit?”

“I don’t think there’s any trying about it. If you’re not cut out for the job, the work will force you out on its own.”

“If I hadn’t found this bargaining chip it might have.”

He said nothing and Ashley laughed. “I’ve got you and it’s really fun.” She tilted her head, thinking, then added, “The only thing I can’t figure out is why you need to hide a baby.”

“Because my dad’s election is in two weeks and Ruthie’s mother abandoned her. I don’t want my mistake to hurt my dad’s campaign.”

“Not buying it. Even if your baby’s illegitimate, single parent babies aren’t really big news anymore. Your having a baby wouldn’t hurt your dad’s election.”

Rick said nothing and Ashley sighed. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I don’t want you gone. I need you to teach me. But I can’t have you hiding at Seven Hills if you kidnapped that baby or something. You have to come clean with me.”

When Rick again didn’t answer, Ashley shook her head in disgust. “I guess this means you’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving. Your dad hired me to do a job and I intend to do it.”

“Then I’m back to asking Rayne Fegan to look for the truth.”

“Can’t you just let this alone?”

“No, for all I know you’ve got Britney Spears’s baby in my guest house. I cannot let this alone. If you won’t leave, or tell me the truth, I’ll have no choice but to call Rayne.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “Ruthie’s mother is Senator Paul Martin’s daughter.”

“Oh!” Ashley said, picturing the gorgeous young woman who loved to get her face in the paper, flaunting her lifestyle to embarrass her popular, well-loved, conservative dad. “You and Jen Martin were…” She stopped and stared at Rick.

His face hardened. “Can’t see her with somebody like me?”

Quite the contrary. Ashley could easily see what Jen Martin saw in Rick. He was sexy. No. He wasn’t just sexy. He dripped sex appeal. Piercing blue eyes. Rippling muscles from real work, not hours at a gym. An attitude that all but screamed trouble. Yeah. She knew exactly what Jen saw in Rick. She just couldn’t quite see what Rick had seen in Jen.

“You tell Rayne I have a baby and it will take her about ten minutes to discover that Senator Martin’s daughter not only had a baby that she kept secret, but she also abandoned her. Then it won’t be me or Jen who suffers, it will be my daughter whose face will be splattered on front pages all over the country by people trying to unseat Senator Martin.”

Knowing he was right, and that this situation was more complicated than just a bargaining chip in their fight for a job, Ashley paced away from him. But before she could say anything, a cry issued from upstairs.

She turned in time to see Rick pivot and vault up the steps, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He took the stairs two at a time and disappeared around a corner, crooning, “It’s okay, Ruthie, Daddy’s here.”

The affection in his voice was like a shot to Ashley’s heart. A man couldn’t fake the kind of emotion she’d heard in that one short sentence. Curious beyond words, she tiptoed up to the second floor but stopped short of the door. Peeking around the door frame, she saw Rick cradling a small bundle in pink pajamas.

The little girl sobbed pitifully, not comforted by being cradled. Rick shifted her to his shoulder, putting her tiny face in Ashley’s view. Pretty blue eyes, just like Rick’s, blinked back at Ashley, then the baby quit crying.

At the same time Rick turned. When he saw Ashley, he sighed. “It’s you.”

“I’m not leaving until we straighten this out.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. I thought she had stopped crying because I’d comforted her. Now, I know she only quit because a woman came into the room.”

Ashley smiled. “She likes me?”

“Don’t get too carried away. She’s very curious about women. Probably because she had one in her life and doesn’t now.”

Studying the baby who was about the prettiest thing Ashley had ever seen with her black hair and big blue eyes, Ashley was again struck by the emotion for the baby she heard in Rick’s voice. She knew most fathers put their children first, but it seemed odd to see Rick Capriotti do it. He’d already admitted he was protecting her from being used as a pawn by people trying to destroy her grandfather’s career. Now, he was worried about her missing her mom. His behavior was so different from what Ashley expected, she couldn’t even address it. She wouldn’t know how.

“Can I hold her?”

Rick reluctantly said, “Sure.”

Ashley took the little girl and her mouth automatically tipped into a smile. “Well, hello,” she said, holding the baby an arm’s length away so she could look at her. Then she peered over the baby’s shoulder to Rick. “What’s her name?”

“Ruthie.”

“That’s right. Ruthie.” She smiled at the baby. “Hello, Ruthie.”

Ruthie gurgled.

Rick laughed. “She usually yelps at me.”

The note of pleasure in his voice caused Ashley’s heart to do another flip-flop. His obvious love of the little girl and his honest wish to win her love was incredibly attractive. Luckily Ashley hadn’t been one of his high school groupies or right now she’d probably be swooning.

“You’re her source. Yelping is how she tells you she needs something. Besides, you know the old saying. You always yelp at the one you love the best.”

Ruthie giggled.

Ashley grinned at the baby, then peeked at Rick. “Do you think she understood that?”

Rick bent to pick up a bear and two dolls that were on the floor in front of the small white crib. “I think babies are a hell of a lot smarter than we give them credit for being.”

“She looks like you.”

“Thank God,” Rick said, then he grimaced. “Jen didn’t exactly leave me with a lasting good impression of her. I’d prefer not to see her face every time I look at Ruthie. More than that, though, I don’t want Ruthie to see the mother who abandoned her every time she looks in the mirror.”

Again his stark honesty hit Ashley right in the heart. He’d been hurt and couldn’t hide it, but more than that he understood that his daughter would suffer when she realized her mother hadn’t wanted her and that hurt him, too.

That almost brought her to tears and she had to admit something she’d never thought she would. Rick Capriotti had changed. Really changed. Worse, when she added his new personality to his good looks, he suddenly became very attractive to her. With his black hair drying in ringlets, the day’s growth of dark whiskers shadowing his chin and his shirt pulled out of his jeans, he looked sexily disheveled. Like a man who needed to be kissed, then fed dinner.

Ashley brought that thought to a swift halt. Being attracted to Rick Capriotti was a normal gut-level reaction, but the deal about kissing him and making him dinner was just insane.

She settled the baby on her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll keep your secret.” She paced the floor, rocking the baby in a move that suddenly felt very natural. But as quickly as she realized that, she also figured out what was going on. Her dad leaving had made her long for family and Rick and his little girl were a ready-made family. An adorable baby and a sexy man were a deadly combination for a woman whose only real desire in life was to have a home. Intellectually she knew getting attached to this baby or this baby’s daddy was ridiculous. But, emotionally, it was second nature. An honest need coming face-to-face with two people who could fill that need. Her brain wouldn’t overrule her emotions on this one. Especially not if her hormones got involved. Best to get the hell out of here!

“I’m not keeping the secret for you. I’m doing it for Ruthie. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and play dead so you get the job as foreman of my dad’s farm permanently.”

She turned and handed Rick’s baby to him, then locked her gaze with his sexy blue eyes. A frisson of awareness danced along her skin. And she knew it was officially too late. If her hormones hadn’t been engaged before this, they were now.

“This job is mine.”

And she was getting the hell out of this room before the man currently at her mercy realized she had a weakness, too…

Him.

Chapter Three

He couldn’t let her leave with her last words hanging in the air. She knew his secret, and allowing her to have the last word could give her a false sense that she had the upper hand. She didn’t. Despite her promise not to tell, he was still the boss. It would be a betrayal of Gene’s trust in him if he allowed Ashley to take control when she was nowhere near ready. Not only that, he didn’t intend to lose this job. It was perfect for him: a quiet farm where he could keep his daughter out of everybody’s line of vision.

He laid the now-sleeping baby in the crib, then stepped into the hall, closing Ruthie’s door behind him. “Don’t think you’ve got me running scared.”

Ashley stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway, pivoted and stared at him. “I’m doing you a favor and you snap at me?”

“You’re only paying back the favor I did for you this morning.”

“I would have preferred that you explained that situation to Toby this morning. I wanted the air cleared,” she said, but her voice shivered oddly and Rick frowned. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. “I wanted the truth out. Unlike you, I don’t keep secrets.”

She turned to run down the steps, but again Rick couldn’t let her go. It was one thing for her to fear him as her boss. Quite another for her to be “afraid” of him.

He stopped her by grabbing her wrist, and her gaze leaped to his. Her pretty green eyes widened and she shivered, and it was all Rick could do to keep from laughing out loud. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was attracted to him. That was why she was running. She wanted to get away before he noticed, but it was too late.

“I get the distinct impression that you might have a secret or two.”

To her credit she held his gaze. “I don’t.”

Rick ignored her words and focused on her feathery, breathless voice. He skimmed his index finger over her wrist and was rewarded when her breathing stuttered.

“I could kiss you right now and you wouldn’t run.”

“Not until after I’d kicked you.”

He laughed and leaned forward just a bit. She didn’t move. Didn’t shrink back. If nothing else, the kid had backbone.

“But you’d like it.”

“So would you.”

This time it was his breath that froze in his chest. The hell of it was she was right. Staring into her fiery green eyes, feeling her soft skin against his palm, he couldn’t deny it. He would enjoy kissing her, so for that very reason he stepped back.

“Go home. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

She turned and headed for the steps.

Just to make sure they were clear about their situation, Rick added, “Don’t think your job will be any easier because you know about Ruthie. As far as I’m concerned we’re even.”

Halfway down the steps she turned again. “You came into my bedroom. I came into your house. That’s even. But not the part about the baby secret. You owe me on that one.”

“And I’m paying you back by keeping the secret that you’re attracted to me. So once again, we’re even.”

She shook her head with disgust and started down the steps. But Rick knew two things. First, she hadn’t seen that he’d reacted to her, too, or she would have had a snappy comeback. Second, she had gotten his message. They both knew she was attracted to him and they both knew that was enough to keep her in line at least until she grew accustomed to it.

Marching up the sidewalk to the hardware store the next morning, Ashley didn’t even let herself think about how she looked—or smelled. She knew what was going on. Rick might not be the finagler he was in his misspent youth, but they were in competition for a job and sending her into town was an easy way to embarrass her and clearly illustrate that if she got this job this would be her life. A sweaty, smelly farmworker. Dressed in the oldest clothes she could find in her drawers. Her hair matted into ringlets from sweat. No makeup.

But contrary to what Rick expected, she refused to be embarrassed. Not just because she wouldn’t let him win, but because she accepted that this was her life now. She wanted to be the farm manager. She wanted to care for the horses, dicker for new mares, negotiate the sale of foals, hire hands, settle small battles, maintain the property. She wanted to be connected to the land and the people of her small town as one of them. No longer an outsider, or her father’s daughter, but one of them.

She pushed open the hardware store door and the bell rang, alerting Bert Minor to her arrival. “Hey, Bert,” she called striding down the aisle. “I’m here to pick up the part Rick ordered this morning.”

The tall, round, hardware store owner scrambled out of the back room, drying his hands in a brown paper towel. “Hey, Ashley. How’s it going?”

“It’s going great, but apparently Rick or somebody needs some part and I was elected to pick it up.”

He looked pointedly at her oversize gray T-shirt and threadbare jeans, apparently not realizing that in some parts of the world she’d be in style.

“They must all be super busy.”

“We are super busy,” she said, emphasizing the “we” so Bert would start thinking of her as one of the workers, not just a resident of the farm. “That’s why I didn’t have time to change clothes. Besides, you might as well get used to me looking like this. Right now I’m learning as much as I can about running the place, and when my father retires I hope to be the one who takes over.”

He smiled approvingly. People in Calhoun Corners weren’t fond of outsiders and they liked it when a farm passed from one generation to the next. “Yeah. Your dad told me he was retiring.”

Though Ashley had suspected her father would probably officially retire when he returned in February, hearing that he’d already announced it in town froze her breath in her lungs. Still, she schooled her features, not so much to prevent Bert from seeing that it hurt her to hear it from him but so that he wouldn’t guess that her dad seemed to be telling everybody but her.

“He called the day before he left to go sailing and put Rick’s names on all your accounts,” Bert said, examining the screen of his computerized checkout system, subtly alerting her to the fact that everybody knew Rick was in the running for the manager job, and to him it looked as if Rick was in the lead.

She only smiled.

“So, you don’t have to sign for this or anything.” He handed her a brown bag that held something heavy. “Just don’t drop it.”

“Right.”

“And good luck with learning the ropes. I’m pulling for you.”

“Thanks.” She walked out of the hardware store and directly to her black SUV. She carefully set whatever the hell was in the bag on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat, then slammed the door closed. Rounding the hood, she passed the dress shop and stopped suddenly.