Ethan stood on the front porch of the house to which he’d swore he’d never return.

Sara opened the door. Her lips curved in a shy smile. She stepped aside, and he had to force his feet over the threshold.

“Well, what do you think?”

Ethan slowly scanned the sparkling clean room. “I, uh, it’s fine, Sara. The place looks real nice.” Clearing his throat, he moved back a step. “I think I’ll just go—”

“You’re leaving?”

The disappointment in her voice sent a flush of pleasure through him. “Actually, I was just going to get something from my truck.”

She smiled.

Ethan headed out the door, calling himself every kind of a dumb jerk. He didn’t even like petite, fair-haired women. So why was he getting all tongue-tied and weak-kneed?

He was getting worked up over nothing. Of course he would have a reaction to a woman. He hadn’t had female company in a mighty long time. By his own choice, he reminded himself. And he wanted to keep it that way.

But he couldn’t, if Sara kept smiling at him.

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year! May this year bring you happiness, good health and all that you wish for. And at Harlequin American Romance, we’re hoping to provide you with a year full of heartwarming books that you won’t be able to resist.

Leading the month is The Secretary Gets Her Man by Mindy Neff, Harlequin American Romance’s spin-off to Harlequin Intrigue’s TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL continuity series. This exciting story focuses on the covert operation’s much-mentioned wallflower secretary, Penny Archer.

Muriel Jensen’s Father Formula continues her successful WHO’S THE DADDY? series about three identical sisters who cause three handsome bachelors no end of trouble when they discover one woman is about to become a mother. Next, after opening an heirloom hope chest, a bride-to-be suddenly cancels her wedding and starts having intimate dreams about a handsome stranger, in Have Gown, Need Groom. This is the first book of Rita Herron’s new miniseries THE HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS. And Debbi Rawlins tells the emotional story of a reclusive rancher who opens his home—and his heart—to a lovely single mother, in Loving a Lonesome Cowboy.

In February, look for another installment in the RETURN TO TYLER series with Prescription for Seduction by Darlene Scalera.

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Loving a Lonesome Cowboy

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debbi Rawlins currently lives with her husband and dog in Las Vegas, Nevada. A native of Hawaii, she married on Maui and has since lived in Cincinnati, Chicago, Tulsa, Houston, Detroit and Durham, NC, during the past twenty years. Now that she’s had enough of the gypsy life, it’ll take a crane, a bulldozer and a forklift to get her out of her new home. Good thing she doesn’t like to gamble. Except maybe on romance.

Books by Debbi Rawlins

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

580—MARRIAGE INCORPORATED

618—THE COWBOY AND THE CENTERFOLD

622—THE OUTLAW AND THE CITY SLICKER

675—LOVE, MARRIAGE AND OTHER CALAMITIES

691—MARRY ME, BABY

730—THE BRIDE TO BE…OR NOT TO BE

741—IF WISHES WERE…HUSBANDS

780—STUD FOR HIRE?

790—OVERNIGHT FATHER

808—HIS, HERS AND THEIRS

860—LOVING A LONESOME COWBOY

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

587—HER MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

SINGLE MOTHER SEEKS…

Job as a housekeeper. I will clean your house till it shines and cook meals guaranteed to make you sigh. If you have children, I can even charm them into behaving for you. (At least, I’ll try!)

Please call Sara Conroy, at 555-2725.

And if you happen to be a brooding-but-oh-so-handsome cowboy, I might just find my way into your heart….

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

Ethan Slade parked his old pickup in front of Manny’s General Store, ignoring the stares and whispers of the midday crowd as he climbed out and headed for the post office. Most folks wouldn’t expect to see him in town so close to Christmas, and they all had to be wondering what he was doing here. But other than a nod or a brief greeting, no one said a word. They wouldn’t. Not when he employed most of their brothers, sons and fathers.

The responsibility of owning the second-largest ranch in Central New Mexico, which made him the town’s major employer, was one of two reasons that kept him here.

The other was Emily’s grave.

Simon Whitefeather looked up from the mail he was sorting and his black eyes immediately narrowed over his wire-rimmed reading glasses. “Mornin’, Ethan, what brings you into town? Weren’t you here just five months ago?”

Ethan slowly nodded. “I’m out of supplies. Any mail for me in the back?”

“Nope. Sam picked up the ranch mail two days ago, bills and catalogues mostly.” Simon frowned and scratched his balding head. “Seems to me Billy Bob has a telegram for you. Unless he already got it to you?” When Ethan shook his head, Simon added, “It came about two or three days ago. He said he was going to run it out to the ranch.”

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. Who the hell would be sending him a telegram? Jenna. It had to be his kid sister. He wondered what kind of scrape she’d gotten into now. It seemed that was the only time he heard from her anymore.

“I told him he’d have to leave it with Sam. I figured you’re still living out at the caretaker’s shack.”

“Thanks, Simon.” Ethan had known the older man a long time. They’d met near Miller’s Creek when Ethan and Sam were only six. Simon had taught them how to swim. Ethan knew Simon would respect his desire not to have Billy Bob Simms or anyone else nosing anywhere near the shack.

“Can’t swear he’ll listen. I heard he’s bucking for a job at the Double S.”

“Things are slow this time of year. I doubt Sam needs an extra hand.” Even though Ethan owned the place, he rarely interfered with the way Sam ran things. He preferred mending fences, herding strays, preserving his solitude. “How’s Martha doing?”

“Complaining about her arthritis in one breath, and that I don’t take her anywhere in the other. Women. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand ’em.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Ethan stooped to pick up a plastic snowman that had fallen off the counter. He stuck it next to the Santa sitting in the middle of the cotton snow, then headed toward the door. “Tell her I said to take care of herself.”

“Ethan?”

Reluctantly he stopped at the door, wishing like hell he hadn’t come to town today. Thirty years of friendship made him turn around. “Yeah?”

“Martha keeps asking when you’re coming to dinner.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ve been pretty busy lately….”

“You gotta be taking Christmas off. She roasts a mean goose.”

“I don’t think—”

“She serves it with her homemade cranberry sauce. That took the County Fair blue ribbon three years in a row.”

Ethan half smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” Their gazes met, understanding and sympathy in Simon’s eyes. Ethan had to look away. “There won’t be anyone there but us, and of course, Sam’s invited, too.”

“Thanks, Simon, I’ll let you know.” Ethan opened the door and stepped outside, grateful for the brisk winter air.

He inhaled a lungful, then turned up the collar of his jacket in deference to the chill nipping at his neck. No way would he go to the Whitefeathers’ house for Christmas. Holidays were still too painful. Emily should have been here sharing them with him, having his children, growing old with him. Not buried under six feet of cold ground.

He swallowed and adjusted his Stetson before heading toward Manny’s store. After Ethan picked up several month’s supply of canned goods and toiletries, he’d have to go find out about that telegram. He doubted Sam had it. If he did, he would have run it over to Ethan right away. Sam was a lot more than his foreman, he was the best friend a man could have.

Just outside Manny’s, Billy Bob hollered Ethan’s name, then ran across the street, nearly getting run over by a white Jeep Wrangler.

He waved an envelope. “I saw your truck. Figured I’d catch up with you sooner or later. I got a telegram here for you from Jenny.” He handed it to Ethan, then dragged his sleeve across his red, runny nose. “What is it she’s calling herself these days?”

“Jenna.” Ethan started to tear open the telegram, then frowned at Billy Bob, whose gaze was glued to the envelope. Ethan dug into his pocket, came up with a five-dollar bill and put it in Billy’s hand. “Thanks, kid.”

“Gee, thank you, Mr. Slade.” He waited for Ethan to open it.

“Don’t you have something else to do?”

The young man’s eyes lifted to Ethan’s expressionless face and widened slightly. “Yeah, sure.” Billy Bob took a step back and shrugged. “If you wanna answer it, I guess you’ll let me know.”

“I reckon I will.” He didn’t go back to tearing the envelope until Billy turned to leave.

“Oh, Mr. Slade?”

Ethan looked up.

“They just opened one of those big supermarkets over in Andersonville,” Billy said, with a small sheepish smile. “My mom tells me they have a real nice floral section year round. You know, for…when…”

Ethan stiffened slightly. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

“No problem.” The young man met Ethan’s eyes for a moment, then he shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled away.

“Hey, Billy.”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“If you’re needing a part-time job, go see Sam. Tell him I sent you.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Slade.”

Ethan nodded, then headed down the opposite end of the sidewalk while he fished the telegram out of the envelope. He stopped suddenly and stared at his sister’s message in stunned disbelief.

Even the rousing chorus of Deck the Halls coming from Manny’s store couldn’t drown out Ethan’s involuntary curse.

SARA CONROY zipped the front of her daughter’s jacket, then adjusted Misty’s thick wool scarf to make sure her neck was covered.

“It’s not cold enough to wear all this stuff, Mom.” Misty scowled as she tried to loosen the scarf.

“It will be once we get outside.” Silently, Sara agreed. The weather wasn’t cold enough yet to warrant wool, but she’d expected milder New Mexico to have colder weather. Besides, she’d brought precious few clothes, only what she’d been able to sneak out of the house, and the scarf would have to do.

“Can’t I just put it on later if I need it?”

Sara looked into her five-year-old’s pleading blue eyes and relented. A little nippy air wasn’t going to harm Misty. Especially not after what Sara had put the child through in the past month. “Okay, but if I say it’s too cold, you put it on immediately with no argument.”

Misty grinned and yanked off the scarf.

When she tossed it on the bed, Sara gathered it up before letting them out of the small motel room and making sure the rickety lock had engaged behind them. The motel she’d chosen was rundown and shabby, but it seemed safe enough, especially in a small town like Sedina. Anyway, it wasn’t fear of strangers that kept her looking over her shoulder, or double-checking locks.

She took Misty’s hand as they walked the short distance to town, hoping that the apple and cheese and crackers she’d given her daughter for lunch would stay with her until they returned. Until Sara got a job and padded their meager nest egg, there’d be no more restaurant meals for them.

After two attempts to get Misty to talk, they ended up making the five-minute walk in silence. Although her daughter had always been a shy quiet child, Sara had noticed an increased withdrawal since they’d left Dallas, and she tried not to push.

It was difficult, though, because even while she knew they’d done the right thing by leaving, she felt horrible guilt. Especially when Misty’s eyes lit up when they passed store windows, displaying all the latest toys for Christmas. There was no way Sara would be able to afford the kind of lavish Christmas Misty was used to, and if no one answered Sara’s ad soon, they could very well be spending Christmas morning in the train station.

Shivering at the thought, she hurried them toward Della’s House of Beauty and one of two bulletin boards where she’d placed her ad. She stared in dismay. Below the neatly printed offer of holiday housecleaning, she’d included a row of easy-to-tear-off strips with the motel’s phone number. Not a single one had been taken.

She swallowed hard, then forced a smile for Misty. “Okay, let’s walk over to Manny’s store.”

“Can I have an ice-cream sundae?”

“It’s too cold for ice cream, honey.” And ice cream was too expensive. But at Misty’s disappointed expression, Sara added, “How about a cherry sucker?”

Her daughter lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

“Come on.” She ruffled Misty’s strawberry-blond curls, then tugged her down the sidewalk. “That’s your favorite.”

Manny’s was crowded today, and several people stood near the door talking and blocking Sara’s view of the bulletin board. When she finally ducked in close enough to see, her heart fell. Again, no one had taken a single phone number.

She shouldn’t be disappointed or surprised, she told herself. In a town this small and remote, people probably didn’t hire domestic help. Sara herself hadn’t grown up with that kind of luxury. It wasn’t until she’d married Cal that she’d had a maid to make her bed each morning and a cook to provide their meals.

Now, she’d give anything for the opportunity to scrub someone else’s floor. It would mean a Christmas tree and presents for Misty.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go get that sucker I promised you.” She gave her daughter a bright smile, then froze when she saw a man stop at the bulletin board and finger her ad.

He was tall, slim, his hair dark and kind of long, what she could see of it under his black Stetson. The blue denim jacket he wore was faded nearly gray, his jeans were well-worn and so were his boots.

After staring at the ad for a moment, he withdrew a piece of paper from an envelope, read it, then looked at the ad again. Although his posture was straight and proud, there was a slight slump to his shoulders that gave him an air of defeat. When he reached out and tore off one of the strips with her phone number, her heart thudded.

“I thought we were going to buy my sucker.”

Sara glanced at her daughter, then tugged her closer, her gaze shooting back to the man. “We will, honey, in just a minute.”

When he turned around, Sara bowed her head slightly and averted her eyes. It wouldn’t do to have a prospective employer see her spying on him. She waited until he started to pass them and briefly gave him a sideways glance.

She was only quick enough to catch his profile and the fact that he was badly in need of a shave. What ultimately drew her attention was the wide berth others seemed to give him and the stares and whispers in his wake.

Great. She finally had a hot prospect and he was probably the town ax murderer. She sighed. She sure knew how to attract the misfits, just like honey drew flies.

She watched him walk away, surprised at the slight stirring in her chest when he stopped and one side of his mouth lifted at two little girls. He tipped his Stetson to them and they giggled, then ran off.

Just then Judy Hawkins, who owned the corner diner, came out of Manny’s. Sara had gotten to know her a little when she and Misty had first come to town and they could afford to eat there twice a day.

“Hi, Sara, Misty.” Judy shifted her grocery bag to her other arm. “I haven’t seen you two this past week.”

“I’ve been dieting.” Sara shrugged, too embarrassed to admit the truth. She was almost broke.

Judy let out a howl of laughter. “Lose another ounce and you’ll be wearing Misty’s clothes.”

Misty made a face. “We didn’t bring that much.”

Sara squeezed her daughter’s hand. Now wasn’t the time for her suddenly to get talkative. “See that man over there?” Sara nodded toward the guy who’d seemed interested in her ad, already turning the corner. “Do you know who he is?”

Judy craned her neck and frowned. “The one who just disappeared down Second Street? Looked like Ethan Slade, except he doesn’t come to town much any more.” Judy stared curiously at Sara. “Did he have dark hair, brown eyes and a deep cleft in his chin?” Sara nodded. “That’s Ethan, all right, nice piece of man flesh, but you don’t want to get mixed up with him.”

Heat climbed Sara’s face at the implication in the older woman’s tone. She should set the record straight, tell Judy why she’d asked about him, but pride held Sara back. “It’s not what you think—”

A horn blasted, and Judy’s gaze shot toward the street. “There’s my ride. See you at the diner, huh?”

Sara nodded and watched her hurry toward the dirty white sedan. Since she only knew Judy casually, it was difficult to read her expression, but in spite of her warning, Judy hadn’t seemed afraid of or horrified by the man. There had almost been a trace of sympathy in her eyes.

Sara’s gaze strayed toward the corner of Second and Main. Still, Judy had said not to get mixed up with him, and the last thing Sara needed was any more trouble. As much as she hated to, instinct told her she’d better let this opportunity slide….

“Come on, Mom.” Misty tugged at her hand, and Sara snapped out of her trance.

“Okay, we’ll go get your sucker, and let’s pick up another jar of peanut butter.”

Misty made a face.

Sara brushed the bangs out of her eyes. “I thought that was your favorite?”

“Not every day.”

Sara flinched. “I know, sweetie. We’ll look for something else, too, okay?”

They passed a newspaper stand on the way into the store and Sara made a mental note to pick up a paper even though she already knew there weren’t many jobs available that would allow her to keep Misty with her. But it didn’t look like her ad was paying off, and she would have to do something soon.

In the corner, just past the two clerks busily ringing up sales, a man collected toys for the needy. His box overflowed with brightly wrapped presents and some dolls and trucks that weren’t wrapped.

“Oh, Mommy.” Misty’s eyes widened, and she tugged on Sara’s hand. “Can I have that doll with the long red braid?”

Sara smiled down at her. “Sorry, honey, but those things are for the poor and homeless.”

Misty looked up, her big blue eyes full of innocence. “But that’s us, isn’t it, Mommy?”

Sara blinked, her head suddenly growing so light that she thought she might pass out. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she bent down and gave Misty a hug. “Come on, baby, we have to hurry back to the motel.”

She hoped she hadn’t already missed Ethan Slade’s call.

HAVING TO GO to town two days in a row had Ethan in a foul mood. All because of Jenna. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on his sister. He didn’t care that he hadn’t seen her in six years, he was going to wring her neck anyway.

He steered the truck into the motel parking lot and squinted at the numbers on the orange doors, looking for the room number Sara Conroy had given him over the phone. There was an empty parking stall in front of number six and as soon as he pulled in and turned off the engine, the door opened. A petite woman with reddish-blond hair stepped outside, and quietly closed the door behind her.

She gave him a shy smile, then rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans while she waited for him to walk around the front of the pickup.

“Mr. Slade?”

He nodded. “Ethan.”

“I’m Sara Conroy,” she said, offering him her hand.

It trembled slightly in his grasp, and although her blue eyes met his steadily, wariness darkened them.

“You’re awfully young.”

She blinked and pulled back her hand. “That has nothing to do with how well I can clean. Besides, I’m not that young.”

Ethan rubbed the side of his jaw. He supposed that was true, except he didn’t know that some pretty young gal would want to do the dirty job that he had in mind. Besides, she was little, and there was going to be some lifting involved in restoring the house.

Still, he figured he was lucky to find someone at this late date, and that she was a stranger and not likely to pry was a big bonus.

“This is going to be a sizable job. The house hasn’t been lived in for almost six years,” he finally said. “It’ll probably take you the two full days.”

“No problem.”

“Like I told you on the phone, the girls get here on Friday, which basically gives you no leeway.”

Shrugging, she pushed back the sleeves of her pink flannel shirt. She had the tiniest wrists he’d ever seen. “Like I told you, no problem.”

He leaned against the front of his truck. She hadn’t asked him inside, and he didn’t blame her. He was a stranger to her. Made him wonder what she’d found out about him. A cautious woman would have asked around. “I won’t be around to help.”

“I won’t need it.”

Ethan exhaled. “You have a car?”

She shook her head.

“The ranch is about thirty miles outside of town. How do you plan on getting there?”

She smiled. “I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

He stiffened. It wasn’t like it was out of his way, but he’d planned on asking Sam to let her in. Although he probably ought to make sure she only readied the kitchen and the rooms his nieces would need. No sense in putting the entire house back to order. But it had been a hell of a long time since he’d set foot in that house. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready. He liked living alone in the caretaker’s shack. Life was fine just the way it was.

He lifted his Stetson off his head, pushed the too-long strands of hair off his forehead, then settled the hat back down. “All right. I was going to let the foreman take care of things, but I suppose I can let you in and make sure you know where everything is.”

Her smile broadened. “Great.” Dusting her hands together, she turned to the door, then stopped. “Maybe you have something to do in town while I get ready? I won’t be but twenty minutes.”

He looked at his watch. The worn leather band was on its last leg. Maybe he ought to use the time to replace it. “Twenty minutes,” he said, and rounded the truck to the door.

By the time he’d climbed behind the wheel, Sara had already disappeared behind the ugly orange door. He couldn’t help but wonder why a pretty young girl like her was staying in a dumpy motel like this. Or why she needed a job cleaning other people’s houses.

Maybe she was a runaway. Just like his sister had been once upon a time. Sara had to be younger than Jenna. He turned the key in the ignition, his thoughts straying to his sister.

In some ways it seemed like only yesterday that he’d awakened at sunup to find a note from Jenna telling him she’d eloped. But she’d been seventeen then, and now she was sending her two daughters to spend Christmas with him while she honeymooned with her soon-to-be-third husband.

Ethan sighed heavily. What the hell was he going to do with a twelve-and six-year-old for ten days? It wasn’t that he didn’t like children, or that he wasn’t happy to see his nieces, but he obviously didn’t know beans about kids.

He’d tried his hardest to raise fourteen-year-old Jenna after their parents had died, but he’d clearly failed. She’d gone from a sweet-tempered, shy child to a headstrong hellion by the time she was sixteen. Of course he’d only been twenty himself at the time of the car accident, and totally clueless about the needs of a young teenage girl. The only thing he knew about was ranching. And Emily.

But Emily was dead now. And Ethan didn’t give a damn anymore about the ranch they’d built together. Sam took care of everything just fine.

There was a small jewelry and coin store right at the edge of town, so he parked the truck and went inside. He vaguely knew the owner, who was reading a comic book behind the counter, but fortunately not well enough to make small talk or to have to answer a lot of nosy questions. Other than that, no one else was around. Probably all home having supper.

The owner showed him a modest selection of watchbands from which to choose, then went back to reading his comic book. Ethan checked the time. He still had ten minutes.

He tried to concentrate on finding the most durable band, but his mind kept drifting to the girls’ arrival. Erika was the older one; he’d seen her only twice before, on the rare occasions when Jenna had remembered she still had family and had shown up at the ranch. Denise, the younger one, had to be about six. He’d never met her or her father.

His gut clenched at the thought that these two little girls were his own flesh and blood—the last of the Slade line. He and Emily had waited on having children. Foolishly, they’d counted on having a lifetime together.

He quickly chose a plain black leather band before his thoughts wandered to forbidden territory, then he pulled some money out of his pocket while the owner replaced the old band. Already twenty minutes had flown by, and damn if it wasn’t going to take Sara Conroy every spare minute to get the house in decent shape.

As he left the store, his thoughts strayed back to her. He sure hoped she was stronger than she looked. He wouldn’t be much help to her. The idea of going back to the house still made him uneasy. The idea of even Sara or his nieces entering the house and touching things didn’t sit well with him.

He forced a deep breath as he fished in his pocket for his keys. In a way, it was better Jenna had given him no notice. He didn’t have time to dread facing the ghosts or the memories.

Besides, he had enough to worry about, trying to figure out what to do with two kids.

He opened the truck’s door and froze.

Sara was already sitting in the cab. On her lap was a suitcase. Beside her was a freckled-faced little girl staring back at him.

Chapter Two

“Who is this?”

Sara raised her brows in innocence, then looked down at the child who had plastered herself to Sara’s side. “You mean, Misty? She’s my daughter. Misty, say hi to Mr. Slade.”

Misty didn’t utter so much as a peep.

“Why is she sitting in my truck?”

Sara set a pair of headphones over Misty’s ears, then started the Baby Beluga tape she’d readied in the event Mr. Slade opposed her plan. “You didn’t expect me to leave her alone in the motel room, did you?”

“I didn’t expect her at all.” Ethan frowned at the suitcase. “What’s that for?”

“I wasn’t sure I’d get a ride back so I brought a few things in case we have to spend the night.” In fact, Sara was counting on it. She’d already checked out of the motel, hoping to save a couple of nights’ rent.

“You’re not spending the night.”

“But it makes sense.”

“Not to me.”

“Don’t you think you should get in? Standing on the sidewalk isn’t going to solve anything.”

Ethan climbed behind the wheel, his expression grim as he stared straight ahead. “You don’t understand.”

“Is it the owner? Do you think he’d have a problem with me staying in his house?”

“Possibly.”

Sara rubbed her left temple. She hadn’t considered that problem. But, of course, she was a stranger to this man, and whoever owned the house. “You said the owner doesn’t live there anymore, right?”

He nodded, slowly turning to look at her.

She gave him a bright smile. “Then surely there isn’t anything of value left in the house.”

His head jerked a little, almost as though she’d struck out at him.

“I only meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about me stealing anything.” Heat climbed her face, and she automatically slipped an arm around Misty. “Not that I’m a thief. But I am a stranger to you.”

He shook his head, and brought his troubled gaze to hers. “The thought never crossed my mind. What about you? Aren’t you concerned about me?”

She stared back at him, wondering what had made his eyes so sad. They were a warm shade of brown, a sort of milk chocolate color, but they lacked sparkle or expression. “I asked around about you.”

He seemed to tense, then looked straight ahead again.

That made her all the more curious. Neither of the two people besides Judy that she’d asked had had an unkind thing to say about Ethan Slade. In fact, they wouldn’t say much at all. Only that he was an honorable man, and she needn’t worry. She’d shoved her curiosity aside and asked no more questions. She wouldn’t ask him any either. She of all people knew the importance of privacy. Of keeping secrets.

“Shouldn’t we get moving before it gets too late?” she prompted, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

He stared in silence for another minute, and when he finally turned the key and started the engine, her breath slipped out in relief.

“Certain rooms will be off limits to both you and your daughter,” he said, without looking at her. “I’ll point them out as soon as we get there. About food for tonight and tomorrow morning…,” he slid her a look, and she was surprised to see concern in his eyes. “There may be a few canned goods, but nothing else. I can’t even be sure the refrigerator is still working.”

“No problem. We still have a jar of peanut butter and crackers and a couple of bananas. We’ll be fine.”

His concern gave way to curiosity, but he said nothing as he returned his attention to the road.

Sara used the lengthening silence to remind herself to say as little as possible. She didn’t need Ethan’s, or anyone else’s curiosity stirred. Cal had too many connections, knew too many people. If he decided he gave half a damn about either her or Misty, he might be inclined to search for them. Not that she thought he would suddenly discover love in his heart. He simply didn’t like losing…especially not what he considered his possessions.

She stared out at the scenery, fascinated by the vast expanse of land and rock formations. In some places the land looked too parched, and in general, it was on the arid side, but somehow the desolation added to its beauty. So unlike Dallas, where she’d spent her entire life. If she weren’t so darn scared, this would have been a great adventure.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked, turning to Ethan.

“All my life.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He nodded.

She waited, hoped he’d say something else. It appeared she’d have a heck of a long wait. Misty was still happily listening to her tape, even though it probably was for the hundredth time, so Sara decided to leave well enough alone and continue to enjoy the scenery.

After another five-minute stretch of silence, she asked, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your nieces?”

He looked startled. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Just making conversation.” She sighed, and mumbled, “Sorry,” before she let her gaze stray out the window again.

A minute later he said, “It’s been a long time. About six years.”

Sara smiled to herself. Progress. She waited another minute, then said, “How old are they?”

“Twelve and six.”

Six? Only a year older than Misty. Excitement simmered in Sara’s chest. “How long will they be here?”

“Until Christmas.”

He turned down a long dusty road that seemed to go nowhere, and she remained quiet, forcing herself to breathe slowly. His younger niece’s company would be great for Misty, and surely he wasn’t equipped to care for the two girls by himself. Whereas Sara was really good with children. And the isolation of the ranch was perfect. If Cal were looking…

Her heart started to hammer at the thought she might be able to give Misty a decent Christmas after all. Now, all she had to do was convince Ethan Slade that for the next two weeks, she was indispensable to him.

“THE KITCHEN is that way.” Ethan gestured to his left. “I’ll show you the two rooms the girls will be using.”

“Wait a minute.” She finished settling Misty on the couch with her headphones. “Can’t we go peek in the kitchen? I have a feeling that’s where most of my elbow grease will be needed.”

“Later. After I leave.” He started down the long hall, his chest tightening as he approached the master bedroom. The one that had once been used by his parents and then by him and Emily.

The kitchen, he wasn’t ready to face. Emily had spent too much time there, cooking and canning and proudly gazing out at her vegetable garden. The patch of land was surely nothing but weeds now, but the memories would still be thriving.

He hadn’t managed to lose the lump in his throat that had formed when the house had come into view, and the sooner he got out of here the better. “This room here—”

He frowned at the empty hall behind him, then started to retrace his steps. Where the hell was Sara?

She was standing in the middle of the family room, slowly running her hand over the intricate details of the mahogany rocker his grandfather had carved. For whatever reason, it was the only piece of furniture in the room not covered by a white sheet.

She looked up. “This is beautiful.” Her gaze wandered toward the dirty windows framing a portion of the San Juan Mountains. “And the view…” She shook her head. “It’s a shame no one lives here anymore.”

“You can look at all this later,” he said gruffly, which earned him a quizzical look. “I want to show you the bedrooms, then I have to go.”

“All right.” Her hand fell from the chair, and she started toward him. But then she stopped, and so did he.

“What now?”

She was staring at the stone fireplace. “Over in that corner,” she said with a jerk of her chin. “Is that where you’re putting the tree?”

“What tree?”

She looked at him like he’d grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. “The Christmas tree, of course.”

Ethan groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not getting one. We don’t have any ornaments anyway.”

She shrugged. “It might be fun for the girls to make some.”

“No tree.” He stalked down the hall without turning to see if she’d followed. But she sure as hell had better be right behind him, or…

She was. “Why not?”

He briefly closed his eyes. “Because I don’t have time to find one or worry about decorations.”

“I can do that.”

“You won’t be here.”

“Oh.” She drew in her lower lip for a moment, then opened her mouth, but at his warning look, promptly shut it again.

He opened the bedroom door, and musty, dusty air poured out, throwing them both into fits of coughing. Quickly, he brought his attack under control, but Sara seemed to be gasping for breath.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, coughed, then gasped.

He circled his fingers around her upper arm and drew her away from the room. She felt tiny, fragile, where her arm should have been more meaty.

Peanut butter and crackers.

Was that her staple? Was that all she could afford?

He kept his hand wrapped around her arm, not sure if she needed him to steady her, as he opened a window. Frosty air snaked down the hall, but at least she’d stopped coughing.

She took a couple of shallow breaths and shifted her arm. He got the message and released her.

“Okay?” he asked, ducking his head to get a better look at her face. Her color was high and her eyes too bright but she quickly nodded.

“I’m fine, really.” She took a deeper breath. “I had a touch of asthma as a child and occasionally I have a slight attack. Nothing to worry about,” she added hastily. “I outgrew it in my teens.”

The information bothered Ethan. He wasn’t sure she should be doing this kind of work. “Look, Sara—”

She touched his arm, alarm in her eyes. “Please, don’t withdraw the job offer.” She lifted her chin. “I need the work.”

Ah, hell. Why did she have to look at him with those big pleading blue eyes like that? “Wait here a minute.”

He returned to the room, flipping on the ceiling fan on his way to the window. Good thing Sam had talked him into keeping the utilities turned on. Of course Sam thought Ethan would have tired of the caretaker’s shack and returned by now. It wasn’t that simple.

The window was old and stubborn from lack of use, but he finally managed to open it halfway. More cold air swirled through the room, but it sure beat letting the musty stagnant air suffocate them.

He went to the next room and did the same thing. On his way out to call Sara, he saw Emily’s sewing basket sitting on the oak dresser. His heart thumped as memories of them sitting by the fire sliced through him as cleanly as a knife through pudding.

She’d loved working with her hands, and she’d loved Christmas. Around July she’d always started sewing and knitting presents. He still had every sweater she’d knitted him. They were all in boxes he never opened.

“Ethan?”

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there staring, when Sara’s troubled voice drifted to him. Silently he cleared his throat as he saw her in the doorway. Her nose was still red from her coughing fit, and so were her cheeks. She looked about sixteen. “I was trying to air out the rooms.”

She sniffed. “It’s better already. I take it this is the other room you want me to get ready?” She started to cross the threshold, but he stepped forward, causing her to stop.

“Let’s give it a few more minutes to air out. I’ll show you where the bathrooms are.” His tone was apparently too abrupt because she looked at him with a mixture of concern and fear, and took a wobbly step backward.

He didn’t have the words to fend off her fears, so he merely gave her a wide berth as he passed her. “I think one bathroom will be enough for the girls,” he said as he peered through the open door just down the hall.

The walls were covered with a startling pink wallpaper, the tile floor only a couple of shades lighter. It was one of two guest bathrooms, and Emily had insisted on the colorful decor. He’d truly hated it the first day she unveiled her handiwork, but she’d said bright colors boosted her spirits. And that had been enough for Ethan.

He thought he heard Sara chuckle, and he glanced over his shoulder. She smiled, her teeth perfectly straight and as white as new snow.

“How old did you say your older niece is?” she asked, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

“Twelve. Maybe thirteen.”

“I wouldn’t count on one bathroom being enough.”

He rubbed the side of his neck. “Why not?”

There was that twinkle in her eyes again. Made her look real pretty. “Because girls that age notoriously take hours getting ready.”

“Ready to do what?”

“Anything.”

Ethan shook his head. It was going to be a long two weeks ahead of him.

“If you’re going to have your own bathroom, the two girls could probably work it out sharing one.” She ducked past him to get a look inside, and a subtle fragrance drifted up to him. From her hair. It smelled like roses.

“Well, this certainly is an interesting color.” She stepped inside and swiped the wall. Her palm came up brown, and she wrinkled her nose. “Wow! How long did you say it’s been since anyone lived here?”

“Six years.” Six years, one month and three days. “The girls will have the bathroom to themselves. I live in the caretaker’s place.”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “You’re leaving them alone here?”

“No. My—” He caught himself, paused, then gestured with his chin toward the east pasture. “Sam, the Double S foreman, lives in the bunkhouse nearby. Along with about half a dozen ranch hands.”

“Are they all men?”

He nodded slowly.

“You can’t do that.”

Ethan sighed. “I’ll see the girls every day.”

She put a hand on her hip. A slim but nicely rounded hip. “That isn’t the point.”

“I know every single one of those men. There isn’t a thing to worry about.”

“But they’re only children, you can’t—”

She stopped abruptly at Ethan’s warning look. He wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t dealt with the persistence of a woman in a long time, or because it was this woman in particular. But she sure was getting under his skin.

He did feel a little bad, though, seeing the alarm narrow her eyes and the way her body tensed. Made him wonder about her husband, and why she was traveling alone, or why she needed the job. He wouldn’t ask. It’d likely invite questions about himself.

She rubbed a hand up her arm and gave him a measuring look. “If it would help, Misty and I could stay awhile. No charge, of course. Just room and board would be fine.”

“I appreciate your concern, ma’am,” he told her, “but I believe I have everything covered.”

“Of course.” She gave him a tiny smile. “I guess I’ll get started.”

She led the way back to the family room, her walk not as spry as before, and he couldn’t help wondering about her again. Not that it was any of his damn business. Or that he wanted to get involved.

“I was thinking I should start with their bedrooms first,” she said over her shoulder. “Then the bathroom, next the kitchen and save the family room for last. If I’m not finished before they get here, they can at least settle in while I tackle in here.”

He stood beside her at the edge of the family room and frowned. “You don’t think you’ll finish in time?”

Her brows shot up as she surveyed the room. “I wasn’t expecting quite this much…neglect.” Quickly, she turned to him. “I’m not complaining. And I’ll get it done….”

“You’re right.” He laid a hand on her arm in reassurance, and her gaze raised to his, her eyes too big and too blue. Immediately he withdrew his hand and swallowed. “There’s a lot to do. I’m going to get one of the men to help you.”

She blinked, and fear flickered in her eyes. “What men?”

“One of the ranch hands.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her palms together, then dragged them down the front of her jeans. “Why don’t we see how far I get by tomorrow first? No need to interrupt their work schedule. The owner might not like it.”

“He won’t mind.” She still looked tense, so he added, “We can decide tomorrow evening. But you have to promise me you won’t lift anything heavy.”

A shy smile curved her lips. They were naturally peach-colored, and he felt a stirring where he damn well shouldn’t. “I promise,” she said.

“Okay.” His tone was gruff, and she stiffened. “I’ll get out of your hair. You need anything, go to the bunkhouse and ask for Sam. He’s a good man.”

She was about to say something, but her daughter sat up from her lounging position on the couch and yanked off her headphones. Sara hurried over to her. “Is the tape finished, honey?”

The little girl nodded, her gaze glued to Ethan.

“Do you want to listen to another one?” Sara brushed the child’s bangs out of her sleepy eyes. “Or you can listen to Baby Beluga again.”

“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Misty whispered softly.

Ethan heard it anyway.

Sara’s cheeks pinked and she leaned down to say something in the girl’s ear.

He looked away, not wanting to intrude. He scanned the dusty white shapeless mounds and realized he couldn’t recall what the furniture under the sheets looked like. Panic tightened his throat, gripped his chest.

How could he forget? This room had once been a haven for him, for both of them. He didn’t want to forget any part of their life together. Not a second. Ever.

It was a mistake to come here. Damn that Jenna.

“Ethan?”

He heard Sara calling to him and realized he was already at the door. His hand tensed on the knob. “I’m going out to the truck and get the cleaning supplies.” He slid her the briefest glance, and saw her pass a cracker to Misty before he stepped outside.

It took only one trip to unload the supplies. He left them on the porch, then drove away at breakneck speed before the demons picked up his trail.

Chapter Three

It had been dark for nearly an hour before Sara took her first break. In spite of the open windows and the brisk December air whipping through the house, she felt damp and clammy from exertion. Long tangled strands of hair refused to stay within the piece of elastic she’d tied around her curly mop, and they clung to her damp, flushed cheeks and neck.

And still she saw little progress as she surveyed the bedroom. Sighing, she sank onto the only chair in the room, a soft overstuffed club-style monstrosity, and prayed she could get up again.

Originally, she’d thought the amount of money Ethan had offered her was generous. Not anymore. Not with the king-size headache she had from inhaling dust and the insistent ache plaguing her lower back. She was beginning to doubt she’d even be able to make the place presentable in two days. Actually, a day and a half was more accurate. The girls would be arriving early afternoon the day after tomorrow.

A crocheted doily had fallen from the dresser and without leaving the chair, she scooped up the lacy snowflake-like piece for a closer inspection. It was finely made, by hand as far as she could tell, and although at first glimpse it appeared old, Sara guessed it was more recently made. At least in this decade, when women were usually too busy to spend the kind of time required for such fine craftsmanship.

Another mystery. The house had tons of them. Like the newer add-on off the back bedroom. The house was already huge, but the owners had added yet another room. Off the master bedroom, she figured, not having seen the inside of it. Forbidden territory, according to Ethan.

The add-on alone wasn’t strange. Many growing families found the need for additional space. But there was no sign that children had ever lived in the house. And then there was the owner’s abandonment. Very strange.

She tossed the doily back onto the dresser. More dust filtered into the air. Sighing, she pushed to her feet. She had far too much work ahead of her to be sitting here, wondering about things that were none of her business.

After taking a peek to make sure Misty was still napping, Sara decided to work in the kitchen for a while. She really did need to develop a plan. It was maddening the way she went from one room to the other for a mop or a rag, then randomly began a new task without completing the one she’d left.

She checked her watch and decided to give herself one hour in the kitchen. That way they’d at least have a decent place to sit and eat dinner. Even if it was only peanut butter and crackers. She turned on the water in the sink and gazed out the window. In the distance, the tops of the San Juan Mountains were already covered with snow.

Directly in front of her, a man walked slowly toward the house. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, for a second she thought he was Ethan, and her pulse leaped.

Her reaction surprised her. A flash of disappointment that it wasn’t him downright annoyed her.

The man didn’t seem in any particular hurry, and she watched as he stopped to toe a square of weathered concrete sidewalk that led to the back door. Appearing satisfied with its condition, he continued toward the back stoop.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he had a key or would knock.

He knocked, and she exhaled.

“Ms. Conroy?”

That he knew her name alarmed her. Instinct told her that he was probably the foreman or one of the hands, especially judging by his worn boots and battered Stetson, but underestimating Cal in the past had cost her, and she wouldn’t be foolish again.

Another knock…a pause…then, “Ms. Conroy? I’m Sam Singleton, the Double S foreman.”

She quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Sorry. I had the water running and didn’t hear you.”

He removed his hat. He didn’t look anything like Ethan. His hair was lighter, his eyes blue and he was clean-shaven. Besides, this man smiled. “Ethan told me you’d be here cleaning the house up some. I just wanted to let you know you’re not alone on the property.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Singleton.”

“It’s Sam.”

She nodded and smiled back. “I’m Sara.”

He was looking at her funny. “You just get into town?” he asked.

“A little over a week ago.”

A thoughtful frown pulled his brows together. “And Ethan found your name on a bulletin board?”

She nodded, amused at the irony that he seemed to be wary of her. “He said references weren’t necessary.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “What?” then he looked slightly embarrassed. “I wasn’t questioning you, it’s just that Ethan doesn’t show up around here much, and I was a little surprised he—” He gave a small shake of his head. “Never mind. You just holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She was about to say something when he set his hat back atop his head and turned to go. “Wait, Sam, I, uh, was kind of wondering something.”

He stopped and eyed her cautiously.

“About Ethan—”

Caution gave way to alarm, and then his entire expression shut down. “Sorry, ma’am, that topic is off limits.”

“I was just…” She lifted a hand in helplessness. “I figured since you were his boss…” A strange look crossed his face. “Never mind.”

She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. She’d received the same reactions in town. First there was the look of alarm, which turned guarded then blank. The only thing missing in Sam’s reaction was the trace of pity she’d seen in everyone else’s eyes. If anything, Sam looked protective.

He started to leave again, stopped and said, “If you’re worried about his character, you won’t find a more honorable or loyal man. Anyone in town will confirm that.” He gave her a brief smile, touched the rim of his hat, then sauntered off without looking back.

Sara leaned against the doorjamb, trying to temper her curiosity. She told herself it was valid to be inquisitive about her employer, especially since she was scheming to stretch two days into two weeks. But she knew better. There was more to her curiosity than making sure he wasn’t Jack the Ripper.

Something about him drew her, stirred an instinct to reach out and help in some way she couldn’t fathom. It was a dangerous impulse. One that had already landed her in a hellish marriage. She shuddered at the thought, then ruthlessly pushed it aside, and plunged her hands in some warm soapy water.

Tonight she’d give the kitchen a cursory cleaning, enough to at least make it sanitary. Tomorrow, after the bedrooms were in top shape she’d—A burst of melodic chimes gave her such a start she splashed water down the front of her shirt and on her sneakers. It took her a second to realize it was the doorbell. She shook the water from her hands then dried them on a rag on the way to the front door.

Misty sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom?”

“It’s all right, honey.” Sara gave her a reassuring smile, then went to the window and inched back the drapes. She had only a partial view of the front porch, but she couldn’t see anyone.

It couldn’t be Sam. He wouldn’t come around to the front door when he knew she was in the kitchen. It was probably Ethan. But he had a key. Though he probably wouldn’t use it out of respect for their privacy.

With her hand on the knob, she called, “Who is it?”

No answer.

Her pulse and curiosity both going berserk, she opened the door a crack. No one was there. Her gaze drew to a brown wicker basket sitting on the porch. It held a bundle wrapped in a large red-checked napkin.

She stepped outside and stooped down for a look. Under clear plastic wrap was a roasted chicken, biscuits and cole slaw. Her gaze snapped up, but still she saw no one. Was this from Sam? But why not hand it to her?

Stepping off the porch and into the yard, she squinted toward the bunkhouse—and caught a glimpse of Ethan’s blue pickup as it fishtailed in a cloud of dust down the gravel drive.

SAM SWUNG the saddle off Thunder, used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, then watched Ethan approach. His friend didn’t come to the ranch much. Sam figured he could count on one hand the number of times Ethan had been here in the past six years. He hoped this was a good sign. It wasn’t right for a man to isolate himself the way Ethan did. Too much grief and sadness had a way of keeping a man from being whole.

“Hey, Ethan, I got your message late yesterday. I was riding the north pasture. Looks like we’ve got two miles of fence-mending ahead of us.”

Ethan stopped and stroked Thunder’s neck. The soft-eyed gelding pushed his face forward for Ethan to rub. “Have you seen her?”

Taken aback by the question, Sam tried not to show any reaction. He’d expected a comment about the fence-mending. “Sara? Yeah, I went over and introduced myself. Pretty little thing.”

Ethan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. As long as she gets the job done.”

Hope swelled in Sam’s chest. The hell it didn’t matter. He saw the flicker of life in his friend’s eyes. “Where’d you find her?”

“An ad on Manny’s bulletin board.”

“Good timing. When do the girls get here?”

“Tomorrow.”

Sam straightened. “Tomorrow?” He lifted his hat off his head, and mopped his forehead. “Tomorrow.” He grunted. “Isn’t that just like Jenny? No notice. No consideration.”

“She calls herself Jenna now.”

“Tough.”

Ethan smiled.

Sam looked away. He’d grown up with Ethan and his little sister. Only, the last time Jenny’d visited she wasn’t so little anymore, and her childhood crush on him hadn’t seemed so silly.

“I need a favor,” Ethan said. “Can you spare one of your men?”

Glad to have his thoughts pulled away from Jenny, Sam studied his friend. Normally he would have automatically said sure, or you’re the boss, but something told him to hold back. “What for?”

“To help Sara.”

“Clean?”

Ethan shook his head. “Mostly do the lifting.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

The flash of fear in Ethan’s eyes was like a ray of sunshine to Sam. “I’m busy,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “You just said we have fence that needs mending.”

“Not right away.”

“What about Bobby? Can’t you spare him?”

Sam massaged the back of his neck, frowning, in a show of concern. “I already gave him time off to go see his folks up in Albuquerque for the holidays.”

“And Gus? What about him?”

“He’s driving a herd to South Fork.”

Ethan rattled off a few more names. Sam made more excuses.

Ethan exhaled, long and slow. “You’ve got to have somebody.”

“Nope. Afraid I don’t.” The more panicked Ethan looked, the better it made Sam feel. It was good to see some life in his friend again. Damn good. “Unless…”

“Yeah?” Impatience and hope animated Ethan’s face.

Sam shrugged. “I suppose I could give her a hand. Maybe she’ll be grateful and have dinner with me.” He winked, then hid a smile at Ethan’s sudden frown.

“I thought you were busy.”

Sam shrugged again. “Shouldn’t take long. Anyway, I sure wouldn’t mind her company.”

Ethan silently stroked Thunder’s neck, his brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighed. A put-upon sigh. For Sam’s benefit, no doubt. “You’re right. Shouldn’t take long. Guess I can handle it.”

“You sure?” Sam kept a straight face. “I don’t mind.”

Ethan flexed a shoulder, a nervous habit he’d had since they were kids. “Nah, I can manage.”

Sam turned to his bucket of grooming supplies and busied himself with finding a brush before he started grinning like a village idiot. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” Ethan sighed again. “I’d better get to the house and see if she needs me.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look up until his friend’s scuffed boots were headed away from the stables and toward the house. He watched his retreating form, noticing the new life to Ethan’s step, and a lump swelled in Sam’s throat. It was so damn good to see traces of the old Ethan. God bless Sara Conroy. Sam hoped she did need Ethan. As much as Ethan needed her.

TEN MINUTES LATER, Ethan stood on the front porch of the house to which he’d sworn he’d never return and pressed the doorbell button. If he had half a brain in his head he would’ve let Sam deal with Sara. But that wasn’t right. Sam had carried the major burden of the ranch for the past six years. And Erika and Denise were Ethan’s problem…

“Ethan?” Sara had opened the door, startling him out of his thoughts. Her lips curved in a shy smile. “We just finished breakfast. Leftover chicken and biscuits, thanks to you.”

She stepped aside, and he had to force his feet to move over the threshold. The sun hadn’t been up long, but enough of its rays touched her auburn hair to turn the tips to gold. When he passed her, the scent of roses took some of the starch out of his knees.

“Well, what do you think?”

He looked blankly at her.

Her expression fell, and she cast a forlorn look over the family room. “Can’t you see the difference?”

Ethan slowly scanned the room. All the sheets were off the furniture, the brass lamps gleamed and the hardwood floor had been polished to a high shine. “I can’t believe you did all this already.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s amazing how much you can get done when there’s no TV to distract you.” She laughed self-consciously, the sound sweeter than pecan pie. “Come see the blue bedroom.”

He let her lead the way, bracing himself for the assault of tormenting memories. But as he stepped into the room, all he saw was how cheery it seemed. The drapes had been tied back, letting the early-morning sun stream in through crystal-clean windows. Without dust covering everything, the oak headboard and nightstands and dresser looked new and inviting. Something else was different, too….

“Well? Think the girls will like it?”

He slowly nodded, trying to figure out what had changed. “You probably didn’t notice, but I swapped the comforter for one I found in the linen closet. This yellow one makes the room cheerier.”

He remembered now. The other quilt was a navy blue and tan one his mother had made the year she died. Emily had used it as a remembrance.

“Is something wrong? Wasn’t I allowed to go into the linen closet? You hadn’t mentioned it being off limits.”

Ethan looked at Sara. She was wringing her hands, her eyes dark and wary. “No, I didn’t. I, uh, it’s fine, Sara. The room looks real nice.”

“Where are you going?” She hurried after him down the hall. He had the sudden urge to get out and breathe some fresh air.

“I forgot something in the truck. I’ll be right back.”

“Need some help?”

He stopped abruptly, and she nearly ran into him. He turned in time to grab her shoulders and avoid the collision.

Her wide-eyed gaze lifted to his. “I’m sorry.” Her breathy words fanned his chin.

“My fault. I didn’t signal.”

She laughed softly, and he was amazed that he’d actually attempted a feeble joke. When her gaze lowered to the slim shoulder he still cupped, he quickly dropped his hand.

He stared at her, unable to remember what he was about to do. Clearing his throat, he moved back a step. “I think I’ll just go—”

“You’re leaving?”

The disappointment in her voice sent a flush of pleasure through him. “Actually, I was—” He gestured toward nowhere in particular.

“Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “You were going out to get something in your truck.”

“Right.” He immediately headed for the door, calling himself every kind of dumb jackass. He wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears seventeen-year-old. He didn’t even like petite, fair-haired women. And he wasn’t in the market for a fling or anything else. Dammit.

So why in the hell was he getting all tongue-tied and weak-kneed? And stupid. He was being really stupid. Maybe he ought to reconsider Sam’s offer. Let him make a fool of himself. Because something about that woman would do it. Make a man do something foolish he’d end up regretting for a long time.

He circled his truck a couple of times, trying to regulate his breathing. Anger more than anything was throwing him off balance. That he could have this physical reaction to a woman he barely knew galled him.

Removing his hat, he lifted his face to the warmth of the faint winter sun and closed his eyes. Maybe he was getting all worked up over nothing. Of course he would have a reaction to a woman. It had nothing to do with Sara, personally. He was thirty-six years old, for cripes’ sake, hardly over the hill. And he hadn’t had any female company in a mighty long time.

At that thought, he slumped against his truck. It was by his own choice, he reminded himself. The problem was, he wanted to keep it that way. But he wouldn’t be able to if Sara kept smiling at him.

Chapter Four

“On the count of three, lift your side and move it three feet to the right.” Sara paused. “One, two—”

She waited a moment for Ethan to pick up his end, and when he didn’t, she let go of her corner of the couch and popped her head up to see what was taking him so long.

He stood there glaring at her.

“What?” She left her crouched position and scrambled to her knees and propped her elbows on the arm of the couch. “Three comes after two. Why isn’t your side off the floor?”

His gaze narrowed. “Would you please get out of the way and let me move this by myself?”

“That’s silly. I’m perfectly capable of helping.” She shoved away the stray tendrils of hair that clung to her damp flushed cheeks, then cupped her hands under the corners of the couch. “One, two—” No movement on the other side.

She popped up again, this time climbing all the way to her feet, and planting her hands on her hips. “Ethan Slade, you may be paying my salary, but you’re making me madder than a—than a hungry grizzly bear.”

He eyed her a moment then moved to the center of the couch, muttering, “You’ve never even seen a grizzly bear.”

“I heard that.” She stepped back when he lifted the couch off the floor by himself and moved it. “Who says I haven’t?”

He didn’t answer, and she hadn’t expected him to. He’d barely uttered four sentences all day. She didn’t know why he’d bothered showing up since it was obvious this was the last place he wanted to be. Except he was too chauvinistic to leave her to handle the moving and lifting.

Which was absurd. She could practically lift her own weight. All the forced hours of working out in the exercise room Cal had built for her was one thing for which she could thank him.

Arms folded, she watched Ethan mosey around the room, moving pieces of furniture so that she could get at the dust beneath them. Other than sliding her a couple of guarded looks, he avoided her gaze. Nothing new. He’d treated her like she was a wildcat he needed to stay clear of, making sure she didn’t trespass or attack.

Still, she had to admit, with his help she’d accomplished more today than she’d expected. But maybe that was his plan. Get rid of her as soon as possible.

That thought stole some of her thunder. Staying here through the holidays would be so perfect. Misty had been quietly occupying herself with the limited toys Sara’d been able to bring, but she knew that wouldn’t last. However, a six-year-old friend would be a godsend.

Sara pressed her lips together. Letting her temper get the better of her would not further her cause. Uncrossing her arms, she pasted a smile on her face. “Ethan?”

He paused, his entire body tensing as he looked her way.

Good heavens. What did he think she was going to do to him? She broadened her smile. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

His gaze touched her mouth, lingered for an unnerving moment, then skittered away. “No thanks.”

“Water?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. Loudly. He still wouldn’t look at her. “Ethan, have I done something to offend you?”

He looked now, his gaze narrowed, his brows furrowed. “No.”

She waited for him to ask why. He went back to moving furniture.

Sara mentally counted to ten, then picked up the dust mop and attacked the floor with a vengeance. When she’d finished one side of the room, he quietly began returning the chairs and tables to their original places. She continued working, countering his silence with her own, until he put the brown leather club chair in the corner near the fireplace.

She opened her mouth to tell him it couldn’t go there, but a perverse streak of rebellion changed her mind. Instead, she leaned the dust mop against the stone hearth and dragged the chair three feet to the left.

Dusting her hands together and standing back to see if she’d cleared enough space for the Christmas tree, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ethan scowling at her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His words were low and deliberate.

She turned a smile on him. “Me?”

“Are you that bound and determined to hurt yourself?”

“Come here.”

His glare melted and he blinked. “Why?”

She scooted around the couch and approached him, amazed when he actually took a step back, fear flashing in his eyes. “I’m not going to bite.” She stopped directly in front of him and flexed her right bicep. “Feel this.”

A startled laugh lightened his expression. “What?”

“I’m serious. Feel this.”

“Why?”

Impatient, she grabbed his hand, but she wasn’t prepared for the slightly rough texture of his fingertips and her thoughts skittered in a shocking direction. Quickly, she composed herself, then brought his hand to the small but firmly carved muscle she had developed over the years.

Astonishment flickered in his eyes.

“Not bad, huh?” She released his hand almost as hastily as he pulled it away.

His gaze met hers, held it for a moment, and then he slowly, wordlessly shook his head and took two steps back.

“Ethan.” She cupped her hips and stomped a foot. “Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He picked his hat up off the table near the door. Their gazes met again, and something in his eyes sent a shaft of heat through her. “I just remembered something I forgot,” he mumbled, and took off for his truck.

“Damn coward,” she muttered, then took a deep breath, relieved he was gone.

ETHAN THREW his hat down on the passenger side of the truck, picked it up and threw it down again. He’d forgotten how stubborn females could be.

Not Emily, though, he amended. She was as sweet-natured as they came. He pictured her sitting near the fireplace on the brown club chair, knitting or crocheting, smiling and humming as she worked. A cross word never fell from her lips. The one time he’d heard her say darn she’d been horribly embarrassed.

Relief and guilt warred within him. This was the first time he could remember thinking about her without a knife slicing through his heart. Time would lessen the pain and grief, his friends and neighbors had told him. He hadn’t believed them. Hadn’t wanted to believe them. Emily deserved more from him.

His gaze strayed toward the house, his thoughts toward the little spitfire inside. She may look small and fragile, but she had muscles in her arms that would put some of his ranch hands to shame. Still, her biceps weren’t all that big, more unexpected because she looked so feminine with all that flowing red-gold hair and full wide mouth, and it got him wondering about where else she might have a muscle or two that would surprise him.

Disgusted as he was with his thoughts, he couldn’t let go of them. Sara’s smile had somehow dug a groove in the replay area of his brain and kept bushwhacking him when he least expected it. Like last night in the shower, and then after he’d hung his hat for the night. What he had to do was get the hell out of here. Go string some fence. Chop wood. Take Jet for a long ride. The stallion hadn’t been exercised today.

And when Ethan was finished, he’d go straight back to his shack in his own corner of the world and stay put until it was time to pick up the girls. He glanced at his watch. Erika and Denise would be here in less than twenty-four hours and he’d have more than he could handle. Sam could give Sara a check out of the ranch account and Ethan wouldn’t have to see her again.

He patted his shirt pocket for his keys. Then his jeans pocket. No keys. He patted his shirt again. What in the hell had he done—

“Mr. Ethan?”

He turned abruptly at the sound of Misty’s soft voice. She immediately turned pink and half hid behind the white picket gate to the sidewalk.

Oh, hell. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“Are you coming back?”

His gaze rose over her head. Had Sara put the girl up to this? “Does your mom know where you are?”

Her eyes got big, and she shook her head.

“She’s not going to like you being out here alone.”

A shy smile lifted her tiny lips. “I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

Something in her tone and face tugged at him. Something akin to trust. It pierced a corner of his ice-encased heart, shattering it, the pieces melting faster than he knew how to respond. “Well, I’m not sticking around, so you’d better go inside.”

He expected her to bolt for the house. He didn’t want her trust. Didn’t deserve it. Emily had trusted him. Look where it got her.

Obviously he hadn’t sounded as gruff as he thought. Misty’s expression didn’t even waver. “When are you coming back?”

He passed a weary hand over his face. “I don’t think I am.”

Alarm widened pretty blue eyes so much like her mother’s. “Who’s going to bring us dinner?”

Surprised, Ethan frowned, then started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not polite to laugh at somebody.”

“I’m sorry.”

The corners of her mouth started to lift again. “Mom says you’re a nice man. You’re not really a grouch. Just maybe sad about something.”

Ethan’s humor fled. What did Sara think she was doing analyzing him?

From inside the house, Sara’s panicked voice called out for her daughter. Misty spun toward the sound, then she looked back at him. “Don’t tell her I was out here, okay?”

He nodded.

“Promise?” She was halfway down the sidewalk but she stopped and waited for him to answer.

“Promise.”

“Then cross your heart,” she said, walking backwards toward the house.

Using his index finger, he made an X on the left side of his chest where his heart should have been. At least someone still thought he had one.

AS SOON AS SARA saw Ethan’s truck in the drive that evening, she let go of the drapes so he couldn’t see her waiting. At least she assumed the dust that had been kicked up belonged to his truck. The dusky twilight hampered her vision and easily camouflaged the dark-colored pickup.

She was glad Misty was still changing into her pajamas, just in case Ethan put up a fight. Not that he’d win. Sara pushed back her sleeves, then leaned against the door and listened.

A minute later she thought she heard the truck’s engine and possibly the door opening. She didn’t hear it close, but that didn’t surprise her. The coward had probably left the driver’s door open and the motor running.

When she heard the steps to the porch creak, she flung open the door. The astonished look on Ethan’s face was priceless. He’d been just about to set a picnic basket on the porch, but he immediately straightened.

“Here,” he said and tried to hand her the basket.

She didn’t take it. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “Supper.”

“How nice.” She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back. “Come in. I’ll set an extra place at the table.”

He rolled a shoulder, and tried to pass her the basket again. “I’m not staying.”

“Why not?” She tilted her head to the side and eyed him quizzically. What in the heck did he think she wanted from him other than a job?

“I have things to do.”

“I see.” She straightened her back. “Thank you, Mr. Slade, but we don’t accept charity.”

He put his booted foot in the door when she attempted to close it. “What are you talking about?”

She eyed his boot meaningfully, and he drew it back. “I thought you were bringing some food to share so that we could all sit down together, not make a charitable deposit.”

“A what?”

“I’ve already made something for our dinner, but thank you, anyway.”

He still didn’t move so she turned around and headed for the kitchen. As she passed the hall, she called to Misty that dinner was on the table. Behind her, she heard Ethan mutter a curse.

She bit back a smile and kept on going.

When they got to the kitchen and all that was on the table were crackers and cheese, a nearly empty jar of peanut butter and a cut-up apple that was beginning to brown, her bravado faltered. Embarrassment swelled in her chest until it blocked her throat. What kind of mother did he think she was? He wouldn’t know that eating like this for an entire month would still be better than staying under Cal’s cruel and controlling thumb.

Without a word, Ethan set the basket in the center of the table, sat down and started unloading the food. A ribbon of steam spiraled up from the slab of ribs he unwrapped, and the pan of baked beans was also still hot, judging by the way he handled it. Two large ripe tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots had been carefully kept away from the hot stuff.

When he pulled out the lattice-topped pie, her stomach rumbled indelicately. Horrified, she turned away and got out another plate and silverware.

“Wow!” Misty walked into the kitchen, her eyes wide and focused on the table. “I’m having seconds.”

Sara smiled, but the ache in her chest grew. She should be the one providing this meal for her daughter. “Maybe you’d better have firsts first, huh? After you say hello to Mr. Slade.”

Misty looked shyly at him. “Thanks, Mr. Ethan.”

He winked at her, a rare smile curving his mouth, and a flutter replaced the ache in Sara’s chest. Then she watched in amazement as Misty, who was normally shy around men, took the chair closest to him.

Putting Ethan’s plate and silverware in front of him, Sara nodded to her daughter. “Let’s see your hands.”

Misty held up both palms.

Sara vaguely acknowledged they were clean. Standing so close to Ethan, she’d gotten a strong whiff of a musky pine scent that made her understand her daughter’s attraction to the man. When his gaze warily lifted to her face, she knew she’d lingered too long.

Unnecessarily, she reached over and fussed with the stack of napkins. “This looks great.” Her voice sounded high, unnatural. She cleared her throat. “Did you make it?”

“Only the beans.”

“Oh.” She sat down and lamely passed the plate of crackers to Misty, who looked at her as if she were insane. “The drinks,” Sara said abruptly and started to jump up.

Ethan laid a hand on her arm. “Here.” With his other hand, he brought out a carton of orange juice.

Sara stared numbly at it. He hadn’t released her arm yet, and his warmth was doing strange things to her thought process. “Glasses,” she said weakly.

“I’ll get them.” His hand trailed away from her and her entire body tightened.

Sara swallowed. How pathetic. A man treated her with decency and she turned into a disgusting puddle of need. She helped Misty fix her plate, noticing that Ethan had gone unerringly to the cabinet where the glasses were kept. He took three down and was about to turn toward the sink when he realized she’d already washed them all.

Their eyes met and she quickly looked away.

“That’s enough, Mom.”

Sara stared down at Misty’s plate. She’d dished up enough food for three linebackers. Quickly, she put the filled plate in front of her own chair and fixed Misty a new one.

Ethan sat down and glanced at the mound of food. She thought she saw a twinkle of amusement in his eye, but he said nothing, just silently poured three glasses of juice.

“Thank you,” she said, and Misty immediately echoed her.

They ate in silence for the next few minutes, Misty eating so fast that Sara had to put a restraining hand on her arm twice. Sara’s own appetite had dwindled as she worried about what Ethan must be thinking.

She wanted to explain to him she really wasn’t a bad mother, that her daughter had a good appetite, that she really wasn’t starving…that she was far better off today, homeless and poor, than she was a month ago, living in the Conroy mansion.

Sara reminded herself often enough. It was essential in order to fend off the self-doubt that had been so intricately molded and sculpted by years of criticism and belittlement.

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