“Let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “You want me—your wife—to pretend to be your wife?” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue Copyright

“Let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “You want me—your wife—to pretend to be your wife?”

“Yes. Pretend to be my loving, affectionate, definitely-not-estranged wife.”

“I’m a waitress, Jake. Not an actress.”

“I know it will be a challenge, but I’ll make it worth your while. All I need you to do is come back to Montana with me. You’ll have a free place to stay and all the food you can eat for a week.”

“Free room and board, Jake? For your wife? How generous.”

“Taylor...”

“Getting back together is not a smart idea.”

“It’s only for a week. We can tolerate each other that long, can’t we?”

Unfortunately, Taylor realized, it wasn’t just an issue of tolerating each other. They also had to keep their hands to themselves.

And with the chemistry between them still as strong as ever, it was going to be a challenge.

A big challenge.

Dear Reader,

Unforgettable Bride, by bestselling author Annette Broadrick, is May’s VIRGIN BRIDES selection, and the much-requested spin-off to her DAUGHTERS OF TEXAS series. Rough, gruff rodeo star Bobby Metcalf agreed to a quickie marriage—sans honeymoon!—with virginal Casey Carmichael. But four years later, he’s still a married man—one intent on being a husband to Casey in every sense....

Fabulous author Arlene James offers the month’s FABULOUS FATHERS title, Falling for a Father of Four. Orren Ellis was a single dad to a brood of four, so hiring sweet Mattie Kincaid seemed the perfect solution. Until he found himself falling for this woman he could never have.... Stella Bagwell introduces the next generation of her bestselling TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP series. In The Rancher’s Blessed Event, an ornery bronc rider must open his heart both to the woman who’d betrayed him...and her child yet to be born.

Who can resist a sexy, stubborn cowboy—particularly when he’s your husband? Well, Taylor Cassidy tries in Anne Ha’s Long, Tall Temporary Husband. But will she succeed? And Sharon De Vita’s irresistible trio, LULLABIES AND LOVE, continues with Baby with a Badge, where a bachelor cop finds a baby in his patrol car...and himself in desperate need of a woman’s touch! Finally, new author C.J. Hill makes her commanding debut with a title that sums it up best: Baby Dreams and Wedding Schemes.

Romance has everything you need from new beginnings to tried-and-true favorites. Enjoy each and every novel this month, and every month!

Warm Regards!

Joan Marlow Golan 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

Long, Tall Temporary Husband
Anne Ha

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To both of our families with much love

ANNE HA is really the award-winning husband/wife writing team of Anne Ha and Joe Thoron. The couple met at Amherst College, where they both majored in English and Women’s Studies—a great preparation for writing romance novels.

Anne and Joe have always loved books and particularly enjoy reading aloud to each other. They also love to garden on warm summer days, to travel and to meet all different kinds of people. They can’t imagine a world without “The X-Files,” ice cream and naughty cats. You can write to them at P.O. Box 225, Amherst, MA 01004-0225.

Prologue

Taylor tossed her leather suitcase onto the bed, yanked open the zippers and threw back the top. “I hate you, Jake! And I hate this godforsaken ranch!”

She stalked to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. She carried it to the bed and upended it over the suitcase. Nightgowns and lingerie tumbled out.

Dropping the empty drawer onto the bedspread, she stormed back over to the dresser for another drawer. Socks, leggings, cotton tank tops. It all went into the suitcase. The drawer joined the other on the bed.

Jake stood behind her, tension filling his body, a look of disgust on his face. “You’re a spoiled brat, Taylor.”

T-shirts, jeans, blouses, slacks. “Go to hell!”

“And a wimp. Go ahead, run home to your parents. I’m sure they’ll make everything all right. No reason they should stop babying you just because you’re an adult.”

She threw open the closet door. Grabbing a few dresses, she crammed them into the suitcase, hangers and all.

The suitcase was a disaster. Sleeves and hems stuck out over the edge. Everything lay in a crumpled mess, but Taylor didn’t care.

She darted into the bathroom, grabbed her toiletry kit from a drawer in the vanity and jammed handfuls of cosmetics into it. Her eye pencil snapped going into the kit. She hurled the pieces into the trash can.

Jake loomed in the doorway. “One month, Taylor. You lasted one month.” His voice dripped scorn. “Even my mother lasted longer than that.”

She snatched up the toiletry kit and barreled past him into the bedroom. “It wasn’t one month,” she muttered. “It was five weeks. Five of the most horrible weeks of my—”

“Privileged; coddled, self-absorbed life.”

She dropped the toiletry kit onto the pile of rumpled clothes and pounded on the pile with her fists until it was compact enough to get the top closed. The zipper stuck halfway, blocked by a T-shirt. Giving a fluent curse, she ripped the offending item out of the way, tossed it to the ground and finished with the zipper.

She whirled to face him. “You know, if you’d ever stopped working long enough to have a conversation with me, we might have had a chance.”

“We talked plenty.”

“Yeah, right. You talked. Taylor, I need you. Taylor. Oh, God, Taylor. I can’t resist you, Taylor...” She glared at him. “It was always when we were—when we were—”

“Having sex? Well, what do you expect? Our whole relationship is based on physical attraction. Aside from that we have nothing in common.” He laughed bitterly. “I should have known you were off limits the moment I saw you in that three-hundred-dollar swimsuit. How could a rich city slicker like you ever be happy in Montana?”

Taylor slung her purse over her shoulder, grabbed the heavy suitcase and marched out the door. She dragged it to the top of the stairs and tossed it down. It fell end over end, landing with a thud on the floorboards below.

She descended the steps, picked it up and heaved it onto the porch.

Jake’s pickup was parked outside, the keys on the dash as usual. She lurched over to it, dumped her suitcase in the back and got in. “Go muck out some stalls, Jake.”

Anger radiated from him, but he didn’t move to stop her. “Something you’ve never done.”

“I married you, Jake, not your ranch.”

“And you thought I’d do nothing but pamper you? You’re a fool.”

Taylor fired up the truck. Through the open window she said, “Find another wife, Jake. Some empty-headed country girl who’s never been to the big bad city. She’ll be happy here. You can shovel horse manure together.”

“Don’t come back, Taylor. You don’t belong here.”

She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Believe me, Jake. Nothing could ever convince me to set foot on this ranch again.”

Taylor threw the truck into gear and peeled out in a cloud of dust.

She got fifty yards away before she jammed on the brakes, made a reckless three-point turn and sped back to the house. She pulled up in front of Jake, ripped the wedding set from her finger and threw both rings into the dirt at his feet. Then, without a word, she stomped on the gas and roared down the drive.

Back at the house, Jake stared after her. He watched his truck disappear around the bend. Slowly the dust settled until all traces of his wife’s flight had vanished.

She was gone.

Gone. As if she’d never been here. As if the past five weeks were nothing but a childish fantasy, a naive dream. She was gone, and good riddance.

He bent down and lifted her rings off the ground. He blew the dirt off them, rubbed them clean. They were still warm with the heat of her body, and as he slipped them into his pocket an ache settled deep in his chest.

Good riddance? Who was he trying to kid? Depression closed over him. He’d thought they had a future together. He’d lost his heart to her and she’d behaved exactly as he’d feared, abandoning him along with her discarded rings.

With a last look at the empty drive, he turned and headed for the barn. He would lose himself in work, and eventually he would forget her.

Chapter One

Five months later

“Excuse me, Miss, but this toast is burned. And I clearly asked for real half-and-half with my coffee, not this nondairy junk.”

Taylor stared down at the annoying customer seated at table fifteen, wishing he would just disappear. Every Saturday morning he came to the Pancake Hut for breakfast, and every Saturday morning he found something wrong with his food—which meant she had to take it back to the kitchen.

The cook—her boss—hated it when she took an order back. He usually got mad and purposely messed up her next several orders.

That had the same result every time. Lower tips.

Taylor needed those tips. Desperately. She lived from paycheck to paycheck, barely managing to keep a roof over her head and make payments on the debts she’d racked up several months ago. So instead of telling Mr. Annoying where he could put his toast—which was what she would have done a few months ago—she gritted her teeth and counted to ten.

He waved to his side order plate. “What are you gonna do about my toast? I’m hungry and I don’t got all day.”

She reached for the toast. The slices were a light golden brown, not burned at all. It figured. “I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll replace this as quickly as I can.” If she timed it right, she could do it herself while the cook was busy at the grill. If he didn’t see her she’d be all right.

The customer huffed, then gave her a grudging nod. “What about my cream?”

“We don’t have any, but I could bring some milk. Would that do?”

“Well, be quick about it.”

Fighting the urge to bop the man on the head, Taylor turned away from the table.

That was when she saw him. Jake. Standing at the entrance to the coffee shop, gorgeous and rugged in faded jeans and a thick shearling coat.

In the space of an instant, Taylor’s world shifted sideways. She felt as if her stomach had plummeted to the ground. Her whole body tingled with shock.

Five months, she thought. It had been five long, challenging months since she’d seen him, yet it might have been only yesterday. He was so much the same, so familiar with that long, lean rancher’s body and thick dark hair.

How many times this fall had she imagined being with him again? Imagined what it would feel like to be in his arms again, warm and comforted instead of alone in a cold, impersonal city?

Everything about him had haunted her. His seductive brown eyes, the masculine grace of his movements, the warm scent of his skin. She remembered the first day they’d met, on vacation last summer. The sensations came back to her: hot sun on her skin, powder-soft sand underfoot. The scent of suntan lotion. And Jake, sitting there on the beach in Mexico, propped up on his elbows, watching her walk by. She’d felt an intense attraction the moment her gaze had locked onto his chiseled features and dark, windtousled hair. And when their eyes had met, she’d felt the most heady response.

It had been a magical week, full of champagne and music and moonlit dancing. They’d eloped before the trip was over, each of them absolutely confident they’d found their life partner.

But then he’d brought her home to the Cassidy Ranch—and everything had fallen apart. Within days she’d felt the change in him. The subtle withdrawal. She’d married him for his passion, for his joy in life, but once on the ranch he’d settled into a pattern of nonstop twelve-hour days and left her to her own devices. Their physical attraction had been strong, but not strong enough to bridge the growing gulf between them.

She’d tried to ignore it. But the feeling of abandonment she’d experienced was all too familiar. Her mother and father had always valued their work and their social lives more than her. She’d thought Jake would be different, that he would value her more, but he didn’t.

Their marriage was an impulsive mistake. Though it had started in a passionate whirlwind, it crashed and burned in barely a month.

She watched Jake now as he scanned the busy restaurant, looking for her, she knew. Nothing else would have brought him to Boston, to this dingy little dive in a bad part of town.

And the only reason he’d be looking for her was to initiate their divorce. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. She’d known this day would come, had tried to tell herself it was what she wanted. To be free of him. But that didn’t explain her reaction, her sudden flash of despair.

Finally Jake’s deep brown eyes locked onto hers, steady, assessing. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, she stared back at him, frozen and vulnerable. Even her mind seemed frozen, stuck on that one awful thought. Divorce.

Jake crossed the room in a few easy strides, his gaze never leaving hers, his expression unreadable.

“Hello, Taylor.”

That voice. Low, rough, whiskey-soft. Seductive even now, when he’d only tracked her down to say their marriage was over.

She wasn’t ready for this confrontation. Wasn’t ready to hear that Jake had found someone else, someone who was selfless and caring, mature and responsible. All the things Taylor hadn’t been.

But she forced herself to stand firm. “Hello, Jake,” she said. Her voice was cool, remote, as if she felt nothing, no anxiety, no pain.

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Taylor waited for him to say something, but he seemed content to stand there taking in her pink polyester blouse and skirt and frilly white Pancake Hut apron.

Mr. Annoying on fifteen broke the moment. “Hey, Miss! Are you going to get my toast or not?”

She’d forgotten she still held the plate. She gave him her best waitressing smile. “Just a minute,” she said as cheerfully as she could. Then she addressed Jake. “Whatever you’re here for, I don’t have time.”

“We need to talk.”

“Not right now, we don’t.” She wondered whether he’d brought the divorce papers with him. Would he whip them out and demand she sign on the dotted line? Would he offer her money? Or would they have to go through a long legal battle she couldn’t afford to fight?

“It’s important.”

Like it or not, her marriage had blown up in her face; the only graceful thing to do was to accept it like a lady. But she didn’t feel graceful, and she didn’t feel like a lady. She felt like a tired waitress without enough money and way too much loneliness. “Look,” she said, “you’ve already lost me my tip from this guy, and I’m not in the mood.”

“I’ll pay you the difference.”

“Forget it, Jake.” She didn’t want a dime of his money. She was going to support herself, and prove to herself, her parents and Jake that she wasn’t a total loser.

Her mind flashed back over the past five months. When she’d first returned to Boston her need to forget Jake had made her wild and reckless. She’d spent money like crazy, blowing through her father’s generous allowance in only six days. Her father had given her more, on the condition she shape up, become an adult, start taking life more seriously. She hadn’t. Instead she’d dealt with the pain of her failed marriage the only way she knew how: by buying everything in sight.

Her mother had given her more money, but had said that was it until she got her life together. Taylor hadn’t believed her. Her parents had always thrown money at her instead of love; why would anything be different this time?

But it was. Her parents had cut her off. They’d offered her a place to stay and food to eat but only on the condition that she take a paper-pushing, closely supervised job in the personnel department at her father’s company.

Chafing at their control like a petulant child, Taylor had thrown it back in their faces. She’d moved in with a friend that afternoon. But her credit cards were tapped out, and none of the stylish jobs she applied for worked out. In the end, she couldn’t keep up with her friends’ glamorous life-styles, and they blew her off.

She’d had no money, no job, no friends, no place to live. She’d thrown it all away. She’d been a fool, and pride prevented her from accepting her parents’ new tough-love brand of assistance.

Finally she’d tried in earnest to get a job, and ended up a week later at the Pancake Hut. She’d done more growing up in that one week, and in the months of backbreaking restaurant work that followed, than she had in her entire life. With newfound grit and determination, she’d started to get her life back together.

And she’d keep doing it—alone.

Taylor pointed into the kitchen where her boss, Sleazy Steve, glared at her over the grill. “Do you see that man back there? If I’m more than thirty seconds late to pick up a plate he bums my next two orders. So I don’t really care what you have to talk to me about. It’s not more important than my job.”

Jake fixed his gaze on her, unblinking. “You don’t know that.” His tone was even, calm. Not argumentative, but still it raised Taylor’s hackles.

Like herself, Jake could be an incredibly stubborn person. “You might not believe it, Jake, but nothing is more important than my job. Nothing.”

Not even you. Not even my husband. The words remained unspoken, but she knew they both heard them echo through the restaurant.

Five months and one week ago she never would have even thought those words. Five months and one week ago her husband had been the most important thing in her life. But she hadn’t been the most important thing in his. Not by a long shot.

“I’m not going to leave,” Jake said.

“Fine,” Taylor returned. “You can wait all day for me if you want. Just don’t do it in the aisle.”

That brought a hint of a smile to his lips. “Where’s your section?”

“Over there.” She pointed. “But don’t you dare...” She trailed off as Jake sauntered over to the only vacant booth in her section. He slipped out of his shearling coat and sat down.

Taylor took a deep breath and counted to ten. By seven she’d calmed down, and when she hit ten she knew how she’d handle the situation. The moment Jake had sat down he’d become a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

And she’d learned how to deal with customers.

She ducked into the kitchen to make fresh toast for the man on fifteen, then took a menu to Jake. She slid it onto the table. “Coffee?”

He met her eyes. “Taylor...”

A lot of her customers liked to call her by her first name. It was written on a little plastic tag pinned to her blouse. But no one said it in that rough, sexy way, like a lion trying to growl but ending up purring. “Cream or sugar?” she asked brightly.

She knew how he took his coffee. Black and strong.

“Neither.”

Turning on her heel, Taylor checked on her other customers, then took Jake his coffee.

He hadn’t touched the menu, but she pulled out her order pad anyway. “What do you want?”

Jake took a sip of his coffee. “I need fifteen minutes of your time. Maybe half an hour.”

Enough time to sign the papers, she guessed. “What do you want that’s on the menu? I recommend the pancakes.” After all, this was the Pancake Hut.

“Hear me out, Taylor.”

“Okay, pancakes it is. Short or tall?”

“Tall. Come on. For old times’ sake.”

“Real or fake?”

“Excuse me?”

“Syrup. Real or fake?”

“Real.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Hash browns, bacon and toast with that?”

“You’re just going to ignore me, aren’t you?”

“Orange juice?”

He sighed. “Sure, Taylor. Bring me whatever you want. But I’m not going away until we talk.”

Another smile. “I’ll be right back with your juice.”

She fled for the kitchen.

One of the other waitresses stood at the service counter refilling the coffeemaker. Candy was a bleach-blonde in her late thirties who chewed gum incessantly. She pointed at Jake with her chin. “Who’s the dish?”

i This wasn’t what she needed. Taylor filled a glass of orange juice and tried for an offhand tone. “Him? Just someone I used to know.”

“He’s cute.” Candy craned her head to see across the room. “Is the O.J. for him? I’ll take it over.”

Candy plucked the glass from her startled fingers and swished away, hips swinging.

“Order up,” Sleazy Steve growled.

Taylor put her mind back on her waitressing, but the next time Candy crossed her path Taylor said, “He’s married.” She wasn’t trying to be possessive—even if she had felt a strange spark of jealousy—just warning her co-worker away from disappointment.

“The dish? I didn’t see a ring.”

“Trust me. He’s married.”

Candy snapped her gum, her expression changing to a mix of anger and pity. All traces of her interest in Jake were gone. “So it’s like that, huh? Probably told you he was leaving her, but never did. And he expects you to pine away for him and jump back into his bed whenever he gets in the mood. The skunk. Want me to go pour hot coffee in his lap?”

Taylor almost laughed. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

“He’s married to me, Candy.”

Candy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“We’re married.”

Candy snapped her gum again. “Then why in the world are you living alone and working in this dump? Take him back, girl!”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too late for that.”

Sleazy Steve dropped two plates on the service shelf. “Order up, Candy,” he barked.

Candy ignored him. “It’s never too late, hon.”

“We don’t like each other.”

“Yeah,” Candy said. “Which is why he’s staring at you like he wants to have you for breakfast.”

He was? Taylor’s heart rate sped up at the news but she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. Jake wasn’t here to try to get her back, and she had to remember that.

The cook banged his spatula on the stainless steel counter. “Order up!”

Candy slowly turned and fixed Sleazy Steve with a scorching glare. She popped her gum. “Go suck an egg, Stevie. This is important.”

Taylor wanted to burst out laughing, but she knew she’d get fired if she did. Only Candy, for some incomprehensible reason, could get away with such behavior. “Jake doesn’t like me, Candy.”

“Huh! What’s not to like? You’re a total sweet-heart.”

“Thanks, but Jake—”

“Jake’s gonna get an earful,” Candy declared.

“Don’t,” Taylor said, but Candy wasn’t listening. She took the plates of food from the service shelf and sashayed off.

Taylor stood glued to the floor as Candy dropped her two plates in front of a couple of customers and approached Jake’s booth. She couldn’t hear what Candy said, but from the way the woman stood with her hands on her hips, she guessed it wasn’t friendly.

A minute later Candy came back over.

“What did he say?” Taylor demanded.

Candy shrugged. “Nothing much. I told him you were a great girl and he’d been a fool to leave you. He told me, very politely, that it was none of my business.” She popped her gum. “Not exactly the type to unburden his soul to a total stranger, is he?”

“No.” That was an understatement. Jake was a typical cowboy—stoic and silent when it came to matters of the heart. Even when that matter of the heart was a marriage gone bad.

“He wants to talk with you.”

“I know.”

“He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but it sounds important.”

“I’m sure it is, but I’m not interested.”

Candy chewed her gum. “Talk to the man, Taylor.”

She started to say, “I’m too busy,” but Candy cut her off.

“I’ll cover your section,” the other woman said.

Taylor glanced around the busy restaurant. “Thanks, Candy, but—”

“No buts. The guy’s your husband. At least go hear what he has to say.”

“Steve’s going to kill me if I take an early break.”

“I’ll handle it.”

As if on cue, Sleazy Steve slammed a plate of pancakes down on the service counter. It was Jake’s order.

“Take it over,” Candy said. “I’ll bring you something in a minute. Eggs and toast okay?”

Resigned to her fate, Taylor reached for the order. “Sure, Candy. And thanks. I think.”

Jake watched his wife cross the room, a plate of food in her strong, slender hands. He’d always enjoyed watching her—the unconscious rhythm of her steps, the sway of her hips, the way she carried her head high and proud.

She put the plate down in front of him and then, to his surprise, slid onto the opposite bench.

He watched as she settled herself, her back straight against the cushion. She didn’t look happy to be there.

“Hello, Taylor,” he said.

“Jake.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

She shrugged. “No problem.”

Jake glanced down at his plate, then up at Taylor. He didn’t pick up his fork. A lot was riding on the next half hour. The future of the Cassidy Ranch was in his hands, and in hers.

Taylor looked so different from how she had the summer before. Her expression was wary and uncertain, not at all like the composed, self-possessed woman he’d married. She was too thin, and her skin had a pallor to it, instead of the healthy glow of before.

For a moment he felt almost sorry for her. If the past five months had been hard on him, they’d obviously been harder on her. He’d only lost his heart. She’d lost her whole life-style—the clothes, the fast cars, the parties.

As soon as his mind formed the thought, his pity vanished.

Taylor glared at him from across the table. “How did you find me?”

“I called your father a couple of days ago.” He paused, then added, “I didn’t know, Taylor.” He wondered whether that would make any difference to her. He’d spent the past five months assuming she was living her carefree life in Boston, never imagining the truth.

Hell, he was still her husband. He still had responsibilities toward her that wouldn’t end until the divorce papers were signed.

Divorce papers. Despite his dislike of Taylor’s behavior on the ranch last summer, despite their differences, the thought of signing divorce papers still left him with a hollow feeling in his gut. Since the day she’d stormed off the ranch, he’d been waiting for the papers to show up in the mail, dreading the moment. But they never had.

After talking to her father, though, he thought he knew the reason. Taylor probably hadn’t had the time or the money to find an attorney to file the papers. A nasty job in a dirty restaurant wouldn’t leave her a lot of extra money. Certainly not as much spare cash as she’d used to have.

He planned to use that to his advantage.

“Tell me why you’re here, Jake.”

He took a deep breath. “I need your help.” God, but he hated having to ask her for a favor. He’d much rather have her in his debt than the other way around.

“My help?” Was that a note of surprise he detected? Surprise that he would throw away his pride enough to ask her for a favor?

“Yes,” he answered. There was nothing for it. He made himself say the words. “I need your help to buy a piece of land.”

She blinked. “Jake, I don’t exactly have a lot of spare cash right now.”

“I don’t need your money, Taylor.” This was the crux of it. Even if she still had access to her trust fund and her allowance, it wouldn’t help him at all. Jake had more than enough cash to buy the land he wanted. He just didn’t have...his wife. “I don’t need your money,” he repeated. “I need you.”

I need you. Such a simple phrase, but so devastating to say. All his life he’d done his best to avoid it. And after she’d left he’d sworn he wouldn’t ever say those three words to anyone, wouldn’t ever let himself feel those emotions. But here he was, saying them to none other than Taylor Cassidy.

She leaned back in her chair, a look of disbelief on her face. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. A rich chocolate brown, it had grown out from the short, stylish cut she’d worn before, now curving just below her jaw.

He liked it. It wasn’t so polished and perfect. And he wanted to sink his hands into that extra hair, to feel it sliding through his fingers.

Even now he fought the urge to reach across the table to feel it, to see if it was still as soft as he remembered. They’d used to be husband and wife, free to touch or caress each other when the mood struck. Now there was a wall between them.

In five months of living alone he’d finally gotten used to not having her around. But being so close to her again threw that all to the wind. He was right back to where he’d been last summer, wanting her so much he couldn’t think straight.

Jake took a moment to calm his senses. He had to be rational today. Totally unlike the man who’d fallen for Taylor like a ton of bricks last summer. His future was on the line; he couldn’t let his past mess it up.

“You need me to do what?” Taylor asked.

“I need you to be my wife again.”

She stared at him long and hard. “Forget it.” She started to slide out of the booth.

“Taylor, sit down. It wouldn’t be real. I just need you to pretend to be my wife. For a week.”

Taylor stayed in her seat. Jake suspected it was because the blond waitress showed up just then with a glass of milk and a plate of eggs and toast, rather than because he’d asked her to.

She picked up her fork. “Let me know when you regain your sanity, okay?”

Jake opened his mouth to explain his predicament, but Taylor held up her hand for silence. He kept his mouth shut while she ate. Jake took a bite of his pancakes. They were surprisingly good, so he ate while he waited for Taylor.

Finally she finished and took a sip of her milk. “I can’t tell you how tired I am of breakfast food.”

Was she just going to ignore his request? “Taylor...”

She straightened. “Right. Back to business.” Shaking her head, she said, “Let me get this straight. You want me—your wife—to pretend to be your wife?”

“Yes. Pretend to be my loving, affectionate, definitely-not-estranged wife.”

“I’m a waitress, Jake. Not an actress.”

“I know it’ll be a challenge, but I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll pay you.”

He’d expected her to jump at the offer, but she didn’t. Instead she waved a hand around the Pancake Hut. “I already have a job.”

He’d noticed. But even though it was just the kind of work she needed to give her a dose of reality, he didn’t like the way her customers leered at her. And he didn’t guess she earned much money for her efforts. “What do you make here?”

Taylor hesitated, then named a ridiculously low figure.

“That’s all?” He didn’t know how she even paid for a place to stay on that kind of money, much less any health insurance. Taylor had some hard lessons to learn, but even Jake didn’t think she should be risking her welfare to learn them. “Including tips?”

“Yes, Jake. This place doesn’t attract big tippers.”

“I’ll pay you four times that for a week in Montana.”

She ignored him and took another sip of milk.

He wasn’t reaching her. She might not make much, but four times that amount was getting to be some serious cash. Obviously she wanted to play hardball.

Well, so be it. “Your father told me you’ve got some debts. I’ll pay them off, help you make a fresh start. And of course you’ll have a free place to stay and all the food you can eat for a week.”

“Free room and board, Jake? For your wife? How generous.”

Another sip of milk. Jake watched her small pink tongue dart out to dab her lip and felt an unwanted resurgence of desire.

He grimaced unhappily. “Taylor...”

She speared a pancake off his plate and put it on hers. “Getting back together is not a smart idea.”

“It’s only for a week. We can tolerate each other that long, can’t we?”

Unfortunately it wasn’t just an issue of tolerating each other. They also had to keep their hands to themselves, too. With the chemistry between them still as strong as ever, it might be a big challenge.

“When exactly do you need me?” Taylor asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Kind of short notice, don’t you think?”

“The situation came up quickly.”

Jake explained about Henry Hankins. Back in Montana, Hankins owned the land adjoining Jake’s ranch. He’d leased it to Jake for the last six years, providing some much-needed grazing space. The Cassidy Ranch was doing well—expanding, in fact—and land was hard to come by.

Now Hankins, who normally resided in Dallas, had decided to liquidate his assets. He wanted to sell, and Jake was the obvious buyer.

Especially since he was married.

Hankins said two other men had made high offers, but one of them was divorced and the other was a freewheeling bachelor. It hurt Hankins’s upstanding heart to think of his land going to a man who couldn’t live with decent values.

And, he said, he adored that “perty little gal” Jake had married. That was the deciding factor.

Hankins had met Taylor last summer when he’d gone for a visit. He’d been so taken with her that he hadn’t noticed she was a pampered debutante, totally unsuited to ranch life. He couldn’t wait to see that “perty little gal” again when he came to close the deal.

Just a few days ago he’d called Jake to say he’d set aside some vacation time and planned to bring his grandchildren to show them Montana. Even though it was the dead of winter, they’d all have a big old blast.

To Jake it had sounded like a big old nightmare.

“Look,” he said to Taylor, “I hate dishonesty as much as the next guy, but if I lose this land to someone else, I’ll have to restructure my whole operation. I’ll probably have to lay off some of my ranch hands. You remember Reid, right? He and his wife just had a baby. And then there’s Dusty, who sends two-thirds of her paycheck to her grandmother.” He paused, watching her expression. “But I don’t expect you to do this out of altruism,” he continued. “Let’s make it a straightforward business deal. You play the role, and I’ll pay you well, plus take care of your debts.”

Still no response. He was getting frustrated, so he played his final card. “And when the week is over, I’ll arrange our divorce. Trouble-free, plenty of alimony.”

Taylor tucked her paper napkin under the edge of her empty plate and repositioned her glass of milk. Her movements were precise, almost uncomfortable. She didn’t meet his eyes. “So Hankins arrives tomorrow?”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure how to read her, but it sounded as if she was actually considering coming to Montana. “With his three grandchildren. Irma’s tidying up his cabin as we speak.”

At the mention of his housekeeper’s name, Taylor’s expression grew warm and a little wistful. “How is Irma?”

“She’s fine.” He shouldn’t be surprised that Taylor remembered Irma fondly, when the woman had spoiled her rotten.

He’d never understood why Irma had doted on Taylor so much, fixing all her favorite meals and picking up after her without the slightest complaint. She’d happily acted as the handmaid Taylor expected.

Maybe it was because it had been so long since a woman had lived in the Cassidy ranch house. Thirty-six years, to be exact. Since Jake’s mother had left, abandoning her husband and newborn son.

Jake cut off that line of thought. Wallowing in the distant past wouldn’t change anything. He focused on the problem at hand. “Well, Taylor, what about it?”

Her wistful expression faded. “Can’t you just tell Hankins I went to the city for a week of shopping? He won’t miss me.”

Jake shook his head. “I know Hankins, and he’s not going to sign off on the land until he sees you again.”

“So you’re stuck.”

“Yes, I’m stuck.”

She glanced up at a clock on the wall. “And I need to get back to work.” She took a long drink, finishing off her milk. She stood.

“Dammit, Taylor.” He reached out to capture her wrist. “Will you do it?”

She stared down at his hand on her warm skin.

Jake followed her gaze, wishing he hadn’t touched her. Currents of electricity rocketed up his arm and spread through his body. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks flying from the point of contact.

Five months, he thought, and the effects were still the same.

He released his grasp slowly, trying to make it look casual. As if he’d felt nothing at all.

“Sorry,” he said under his breath.

Taylor drew herself up. “As I said, I have to get back to work.”

“And the plan?”

“Jake, I swore I’d never set foot on your ranch again.”

“I remember.”

“But I’ll think about it. Meet me outside at three o’clock.”

Chapter Two

She didn’t really have a choice. Only spite and false pride would have kept her in Boston. Jake’s employees needed her help. Jake needed her help. She wasn’t someone who turned her back on people. Not anymore.

It would be a business deal. A simple, straightforward business deal. An acting assignment. She would leave her heart and her confused emotions out of it. When the week was over she would come back to Boston and make her life better.

Jake’s money would buy her enough time to find a better job when she came back. Maybe in a restaurant where the boss didn’t verbally assault his workers whenever the mood struck. Maybe in a place where the customers actually knew how to tip.

At three o’clock Jake came back to the restaurant. He led her to a rented sport utility vehicle at the curb. She gave him directions to her apartment and he pulled into traffic.

“When’s our flight?” she asked.

Jake glanced over at her. “You’ll help me?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” The words were simple but sincere.

“No problem. I know how much you care about the ranch.” More than he had about her, but she didn’t want to go there. “It would be petty not to help you just because we don’t like each other anymore.” She paused, staring out the window at inner city Boston. “Anyway, this arrangement will be good for both of us, so it’s not like I’m really doing you a favor.”

Jake shook his head. “You’re definitely doing me a favor. Especially on such short notice.”

“When’s our flight?”

“Six a.m. I already bought you a round-trip ticket. And I’ve got a room reserved for you at one of the airport hotels. We won’t have to fight traffic in the morning.”

“You were that sure I’d come?”

“No, just desperate.”

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of her building. The facade was weathered brick, its windows dirty and cracked. She led Jake up the worn staircase and down the hall to her studio apartment.

He stepped into the single room and looked around. She saw it through his eyes: the peeling institutional green walls, the stains and cigarette bums on the vinyl flooring. The battered dresser and wardrobe, the narrow bed. The forlorn jade plant on the windowsill where it could soak up what little light came down between the apartment building and its neighbor.

“It’s not much,” she said, filling the silence, “but it’s home.”

He walked the two steps to the window and peered down into the alley.

Taylor grabbed a duffel bag—her only remaining piece of luggage—and went to her dresser. “We need to talk about money.”

“Right,” he said, turning from the window. “My offer from this morning stands. Four times what you make, plus paying off your credit card bills. And of course I’ll cover any expenses.”

She might be bailing him out of a tough position, but his offer was much too generous. “I’ll come for expenses and a stipend, but I can’t accept the money to pay off my debts. They’re my debts, Jake, and I have to take care of them myself. I don’t need to be rescued, just compensated for my time. And it’s not as if I’m going to be working that hard. A couple of dinners with Mr. Hankins and his grandchildren is not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

“I don’t want charity.”

“Fine. I won’t pay your debts.”

“Good. But there is one other thing we need to agree on. I’m definitely going to lose my job. Sleazy Steve won’t forgive me for skipping off for a week without notice.”

“Sleazy Steve?” Jake asked, sounding mad.

Taylor had gotten so used to her boss’s nickname that she didn’t even think about it anymore. But she realized it might be a little off-putting. “He has a...reputation. But don’t worry, he never tried anything on me. And if he had, he would’ve ended up with a broken wrist. I took a self-defense class when I was living at the YWCA.”

“You shouldn’t be working for someone like that.”

“I couldn’t risk looking for another job. Any interruption in my income would have meant losing this apartment. As for finding a new job, if I can’t find one right away I’m going to have to ask you to pay my rent for a month.”

“That’s fair,” Jake said.

“And I’ll need some clothes. I sold a lot of my things to get back on my feet. My wardrobe doesn’t extend to entertaining dinner guests.”

“We’ll go shopping this evening.”

“Okay. Give me a minute to pack up.” She went into the bathroom for a few things, then stuffed some other necessities into the duffel bag. “All set.”

“Not quite.” Jake reached into the pocket of his shearling coat. He pulled out a small black velvet box.

Her rings. How could she have forgotten about her rings?

A flurry of emotions ran through her, confused her. Regret, excitement, everything in between.

Then Jake flipped back the lid. Her diamond caught the light and flashed. An odd, uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach.

“An important part of the costume,” Jake said, his tone almost light.

Her tongue seemed frozen. “Yeah,” she managed.

Jake took the engagement ring and matching wedding band out of their cushion. He held them in his palm.

She held out her own hand, palm up. Jake deposited the rings into her hand.

Without touching her.

Yes, her marriage was definitely over, Taylor thought. Well and truly dead. But that would make the next week easier. Oh, there might still be a physical spark between them, some strange force drawing them together, but on an emotional level there was nothing. Big old nothing.

Slowly she closed her fingers around the rings, pretending to herself that hiding them would make this easier. She certainly didn’t have the strength to put them on again, not yet.

Jake watched her for a long, excruciating moment before picking up her bag. “Let’s go get you some clothes.”

Taylor stared through the windshield of Jake’s truck as they rounded the last bend in the drive and the ranch buildings came into view.

She couldn’t believe she was back.

But here she was, back in Montana. Back at the scene of the most turbulent point in her twenty-two years.

The place looked so different, she thought. The tall grass and wildflowers were gone, obscured by a blanket of snow, and smoke curled from every chimney in the compound. The snow made the rugged Montana landscape seem even more vast, more isolated.

Jake’s parting words from the summer before echoed in her head.

You don’t belong here.

Until yesterday those had been their last words for five months. Every time she’d thought of Montana in the interim, those harsh words had been right there with her.

Looking at the immense emptiness around her, it was easy to imagine he’d been right. Maybe she belonged in the city, despite the unpleasantness of her life there now.

But it didn’t matter if she belonged here or not, she reminded herself. Her contract with Jake was for a week. One single, solitary week. Seven days. She’d do her job and then she’d get back on the plane to Boston.

Jake pulled up in front of the ranch house. She stepped carefully down onto the icy driveway and moved to the bed of the truck, unfastening the tarp to retrieve her suitcase. Last summer she would have stood by while Jake carried her suitcase, but now she wanted to stand on her own two feet.

Jake had a different idea, though. He reached to take the suitcase from her, ignoring her protest. As he did so their hands brushed accidentally and Taylor froze.

Their long day together had done nothing to lessen the awareness between them. By tacit agreement they’d avoided physical contact ever since he’d grabbed her wrist at lunch, and by and large they’d succeeded—except for the time she’d fallen asleep on the plane and woken with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

It was too easy, too seductive, to fall back into the patterns of the summer before, when they’d been so openly and joyfully physical with each other.

But she had to keep her distance—despite the signals her body sent her.

She hung back as they walked to the porch, thinking of the first time she’d come to the ranch, as Jake’s bride. Despite the beautiful scenery, at its peak in the middle of the summer, she’d had eyes only for Jake. She’d studied him as he drove, then sat and watched him as he parked the truck and walked around to her door.

He’d opened the passenger door and kissed her thoroughly before picking her up in his arms and carrying her not just over the threshold, but all the way to his bed. And then he’d carried her somewhere else entirely. Neither of them had given a thought to their luggage until several hours after dark.

Ahead of her on the porch, Jake pushed open the door. It swung inward, revealing the same neat front hall she’d stormed out of five months before.

Her footsteps halted of their own accord. Jake stood by the open door. He watched her without moving. The six feet of porch between them felt like an impassable distance.

She longed for the days when everything had been easy, when she could simply go into his arms and everything would be okay. Those days were gone. So far gone she wouldn’t even get a simple “welcome home” before she stepped into the house they’d shared.

She looked into Jake’s eyes, unable to read his expression. It seemed distant, almost disconnected. Then he surprised her by saying, his voice soft, “It didn’t turn out like either of us expected, did it?”

Regret? It wasn’t an emotion she’d expected from him, and as soon as she recognized it, it was gone. Completely gone. His face was a mask again.

But she hadn’t imagined it. “No, it didn’t,” she said.

She stepped toward the doorway, keeping as far away from Jake as possible. It was easier that way.

As she crossed the threshold the warm scents of baking assailed her. Her mouth watered instantly. It had been so long since she’d smelled that rich, buttery smell...

Jake shut the door firmly behind them. “Irma must have made those fancy cookies you like so much.” His voice was cool.

“They’re called madeleines,” she said, shrugging out of her new down parka, “and they’re tea cakes, not cookies.”

Taylor glanced around as she hung her parka on the coat tree. Through an archway she could see the living room, with its polished wood floor and solid leather furniture, arranged exactly as she remembered. The fire crackling in the big stone hearth made it seem particularly cozy and inviting.

On the other side of the entrance hall lay the dining room. She peeked around the corner at it. A sturdy iron candelabra still sat in the center of the massive wooden table, matching the sconces that lined the walls.

The inside of the house seemed very much the same. Familiar, almost. Taylor felt a fleeting, inexplicable sense of homecoming.

She quickly dismissed it. She didn’t even like it here. Her feelings about the place were not positive. Her dreams had been dashed here. Her life had come apart. Obviously it was only the comparison to her apartment that made it seem so wonderful.

Irma appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Taylor!” She hurried over for a hug and a kiss, then stepped back to survey her. “You’re skin and bones, girl. I’ll have to fatten you up.”

“You do that,” Jake said. “I’ll take Taylor’s suitcase upstairs.” He seemed as eager to get away from her as she was from him.

Taylor followed the middle-aged housekeeper back to the kitchen.

“I know why you’re here,” Irma said, sitting her down at the small round table in the corner. “Jake explained it to Orville and me.” Irma’s husband Orville cooked for the ranch hands. “We don’t like it, but maybe you two can find a way to settle your differences. This place ain’t the same without you.”

Taylor laughed as lightly as she could. She didn’t want to disappoint the other woman by saying that a reconciliation was impossible. “Right. This place is cleaner without me, anyway.”

“So what? It’s emptier, too, and that’s what counts.” Irma set a glass of milk and a plate of shell-shaped madeleines before her, then took a seat.

Taylor savored a madeleine in unspeakable bliss. They’d been her favorite treat ever since she’d been a little girl.

“Jake’s been an ornery son of a buck,” Irma confided. “The man hasn’t smiled more than twice since you left. He’s always grouchy and complaining. No fun to be around. I almost quit three times last fall.”

Jake had been upset? Why? she wondered. Because she’d wounded his pride when she’d left him, or because he’d made such a mistake in marrying her?

The two women talked for a few minutes before Jake appeared in the doorway. Taylor wiped the feather-light madeleine crumbs from her lips and stood.

“I guess I should unpack,” she said.

Jake led her upstairs to the largest guest room, which sat at the opposite end of the house from the master suite. It was nicely decorated, with antique furniture and a handmade quilt on the queen-size bed, but its pleasant temperature meant more to her than its appearance.

Living in a cold apartment had been one of the hardest lessons Taylor had faced in the past five months. Until then she’d always taken her physical comfort for granted. But since November, turning up the heat would have meant not being able to pay the electric bill.

Jake crossed to her suitcase, which sat on a folding luggage rack. He popped open the latches. “Let’s get your stuff put away.” He transferred a couple of the new shirts he’d bought her yesterday to one of the dressers. “See if you can’t keep the room clean while you’re here, okay? Drawers closed, bed made. If Hankins happens to wander upstairs, I don’t want him to guess you’re staying in here. It wouldn’t look good.”

She pulled out a few items and stored them in a drawer. “I thought he was just coming to dinner a couple of times.”

“That’s all we’ve got planned. But the Hankins’s place hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time, and his cabin’s pretty rustic. I expect he and those kids will come visit a lot.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, it can get boring here in wintertime.” Jake shot her a pointed look. “Even more boring than in the summer. Neighborly visits help lessen that.”

After the way Jake had ignored her last summer, working all day in order to avoid her, he shouldn’t be talking about the benefits of neighborly visits, she thought.

He reached into her suitcase to lift out a dress. The action revealed her neatly folded camisoles and tap pants.

Their eyes met.

Even though she’d sold most of her other clothes, she’d kept the lingerie as one of her few remaining luxuries.

Jake obviously remembered the items.

He’d used to talk about the satiny smoothness of them, the way they kept the warmth of her body, how they smelled of her skin.

Heat swamped her.

Jake picked up her favorite pale pink camisole in his work-roughened hands. She remembered how those hands had felt, caressing her through the silk. Hot. Strong. Demanding yet infinitely gentle as he peeled the flimsy top off her body.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be more convincing if I take a few of these and toss them around my room,” he said in that whiskey-soft voice. “One on the floor, another draped over the edge of my bed...”

My bed. Her brain stuck on the words.

Taylor wondered why the phrase mattered, why it bothered her. She didn’t want it to be their bed anymore, didn’t want their marriage to be real again.

She finally knew better than to try to get love from someone who couldn’t give it. Someone who, like her father and his precious business deals, or her mother and her endless quest for beauty and social status, couldn’t pay attention long enough to find out who their daughter really was. Someone who was married to his damned ranch, and had only cared for his wife when it was convenient.

Or when he wanted physical gratification.

Though earthshaking, sex with Jake had always been a poor substitute for the deeper sharing and affection she’d craved, a fact he would never understand.

No, she definitely didn’t want Jake back. She only wanted to complete their business deal. To make a fair wage for her week’s work, and to prove she wasn’t a selfish brat anymore.

Maybe she’d acted badly last summer, but she’d changed. She’d realized her mistakes, one of which had been going after Jake in the first place. Now she was ready to release the past, redeem herself and move on.

Taylor reached for the camisole. “I don’t think so, Jake.” As he watched, she painstakingly refolded it the way she’d learned during her brief stint in a clothing store last fall, before she’d been fired and had looked for work as a waitress. She laid it in a drawer. “You just keep your door closed down the hall. I’ll make sure this room looks vacant. We’ll be fine.”

She quickly unpacked the rest of her things, then tucked the suitcase and luggage rack in the back of the closet. All her belongings had fit into one of the two dressers. The room looked untouched.

“Just like a hotel room,” she muttered.

“Keep it that way.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting his broad back as he strode from the room.

An hour later she joined him for a sumptuous dinner cooked by Irma. They sat at opposite ends of the long table, not close together as they had last summer. The iron candelabra partially obscured their views of each other, preventing any feeling of intimacy.

Which was fine with her. She wanted to eat, not stare adoringly into her husband’s eyes.

They dined in silence until halfway through dessert, when someone pounded on the front door.

As Irma went to answer it Jake murmured, “Must be Hankins, stopping by to say hello. Ready to face the music?”

Taylor glanced down at the diamond wedding set on her left hand. The gems sparkled in the flickering candlelight. Simple and elegant, they looked just right. As if they belonged on her hand.

It had been hard to put them back on. Hard to wear them again considering everything they represented. Hope. Failure.

She remembered Jake’s proposal, when he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger at midnight on the stern deck of a cruise ship. Remembered their wedding, and the confident touch of his fingers as he put his wedding band on her. Remembered ripping the rings off her finger and throwing them at him right before she stormed off the ranch.

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