# Have Honeymoon, Need Husband

Robin Wells

RUNAWAY BRIDEA teary-eyed bride in a long, white getup and veil was on Luke O'Dell's property–with no husband in sight. Uh-oh! Runaway bride on her honeymoon alone at his Lazy O Dude Ranch! Luke knew too well what happened when he comforted a sobbing woman, and no way was sweet Josie Randall getting anywhere near his strong shoulders….Josie's two-timing groom-not-to be had done her a huge favor. She'd never even imagined she could love a man so much, until she'd looked into Luke's dark brown eyes and saw forever. But how was a woman to convince six feet, two inches of nonmarrying man that she was the woman he didn't even know he was waiting for?

## Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

## “Look, I didn’t mean to get out of line just now,”

Luke mumbled to Josie, whose lips were pink and kiss-swollen, her cheeks brighter than the weather alone explained. “I don’t exactly know what happened. I guess I just got overly ex…ex…” Oh, crimony, O’Dell—say anything except excited! “…exuberant.”

Overly exuberant—oh, that was a good one. Flyin’ catfish—where the heck had he come up with that?

Josie’s cheeks flamed.

Luke swallowed painfully and averted his eyes. “Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. We’d better get going. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

He stalked toward the pickup, wishing some of that ground would just open up and swallow him now.

Dear Reader,

This July, Silhouette Romance cordially invites you to a month of marriage stories, based upon your favorite themes. There’s no need to RSVP; just pick up a book, start reading…and be swept away by romance.

The month kicks off with our Fabulous Fathers title, And Baby Makes Six, by talented author Pamela Dalton. Two single parents marry for convenience’ sake, only to be surprised to learn they’re expecting a baby of their own!

In Natalie Patrick’s Three Kids and a Cowboy, a woman agrees to stay married to her husband just until he adopts three adorable orphans, but soon finds herself longing to make the arrangement permanent And the romance continues when a beautiful wedding consultant asks her sexy neighbor to pose as her fiancé in Just Say I Do by RITA Award-winning author Lauryn Chandler.

The reasons for weddings keep coming, with a warmly humorous story of amnesia in Vivian Leiber’s The Bewildered Wife; a new take on the runaway bride theme in Have Honeymoon, Need Husband by Robin Wells; and a green card wedding from debut author Elizabeth Harbison in A Groom for Maggie.

Here’s to your reading enjoyment!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Romance

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

## Have Honeymoon, Need Husband. Robin Wells


www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Ken, who roped my heart

## ROBIN WELLS

Before becoming a full-time writer, Robin was a public-relations executive whose career ran the gamut from writing and producing award-winning videos to organizing pie-throwing classes taught by circus clowns. At other times in her life she has been a model, a reporter and even a charm school teacher. But her lifelong dream was to become an author, a dream no doubt inspired by having parents who were both librarians and who passed on their love of books.

Robin lives just outside of New Orleans with her husband and two young daughters, Taylor and Arden. Although New Orleans is known as America’s Most Romantic City, Robin says her personal romantic inspiration is her husband, Ken.

Robin is an active member of the Southern Louisiana chapter of the Romance Writers of America. She won the national association’s 1995 Golden Heart Award for best short contemporary novel and was a finalist in the 1994 “Heart of the Rockies” RWA contest.

When she’s not writing, Robin enjoys gardening, antiquing, discovering new restaurants and spending time with her family.

## Chapter One

The bridal veil sagged over Josie Randall’s right eye again.

“Blasted thing,” she muttered to herself, pulling a hand from the steering wheel long enough to toss it out of her face. She was having a hard enough time driving through the backwoods of northeastern Oklahoma in the pouring rain at night without having to play peekaboo with a ridiculous piece of netting at the same time. For the umpteenth time since she’d bolted from the church in Tulsa, she tugged at the headpiece, but it was pinned too firmly in her hair to remove with one hand.

She couldn’t wait to get to the guest ranch and take the darned thing off—along with the wedding gown. The elaborate, pearl-encrusted dress was designed for standing at an altar, not sitting through a two-hour car trip. The waistband was about to pinch her in two, and the back of the dress bunched beneath her in a miserable lump.

Josie squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Now I know why they call it a train,” she grumbled aloud. “My caboose feels like it’s about to derail.”

The sooner she got out of the torturous ensemble, the sooner she could put the whole horrible affair behind her and start getting on with her life. A life that from here on out, she thought resolutely, she would fully control herself.

Josie’s mouth firmed with determination as she steered the car around a curve on the dark two-lane highway. She’d nearly made the worst mistake of her life, and it was all because she’d doubted her own judgment. She hadn’t trusted her own feelings and intuition, and had nearly let her well-meaning but misguided family push her into marrying a man who’d turned out to be nothing but a two-timing, self-centered, greedy, loathsome cad.

The thought of Robert sent a fresh surge of outrage pulsing through her. Thank heavens she’d discovered his true colors before the ceremony! If she hadn’t happened to wander down that back hallway of the church in an attempt to calm her nerves, she wouldn’t have overheard him talking with the best man—and she wouldn’t have learned the real reason he wanted to marry her.

Josie’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so gullible? More importantly, how could she have thought for even one nanosecond that she loved him? If she had, surely she wouldn’t be feeling this overwhelming sense of relief right now.

How, oh how could she have been so naive, so unaware, so foolish?

Thinking about it made her whole body tense and caused her foot to inadvertently press down on the accelerator. The car skidded on the wet pavement, jerking Josie’s thoughts back to present

If she wanted to arrive at the ranch in one piece, she needed to focus all of her attention on her driving, she told herself. There’d be plenty of time later to sort things out. A whole week, in fact. Buying herself time to think was the main reason she’d decided to go ahead and come on the honeymoon—sans groom.

The rain was falling harder now, slashing across her windshield so fast that her wipers were virtually useless. Josie slowed the car and hunched forward, searching for the turnoff. According to the directions in the brochure, the dude ranch should be along here somewhere.

Her headlights picked up the gleam of a metal sign. Squinting, she leaned over the wheel and peered through the downpour. She couldn’t read all the words in the split second of vision the wipers afforded, but she could make out the Lazy O brand at the top. With a sigh of relief, she turned onto the narrow dirt road that cut through the dense stand of oaks.

She hadn’t traveled more than a few yards before she realized the rain had turned the road into a slick, muddy quagmire. Apprehension tightened around her chest like a giant vise. Oh, mercy. There was no place to turn around, and she didn’t dare try to back out onto the highway. She had no choice but to keep going.

Clutching the steering wheel as if it might bound out of her grasp at any moment, she inched the car along, trying to avoid the obvious ruts. The downpour and the darkness made it impossible to see anything but a few scant feet in front of her headlights. The farther she went, the worse the road became. If she didn’t get to the lodge soon, she was likely to find herself stuck for the night.

She rounded a curve in the road and saw a light shining ahead. “There it is,” she muttered in relief. She couldn’t make out anything about the building, but it looked as if it was just around the next bend.

Suddenly the rear end of her car swerved, then fishtailed. The next thing she knew, the vehicle was wedged in a deep, muddy rut, the back tires spinning uselessly.

Oh, terrific. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

She peered through the windshield, squinting to see through the rain. The light was straight ahead, probably no more than a hundred feet away. It was within easy walking distance, but with no umbrella or raincoat she’d ruin her delicate gown in a matter a seconds.

On the other hand, if she tried to wait out the storm, she might still be waiting come morning.

She glanced down at the elaborate gown. As far as she was concerned, it was ruined, anyway. Besides, the darn thing was so uncomfortable it felt like it was lined with razor blades.

“What the heck,” she muttered, switching off the engine.

She was tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to avoid criticism, tired of caring so much about everyone else’s opinion. Most of all, she was tired of not trusting her own judgment, tired of second-guessing her every decision.

With that thought in mind, Josie decisively yanked open the door, stepped out of the car—and promptly slid into the mud.

The rain pummeled her like a prize fighter, drenching her in a matter of seconds. She struggled to regain her footing, but the mud was so slick she flopped back down like a grounded fish. She finally managed to haul herself upright, only to trip on the hem of her gown and again plop in the mire, this time facedown.

The rain continued to pelt her. Panting, she pushed herself into a sitting position. That dratted veil was in her eyes again. She swiped at it with a muddy hand, smearing thick red clay all over it, only to have it immediately fall back in her face.

Dadblast the thing! She’d deal with it once she made it indoors. Right now she needed to concentrate all her energy on the simple task of standing up. The wet gown weighed as much as a small elephant.

Kicking off her shoes, she hoisted the heavy skirt in her arms and struggled to her feet. Mud squished through her sheer stockings and oozed between her toes as she lurched blindly down the road, heading toward the light. Mercy, she hoped it hung over the lodge door!

The muddy veil obscured her vision, but her hand made contact with a doorknob. Relief surged through her as she tugged the door open, staggered inside and slammed it shut behind her.

“What the hell…” a deep male voice roared.

It smelled like a barn. Confused, Josie dropped her dripping skirts and pushed back the mud-soaked veil.

Oh, heavens. It was a barn!

A loud snort jerked Josie’s attention to her right, and the source of the noise made her freeze. An enormous, wild-eyed horse reared, whinnied and charged directly at her.

Helpless to move, she watched in horror as a tall, dark-haired man lunged at the beast and grabbed the harness. The animal reared on its hind legs and pawed the air, nostrils flaring, teeth bared. A flash of hooves sailed past her face, missing her by mere inches.

In terror, Josie watched the beast turn and buck. The man jumped aside, narrowly dodging disaster as the powerful back hooves struck the very spot he’d stood just a second before.

“Easy, boy. Easy.” The man spoke softly, but his grip on the horse was strong and sure. His biceps bulged under his plaid flannel shirt as he grasped the halter under the animal’s chin, backed the beast into a stall and slammed the gate closed with a loud bang.

The sound reverberated in the air. Jessie leaned her head against the wall and let out a long, ragged breath. Her chest hurt, and she realized she’d been holding her breath.

The man strode toward her, his dark eyes glaring, his broad shoulders squared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You nearly got yourself killed!”

His build was as powerful as the horse’s, and from the look in his eyes, he might be just as dangerous. Josie tried to take a step backward, but her back was already against the wall. “I—I’m sorry. I thought this was the Lazy O Lodge.”

The scowl on his tanned face deepened. “If you can’t tell a barn from a lodge, then maybe you’d just better go back to the city where you belong. The number-one rule around here is no visitors allowed on the working parts of the ranch without an escort.” He raked her from head to toe with a scathing gaze. “What in blue blazes are you doing in a getup like that, anyway? Halloween’s not for another two weeks.”

Josie glanced down at her wet, mud-smeared gown. She knew she must look like an escapee from a sideshow exhibit, but she’d be darned if she’d offer the man an explanation. He was too rude to warrant one.

Doing her best to disguise her rattled nerves, Josie raised her chin. “I said I was sorry,” she said stiffly. “If you’ll just give me directions to the lodge, I’ll get out of your way.”

“How’d you get here, anyway?”

“I drove in from the highway. I was following the directions in the brochure.”

The man gave a disgusted shake of his head that sent an unruly lock of hair cascading over his forehead. “No, you weren’t.”

Josie bristled. She’d had a horrible day, and she was in no mood to take any guff from a disagreeable ranch hand. “I most certainly was. The directions said to turn at the sign, and that’s exactly what I did,” she said frostily.

“You turned at the sign that says Lazy O Lodge Ahead. If you’d driven on five hundred feet, you would have seen a larger sign with an arrow.”

Josie felt a familiar cringing sensation—the one she always felt when she’d just made a mistake. Oh, no, you don’t, she told herself fiercely. You’re not going to let this man make you feel like your judgment is faulty just because you couldn’t read the entire sign in the pouring rain.

Who did he think he was, anyway, talking to her like that? She wasn’t going to stand for it. “Do you work at the Lazy O?”

The man’s lip curved upward. “You might say that.”

Josie stretched her frame to its full five-foot-four height and took a step forward, striving for her most imposing demeanor. “Well, then, sir, I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll spare me any more pearls of wisdom and simply tell me how to get to the lodge, I’ll refrain from mentioning your insufferably rude behavior to Mr. O’Dell.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” The man’s mouth widened into a smile, a smile as infuriating as it was devastating. The expression transformed his face, bringing the hard, masculine planes and angles into a shockingly attractive alignment.

For some reason, the sight knocked Josie off her stride. She compensated for her shaken composure by directing the full force of her fury at him—a fury that had been building inside her ever since she’d learned the truth about her would-be groom.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “On second thought, I won’t. I used to work in a hotel, and I thought I’d seen everything, but I’ve never heard of anyone in the hospitality industry treating a guest trying to check in as rudely as you’ve just treated me. I’m sure Mr. O’Dell will be interested to learn of your behavior.”

To her chagrin, he appeared amused. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck, miss. For starters, we don’t have any rooms available. We’re booked solid.”

“But I have reservations.”

The man’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “All of our guests have already checked in, except for the honeymoon couple.”

He suddenly froze and stared, his gaze traveling from her mud-covered stockings to her clay-encrusted veil. His eyebrows flew up like the wings of a crow. “Holy molasses! Is that a wedding gown you’re wearing?”

Josie took a perverse pleasure in his dumbfounded expression. “It is,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “And if you’d point me in the direction of the honeymoon cabin, I’d like to change out of it as soon as possible. My car got stuck on the road and I fell in the mud.”

The man stared at her. “You’re Mrs. Olsen?”

“No. I’m Josie Randall.”

He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, his expression confused. “But the reservation is for the Olsens.”

“Yes. But it’s on my credit card, and my credit card says Josie Randall.”

The man studied her for a moment, apparently processing the information. He shook his head. “I’ve never understood why a woman would marry a man and refuse to take his name, but that’s your business. So where’s your husband?”

“I don’t have one.”

His dark brows pulled together. “But you just said you’d reserved the honeymoon cabin.”

“I did.”

“And you don’t have a husband?” His expression clearly said he was having doubts about her sanity.

“We didn’t—I mean, the wedding didn’t—” Josie’s throat swelled with emotion, and to her horror, she realized she was about to cry.

Oh, no! She always cried when she was upset—ever since she’d been a young child. It was nothing more than an emotional release valve, but this man was sure to take it as a sign of weakness. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of him.

She drew a deep breath and tried to forestall the inevitable. “The w-wedding was c-c-called off,” she finally managed to say in a tear-choked voice.

She ducked her head, and the mud-streaked veil sagged forward. She gratefully took refuge behind it. Her pride had taken enough of a blow today without the additional embarrassment of having this impossible man see her cry.

“Oh, hey…I’m sorry.” His deep voice was contrite. “That must be rough. I had no idea…”

The veil abruptly lifted. The man stood in front of her, his dark eyes worried and apologetic.

“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her face, first drying her cheeks, then gently wiping her forehead. “You have some mud here, too,” he said, rubbing the cloth across her chin.

His gentleness jarred Josie as much as his earlier rudeness. She stared up at him, surprised to find his face so close, his eyes so dark and concerned.

Still holding the hanky, he placed his hands on her shoulders. His fingers were warm on the wet silk. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize…”

His change of demeanor disoriented her. Or maybe it was his nearness. She was keenly aware of the weight of his hands, of his masculine scent, of his breath on her face.

Her gaze fastened on his lips, and a wild, alien thought formed in her mind: what would it feel like to kiss him?

Merciful heavens, where had that thought come from? She lowered her gaze, suddenly self-conscious. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself; it’s not like the thought is tattooed on your forehead. He’s a cowboy, not a mind reader.

“I’ve never had a guest show up in a wedding gown before,” he said apologetically. He gently tilted up her chin. The pads of his fingers were callused, and the rasp of them on her skin made her heart rate soar.

Funny…she couldn’t remember a man ever touching her face before. Certainly not Robert. And she’d never known fingers could be so warm. Why, his seemed to warm her straight to the bone.

“With all the mud, I thought you were wearing some sort of costume—Swamp Girl or Creature from the Black Lagoon or something. It’s close to Halloween and I’ve had some guests do some pretty weird things…” His brow knit in concern as he looked down at her. “Are you okay?”

Josie nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. He smelled like leather and horseflesh and hard work, with a subtle undernote of soap. The scent was rich and male— far more appealing than all of Robert’s expensive colognes and grooming products, she thought distractedly. Her gaze again fell to his lips.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was upset because you nearly got yourself killed,” he explained. “That stallion’s got a mean streak a mile wide. In fact, I’m trying to sell him for just that reason. A potential buyer is coming to look at him in the morning, so I was grooming him when you walked in.” His hand moved back to her shoulder. His eyes were kind and worried. “I go ballistic when guests put themselves in danger. Sorry I overreacted, Josie.”

The frank, open apology took her by surprise. There weren’t many men who would own up to a mistake so readily, she thought.

But it was the way he’d said her name that really jolted her. His deep rumble of a voice had wrapped around it like a velvet cloak, making it sound appealing and feminine and…sensuous.

What the heck was the matter with her? Her pulse was racing and skittering, and her thoughts were flying off in all kinds of dangerous and inappropriate directions. She must have taken leave of her senses, responding this way to some man she’d just met.

She must be more overwrought than she’d realized. Maybe she was even suffering some type of post-traumatic syndrome. After all, it had been a nerve-wracking day. This behavior was so far out of character she could barely recognize it as her own.

Josie folded her arms protectively across her chest. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said. “If you’ll help me get to the lodge, I won’t mention anything to Mr. O’Dell.”

The man dropped his hands from her shoulders, but the heat from his touch remained. He gave a lopsided grin. “Too late.”

Was he deliberately keeping her off balance? “What do you mean?”

Folding one arm across his flat stomach and the other behind his back, he made a courtly bow. “Luke O’Dell at your service, ma’am.”

“But the man in the brochure photos—”

“Was my father. He died six months ago.”

“Oh!” Josie murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” A flicker of pain crossed his face. He diverted his gaze to the toes of his cowboy boots, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “Look, Josie, I know guests are told payment is nonrefundable without a week’s notice, but under the circumstances I’ll be happy to give you your money back.”

“Oh, I don’t want my money back. After all I’ve been through, I really need a week’s vacation.”

Luke gazed at the mud-stained creature before him and tried to suppress his dismay. The last thing he needed right now was a half-crazy, lovelorn woman moping around the ranch. She’d probably require extra attention, and the lodge staff was overextended as it was.

He shook his head dubiously. “It would probably be better if you come back some other time. All of our guests this week are couples, and I don’t want you to spend the week feeling like a third wheel.”

“But I won’t be participating in the group activities. I’m registered for the honeymoon package.”

She wasn’t half-crazy; she was full-blown loco! Luke stared at her incredulously. “You want to do the honeymoon package activities alone?”

“That’s right.”

“You want to go on a moonlight trail ride, a private cookout, an overnight canoe trip…by yourself?”

Her chin moved ever so slightly upward. When she spoke, her voice had a defensive edge. “That’s right.”

Oh, boy. What was she—some kind of emotional masochist? It sounded like she’d come here to wallow in her misery. If so, she’d no doubt make the whole ranch miserable in the bargain.

He rubbed his jaw, trying to think of a way to dissuade her, then glanced down and realized a huge puddle was forming beneath her on the barn floor. She was soaking wet and probably freezing; there was no point in trying to reason with her while she was in this condition. He had no choice but to put her up for the night. Hopefully she’d change her mind tomorrow.

Luke pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened. “Look, I’ll tell you what—you can sleep on it and we’ll see how you feel about things in the morning. The refund offer will still stand. In the meantime, I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of your wet clothes.”

She nodded, and the motion made the veil flop in her face again. He reached out and pushed it back, arranging the whole thing behind her shoulders.

“I’ll take you to your cabin. My pickup is just outside.” He motioned toward the door.

She turned in the direction he indicated, but the bottom of her dress didn’t turn with her. She stooped to unwind it from around her ankles and stumbled.

Luke’s hand shot out and caught her around the waist. He felt as though he’d just grabbed ahold of a live electrical wire. Her skin felt warm and supple and sexy as sin beneath the thin, wet fabric, and touching it sent shock waves pulsing up his arm.

Attraction, strong and unexpected, surged through him. He hadn’t felt anything this good in a long, long time. He swallowed hard. “Do you need some help with that thing?” he asked.

She looked up and nodded, and his fingers tightened involuntarily around her waist. Touching her like this made him notice things about her that had previously escaped his attention. How could he have failed to notice before now that her eyes were the exact color of a field of bluebonnets, or that she had an adorable upturned nose dusted with a faint sprinkling of freckles?

Giving himself a mental shake, he cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. “What can I do?”

“Could you please lift up my skirt?”

The request conjured up an image that made Luke break into a sweat. His eyes skimmed over her, overlooking the mud and noting instead how the wet silk clung to her curves, outlining her high, round breasts and narrow waist. Holy mackerel; how could he have missed all this before now? That veil had been hiding more than he’d realized.

He couldn’t repress a wolfish grin. “Well, now…there’s a request I don’t hear every day.”

He liked the way she blushed, and he loved the way her smile lit up her face like a switched-on lightbulb. It had the same effect on him, making him feel unaccountably turned on.

“This thing must weigh a ton,” she explained, plucking at her sodden skirt. “And it’s wound so tightly around my feet I can’t bend down without falling over.”

Reluctantly he relinquished his hold on her and untangled the dress. “It’s heavy, all right.” He draped the train over the arm she held out to him. “I’ve got full-grown heifers that weigh less.”

Her laugh was soft and warm. A dimple flashed in her right cheek, and he found himself searching for another witty remark so he could see it again.

He’d be better off searching for a way to get her off the ranch, he warned himself. The lodge manager had walked off the job last month, and he had his hands full trying to run both the ranch and the lodge at the same time. The last thing he needed right now was an added distraction.

Especially a distraction exhibiting as many red flags as Josie. For starters, she was sure to be an emotional mess. He’d vowed he’d never get involved with another woman recovering from a recently broken romance, and it didn’t get any more recent than this. Tonight was supposed to be her wedding night, for Pete’s sake.

Besides, he had no intention of falling for a city slicker again. Next time around he was determined to find a good, solid, practical woman who’d been born and bred in the country and knew exactly what ranch life was like.

He was out of his mind to even be noticing things like the way her top lip had two luscious peaks that exactly mimicked the curves on her chest, and…

He abruptly realized he was staring. With an effort he forced his eyes away. He needed to stop thinking about her. She was clearly off-limits.

But the fact did nothing to stop another rush of electricity from charging through him when he took her arm. “I’ll help you to the truck, since you seem to have a hard time getting around in that thing.”

Her heart-shaped face grew worried. “I’ll get mud all over your seat.”

It was a practical consideration, and he was grateful she’d thought of it. He’d been too preoccupied gawking at her to think of it himself. “I have a tarp in the back. Wait here and I’ll throw it over the upholstery, then I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’ll need my luggage. It’s in the back seat of my car.”

He hadn’t thought of that, either. It was as if his mind had taken a vacation south. South of his belt buckle, that was. “I’ll get you settled in the truck, then I’ll go get it.”

He rapidly ducked outdoors, grateful for the excuse to get some fresh air and clear his head.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Too bad, he thought as he sloshed through the soggy leaves on the way to his pickup.

Because he sure could have used a cold shower.

## Chapter Two

“How did you hear about the Lazy O?” Luke asked as he steered the pickup along the narrow gravel road that led from the barn to the lodge.

“My travel agent gave me a brochure,” Josie replied, gripping the seat as the truck bounced over the rough terrain. “Everything sounds wonderful!”

That was the problem with that blasted brochure, Luke thought glumly; his father had gone overboard on the descriptions, painting everything in glowing terms and flowery, romantic language.

Especially the honeymoon cabin, Luke thought as he braked the pickup to a jerky stop in front of it. He’d bet his best bull she’d be disappointed to discover it was nothing more than a ramshackle old log cabin fronted by a long, covered porch.

“Here we are,” Luke said, glancing over at Josie and bracing himself for a string of complaints.

She peered through the truck’s rain-streaked window. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” She looked up and flashed that dimple at him before turning back to the view. “So rustic and secluded. Just like the brochure describes.”

Stifling his surprise, Luke followed her gaze. He’d always thought the cabin was great, too, but it wasn’t everyone’s reaction. Nestled amid a backdrop of oaks and pines and illuminated by a lantern-shaped light shining on the porch, it looked like it belonged in another century.

“My father built it years ago as a guest house,” Luke explained. “He designed it after a cabin in the Rockies where he honeymooned with my mother. The main lodge is behind it, just past those trees.”

“You wouldn’t know there was anything around for miles.”

“In the good old days, there wasn’t.”

Josie couldn’t miss the tension in his voice. “You sound like you don’t much like the lodge.”

Luke’s shoulders tightened. How had they gotten off on this topic, anyway? He shrugged in a show of casualness. “I’m a rancher, not an innkeeper. Turning the Lazy O into a dude ranch was my father’s idea.”

He switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, wanting to forestall any more questions. “Stay put. I’ll come around and help you down so you don’t get tangled up in that dress again.”

She took his hands and stepped down, lurching against him as her feet hit the ground. He inhaled sharply at the contact of her soft breasts against his chest and caught a heady whiff of her scent—something soft and subtle, like baby powder and fresh flowers, mingled with a deep, earthy aroma that seemed somehow familiar.

Mud—that was what smelled familiar. And she was probably smearing it all over him. Boy, was he ever a sorry sack of hormones, getting all muddle headed and romantic over the scent of mud!

Scrunching his forehead into a frown, he pulled away.

The sudden motion made her lurch again. “Sorry,” she murmured. “This darn gown…”

Without thinking, he bent and swooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.

Her arm involuntarily flew around his neck. Her face was inches from his, her eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing?”

Good question. He was as shocked to find her in his arms as she was to be there.

There was that scent again. Jiminy—he didn’t care if it was partly mud, it still smelled downright delicious. She felt that way, too. Even in her sodden gown she was no heavier than a newborn colt, but the wet silk made her as slippery as a greased pig.

He bounced her slightly in the air as he adjusted his grip, searching his mind for a way to explain his purely reflexive action. “That blasted dress is a hazard,” he muttered. “My insurance company would cancel my liability coverage if they knew we had guests running around outfitted like that.”

Carrying her as easily as he’d tote a bale of hay, he strode rapidly to the covered porch and set her down outside the door. No way was he going to carry her across the threshold; he was having a hard enough time keeping his thoughts about her under control without acting like a surrogate bridegroom.

The imprint of her warm, wet body burned against him long after he released her, and he had a physical reaction to it. Jeezem Pete, he responded like a teenage boy every time he touched her.

So stop touching her, O’Dell, he chided himself sarcastically.

He fumbled in his pocket for a master key, then unlocked the door. It swung open. He reached in and flipped on a light. “Here you are. I’ll get your bags.”

She was still standing on the porch when he returned from the truck. He plopped the bags down by the door and eyed her warily. “You ought to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower before you catch pneumonia.” The last thing he wanted was to have her laid up convalescing, needing to be waited on hand and foot.

“I don’t want to track mud inside. I think I should take off the dress out here.”

The thought did strange things to his pulse rate. He cleared his throat and turned to go. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Wait!”

Now what? He swiveled around.

“I…I can’t undo the buttons myself.”

She turned and pointed over her shoulder. A long row of tiny buttons ran from the neck of the gown to below her waist—dozens of buttons, each about the size of a raisin, each fastened with tiny loops of thread.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

“I’m sorry to be such a bother.” Her voice had a suspicious warble in it.

Oh, criminy; she wasn’t going to cry again, was she?

“I realize it’s beyond the call of duty, but I’m freezing, and…”

“I’ll call the housekeeper to help you.”

He strode into the cabin, picked up the phone and punched out Consuela’s number. No answer. No answer in the lodge kitchen, either.

Great, just great. He’d have to deal with this himself.

The screen door banged behind him as he rejoined Josie on the porch. “Turn around and stand still.” The words came out more harshly than he’d intended.

She presented her slender back to him. He stepped forward, pushed her veil out of the way and tackled the top button. It sat at the nape of her neck, covered by damp tendrils of shoulder-length dark hair. He brushed the wet strands aside, his fingers feeling huge and awkward, and tried to ignore the rush of arousal that tightened his body.

The woman was wreaking havoc with his libido. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be her wedding night— a night when her skin was supposed to be touched, her lips were meant to be tasted, those enticing curves were to be explored and caressed…

By another man, O’Dell. For heaven’s sake, get a grip.

His fingers fumbled, and the button tore off in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving on to the next one.

It had evidently been too long since he’d been around a woman. He hadn’t dated much since his divorce, and that had been five years ago. Judging from the way he was reacting now, it was time he got back in the saddle and started socializing again.

The button popped free. His fingers edged down to attack the next one. Josie shifted and sighed, and he struggled to rein in his thoughts.

This wasn’t the time to be thinking about dating, he reminded himself. Ever since he’d come back to the ranch, he’d had his hands full, trying to take care of everything his father had neglected when he’d opened that damn lodge. And without a lodge manager, he had that to worry about, too. He had a full plate in front of him without taking on something as time-consuming as trying to meet and get to know a woman.

Besides, he hated all the things dating involved—getting dressed up, making small talk, trying to figure out what was real and what was pretense, trying to keep from getting dragged down a wedding aisle.

Standing in front of him was a perfect example of what he most wanted to avoid and what was often so hard to detect—a marriage-minded woman with a lot of emotional baggage, still carrying a torch for another guy. At least with this one he knew what he was dealing with.

Another button came off in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m pulling off as many buttons as I’m unfastening,” he told her.

“That’s okay.” Her voice was muffled by the veil. “The dress is a loss, anyway. If it’s easier, you can just yank them all off.”

The thought of ripping off her dress had undeniable appeal—so much so that he deliberately resisted the urge, furrowing his brow in concentration and meticulously undoing the buttons one at a time.

“There,” he muttered when he’d finally unfastened the last one.

The fabric gapped to reveal something lacy and sheer underneath the dress. His imagination running wild, he swallowed hard and stepped back as she turned around.

She was shivering, he realized with a start. He’d attributed the trembling he’d felt as he’d unbuttoned her dress to his own shaking hands. “You need to get inside,” he told her. “Do you want me to carry in your bags?”

She rubbed her arms, her teeth chattering. “What I really want is to get thawed out as soon as possible. Would you turn around for a moment?”

Luke complied. Fabric rustled, the cabin door creaked and soft footsteps thudded on the wooden floor.

“You can turn around now,” she called from inside the cabin.

Her dress lay in a heap on the porch…along with two muddy, crumpled stockings. A trail of muddy footprints led inside the cabin to the closed bathroom door. He heard a rush of water from the shower.

Luke exhaled harshly and eyed the stockings again, wondering how she’d held them up. His tantalizing conjectures about her undergarments were cut short when his gaze fell again on the crumpled wedding gown.

It was a pitiful sight, all that lace and silk puddled in a muddy mess on the porch, and it sent a wave of sympathy surging through him. What had once been a beautiful dress was rumpled and ruined, and her dreams were no doubt in the same condition. What was supposed to have been the happiest day of her life had ended in heartbreak.

He wondered why the wedding had been canceled. Had she called it off, or had the groom? Obviously someone had—and at the very last minute, judging from the way she was dressed.

One thing was for certain: she was sure to be feeling awful. He should have been looking for ways to comfort her instead of leering at her like a cowboy Casanova.

A stab of guilt shot through him. No matter how much he disliked it, as long as the Lazy O was operated as a guest ranch, he had an obligation to care for his guests in a manner worthy of the O’Dell name.

The least he could do was take her luggage inside. And while he was at it, he might as well start a fire in the fireplace, too.

Wrapped in a large white towel, with another wound turban-style around her hair, Josie opened the bathroom door fifteen minutes later to find Luke squatting before the fireplace, laying logs on a blaze of kindling.

The tight ache in her chest loosened a little at the sight of him. She was glad he was still there; the idea of solitude had begun to lose its appeal. In fact, as she’d stood under the shower and castigated herself for ever getting involved with Robert in the first place, she’d dreaded spending the evening alone with her thoughts.

How could she have allowed herself to be pushed and persuaded into nearly marrying a man she apparently didn’t even know? All of the anger that had propelled her into action was fizzling into painfully familiar self-doubt.

Luke glanced up at her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob before he abruptly turned away and picked up another piece of wood. “I thought you might like a fire,” he said gruffly.

“Thanks.” Her face burning, Josie wrapped the towel more tightly above her breasts and angled her body against the door so that only her head poked out. The towel covered more of her than some of her summer dresses did, but she was acutely aware of the fact she wore nothing under it. Something in the way his gaze swept over her told her he was aware of it, too.

She saw her suitcases near the door, but didn’t want to parade across the room to get them. Her fingers tightened on the terry cloth. “Would you mind handing me the blue suitcase? I’ll throw on some clothes and be right out.”

Luke complied, and Josie ducked behind the door to rapidly pull on a sweatshirt, jeans and a pair of thick socks. Still toweling her damp hair, she stepped back into the living room.

The fire crackled and hissed, throwing a delicious warmth into the room. She walked up to it and gave a contented sigh. “This feels wonderful. Thanks.”

Luke jammed his hands in his pockets. “No problem. I brought in some extra firewood for you. When you turn in for the night, just be sure the screen is in place.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“There’s a path to the lodge on the right side of the cabin. Breakfast is served from seven until ten in the lodge dining room. There’s a map of the ranch and some other information beside the phone.”

“Great.”

Luke watched her sling the towel over a chair and stretch out her hands to the fire. Man, she was pretty. Her hair fell in damp ringlets to her shoulders. Without the veil, he could see that it was the dark, rich color of a chocolate velvet cake.

He needed to get out of here. The sight of her in that towel had just about done him in. “Well, if you’ve got everything you need, I’ll—”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his words. He strode across the room and opened it.

“Consuela.” He pushed the door wider and stepped back, making room for a large, smiling woman who bustled in with an enormous tray.

“Manuel saw the lights on and told me our honeymoon couple had arrived,” the woman announced in a lilting Spanish accent. “So I brought the candlelight dinner over.” She gave Josie a sly grin as she set the huge tray on the pine plank dining table, then extended a plump hand. “Hello. I’m Consuela Perez.”

Josie shook Consuela’s hand. “I’m Josie Randall.”

The older woman looked around the room. “Where’s the lucky bridegroom?”

“I don’t—” Josie faltered for words. Silence hung awkwardly in the room.

Luke stepped forward. “Miss Randall’s wedding was canceled. She’s here alone.”

“Oh!” Consuela’s hands flew up, her face wrinkling with concern. “Oh, ¡Pobrecita! You poor darling. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Josie gave a self-conscious smile. “Thank you, but no.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ve got a good shoulder to cry on.”

“I’m fine.”

“It always helps to talk these things out. We can stay here, or you can come home with me—”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

Consuela searched her face, her brown eyes large with concern. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s not good to be alone at a time like this,” Consuela worried.

Luke watched the exchange, knowing Consuela would persist until Josie gave in or he baled her out. Consuela had the biggest heart in the world, but she was no respecter of privacy, and she was about as subtle as a gale-force wind. Her warm, mothering nature wouldn’t allow her to take no for an answer if she was convinced someone needed nurturing.

He decided to try to change the subject. “Consuela is the lodge’s head cook and housekeeper, Josie. She’s the person who keeps the place running. We couldn’t make it without her.”

Josie smiled at her. “I’m sure that’s true. I used to work in a hotel, and I know how important both positions are. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Consuela.”

Consuela preened, her stubby fingers smoothing her neat coil of gray-streaked black hair. “The pleasure is mine.” She motioned toward the tray. “Look—I’ve brought you a nice dinner.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much appetite,” Josie admitted.

Consuela clucked like a worried hen. “But you must eat! The worst thing for a broken heart is an empty stomach, too.”

Josie managed a smile. “All right…I’ll try. Thank you.”

“How about you?” Consuela turned to Luke. “You haven’t eaten, either.”

“I’ll grab something later at the house.”

Consuela rolled her eyes. “A can of cold spaghetti is not a meal.” She glanced at Josie. “He lives alone and doesn’t take care of himself. His animals eat better than he does.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Josie offered. “After all, it’s a dinner for two. It’s a shame for it to go to waste.”

Consuela nodded approvingly. “That’s a wonderful idea! Then neither of you will eat alone.”

Luke suppressed a groan as Consuela -bustled around, uncovering fragrant dishes and setting the table with the ranch’s best china. He knew the housekeeper had set him up, but he couldn’t think of a decent excuse to get out of it.

Consuela leaned her hefty frame across the table and lit a candle. “There!” she proclaimed, clasping her hands over her ample bosom. “All set.”

She pulled out a chair and motioned to Josie, then handed Luke a bottle of champagne. “You can open this.”

Luke looked hesitantly at Josie. “Under the circumstances, Consuela, I don’t think—”

“I’d love some champagne,” Josie said decisively.

Consuela nodded approvingly. “Wine is good for a broken heart.”

“My heart isn’t exactly broken—”

The large woman patted Josie’s back consolingly. “There, there, dear. You don’t have to explain. But you come and find Consuela if you want to chew the cat, okay?”

Josie blinked. “Pardon me?”

“She means chew the fat.” Luke grinned.

Consuela shrugged. “Cat—fat—it makes no sense either way. But you come to me if you want to talk, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Enjoy. ¡Buenos Noches!” The large woman let herself out the door with a wave of her hand.

The room seemed suddenly very still and quiet. Luke awkwardly settled his large frame in the chair across from Josie.

“It all looks delicious,” she remarked, surveying the spread of Caesar salad, prime beef, scalloped potatoes and baby carrots.

“Consuela’s a wonderful cook. She and her husband have been with my family for over twenty-five years.” Luke gave a wry grin. “She takes a lot of liberties with the English language—and with poking her nose in other people’s business.”

“She seems very kind.”

Luke inclined his head. “She is. My mother died when I was twelve, and she practically raised me afterward.” He set the bottle of champagne on the table. “She’s right about being a good listener. If you get lonely and want to talk, you should take her up on her offer.” He regarded Josie in the flickering candlelight. Her profile was delicate, almost fragile. Looking at it, he felt another stab of guilt at the way he’d exploded at her in the barn. It couldn’t hurt for him to take a hint from Consuela and show a little sympathy. “For that matter, I can be a pretty good listener, too.”

Josie reached for her napkin. “I’m okay. I’m actually relieved the wedding was called off.”

Yeah, right. And he was going to sprout wings and fly. He’d seen denial before; in fact, he’d been in it himself. It was the first stage of the grieving process, and it was obviously where she was right now.

“I’m not heartbroken. I don’t even really feel hurt.” She placed the napkin her on her lap. “I’m angry…mostly at myself. How could I have been so blind?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Well, you know what they say about love.”

Josie leaned across the table, her face earnest. “That’s just it. I didn’t love him.”

Boy, she must really be hurting if she needed to lie to herself like this. Well, he wasn’t going to burst her bubble. Let her think whatever she wanted—whatever it took to get her through the night.

The thought made him reach for the champagne. “I’m sure everything will work out for the best.” He popped the cork and sent it flying across the room, narrowly missing the fireplace, then sloshed some into Josie’s glass. He filled his own and raised it in a toast “To new beginnings.”

Josie clinked her glass against his. “To a wonderful week at your ranch.”

Luke frowned at her over the rim. Baby-sitting her tonight was one thing; doing it for a whole week was quite another. “Let’s wait and see how you feel about things tomorrow.”

“I already know how I’ll feel…exactly the same.” She took a sip of champagne. “I’ve wanted to visit a guest ranch all my. life, and I’m not going to be cheated out of the experience just because Robert turned out to be a heel.”

Luke’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re the one who selected the Lazy O as a honeymoon destination?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a first.”

Josie’s brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Luke stabbed a bite of salad. “Most of the brides we see are dragged here kicking and screaming by a new husband who’s watched one too many Westerns. After a couple of days, even the ones who initially think it sounded like fun are asking directions to the nearest mall.”

Josie daintily buttered a roll. “I’ve always thought a ranch was the most romantic place on earth.”

Luke’s lip curved into a grin. “You’ve obviously never mucked out a stall.”

Josie laughed. “Actually, I have. I spent my summers at a camp that offered riding lessons, and I made a habit of hanging around afterward to help out in the stables. It was a way to get to spend more time around the horses.”

Luke hid his surprise by spearing another leaf of romaine lettuce. Well, anything could be fun for a while, he thought—until the novelty wore off. His ex-wife had had the same reaction to life on the ranch.

He decided to change the subject. “You mentioned you had hotel experience. Do you work at a hotel in Tulsa?”

Her blue eyes darkened like troubled water. “No. I’ve been working as the office manager in my father’s law firm for the past six months. But before that, I worked at the Royal Regent Hotel in Chicago.”

“I’ve heard of it. What did you do there?”

“A little of everything. I went through an eighteen-month management-training program, which meant I spent a few months in every department Then I worked in convention sales for a year and half.”

“Why did you leave?”

Josie swirled the champagne in her glass. “I didn’t like the ethics of the new sales director. He didn’t care about the clients, only about their money. He wanted me to promise things I knew the hotel couldn’t deliver in order to get convention bookings, and I refused to lie. The hotel lost a major piece of business because I wouldn’t do things his way. So I resigned before I got fired.”

Grudging admiration filled Luke’s chest. As much as he didn’t want to like this woman, he couldn’t help but respect her for refusing to compromise her principles. He raised his glass in a brief salute. “Good for you. Not many people have the courage of their convictions.”

Josie gave a rueful grin. “I’m afraid my convictions didn’t result in a very flattering job reference. I can’t land another job in the hotel industry to save my life. So when my father asked me to fill in for a few months while his office manager recovered from major surgery, I moved back to Tulsa.”

“Is that when you met your fiancé?”

Josie nodded. “He’s an attorney at my father’s firm. We started dating when I moved back, and three months later we were engaged.”

Luke watched her toy with her salad, trying not to notice the way the candlelight gleamed on her dark hair and lit her blue eyes. Curiosity was burning a hole in him.

It was none of his business, he warned himself. The less he knew, the better off he’d be.

But he couldn’t resist asking the question, anyway. “So what happened?”

“With the wedding? I narrowly avoided making the mistake of my life, that’s what happened.” She took a sip of champagne and regarded him over the rim of her glass. “Do you want the whole story?”

He was dying for it, but he feigned indifference. “Only if you want to tell me.”

Josie put down her glass and leaned forward. “Well, I was a nervous wreck before the ceremony. I thought some exercise might calm my nerves, so I went for a walk down a back hallway of the church. I ended up outside the room where Robert and the best man were waiting. I could hear their voices through the air vents.”

“And?” Luke prompted.

Josie’s full lips thinned into a narrow line. “I learned a few things about the man I was about to marry.”

“What things?”

“For starters, that his idea of matrimony doesn’t include fidelity.”

The whole thing was probably nothing more than a mis-understanding, Luke thought. Most likely the lovebirds would be back together before the weekend was. out. He picked up the champagne bottle and refilled her glass. “When you just hear part of a conversation, it’s easy to draw the wrong conclusion.”

Josie shook her head. “This conversation left no other conclusion to be drawn. Robert gave a graphic account of his all-night exploits with the jump-out-of-the-cake girl from his bachelor party. When his friend said it was hard to believe he was finally going to settle down, Robert laughed and replied, ‘Who said anything about settling down? As far as I’m concerned, getting married is nothing but a career move.’”

Josie placed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair, shaking her head in disgust. “He only wanted to marry me so Dad would make him a partner. He didn’t even try to deny it when I confronted him.”

“You confronted him?”

Josie nodded. “I marched right into the room and told him I’d heard the whole conversation. He went white as a ghost. He begged for my forgiveness—and pleaded with me not to tell my father. Can you imagine the nerve?”

What was hard for Luke to imagine right now was any man preferring another woman over Josie. Her hair had dried into a mass of shiny, unruly curls that swayed when she moved her head, and her heart-shaped face was as sweet as a valentine, despite its indignant expression. Her eyes had the longest, silkiest lashes he’d ever seen on a human being, and they held him as enthralled as her story.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Fortunately, my sister Sara had followed me into the hallway and heard the whole conversation—otherwise Robert probably would have tried to lie his way out of it. Sara helped explain things to my parents while I got the heck out of there. To avoid a scandal, it was agreed that the minister would announce that the wedding was postponed by mutual agreement.”

Luke shook his head in amazement. “You’ve had quite a day.”

Josie reached for her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

For a person who’d been through such an ordeal, she sure seemed composed. But she’d left out a key element, Luke reflected: she hadn’t said how she felt about the man. If she’d planned to marry him, she must have cared for him.

“What did you see in this guy in the first place?” Luke asked.

Josie had been asking herself the same question, and she didn’t like the answers. They reflected too poorly on her decision-making abilities. They pointed out all too clearly how heavily she’d relied on the opinions of others, how little she’d trusted her own judgment.

She pushed out of her chair and crossed the room to the fireplace. Leaning against the mantel, she settled on a partial answer. “I honestly don’t know.”

Luke stood and joined her before the fire. His gaze was as warm on her face as the fire was on her back. “Was it just a physical thing?”

The question startled her so much she replied without thinking. “Oh, no. It wasn’t physical at all.”

“If you’d gone through with the ceremony, I imagine things would be getting pretty physical right about now.” Luke’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

Josie gazed into the fire and swallowed hard. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think about that part of the marriage. Every time she’d started to wonder about it, her mind had shut down, refusing to pursue the train of thought. She’d told herself it would all work out when the time arrived. Now she realized she’d avoided thinking about it because the necessary feelings were missing.

“Surely you’d kissed him,” Luke persisted.

“Well, yes, but there wasn’t any—I mean—” Josie swallowed once more. Her eyes locked on his lips as they had in the barn, and again she felt that strong, magnetic tug. “Nothing happened,” she murmured in a voice at least an octave lower than usual.

He stepped closer, his gaze trapping hers. “Nothing else happened, or you felt nothing when you kissed him?”

“Yes. Both.” Mercy, his eyes were sexy…so dark and intense and probing. With a jolt she realized she was looking at a mirror image of the attraction unfurling in her belly. She knew she should avert her gaze, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

Sparks flew between them, filling the air like the scent of the cedar logs on the fire, raising the temperature of the room. Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Nothing ever happened.”

But something was happening now.

Luke moved closer until he was standing directly in front of her. The air all but disappeared from her lungs. A log snapped on the fire, and heat blazed between them.

Attraction, hot and primitive and strong, curled between them like smoke. A shiver snaked up Josie’s arm and down her spine. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away. If the building had caught fire, she doubted she could have moved to save her life.

The loud, impertinent ring of a telephone shattered the spell.

Luke strode across the room and jerked the phone off the table. “Hello?” he demanded.

Josie watched, dazed and jelly-kneed, her heart still racing like a runaway horse.

A scowl crossed his face. “One moment.” He turned to Josie, his face stony, his eyes inscrutable, and thrust out the receiver. “It’s for you. It’s Robert.”

## Chapter Three

The next morning Josie pushed through the double oak doors from the lodge’s dining room to the kitchen and found Consuela attacking a mound of dough with a rolling pin as she talked with a dark-haired man in rapid Spanish.

The housekeeper looked up, her smile as welcoming as the kitchen’s warmth after the chilly predawn hike from the cabin. “Why, good morning, Miss Randall!”

Josie smiled back. “Good morning, Consuela. And please, call me Josie.”

The housekeeper beamed and pointed the rolling pin at the middle-aged man behind her, who was as thin as Consuela was hefty. “Josie, I’d like you to meet my husband. Manuel helps Mr. Luke with the ranch.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” he replied with a grin. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” He gave Consuela a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Well, I’d better go see to the horses.”

Consuela stopped rolling dough to kiss him back. Her eyes were soft and affectionate as she watched him leave the room.

“Have you been married long?” Josie asked.

“Twenty-seven years.”

“You still seem very much in love.”

“Si. He’s a wonderful man.” She turned concerned eyes on Josie as she resumed her attack on the dough. “But how are you this morning? What are you doing up so early?”

Josie pulled her hands from the pockets of her plaid wool jacket and appreciatively inhaled the scent of baking bread and brewing coffee. “I’m fine. I’m an early riser, that’s all. I saw a light on in here and came in search of coffee.”

Consuela nodded amiably. “It’s on the counter. Help yourself.”

Josie selected an empty mug from a stack of cups near the pot and filled it with the fragrant, steaming brew. She looked around the kitchen, admiring the glazed brick floor, the cedar plank walls, the gleaming copper pots and pans. Despite its industrial-size appliances and sparkling stainless steel equipment, the kitchen had a homey, rustic charm.

Consuela’s dark eyes were warm and intent as she regarded Josie. “Did you get any sleep?”

“I slept like a baby.” Once she’d finished tossing and turning, Josie added silently.

“I was afraid you had too much on your mind to sleep well.”

She’d had a lot on her mind, all right—but her thoughts had not been on the man Consuela supposed. Instead, she’d found herself strangely preoccupied with Luke. He’d marched out of the cabin after handing her the phone, leaving her alone to talk with Robert.

The conversation with her former fiancé had been brief. She’d had little to say, and when she’d hung up the phone, the only emotion she’d felt was relief.

Josie knew Consuela was waiting for an explanation. “I was exhausted. I’d lain awake most of the night before, wondering if I wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake.”

Surprise flickered across Consuela’s broad face as she set down the rolling pin. “You didn’t love this man you almost married.”

Josie liked the matter-of-fact way she spoke the words, with no condemnation or judgment. “No.”

The large woman cocked her head to the side, her brow furrowed. “So why were you going to marry him?”

Josie sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling the coffee cup in her palms, and gazed at Consuela. Her face was open and kind, and Josie decided to answer honestly. “Good question.”

“Did you think you loved him?” the older woman asked gently.

“I wasn’t sure.” Josie curled her fingers around the warm mug and searched for the right words. “Robert works for my father, and he seemed to be everything a woman could want—smart, handsome, charming, on his way to becoming a big success. My three older sisters considered him a real prize, and my parents adored him. My family was so crazy about him that when I told them he’d proposed, they didn’t even ask me what my answer was. They just immediately began making wedding plans. Everyone seemed so certain it was the right thing for me to do that I just went along with it.”

“What were your feelings for him?”

Josie shrugged. “I liked him, I admired his intelligence, but beyond that…I didn’t know. How are people supposed to feel if they’re in love? Surely not everyone sees fireworks or rainbows.” The memory of how she’d felt last night with Luke flashed through her mind, but she quickly shoved the thought aside. That had been nothing more than a reaction to the champagne and an emotionally charged state, she reasoned. “The bottom line is I didn’t know if I loved Robert or not because I didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like.”

Consuela’s eyes were sympathetic and knowing. “If you were really in love, you wouldn’t have had any question. You would have just known.”

Josie lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. “Well, there’s one thing I know now—I’m awfully glad the wedding was called off. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.”

“That’s a sure sign you made the right decision.” Consuela turned back to the biscuits. “You were fortunate. Luke wasn’t so lucky.”

“What do you mean?” Josie asked.

“He was engaged to the wrong person, too, but he went ahead and married her. He and Cheryl were married only two months before she left.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five years.” Consuela arranged the biscuits on a baking sheet. “I keep telling that man he needs to get a wife.”

For some reason the thought of Luke with another woman made Josie’s stomach clench. “Does he have any prospects?”

Josie had tried to keep her voice casual, but Consuela’s bright, dark eyes seemed to see right through her. The woman gave a small, Mona Lisa smile. “No. I think he’s— what’s the phrase? Goon-shy.”

Josie smiled. “I think you mean gun-shy.”

Consuela grinned back. “Maybe both, no?”

Josie laughed and nodded, all the while wondering why the information should make her stomach flutter. Uneasy at the way the housekeeper was scrutinizing her, she set down her coffee cup and pushed off the counter, anxious to change the topic.

“Do you do all the cooking here yourself? Don’t you have any help?”

Consuela shook her head as she opened one of the double ovens and pulled out a tray of cinnamon rolls. She set them on a wire rack to cool, then slid the biscuits in to bake. “Ever since the last lodge manager left, we’ve had staffing trouble. Two girls are supposed to help in the kitchen in the mornings, but…” Consuela shrugged. “Sometimes they come late, sometimes they don’t come at all. The evening shift is better, but not much. And the ladies who clean the guest rooms—” Consuela rolled her eyes “—it’s a nightmare. Two quit last week. Mr. Luke has advertised for replacements, but for the time being, our hands are short.”

Suppressing a smile, Josie took off her jacket, draped it over a chair and pushed up her sleeves. “I’d love to help. What can I do?”

Consuela shook her head. “Oh, no. You’re a guest! You’re here to relax, not to work.”

“I’m not the type who enjoys sitting around and twiddling my thumbs,” Josie insisted. She moved to the large, stainless steel sink and began washing her hands. “Besides, I worked as an assistant to the chef when I was taking a hotel training program and I’m pretty handy in a kitchen. I’ve missed it.” Josie pointed to a bag of potatoes on the counter. “Let me guess. These need to be washed and peeled for hash browns.”

“Yes, but…”

Josie pulled a potato scrubber out of a ceramic jar of implements, located a large empty bowl on the counter and dove into the task before Consuela could mount a protest. “I got the impression last night that Luke isn’t too fond of the guest part of the guest ranch,” Josie said as a diversion.

Consuela nodded and scooped some softened butter into a bowl. “He didn’t want his father to build the lodge. They had a big argument, and Luke left the ranch. He only came back when his father was dying.” Consuela’s eyes grew sorrowful. “It was Mr. O’Dell’s corazon—his heart, God rest his soul.” She genuflected and gave a heavy sigh. “Now Luke has to run the lodge, and he hates it more than ever. He thinks his father worked himself to death over it. And it reminds him of the argument.”

“Why does he keep it open?”

“He has to, for the ends to make the meat.”

“I think you mean ‘for ends to meet.’”

“Si.” Consuela nodded as she added powdered sugar and vanilla to the butter. “Mr. O’Dell mortgaged the ranch to build the lodge. Now Luke has to operate it to make the payments.” She poured in heavy cream, then picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the ingredients together. “He’s hired professional managers, but none of them have lasted more than a couple of months.”

“Why not?”

“The first one was dishonest. The second one was—how do you say it?—incontinent.”

Josie grinned. “Incompetent?”

“Si. The last one said there was no chance for advancement, and he took another job. That was over a month ago, and we’re having a hard time finding a replacement.” Consuela drizzled the freshly made icing over the cinnamon buns. “In the meantime, Luke’s wearing both hats.”

Josie was about to ask another question when the door pushed open and there Luke stood, his frame filling the doorway, holding one of those hats in his hand. It was a brown Stetson, and it looked as worn as his faded jeans and denim jacket. The sight of him made the butterflies she’d felt earlier metamorphose into bat wings.

Luke froze in the doorway as his eyes met hers. A nerve worked in his jaw. “I thought you’d be on your way back to Tulsa by now to kiss and make up.”

Josie forced herself to continue calmly peeling the potato in her hand. “Why would you think a thing like that?”

“Because your fiancé called last night, and these little lovers’ tiffs have a way of working themselves out.”

“Wrong on three counts.” Josie dropped the peeled potato into the bowl and picked up another spud, trying hard to hide the fact her pulse was unaccountably racing. “Robert is my ex-fiancé. And it wasn’t a tiff.”

“That’s two. What’s the third?”

Josie felt the color rise in her cheeks as she attacked the potato. For the life of her, she didn’t want him to know how he rattled her. She tried to keep her voice cool, her tone offhanded. “We were never lovers, either.”

Luke had surmised as much from their conversation last night, but he took an unexplained pleasure in hearing her say it. Not that it mattered to him, Luke thought. It made no difference to him either way.

It bothered him, though, to see her act as if the whole thing were over and done with—as if she had no feelings for the guy at all. He’d seen this behavior before. From his experience, the more a woman insisted she didn’t care for a man, the more she actually did.

He tossed his hat on the seat of a ladder-back chair by the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He must have meant something to you, if you were going to marry him.”

“Her family pushed her into the engagement,” Consuela chimed in. “She didn’t really love him.”

Startled, Luke jerked around to find Consuela on the opposite side of the kitchen, watching the exchange with undisguised interest. He’d been so focused on Josie he hadn’t even registered the fact the housekeeper was in the room.

True to form, Consuela had wasted no time getting the inside scoop, Luke thought wryly. Hard to believe she’d fallen for Josie’s I-never-loved-the-guy routine, though. She was usually so shrewd about these things.