“You’re right. You’re a Kerrigan. I’m a McCloud. But this is business. If I think your horse is trainable, I’ll sign the contract.”

“Excellent.” Rachel’s mouth curved in a spontaneous smile of relief and she leaned forward to hold out her hand.

Luke took her hand in his. The combined impact of her smile and the feel of her slim fingers engulfed in his sent a jolt of lust to his groin and a strange longing coursing through his veins. She waited a moment, as if expecting him to say more. When he didn’t, she nodded before she turned and walked away.

Luke’s gaze followed her, the slight sway of her hips, the faint swing of her dark hair against her shoulders as she crossed the room.

She’s going to be trouble.

Dear Reader,

No matter what the weather is like, I always feel like March 1st is the beginning of spring. So let’s celebrate that just-around-the-corner thaw with, for starters, another of Christine Rimmer’s beloved BRAVO FAMILY TIES books. In The Bravo Family Way, a secretive Las Vegas mogul decides he “wants” a beautiful preschool owner who’s long left the glittering lights and late nights of Vegas behind. But she hadn’t counted on the charms of Fletcher Bravo. No woman could resist him for long….

Victoria Pade’s The Baby Deal, next up in our FAMILY BUSINESS continuity, features wayward son Jack Hanson finally agreeing to take a meeting with a client—only perhaps he got a little too friendly too fast? She’s pregnant, and he’s…well, he’s not sure what he is, quite frankly. In Judy Duarte’s Call Me Cowboy, a New York City girl is in desperate need of a detective with a working knowledge of Texas to locate the mother she’s never known. Will she find everything she’s looking for, courtesy of T. J. “Cowboy” Whittaker? In She’s the One, Patricia Kay’s conclusion to her CALLIE’S CORNER CAFÉ series, a woman who’s always put her troublesome younger sister’s needs before her own finds herself torn by her attraction to the handsome cop who’s about to place said sister under arrest. Lois Faye Dyer’s new miniseries, THE MCCLOUDS OF MONTANA, which features two feuding families, opens with Luke’s Proposal. In it, the daughter of one family is forced to work together with the son of the other—with very unexpected results! And in A Bachelor at the Wedding by Kate Little, a sophisticated Manhattan tycoon finds himself relying more and more on his Brooklyn-bred assistant (yeah, Brooklyn)—and not just for business.

So enjoy, and come back next month—the undisputed start of spring….

Gail

Luke’s Proposal
Lois Faye Dyer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With much love and thanks to The FairyDusters:

Lisette Belisle, Laurie Campbell, Chris Flynn, Pat Kay,

Allison Leigh, Cheryl Reavis and Myrna Temte.

You guys are the best.

LOIS FAYE DYER

lives on Washington State’s beautiful Puget Sound with her yellow Lab, Maggie Mae, and two eccentric cats. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366.

Dear Reader,

With deep blue sky arching overhead and buttes rising in sagebrush-dotted pastures, eastern Montana is the perfect setting for the McCloud and Kerrigan family feud to play itself out. The McClouds and the Kerrigans have been at odds for over eighty years. Any hope of resolving the family feud was destroyed when teenagers Chase McCloud and Lonnie Kerrigan were involved in an accident that resulted in the death of Chase’s good friend Mike Harper. After his father fabricated an alibi for Lonnie, an innocent Chase was sentenced to a juvenile institution for manslaughter and the feud raged anew.

Luke McCloud has always been attracted to Rachel Kerrigan but never allowed himself to pursue the daughter of his family’s enemy. When Rachel makes him an offer he can’t refuse, in return for his expertise in training her quarter horse, the two are thrown together in a partnership that soon destroys any pretense of indifference. Rachel is equally drawn to Luke and the heat between them quickly blazes out of control. But what will happen when their families learn they’ve been betrayed?

I’ve had such marvelous fun exploring the twists and turns of family intrigue, betrayal and pride in this new four-book series. I hope you enjoy Luke and Rachel’s story, and that you’ll return with me to Wolf Creek, Montana, for the next installment in the McCloud–Kerrigan feud when Zach Kerrigan returns home from a war zone to learn Jessie McCloud has a secret to tell him.

Warmest regards,

Lois Faye Dyer

c/o Paperbacks Plus

1618 Bay Street

Port Orchard, WA 98366

http://www.specialauthors.com

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Wolf Creek, Montana

Early Spring, Fifteen Years Earlier

Nothing in Luke McCloud’s short fifteen years on earth had prepared him for the shock of abruptly losing his beloved grandfather.

Pain lodged in his chest, right over his heart. His head ached from the gathering pressure of tears behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Instead he stared without blinking at the flower-covered casket. The glossy mahogany box with its gleaming brass handles was suspended over the open grave, waiting to be lowered into the Montana prairie. Beside him, ten-year-old Jessie sobbed, hic-cupping as she tried to swallow the sound.

Several feet behind them, a uniformed Montana Department of Corrections officer, hands clasped behind his back, feet spread as he discreetly distanced himself from the proceedings, cleared his throat and coughed.

The wind picked up, sweeping down from the buttes behind the cemetery to ruffle the short spikes of green grass pushing their way up between winter’s dried yellow stalks. Lead-gray clouds stretched across the sky from horizon to horizon. Nudged by the wind, they released the rain that had threatened for the past half hour. The shower spattered the small crowd and dampened the black tarp spread over the mound of dirt at one end of the open grave. Moisture pearled on the velvety petals of red roses and lush green leaves resting on top of the casket.

Luke drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the pain in his chest and shift the lump in his throat. The cool air was heavy with the familiar tang of prairie sage blending with the scent of sweet roses and damp earth.

On the far side of the grave, a crowd of black-clad mourners huddled together, their umbrellas bumping. At the head of the casket, the minister’s wife quickly opened a large gray umbrella above her husband’s head, stepping close to escape the rain. The somber dome sheltered the gilt-edged pages as the minister read from his leather-bound Bible.

On Luke’s left, his little sister Jessie clutched the hand of their older brother, Chase.

Their mother, Margaret, stood on the far side of Chase, her auburn hair a bright flame of color against the deep black of her dress and hat. One hand gripped the arm of Luke’s father, John, the other held the handle of a bright red umbrella. The uniformed officer stood several feet behind Chase, a set of handcuffs dangling from the left side of his black gun belt.

Luke ignored the deputy, glancing instead at his mother. Margaret was a strong woman, but losing her father-in-law was devastating, especially coming on the heels of Chase’s jail sentence.

The cause of Angus’s death was officially listed as pneumonia, but Luke knew his grandfather had died of a broken heart. And for that, he blamed Lonnie and Harlan Kerrigan. Their lies had sent Chase to jail, and Angus had visibly grieved, spending more and more time alone. His death was yet one more reason for Luke to hate the Kerrigans.

The McClouds had feuded with the Kerrigans since 1922, when a crooked poker game cost a McCloud their homestead, 2500 acres of prime land. But this was the first time a McCloud had died because of the enmity between the two families.

Luke’s gaze flicked from the casket to the mourners on the far side of the grave, traveling slowly over the familiar faces. His grandfather’s widow, Laura Kerrigan-McCloud stood near the front of the group, leaning heavily on a cane as she stared at the casket containing the body of her husband. At her left, his ruddy face set in grim lines, stood Harlan Kerrigan. Luke’s glance moved on, registering and dismissing Harlan’s sister-in-law, Judith, the wife of his deceased brother, her teenage son, Zach, and young daughter, Rachel standing by her grieving great-aunt’s side before searching the crowd beyond.

The one Kerrigan he sought wasn’t there.

Lonnie Kerrigan didn’t have the guts to show his face at Angus McCloud’s funeral, Luke thought, bitterness underscoring a newfound cynicism. His grandfather had married Laura when they were both in their midseventies, and more than once he’d told Luke that the women in the Kerrigan family were beautiful, strong and admirable, but the Kerrigan men couldn’t be trusted.

Luke glanced at his grandfather’s widow once more, but she was wiping her eyes, the lacy white handkerchief nearly the same color as her pale skin. Luke felt no glimmer of compassion for her grief. He couldn’t bring himself to care that the elderly woman had shared his grandfather’s life for only four brief years before she was bereaved. Luke had no room in his heart for anything other than his own grief and a deep thirst for revenge.

His gaze moved back to Harlan Kerrigan’s niece. Lonnie’s cousin Rachel was young, not more than ten or eleven, her thin, childish body wrapped in a black wool coat against the cold April rain. Her bare legs were long and slender. His glance slid impersonally over the girl, marking and filing away in his memory the thick mane of dark hair and black-lashed gold eyes that watched him with solemn compassion.

She has eyes like Lonnie, he thought briefly, as she stared back at him, unblinking. No, not quite, he realized. Lonnie wouldn’t have the nerve to face any of us now. It didn’t matter how much courage she had. Her last name was Kerrigan, that alone was enough to earn his hatred.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…”

Margaret’s tear-clogged voice lifted to join the minister’s. Luke bowed his head, the girl’s golden eyes forgotten as his lips formed the familiar words. His mother’s voice faltered, catching on a sob before it steadied, her fingers tightening their hold on his father’s overcoat. Jessie’s small, cold hand slipped into Luke’s and clung, and he clenched his teeth against the tremors that shook him. He didn’t trust his voice not to break so he prayed silently, staring at the ground.

On the far side of the grave, Rachel Kerrigan bowed her head for the Lord’s Prayer, but she couldn’t resist watching Luke McCloud from behind the shield of her lashes. His features were devoid of expression, his gaze lowered, but she’d caught him looking at Laura moments before. And when that ice blue gaze had left her great-aunt and met hers, she’d been frozen by the fierce anger that leaped to life for a brief moment before he narrowed his eyes and they were once again unreadable.

The crowd around her stirred, shifting and murmuring, and Rachel realized the prayer had ended. She glanced quickly at her great-aunt, but Laura stood motionless, her head bowed in silent prayer. Behind them, two women whispered, their voices growing louder and more distinct.

“Such a shame. Poor John and Margaret.”

“They must be heartbroken to lose Angus so soon after that awful business with their son.”

Rachel stiffened. Her gaze flew to Laura but she seemed oblivious to the women, lost in her grief.

“Hmph.” A third voice joined the first two. “If you ask me, it was Angus that had the broken heart. He was a proud man. It had to be hard on him when his grandson was sent to prison for murder.”

Rachel spun to face the three older women. “It wasn’t murder,” she whispered fiercely. “It was manslaughter. And the car crash was an accident.”

“An accident?” The heavyset woman who’d used the M-word pursed her lips and frowned. “That’s certainly not what the judge decided. And clearly not what the Harper family believes, since there’s not a single one of them here today. Why are you defending young McCloud? He swore your cousin caused the accident. If the judge had believed him, Lonnie would have gone to jail instead of the McCloud boy.”

Rachel couldn’t tell the gossip that it was possible Lonnie had lied about what happened when Chase McCloud’s pickup truck rolled, leaving a third teenager, Mike Harper, dead. In her experience, Lonnie never told the truth if a lie would make his life easier. But her uncle and great-aunt stood within hearing distance and they both doted on Lonnie, stubbornly refusing to admit he was anything less than perfect.

Stymied, Rachel settled for giving the three women a withering glare and turning her back on them.

Luke echoed his mother and father’s murmured amens before he steeled himself as the minister and his wife headed the line of mourners approaching his family. His parents accepted their neighbors’ condolences with dignity as they filed past.

He gritted his teeth and met each curious, accusing glance without expression, silently daring them to say anything about his brother. If they say one word out of line, I swear, I’ll hit someone.

Lonnie Kerrigan’s reckless driving had caused the car accident that killed Mike Harper—but Chase was the one in jail. And six months after Lonnie testified under oath that Chase was driving the truck that caused the accident, Angus McCloud suffered a massive heart attack followed by pneumonia. The accident, the teenager’s death and the trial resulting in Chase’s being sent to a Montana youth correctional facility had devastated the McCloud family.

Luke ignored the passing mourners, his gaze drifting beyond them, locking onto the only five figures that hadn’t joined the line shuffling past his parents.

Harlan Kerrigan was shaking off his sister-in-law’s hand, clearly growling a refusal at her as he took his aunt Laura’s arm and turned his back on the graveside. Zach’s unreadable gaze met Luke’s before he walked away. The girl hesitated, looking back over her shoulder. Her gaze collided with Luke’s, a silent apology in their gold depths, before she turned and hurried after her family.

Harlan helped the widow into the passenger seat and stalked around the heavy green sedan to climb behind the wheel, leaving Zach to open the back door for Judith. The girl scrambled into the back with her mother and brother, barely getting the door closed before the vehicle was moving.

Luke marked the passage of the luxury vehicle as it pulled out onto the graveled county road, following it until it disappeared over the rise of a small hill. Behind him, the officer stepped forward, pulling his attention away from the departing Kerrigans.

“It’s time, son.” The officer’s voice was apologetic but firm as his hand settled on Chase’s shoulder.

Resistance roared through Luke, and he tensed, his fingers curling into fists.

Margaret’s hand tightened over Chase’s forearm, her eyes tortured.

“I have to go, Mom.”

“I know.” Margaret’s voice trembled and caught on a sob. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “We’ll come see you soon.”

“No.” Chase returned her tight hug and stepped back. “I don’t want you to see me there.”

“Chase,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “You’ll be in prison for two years. Don’t ask me to spend two years without seeing you.”

Luke couldn’t imagine having to endure that long without Chase. His brother was only eighteen months older, and they’d been inseparable all their lives. He held his breath, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m not asking you to never visit, Mom. Just—wait awhile, okay?”

Luke drew a deep breath, struggling for control. Clearly torn by Chase’s request, Margaret met his gaze for a long moment before she sighed and gave in. “All right, but don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t.”

He bent closer and kissed her soft cheek. Luke saw Chase’s eyes close and knew he was dragging in a deep breath, storing away in his memory the smell of her perfume.

Chase held his mother close one last time before he turned to his father and held out his hand. John McCloud pulled him into a tight hug. “Take care, son.”

“Yes, sir.” He gripped his father, then stepped back and turned to Jessie. “Be good while I’m gone.”

“I will,” Jessie echoed. Her deep blue eyes were brilliant with the tears that overflowed and slipped down her pale cheeks. She sobbed and flung herself at Chase, wrapping her arms around him, her tight grip desperate.

Chase hugged her, smoothing a hand over the silky crown of auburn hair before he pried her little fists free of his shirt.

Jessie didn’t make a sound, but her tears coursed down her face and dripped slowly from the soft, rounded curve of her chin.

Chase’s gaze met Luke’s, their exchange wordless before they shared a short, hard hug.

Then Chase turned to the officer and held out his wrists. Luke couldn’t suppress a growl of protest when the officer snapped the handcuffs in place.

“This is standard procedure, Luke.” Chase’s look warned him not to interfere. Luke clenched his hands until the short nails bit into his palm as he struggled to contain his rage. The last glimpse Luke had of his brother was a shared glance as the patrol car drove away, leaving the four of them standing by the open grave in the rain.

Fifteen Years Later

Early Spring

The bar was a dive. A man could search high and low through all the cowboy bars in Billings, Montana, and not find a rougher place.

Which was precisely why Luke McCloud had chosen the Bull ’n Bash. He couldn’t think of anywhere less likely to be frequented by anyone he knew. Most of his neighbors from Wolf Creek were in Billings for the livestock auctions and he’d rather avoid them, especially Lonnie Kerrigan. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and a brawl was the usual result when Lonnie was drinking.

Luke sat alone at a round table for four. He’d tilted one of the battered wooden chairs against the rough-cut lumber of the wall at his back and stretched out his legs to prop his boots on the seat of an empty chair. He drank from the longneck bottle of beer in his hand and swept the crowded, dim interior of the tavern with an experienced, assessing eye.

A Dwight Yoakam tune blared from the jukebox near the door, and in the back of the low-ceilinged room, the crack of cue sticks against pool balls was accompanied by grunts of satisfaction or groans of disgust from the players. A haze of cigarette and cigar smoke curled around the cheap hanging lanterns that gave the bar its dim light. Shadows lurked in the corners and partially concealed the doorway leading to a back hall. The Bull ’n Bash was doing a fair amount of business for nine o’clock on a Wednesday night. The bartender was a blonde who’d seen better days, but she smiled and laughed at the jokes from the three old cowboys occupying the worn red vinyl stools at the bar.

The sole waitress was washing glasses. Luke caught her eye and waggled his empty bottle. She smiled and nodded before drying her hands on the white towel tied around her waist.

He watched her grab a full bottle, leave the bar and sashay across the room toward him. She was younger than the bartender, her lush body poured into skintight jeans and an off-the-shoulder white knit blouse. A curly mass of reddish-brown hair brushed her shoulders and tangled in long silver earrings.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked in a breathy, inviting voice as she set the bottle on the table in front of him.

“No, thanks. How much do I owe you?” She named a figure, not bothering to conceal her interest as he shoved a hand in his jeans pocket, the faded denim pulling tight. He counted out bills and some change, and she cupped her palm to take them. “You’re sure I can’t get you something else, cowboy?”

“Sorry, honey. Not tonight.”

She pouted before smiling. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe,” he acceded with a slow grin.

Placated, she returned to the bar and the stack of dirty glasses.

Luke pulled a silver pocketwatch from his jeans and thumbed open the case, squinting to read the numerals in the dim light. Nine-fifteen. He decided to finish his beer and head back to his solitary bed in the hotel six blocks away. He lifted the bottle to his lips, just as the door to the street opened and a woman stepped inside.

She paused just over the threshold, her thick fall of black hair brushing against her shoulders as she turned her head, searching the room.

There was something familiar about her, but Luke couldn’t place her. A slim black dress wrapped her from throat to midcalf, slender ankles and feet tucked into strappy, black leather shoes. A black leather bag the size of a small briefcase was slung over one shoulder. Everything about her said she belonged uptown in the cocktail lounge of Billings’s best hotel and not within the rough walls of the Bull ’n Bash. She turned her head, and the dim light from a lantern directly above the door gleamed on her glossy hair.

Luke frowned, his inability to identify her nagging at him.

Look in this direction, he urged silently, wanting to get a clear view of her face.

Then she looked at him, her eyes widening with recognition. He stiffened, slowly lowering the nearly full bottle to the tabletop.

The last time he’d seen Rachel Kerrigan walking down Main Street in Wolf Creek was nearly five years ago, but he’d know those gold eyes anywhere. The usual frustrating mix of lust and slow anger filled him. She faltered in midstride before continuing to weave her way through the tables toward him.

She was only a few steps away before he accepted that it was him she’d been searching the bar to find. She halted on the far side of the table. “Luke McCloud.” It was less a question than a statement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Luke let the silence stretch, purposely letting his gaze rake slowly from the top of her dark hair to her feet and back. Her skin was fair, with a sprinkling of tiny freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of a small, straight nose. She had a soft, full mouth and a square little chin. Conservative pearl-and-gold earrings glinted in her lobes. Slim fingers gripped the leather strap of her purse, the nails neatly manicured.

He’d heard the gossip that the Kerrigans were in financial trouble. It was public knowledge that ninety-year-old Marcus Kerrigan, confined to a nursing home for his final two years of life after suffering a debilitating stroke, had passed away three weeks ago. Rumor had it Marcus had left a will that split his ranch conglomerate equally between his surviving son, his widowed daughter-in-law and his three grandchildren. For generations the property had passed unbroken from father to eldest son and Luke figured the old man’s will must have enraged Harlan Kerrigan.

None of which explained why Harlan Kerrigan’s niece needed to talk to him, a McCloud. He’d never made a secret of his contempt for the Kerrigans. And despite the unforgettable kiss they’d once shared, he considered her off-limits.

“You need to talk to me,” he repeated. “About what?”

“A business proposition. May I sit down?”

She didn’t blink under his stare. Luke considered her for a moment, then he lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to pull the chair away from the table. She accepted his silent invitation and sat, her back ramrod-straight, ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap, her expression one of resolution.

Luke crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and eyed her, waiting.

Rachel had thought long and hard before approaching Luke McCloud. She knew asking for his help was a long shot, but she was desperate and he was her last hope. Determined though she was, she’d almost turned around and walked out of the tavern when she’d looked across the room and seen him. Stiffening her resolve, she’d forced her feet to carry her across the bar.

But the closer she drew, the more nervous she became.

She’d forgotten how big he was—over six feet tall and heavily muscled, his body honed daily by strenuous ranch work. He sat alone, his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out, ankles crossed, feet resting on the seat of an empty chair. His boots were scuffed and scarred, the black leather showing the unmistakable wear marks of spur straps and metal. His white cotton shirt was fastened up the front with pearl snaps, the long sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows, the tails tucked into the waistband of faded Levi’s. His gaze was remote, and she’d seen no flicker of expression cross his face as he’d watched her walk toward him.

His features gave no hint as to what he was thinking, but Rachel doubted his thoughts were friendly ones. She’d planned this conversation with painstaking detail and tried to anticipate every possible reaction from anger, curses or having him walk out of the bar.

No matter what he did, she was determined to follow him and keep talking until he listened. “I have a business proposition,” she repeated, “and I hope you’ll hear me out before refusing.”

He raised an eyebrow, his skepticism obvious, before he nodded.

“I’m sure you’ve heard my grandfather left a will that was…” She paused, searching for the right word before deciding to opt for frankness. “Let’s just say it might be called unusual.”

“I heard,” he acknowledged. His deep drawl sent shivers of nerves up her spine.

“It’s no secret Granddad split the ranch and left specific portions to each of us, nor that the inheritance taxes assessed after his death are staggering. Mother and I can’t pay our share of the tax owed and we’re on the verge of bankruptcy.” He barely reacted to her blunt words; she would have missed the faint narrowing of his eyes if she hadn’t been intent on watching him.

“All of you? Or only you and your mother?”

“Only me and my mother. And maybe Zach.” Before he could ask why her uncle Harlan and his son Lonnie weren’t affected, Rachel continued. “Our only asset capable of paying the tax debt on the land is a three-year-old stud colt out of Misty Morning by Ransom’s Regret.” The brief flare of interest in his face was quickly erased, but it was enough encouragement for Rachel to continue. “I want to hire you to train him. And to race him.” She stopped speaking, holding her breath for his answer, nerves sending her pulse pounding.

“No.”

She wasn’t surprised. She’d expected a flat refusal, at first. But he hadn’t heard the terms. “We don’t have cash to pay your fees. But we have the deed to the north section of the ranch.”

For a long moment he only looked at her. “You’re offering me the deed to the original McCloud homestead instead of cash?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Two

“Our families have fought over ownership of the homestead for more than eighty years. Now you’re volunteering to sign over 2500 acres of prime land to a McCloud?” Skepticism tinged his deep voice.

“Yes.”

He studied her, his gaze fastened on hers as he lifted the bottle and drank, the muscles of his throat moving rhythmically. Rachel refused to look away, despite the instant, vivid memory of that sensual, hard mouth on hers. If she was to have any hope of convincing him to agree to a business relationship, she couldn’t let him know he still made her knees weak. She’d never been able to forget the kiss they’d shared when she was seventeen. She’d avoided him ever since. She’d been kissed by other men since. Why hadn’t she forgotten the taste and feel of his mouth on hers?

He lowered the bottle. “I can’t believe your uncle knows you’re doing this.”

“He doesn’t,” Rachel said flatly. “And though he’s bound to find out sooner or later, I’d prefer to delay that moment as long as possible.”

“If he doesn’t know, how can he sign off on the deed?”

“My mother will sign. She has control of the property.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed over her, his expression sharpening. “Your grandfather left the McCloud homestead to his dead son’s widow and not to Harlan?”

“Yes.” Rachel refused to elaborate further.

“Your mother moved away from the ranch years ago. I thought she and Marcus were estranged.”

His blue stare was unreadable. Rachel had the uneasy feeling he was weighing each word she said. She was an intensely private person, as was her mother, and they’d agreed to keep the difficulties and disagreements they’d had with Marcus, Harlan and Lonnie within the family. How much did she have to tell Luke to convince him that her mother had the authority to sign the deed and give him the land?

“My mother wanted my brother and me to grow up on the ranch, but when Zach was gone and I left for college, she moved into the house in town she inherited from her parents. She’s involved in many community projects and it’s more convenient for her to live in Wolf Creek rather than twenty miles away on the ranch.”

Rachel knew he wasn’t completely satisfied with her carefully worded explanation. She felt her face heat as he studied her.

“Why don’t you just sell the land to me outright? It might take a few weeks for me to get the cash, but the money would be a sure thing. No matter how good your horse is, racing quarter horses is always a gamble.”

“We considered that,” she admitted, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the bar, buying time to steady her nerves. The waitress looked distinctly unfriendly, but Rachel lifted her hand to beckon her anyway. The woman ignored her, purposely turning her attention to a cowboy seated on a bar stool, and Rachel turned back to Luke. She’d anticipated this question. But, the necessity of telling him a half-truth went against every principle she held dear. The whole truth, however, that the will had said her mother could only accept one dollar from him in return for the property deed, would destroy any hope of his agreeing to train Ransom’s Mist. And Luke and Ransom’s Mist were the only chance she had to guarantee that the inheritance left to her mother, Zach and herself wasn’t lost forever.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, glancing past her to the waitress.

“No. I’ve changed my mind.” She drew a deep breath, calmer now, and continued. “Mom and I don’t want to give up any more acres than are absolutely necessary. We want to hold the sections that Granddad left us individually and combine them with the land he left to my brother, Zach. He loves ranching and he loves the land.”

“Then why isn’t he the one talking to me?”

“Because we can’t reach him.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, tucking the long fall behind her ear. “He’s overseas at the moment.”

“Hmm.” Luke’s eyes narrowed. The nervous gesture was the first indication she was anything other than cool and in control. She hadn’t once mentioned her cousin Lonnie. Smart woman, he thought. This conversation would have been over if she’d told him Lonnie was the family member she wanted to join forces with. “I had a cousin in the military,” he commented, watching her. “In an emergency the family could always reach him through his commanding officer.”

Rachel held his stare. “Zach’s not military anymore. He left Special Forces to become a munitions consultant with a private company a couple of years ago. Contacting him is difficult at times, if not impossible. His employer wouldn’t even tell us what country he’s in right now.”

“I see.” Luke wondered just what kind of black ops mission Rachel’s brother was involved in. “How do you think he’ll feel about you trading the homestead to a McCloud?”

“He’ll understand we have to give up a small part of our inheritance to save the rest.”

Luke doubted Zach Kerrigan would understand or agree with the women’s decision, but he let Rachel’s assertion pass. “It would be a lot easier if you’d just sell me the land outright,” he said. “Or sell the whole damn place. My dad would buy it.”

“No.” Her jaw firmed, her expression stubborn. “Kerrigans have lived on the Bar K since we homesteaded there in the late 1800s. We won’t sell. Not unless there’s no other possible choice.”

Luke could understand her position. McCloud ancestors had settled in the basin the same year the Kerrigans arrived. No McCloud would willingly sell, either.

Which made him question even more why she was willing to trade land for his expertise with horses. Especially this particular piece of land.

“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me,” he mused, not really expecting an answer. But the swift lowering of her lashes and the tightening of her grip on the leather straps of her bag told him he was right. What was she hiding? Something about the land—or something about the horse? “Suppose you tell me exactly what the problem is with your horse.”

“He’s three years old and he’s never been ridden.”

“And,” Luke prompted when she stopped speaking.

“And he won’t let anyone close enough to break him.”

“That’s not unusual. I’m guessing you have reason to believe no trainer can saddle-break him. So cut to the chase and tell me what happened to him.”

“When he was a yearling, he was caught in a barbed wire fence.” Rachel didn’t react to his muttered curse. “By the time my uncle and the hired hand found him, he was down and wrapped in the fence. They had to cut the wire to get him on his feet, and his hide and legs were torn and bleeding in a dozen places. The vet said that given the amount of damage, he’d probably been on the ground and thrashing for some time before he was discovered.”

“What the hell was a quarter horse with his bloodline doing in an enclosure fenced with barb wire?”

“Harlan was having the metal fences in the horse enclosure painted so he turned Ransom out into the cattle pasture north of the house.”

“Huh.” Luke’s disgust for Harlan’s carelessness with a horse as valuable as Ransom must have been written on his face because Rachel stiffened and appeared to steel herself to continue.

“It gets worse.”

“Worse?”

“Six months later my uncle hired Troy Armstrong to break Ransom.”

Luke swore under his breath.

“Troy had him saddled and bridled when Ransom bucked him off and escaped.”

“He knocked down the metal corral fencing? Or he went over the top?”

Rachel shook her head. “No metal fencing. He wasn’t in the breaking pen—Troy used the snubbing post in an old wood corral. Ransom went crazy and kicked the half-rotted poles loose, then he crashed through them.”

Luke tamped down anger at the trainer’s failure to foresee the potentially dangerous situation, and managed to speak without snarling. “How much damage did he do?”

“None to himself but he pretty much wiped out the corral fence. That wasn’t a big loss because Harlan rarely uses it, but it was a week before my uncle and Troy could get close enough to rope Ransom and bring him in. He ran loose with the saddle twisted and the reins dangling all that time. When they had him in the breaking pen, it took a long time before they could get him to stand still and allow them close enough to strip the gear off. Ever since, he’s been totally unpredictable. He wouldn’t let Troy near him. When Troy tried to rope Ransom again to saddle him, Ransom pinned his ears back, bared his teeth and chased him out of the breaking pen.”

“Smart horse,” Luke commented. “Armstrong is an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that assessment,” she said with feeling. “Afterward, Harlan turned Ransom loose with the cattle in the open pasture and let him run. He’s been there ever since and no one’s tried to handle him.”

“Why didn’t Harlan hire another trainer?”

Rachel glanced around the bar. Luke let the small silence stretch, waiting for her answer but suspecting what it would be.

“I think my uncle decided Ransom wasn’t worth the effort.”

“But you don’t agree?”

“No.” Rachel’s gaze met his. Conviction rang in her voice. “Ransom’s fast. I’ve seen him run.”

Luke didn’t know if Rachel’s assessment of her horse’s speed was accurate. He did, however, know Harlan Kerrigan was bullheaded and stubborn enough to lose his temper and write off a horse who had potential. Maybe the horse really wasn’t worth the effort it might take to train and race him, but Luke figured the stud’s bloodline alone made it worth a look.

“I have to see the colt before I agree to take him on. And,” he added. “I get the land whether your horse wins or not. You’ll have to sign a contract.”

“Of course.” Rachel slipped the bag from her shoulder and unzipped it to pull out a sheaf of papers. “I had our attorney prepare a document.”

She held out the stapled legal-size form. He took it, settling back into his chair while he scanned the top sheet, then the second, before looking at her.

“You were pretty confident I’d say yes.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I hoped you’d say yes. And if you agreed, I knew you wouldn’t do it without conditions so I had Mr. Cline put in the ones I anticipated.” She gestured at the papers. “I also had him insert a condition I think is important. It’s on page three, paragraph two.”

Luke turned to page three, and read the second paragraph aloud:

“All parties agree to act in good faith. Luke McCloud shall make all efforts to train Ransom’s Mist and enable him to win sufficient races to develop a reputation as a potential stud. Failure to exert such reasonable and expected efforts on the part of Mr. McCloud shall negate the contract in its entirety.”

The language was fairly standard, but Luke felt a flash of annoyance that she felt it necessary to have him sign a document affirming he would do his best to train her horse.

“If I don’t think I can help your horse after I’ve looked him over, I won’t accept your offer,” he said evenly. “If I think he’s trainable, and if I think he has a chance of becoming a stud that generates income for you, I’ll give him the same time and attention as any other horse I handle.”

She flushed, the arch of her cheekbones darkening with color, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “You have a reputation for honesty—that’s why I approached you instead of someone without our family history. And my sources told me that you’re the best trainer in five states. But you’re still a McCloud. And I’m Harlan Kerrigan’s niece and Lonnie Kerrigan’s cousin. I couldn’t ignore the bad blood between our families, nor the possibility that you might feel you have cause to treat our horse differently.”

Her words ripped away the veil of pretense between them and sliced with knifelike precision to the heart of the matter. He was John McCloud’s son and Chase McCloud’s brother. Not only had their ancestors been on opposite sides of a land feud for three generations, but he believed her uncle and cousin had caused his family irreparable harm.

If he agreed to help her, his family would be outraged. Was the long-term gain worth the short-term problems he’d have to face with the rest of the McClouds?

Yes, he decided. He’d deal with his family. Once the deed to the homestead was his and the land legally in McCloud hands, his father, brother, sister and mother would forgive him for agreeing to work with a Kerrigan.

“You’re right. You’re a Kerrigan. I’m a McCloud. But this is business. If I think your horse is trainable, I’ll sign the contract. If not, I won’t.”

“Excellent.” Her mouth curved in a spontaneous smile of relief, and she leaned forward to hold out her hand.

He took her hand in his. The combined impact of her smile and the feel of her slim fingers sent a jolt of lust to his groin and a strange longing through his veins. Her grip was firm, but her skin was an unexpected combination of roughness and soft silk. Frowning, he turned her hand palm up. Barely healed blisters reddened the skin of her fingers and palm while an angry-looking rope burn marked the center.

She tugged her hand from his and he looked at her, studying the faint streaks of pink on her cheeks.

“You’ve been working on the ranch?”

“I’ve been helping Charlie with chores and riding the horses a bit.”

Luke wondered just how many hours a day she was working to tear up her hands like that, but decided to let it go.

“I’ll be back at my place on Wednesday. Bring your horse by and I’ll look him over.” He nodded at the legal papers on the table. “I’ll have my attorney go over the contract before then.”

“Very well.” She rose. “Ransom’s Mist and I will see you Wednesday.”

She waited a moment, as if expecting him to say more. When he didn’t, she nodded, the goodbye gesture as brief as his had been, before she turned and walked away.

Luke’s gaze followed her slim back, the slight sway of her hips, the faint swing of her dark hair against her shoulders as she crossed the room. She disappeared from view, and the heavy bar door closed behind her.

She’s going to be trouble, he thought. He knew it in his gut.

He’d felt the same when he was twenty-one and Rachel Kerrigan was seventeen, too young and way too innocent for him. Despite his instinctive awareness that she had the potential to screw up his life, he’d been hard-pressed to stay away from her back then.

He’d kissed women before. He’d certainly kissed women since. Why had he never forgotten what her mouth felt like under his?

Luke didn’t want to imagine what that said about his feelings for Rachel Kerrigan.

Chapter Three

Rachel walked the short blocks from the bar to her hotel in a daze.

He said yes, she repeated silently as she caught the elevator to her third-floor room, barely aware of the two other people in the lift. The doors opened and she walked down the hall to her room, her fingers trembling in delayed reaction as she swiped her key card and pushed open the door.

She stepped inside and fumbled with the locks before managing to set the dead bolt and slide the security chain into place. The comfortable hotel room had a queen-size bed, and she tossed her purse atop the deep blue spread, kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the edge of the bed.

“He said yes.” The whispered words broke the silence in the quiet room. She pushed her heavy mane of hair away from her temples, drawing a deep, calming breath before leaning forward to switch on the bedside lamp and pick up the telephone receiver.

“Hello?” Her mother answered the phone on the first ring, and Rachel knew Judith had probably been pacing the floor for the last hour, carrying the portable phone in her hand and willing it to ring.

“He said yes, Mom.”

Judith Kerrigan’s swift, indrawn breath was audible. “Thank heavens.” Her voice vibrated with relief.

“He has to see Ransom’s Mist before he’ll sign the contract, but if Luke thinks he has potential, then he’ll take him on.”

“I wasn’t worried about whether Luke McCloud would agree with us that our horse can run,” Judith said bluntly. “But I admit I questioned whether he’d consider training a horse owned by a Kerrigan. I’m surprised he listened to you long enough to hear the proposal.” Her voice sharpened. “He was polite, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, Mom. He was polite.”

“Well, that’s a relief. He’s never been anything but respectful on the occasions I’ve seen him in town, but I admit I was worried about you going alone to talk to him.”

“We were in a public bar, Mom. I was hardly in any danger.”

“Humph. I never thought you were in any physical danger, but your uncle and the McCloud men hold on to that damn feud like dogs with a bone.” Judith’s tone left no doubt that she disapproved. “It wouldn’t have surprised me if Luke had been outright rude to you.”

“I half expected him to get up and walk away before I could explain why I wanted to talk to him,” Rachel confessed. “Fortunately, he stayed. And he listened.” She patted a yawn, overwhelmed with tiredness.

“You sound exhausted, Rachel. I’ll hang up so you can get to sleep. When are you coming home?” Judith asked, her tone brisk as she abruptly changed the subject.

“Early tomorrow. I should be in Wolf Creek before lunch.”

“Stop at my house before you go out to the ranch. I want to hear all the details of your discussion with Luke.”

“I’ll do that. Did you hear from Zach today?”

“No, but maybe I will tomorrow. Wherever it is the company has sent him, surely he’ll be in contact with them before too much longer.”

“I hope so, Mom.” Rachel wasn’t as convinced as her mother that Zach would contact them anytime soon. Over the last few years, her brother had often been out of touch for several months at a time, and when he finally wrote or called, he’d wouldn’t tell them where he’d been. Whatever Zach did for Connor Security Inc. was top secret. She tried not to think about how dangerous the work might be. “We can’t wait for Zach. We have to find a solution that will not only pay our share of the inheritance taxes but also generate future income.”

“Unless we want to sell out to your uncle Harlan.”

“That’s not a possibility for me.”

“Nor for me,” Judith agreed. “Harlan’s always been difficult, but I never anticipated he would act as he has since his father died and we learned the contents of the will.”

Judith’s heavy sigh conveyed her frustration. “I can’t help but wonder why Marcus divided up the ranch but prevented any of us from selling our sections to anyone outside the family, apart from the homestead’s 2500 acres. He created an impossible situation when he left us land but no cash.”

“I don’t think Granddad knew there wasn’t any cash.” Rachel didn’t want to believe her uncle had stripped the cash assets from the ranch during the two years her grandfather was ill. But she couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation that made sense.

Judith was silent for a long moment. “You may be right. After your father died and no longer provided a buffer between me and Harlan, I became convinced that he couldn’t be trusted. Nevertheless, it’s a big leap from family squabbles to an actual crime. But, I can’t help wondering how the ranch became so financially unstable in the past couple of years.”

“Even if Uncle Harlan juggled the books while Granddad was in the nursing home, I don’t know how we’d prove it now. And we still have to find a way to keep our sections financially solvent. Zach’s, too, until we can reach him,” she added.

“I think we’ve settled on the best possible alternative,” Judith said. “I just wish Zach wouldn’t be out of touch for such long periods of time. I worry about him.”

“So do I. And I miss him.” Her brother’s self-imposed exile from Wolf Creek and the Bar K had broken her mother’s heart, just as it had Rachel’s. Although they kept in touch with phone calls, e-mail and the occasional trip to visit Zach when he was in the U.S., it wasn’t enough to keep them from grieving over their separation. She understood why Zach had left and why he’d broken all contact with their grandfather and uncle, but it didn’t make her miss him any less. She yawned again. “I’d better get to bed. I want to be on the road early.”

“Drive carefully.”

“I will. ’Night.”

Rachel hung up, switching on the light as she walked into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, having showered and pulled on lilac cotton pajama shorts with a matching knit top, she climbed into bed, then leaned across the nightstand and turned off the lamp.

She plumped her pillow before lying down, tucking the sheet and light blanket around her waist, before staring upward at the ceiling, where a faint strip of light from the streetlamp outside lightened the dark to gray.

What was it about Luke McCloud that affected her so wildly? One long, slow look from his blue eyes and she was instantly flushed, her nerves strung taut, excitement humming through her veins. She was no longer the naive teenager who’d been fascinated by Luke, despite knowing he was forbidden because he was a McCloud—why did she feel the same overwhelming attraction to him she’d felt at seventeen?

Granted, she thought, she hadn’t added a long list of lovers to her sexual résumé since she’d left high school. But she was certainly no longer the innocent virgin who’d been mesmerized by his kiss.

She frowned at the ceiling. No, she wasn’t a virgin. But the intimacy she’d shared with her short-term fiancé hadn’t held a tenth of the electricity she’d felt earlier when she sat across the table from Luke.

No wonder our engagement drifted into limbo before we called it off, she thought. She and Matt remained friends, and when he’d married a fellow lobbyist six months earlier, Rachel attended the wedding and wished them well without a single twinge of regret. She genuinely liked Matt, but she was relieved that she hadn’t been the one standing beside him at the altar, facing a future bound to his.

What did it say about her that one kiss shared with Luke McCloud when she was a teenager had more impact than being engaged to a very nice man she’d dated for three years?

Rachel groaned aloud and determinedly closed her eyes, willing herself to go to sleep.

It did her no good contemplating the reasons why she was so drawn to Luke. The attraction was going nowhere. It couldn’t. He was a McCloud; she was a Kerrigan.

Which is roughly equal to Luke and me being on opposite sides of the infamous Hatfield-McCoy feud.

Rachel reached the small community of Wolf Creek just before noon the following morning. The wide, tree-shaded street where her mother lived was quiet, drowsing under the hot sun. She turned into the driveway and parked her little red sports car next to her mother’s conservative Lincoln sedan. The long rambler sat amid an expanse of neatly trimmed green lawn edged with flower borders filled with lush hybrid roses and sturdy geraniums, their stems heavy with pink and white blooms. An old oak tree towered over one corner of the lawn, throwing leaf-dappled shade over a large section of thick grass and the sidewalk beyond. Rachel gathered her overnight bag and purse from the car just as her mother stepped out onto the porch.

Judith shaded her eyes with her hand against the hot, bright sunlight.

“Hi, Mom.” Rachel closed the car door and started up the brick path that wound across the grass from the driveway to the shallow porch.

“How was the trip?” Judith held open the screen door as Rachel climbed the steps and crossed the porch.

“Fine.” She lifted her sunglasses from her nose to perch them atop her head, and stepped past her mother into the entryway. “There was hardly any traffic in Billings when I left this morning, and even the construction work on the highway didn’t hold me up very long. I don’t think I waited more than ten minutes.”

“You were lucky—I sat in line for a half hour the last time I drove south.” Judith let the screen door close gently behind her. “I made a pitcher of iced tea this morning and was just about to have lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Tea sounds wonderful, but I ate a sandwich the last time I stopped for gas. I’ll pass on lunch.” Rachel paused to drop her bag and purse on the low deacon’s bench in the foyer and followed her mother down the hall to the kitchen.

Judith waited until they were both seated at the table, sunlight pouring through the window beside them and brightening the comfortable kitchen, before she asked about the meeting with Luke.

“You’re sure he wasn’t rude to you?”

Rachel shook her head. “Not at all. Not that he was delighted to see me,” she added wryly, sipping sweet tea from the frosty glass. “But he didn’t refuse to listen, either. He asked some very pointed questions, though, and I hated having to tell him half-truths.”

“What did he ask you?”

“He wanted to know why we didn’t just sell him the property outright.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That selling the homestead wouldn’t create ongoing income to keep the ranch afloat.”

“And he accepted that?”

“He seemed to.” Rachel thought about how they’d parted at the bar in Billings and the way his eyes had narrowed as he’d stared at her during their conversation, as if he knew she was keeping a secret. He can’t read my mind, she thought, ignoring the shiver of fear that chilled her. And it’s unlikely he’ll ever learn the whole truth. “He has no reason to think I was being less than completely honest with him.” Saying the words out loud didn’t help the uneasiness she felt.

Judith frowned, rubbing the lines drawn by worry between her brows. “I can see why you’d want to conceal the clause in your grandfather’s will from Luke. If our finances weren’t such a disaster, I’d sign the land over to Luke or Chase, John and Margaret, or even Jessie McCloud tomorrow. Those acres have caused this family nothing but heartache.”

Rachel had never confided her misgivings to her mother about the night fifteen years earlier when Mike Harper died on the highway and the Kerrigan-McCloud feud had blazed out of control. Maybe it was time she did.

“I’ve often wondered—” She broke off, hesitated, unwilling to upset her mother and unsure how to phrase her concerns, before starting again. “I was shocked when the will was read and we discovered Granddad had split the ranch among the family instead of leaving the property entirely to Harlan. And the clause about the specific section that can only be sold to a McCloud…” She shook her head slowly. “It’s very odd and seems completely out of character for Granddad. He loved every acre of this ranch and was adamant about never selling off any part of it. It’s occurred to me that in the wording of the will, Granddad came as close as possible—without actually saying the words—to admitting he felt we Kerrigans owed something to the McClouds. Why would he have felt that way unless he knew Lonnie and Harlan had lied about who was responsible for the car accident that killed Mike Harper? Chase McCloud swore that Lonnie was driving that night—what if he was telling the truth and Granddad knew? I can’t believe he would have separated the 2500 acres of the homestead from the rest of the property in the way he did unless he believed Chase McCloud was innocent.”

“I agree. It’s almost as if Marcus is trying to make reparation from beyond the grave, isn’t it?” Judith’s voice was weary, her gaze troubled when she met Rachel’s. “We can’t sell the homestead acres to anyone but a McCloud, and we can’t take more than a dollar from them in payment. What does that mean?”

“I think Granddad knew Chase McCloud was innocent and Harlan and Lonnie set him up to keep Lonnie out of jail.” Rachel almost whispered the words, her voice hushed.

Judith’s eyes squeezed shut, and when she opened them a brief second later, the hazel depths were dark with guilt. “I think you may be right. Which makes it twice as unforgivable that we’re using that land as a lure to convince Luke to train Ransom’s Mist.”

Rachel nodded, her own conscience as tortured as her mother’s. “I know. But without Luke to train Ransom, we’ll lose everything Granddad left us, and so will Zach. Luke would never help us for any other reason. That land is the only thing we’ve got that he wants.”

“Then we’d better pray he doesn’t find out it’s already practically his.” Judith’s voice was grim, exhausted with worry and guilt. “Luke McCloud and his brother are dangerous men. I’d hate to give them any more reason to hate us.”

Chapter Four

“He’s not gonna take kindly to being loaded in the horse trailer.” Charlie Aker’s lined face was tanned and weather-beaten beneath his straw cowboy hat. His white eyebrows matched his short-trimmed thick hair, and his pale blue eyes reflected sharp intelligence and wisdom gained over seventy-odd years spent working with cattle and horses.

“I know.” Rachel peered through the corral rails at Ransom, the sole resident of the enclosure. “Do you think you and Mom can herd him into the trailer while I stand by to close the gate once he’s inside?”

“We can try.” Charlie grinned, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. His eyes twinkled as he winked at her. “You’d better be fast girl, ’cause he’s smart.”

Her mother’s chuckle joined Rachel’s laughter as Charlie and Judith swung up on their horses. Rachel opened the gate for them, then walked quickly around the outer perimeter of the corral to reach the loading chute and the horse trailer. At barely 8:00 a.m. the temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees, but the morning sun already promised sweltering heat later in the day. She glanced across the graveled expanse between barn and house and was struck anew with a wave of possessive pride that the ranch, shabby though it was, belonged to her.

Rachel’s new home was known as Section Ten of the Kerrigan Conglomerate. The old but comfortable house was part of a cluster of buildings built on a ranch that Marcus Kerrigan had bought and added to his vast holdings. Since Marcus already had an impressive home, which was now Harlan’s, the Section Ten buildings had been used over the years to house various employees. Her inheritance from her grandfather consisted of several thousand acres of pasture and rich farmland, the two-story house, a barn, machine shed, corrals and several smaller outbuildings. The pastures were nearly empty, with only a few dozen head of cattle, several older saddle horses, Ransom, and a rangy ten-year-old Appaloosa gelding named Ajax. The horse belonged to Zach, and several years earlier, when he could no longer visit Wolf Creek on a regular basis, he’d given the Appaloosa to Rachel. She’d stabled Ajax at a small ranch outside Helena and ridden him on weekends, trailering him home with her for a few weeks each year when she returned to Wolf Creek to visit her mother. During those vacations, Ajax had been cared for by Charlie, the bowlegged horseman who had worked for her grandfather for as long as Rachel could remember.

The day Rachel told him Marcus had split the ranch and given her Section Ten, Charlie declared he was staying on. She told him she couldn’t afford his wages but he said he didn’t care. He offered to work for room and board and a promise of future pay when the ranch was in the black. Charlie had taught Rachel and Zach to ride, and they’d both spent many long hours with him as children on their grandfather’s huge ranch. Charlie was more like family to Rachel, her mother and brother than their own relatives.

Charlie moved from the ranch house into a small apartment over the tack room in the barn, and Rachel shifted her furniture into the mainhouse. Fortunately, the old bachelor cowboy was neat as a pin and the place was scrupulously clean. Her own feminine, modern furnishings were in stark contrast to the Spartan fifties interior, but Rachel had plans to spruce up the solidly built home when she could afford renovations.

But first we have to get him in the trailer, she thought, forcing her attention back to the corral and Ransom.

Loading the stallion turned out to be far more difficult and time consuming than she’d anticipated. The stallion balked, reared, evaded and generally fought until everyone was equally frustrated.

Rachel wanted to deliver Ransom’s Mist to Luke’s ranch by 9:00 a.m., but the hands on her watch pointed to ten-thirty when she finally turned off the highway. She drove slowly down the winding gravel road to the house and the cluster of barns, corrals and outbuildings that made up McCloud Enterprises Property #6.

On the seat beside her, carefully tucked into a folder, was the agreement signed by her mother.

Now, if Luke will just sign it, too, she thought. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and sucked in a deep breath as she slowed, parking the borrowed truck and horse trailer in front of the house.

The long, low rambler was neat and tidy, freshly painted white with black shutters at the windows. Sprinklers whirled lazily, the arc of water turning the green grass damp and leaving drops glittering on the old lilac bush at the far-left corner of the house. Two tall maples stretched long branches toward the eaves, their leaves shading the roof from the hot sun. The oasis of green lawn was fenced with low wrought-iron posts and rails.

The ranch buildings were located at the end of a valley and beyond the lush garden stretched pastures dotted with gray-green sagebrush, rolling upward to meet the flat-topped buttes that stood in a semicircle behind the house. In the other direction, white-painted board fences marched in neat, straight lines away from the horse barn and corrals. Farther out, fields of oats and rye waved as a breeze rippled the green stalks.

Rachel switched off the truck engine and slid out of the cab. The latch on the gate gave easily beneath her hand, and she passed through, turning to fasten it behind her. She’d heard about Chase McCloud’s talent as a blacksmith, especially with iron lace work, and guessed that Luke’s brother was the one responsible for the graceful curves and artistic lines of the unique gate.

Artistic wasn’t a word she would normally have associated with Chase McCloud, Rachel thought. She hadn’t seen him since his grandfather’s funeral fifteen years earlier but the local rumor mill still buzzed with tales of his exploits as a bounty hunter in the years after he was released from jail at age nineteen. The gossip implied he was a dangerous man who’d never forgiven his neighbors for the conviction that had delivered him to Montana’s juvenile correction system.

She hoped that didn’t mean he would convince Luke not to train Ransom.

She followed the brick sidewalk, climbed two shallow steps and reached the shade of the porch that extended the length of the house.

The screen door was closed but the inner one stood open, allowing her to see down the dim hallway. Somewhere inside the murmur of a radio announcer was followed by the twang of guitars and low growl of Toby Keith and Willie Nelson singing ‘Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.’

The music ceased abruptly the moment she knocked on the door. Boots thudded on wood flooring, and a man walked down the passage to push open the screen door. Rachel took a step back, then retreated two more as he stepped out onto the porch.

Chase McCloud hadn’t just grown older. He was bigger, harder and colder than the boy she remembered seeing at his grandfather’s graveside. The McClouds were all big men, and she found Luke’s height intimidating, but Chase wasn’t just tall and broad. He seemed hard as granite, his features remote and bordering on menacing.

Rachel realized he was watching her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m looking for Luke. Is he here?”

“Down at the barn.” He looked past her at the truck and horse trailer parked at the gate before his gaze returned to hers. He didn’t say anything further, his expression unreadable.

“Well… I’ll drive down there then.”

When he didn’t respond, she nodded abruptly, spun on her heels, descended the porch steps, marched down the sidewalk, through the gate and climbed into the truck cab. When she glanced back at the house, Chase had disappeared.

Rachel sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “That man is scary,” she muttered as she twisted the ignition key. She shifted into gear and drove past the house and down the gravel lane to park at the barn and corrals.

The big sliding door stood open, and just as Rachel rounded the hood of the truck to search for him, Luke stepped from the barn’s dim interior into the bright sunlight. Her stride faltered and she reached out blindly, steadying herself with a hand on the truck’s hood.

Like Chase, Luke’s sheer size was intimidating, but unlike his brother, he was dangerous to Rachel in so many other ways. Just looking at him made her heart beat faster and heat move through her veins. Her skin seemed more sensitive to the touch of the hot sun and the brush of the faint breeze that lifted the ends of her hair and stroked her body.

There was no question he was the sexiest man she’d ever met. Nevertheless, Rachel was determined to ignore her physical reaction and focus on business.

I need him as a business partner, that’s all, she reminded herself. There won’t be anything else between us, regardless of how much my stupid hormones shriek.

Sunlight highlighted the supple flex of tanned biceps below the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. Faded Levi’s rode low on his hips. Torn at the knee, the snug denim faithfully followed the length of powerful, muscled thighs and long legs to end just above the heels of scuffed black cowboy boots.

A straw cowboy hat was tilted over his brow, shading his face. But nothing could conceal the narrow-eyed assessment that rivaled his brother’s in intensity.

His ice blue stare snapped her back to reality, and she realized that she was standing still, gazing at him like a star-struck teenager. Annoyed, she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets and stepped forward.

“Hello, Luke.”

“‘Mornin’.” He nodded his head in greeting, his gaze lowering in a swift scan from her hair to her boots and back again.

A lick of fire followed where his gaze touched. Rachel willed herself not to react when his eyes met hers and she read the heat there. She resisted the urge to smooth a hand over the pale yellow T-shirt tucked into the belted waistband of her worn Levi’s. Repeated washings had faded and shrunk the denim until the jeans were soft and snug, and Rachel suddenly wished she’d given more thought to getting dressed this morning. Maybe she should buy new jeans that were not quite so close fitting.

On the other hand, she thought, perhaps she should ignore him. It was downright irritating that she caught herself wondering fleetingly if he liked what he saw.

“Ransom’s in the trailer.” She turned and walked toward the tailgate. As she passed the back of the truck, Luke fell in beside her, his long easy strides carrying him past her. Inside the trailer, the stallion was enclosed in the front section of the four-horse carrier, but he wasn’t tied and he moved restlessly from one side to the other, clearly stressed. By the time Rachel joined Luke, he’d unlocked and opened the tailgate.

Ransom looked over his shoulder and across the divider at them, his nostrils flaring, eyes widening until a ring of white rimmed the brown. He spun in the narrow space, setting the trailer rattling and swaying, aggression in every flex and bunch of muscles in his powerful body.

“Easy,” Luke crooned. “Easy, boy.” He eyed the nervous dance of unshod hooves against wood flooring and the small white scars scattered over Ransom’s glossy black hide before turning to look at Rachel. “Did he get those scars from the barb wire?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened, his expression grim as he studied Ransom once more. “He isn’t haltered. How much trouble did he give you when you loaded him this morning?”

Rachel thought about lying but decided not to— Luke would find out soon enough just how much Ransom hated to board the trailer. “Some,” she admitted, deciding to be as noncommittal as possible.

“Hmm.” He considered her for a moment, then closed and latched the gate.

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