“I’m Not Wearing A Tuxedo.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue Copyright

“I’m Not Wearing A Tuxedo.”

“I can understand how you feel, Wade, but it’s your only child’s wedding.”

“I’ll give Myra Jo the full three-ring circus, but I won’t play the trained bear for anybody. I’m no weekend cowboy, Leah, thinking I’m a rancher because I own a few acres and run a few head. I work my land and my herds. My hands get dirty and my boots aren’t for show.”

Wade suddenly looked weary, and Leah felt her heart pull. Whatever the reason, it was clear a battle would wage to put some shine on a man who wore his humble beginnings like a badge of honor.

“So...have I scared you off?”

“Nope.” She held out her hand. “You may have met your match....”

Dear Reader,

THE BLACK WATCH returns! The men you found so intriguing are now joined by women who are also part of this secret organization created by BJ James. Look for them in Whispers in the Dark, this month’s MAN OF THE MONTH.

Leanne Banks’s delightful miniseries HOW TO CATCH A PRINCESS—all about three childhood friends who kiss a lot of frogs before they each meet their handsome prince—continues with The You-Can’t-Make-Me Bride. And Elizabeth Bevarly’s series THE FAMILY McCORMICK concludes with Georgia Meets Her Groom. Romance blooms as the McCormick family is finally reunited.

Peggy Moreland’s tantalizing miniseries TROUBLE IN TEXAS begins this month with Marry Me, Cowboy. When the men of Temptation, Texas, decide they want wives, they find them the newfangled way—they advertise!

A Western from Jackie Merritt is always a treat, so I’m excited about this month’s Wind River Ranch—it’s ultrasensuous and totally compelling. And the month is completed with Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!, an engaging romp by Pamela Ingrahm. There’s nothing better than curling up with a Silhouette Desire book, so enjoy!

Regards,

Senior Editor

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

Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!

Pamela Ingrahm

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PAMELA INGRAHM

lives in Austin, Texas, with the man of her dreams and their two children. She’s added to the mix one dog that thinks the human race was put here to love her, and Pamela swears she’s not doing anything to foster that notion. She also tells all who will listen how wonderful it is to live your dream.

In loving memory of my mother, Myra D‘Etcheverry.

To my daddy, J. Romeo D’Etcheveny, and Judy—I

wish you two lovebirds every happiness.

To Adrienne—You are a friend beyond measure.

Thanks for all your love and support.

To “The Girls”—Pat, Cara, Janet and Adrienne—bar

none, you are the best critique group in the world!

One

“Has he been by yet?”

“Nope,” Leah Houston answered her partner, hoping Rhonda missed the nervous jump the mere mention of him evoked. She kept her eyes on the new publicity photo for Brides and Babies, her business and her pride and joy.

“What’s that?” Rhonda set down the soft drinks she’d just purchased and straightened the curtains separating the little storage area where they sat from the display area. The strips of satin hid the paraphernalia they had transported from the boutique to the convention center for the bridal fair.

Leah took a grateful sip of cola and dabbed a bead of perspiration from her forehead. Although the convention center was air-conditioned—something of a necessity for Austin in June—she was still feeling the effects of the heat.

She handed over the photo to Rhonda and waited. Brides and Babies was her brainchild, and she had nurtured it from a one-person operation to its present staff of nine. Rhonda had been with her the longest—six years now—and covered the “and Babies” side of things.

“This will look wonderful on the new brochures,” Rhonda said as she cocked her head sideways, making the long, silky blond hair Leah would have given her eyeteeth to have cascade off one shoulder. “Your dad would be so proud.”

Leah managed a smile. Her father had died when she was twelve, but even at that young age he had instilled in her the need to “be” someone someday.

“I hope so. He wanted so much more for himself, but with my mom having kids every eighteen months, or thereabouts, he had to work two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. I think he had dreams and passed the torch to me.”

“You certainly ran with it. Of course, when you came up with the cockamamy idea of putting a baby boutique around the corner from the bridal shop, I thought you were a certifiable lunatic.”

“Thanks for the rousing vote of confidence.”

“I hate to admit it,” Rhonda confessed, “but it was a good thing you didn’t listen to me.”

“I listened,” Leah protested innocently. “I just didn’t pay attention.”

Rhonda rolled her eyes and shook her head despairingly, but in the next moment all teasing was gone.

“You are going to take the Mackey wedding, though, aren’t you? I mean, you’ve worked with Myra Jo before, so you know she’ll be fun. And you have to admit, being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting... advantages.”

Leah grimaced. “I don’t have to admit any such thing, and Wade Mackey’s sexiness is irrelevant. I have to weigh whether this wedding is going to repair my reputation or damage it further.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve only lost three weddings since the Robertson fiasco. And, I might add, you didn’t make Penelope Robertson walk out of her own wedding.”

“No, but her mama sure let everyone think I’d upset Penelope-poo so much she had to leave the church.”

“So she made you a scapegoat. The weddings that went south were worth losing, if the people believed those stupid rumors. Besides, you haven’t exactly had to declare bankruptcy. ‘Babies’ is doing a great turn this quarter, so quit worrying.”

“I can’t be as casual about this as you are, Rhonda. This business is my life, and I take those lost contracts personally. The money isn’t the issue. My reputation is.”

Rhonda put a perfectly manicured hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Forgive me for being flippant. No one knows more than I do how hard you work. I guess that’s why I don’t understand your reluctance about the Mackey wedding.”

Leah gave her friend an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? The bride’s daddy is a well-known rancher who hates politicians, and the groom’s daddy is the most well-known senator in Texas. If those two men go after each other, it’ll make the Robertson affair look like a cakewalk.”

Rhonda tried to be positive. “Surely they wouldn’t do anything foolish at a big wedding.”

Leah shook her head. “Experience has taught me that the bigger the opportunity for disaster, the greater the chance for abominable behavior.”

Leah took another sip of cola and listened as the vendors around them dismantled their stalls. The noise distracted her, making her think about the job ahead of her. She’d hired a textiles major from the university to arrange her booth, but she’d decided to save money by taking the stall down herself. Even with Rhonda’s help, she wasn’t looking forward to the next few hours.

Voices from beyond the curtain caught her attention. Leah felt sure the deep one belonged to Wade Mackey, and was irritated by her pulse’s response.

She never allowed anyone to interfere with her business, and she was frustrated by Wade Mackey’s failure to follow the rules. She’d only met the man once, but she’d had to remind herself constantly since the Griffen wedding that she was not interested in lean, dark cowboys with disconcerting gray eyes. The lean and dark were fine, even the gray eyes were fine, but she had no interest in a swaggering, overbearing cattle baron.

Her conscience scolded her. Nothing about Wade Mackey supported her choice of adjectives. Confident, maybe, but hardly swaggering. Assertive, maybe, but hardly overbearing. He was the kind of man a woman could depend on, snuggle close to and feel, just for a moment, as if she wasn’t alone.

Quieting her conscience, she checked to be sure no hair had escaped her sleek chignon. She most assuredly didn’t need a man’s protection. She’d been dating Brandt off and on for almost three years now, hadn’t she? And she certainly didn’t feel protected when she was with him. She’d made it to the advanced age of thirty-five on her own, thank you very much, and if she needed security, she’d buy a guard dog.

Straightening her suit—her favorite as it did wonders to hide her hips—Leah stepped into the display area.

And nearly stumbled. Even though she’d been expecting him, she must have forgotten just how right Rhonda could be at times. Handsome was an understatement.

He was tall, Texan tall, at least six-two or -three. His shoulders looked broad enough to battle a reluctant calf, or maybe a dragon, or to support a woman’s tired head. His arms were hidden beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, but she remembered the steely strength in his fingers, even though his grasp had been gentle. She didn’t dare glance down at the hips she knew were narrow or the thighs hidden beneath the denim of his jeans. Just the memory of him in slacks and a sports jacket was enough to make her lightheaded.

The beautiful girl at his side was his daughter, Myra Jo. The gossips had been tripping over their figurative tongues to give the juicy details of her courtship with Pennington Bradford, son of the wealthy and powerful Senator Johnson Bradford.

“Mr. Mackey, Myra Jo! How nice to see you again. Welcome to Brides and Babies,” she said to announce herself.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding as he switched the straw cowboy hat from his right hand to his left so he could accept her handshake. “And please, it’s just Wade, remember?”

How could she forget? The memory of Tammy Griffen’s wedding, and of his fingers against hers, came back in a powerful rush. She remembered how she would turn at the oddest times and find Wade’s eyes on her. She had hated knowing his penetrating gray gaze had pierced the shield of her professionalism. He had flustered her the entire evening.

Pulling her attention away, she clasped Myra Jo’s fingers warmly. “Best wishes on your engagement. I hope you and Mr. Bradford will be very happy.”

Myra Jo tossed her a cheeky grin. “Mr. Bradford’s already happily married, but Pennington and I plan on proving all the doomsayers wrong.”

She cast a quick glance at her father before returning innocent eyes to Leah.

Leah chuckled, remembering Myra Jo’s quirky sense of humor from the usual prewedding ruckus in the bride’s lounge. She had kept Tammy Griffen laughing so hard she hadn’t had time to be nervous.

“You were a good friend to Tammy. She made it all the way up the aisle without tripping. That girl was—”

“A hoot?” Myra Jo interjected.

Leah’s answering smile widened, despite her best effort. “A good choice of words, I think.”

Myra Jo tucked her palm in the curve of her father’s arm. “I think Tammy picked those awful bridesmaid dresses just to make us look goofy.”

Leah was grateful Tammy had not chosen her attendants’ gowns at Brides and Babies—not that her shop would have ever carried such monstrosities—because Myra Jo was right. The hideous burnt orange satin had made the girls look like something out of a Halloween nightmare next to their black-clad escorts.

“You were awfully good-natured about it,” Leah said, trying to be diplomatic.

“What could we do? It was her wedding. If she wanted seven pumpkins walking down the aisle, who were we to argue?”

A full-throated laugh burst from Leah. Again, Myra Jo was correct. The little hats Tammy had chosen, with a net veil and a green feather perched on the side, had indeed made the slender bridesmaids look like marching veggies, except Leah thought the girls had looked more like carrots than pumpkins.

Myra Jo gave her father’s arm a little shake. “Daddy had the bad manners to laugh when he saw us.”

“I pretended to cough,” he defended himself, his deep voice laced with humor.

Leah kept her smile frozen in place as a flash of agitation coursed through her. She distinctly remembered the clenching in her gut when she’d searched the crowd for the unmistakable sound, knowing somehow just who was jeopardizing months of her hard work. Her own desire to laugh hadn’t eased her resentment. It was one thing to think of laughing and another to do it.

Before she got good and angry at the memory, she looked back at Myra Jo. She was a younger, decidedly female version of her father, with the same aquiline nose, the same full lips, the same high cheekbones. Her ebony tresses were swept back from her delicate face in a loose French braid trailing down her back. Leah suspected Wade’s midnight hair, cut short against his well-formed head, would curl defiantly if left to grow.

Myra Jo had none of her father’s tall ruggedness, though. She was barely five-one, and looked so fragile a strong wind might blow her over. Leah noticed faint smudges under the girl’s eyes, despite her perfect makeup. If she had to guess, and since she did so regularly, she would put Myra Jo at a size six.

“So, what can I help you with today?” Leah asked, bringing the subject back to business. People were walking past with boxes and crates, and it was going to be hard enough to keep their attention while the place was being torn down around them.

Myra Jo withdrew her arm from her father’s and clasped her hands together. Her expression tightened just enough to make the shadows under her eyes seem deeper.

“Well,” Myra Jo cleared her throat. “Just about the only thing Daddy and I haven’t fought about is asking you to do the wedding. I’ve pushed the date back twice for Daddy, but this time I’ve already reserved the church and sent out my invitations.”

“The problem,” Wade interjected, “is that now she’s only given herself a month to get all the rest of the details put together.”

To Leah, Wade’s irritation with his daughter was almost palpable.

“Anyway,” Myra Jo continued, “Daddy thought you did a great job keeping the ‘Hatfields and McCoys’ apart at Tammy’s wedding, so if anyone can referee the ten rounds until Penn and I get married, and maybe get my bullheaded father into a tuxedo, it’s you.”

Leah cast an astonished glance at Wade. She wasn’t surprised Myra Jo was interested—they’d gotten along fabulously at the Griffen wedding. But to know Wade approved of his daughter’s choice based on a brief introduction at the reception was more than a shock. She was hardly an expert on Wade Mackey, but she didn’t see him as the impulsive type.

“Thank you for your confidence. I’ll try to do my best for you.” I just hope I don’t regret it.

Myra Jo patted her father’s arm. “I’m going to run down to that honeymoon packager before they close. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—”

But she was gone. Wade shook his head.

“Kids,” he said, shrugging one shoulder.

“She’s lovely.”

Pride radiated from his whole body. “Thank you.” He turned his head to watch Myra Jo’s retreating figure. “But sometimes she’s the most stubborn cuss I’ve ever met.”

“She must take after her father,” Leah said straightfaced.

Wade’s glance darted back to her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve heard a similar suggestion once or twice.”

She should have won an Oscar for the innocence of her expression. “Still, I’m looking forward to working with her.”

“Then let’s hope you enjoy her father just as much.”

He delivered the words in a quiet, warning tone. Leah didn’t feel intimidated, but she did acknowledge the message with a sharp nod. Rhonda’s earlier quip ran through her mind. Being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting...advantages.

Yeah, right.

He was certainly single, and more than sexy, but she doubted those gray eyes would turn smoky and his voice husky because of her. Not that she wanted such a reaction from him, of course, but she suspected this would be one tough assignment from the get-go.

Wade looked at his watch as Myra Jo returned, bearing several brochures. “We need to get going for now. Myra Jo will give you a call. I believe she wants a lunch catered for her sorority friends, so she’ll contact you to make arrangements.”

With barely time to set an appointment and say their goodbyes, Wade ushered Myra Jo away. Leah stood there, a little dazed, until they disappeared from sight.

Blast it, he’d done it again! With a few words, the man had stolen her composure. That was simply not acceptable. She’d worked for the hard kind before and managed not to get out of sorts. Getting perturbed at this early stage was not a good sign. It would have helped if Wade were old and crotchety, but since that wasn’t the case, she’d have to deal sternly with her improper responses to his unfortunate good looks.

Rhonda rejoined her, and the task ahead of them forced Leah to put Wade Mackey from her mind. Except she couldn’t quite banish the picture of a rugged, handsome cowboy who looked about as approachable as a bull...right before the gate was pulled.

Wade pulled the gate shut with an irritated jerk and headed for the kitchen, amazed that a week had passed. Sometimes he wondered where all the peace and quiet he tried to guard so fiercely had disappeared to. He warned himself to be careful or he’d land himself in the hospital again with pneumonia.

He wanted to believe he’d learned his lesson, but he glanced at the skyline and shook his head. The sun hadn’t even made its appearance and he was already at work. He’d arrived home late last night to have Myra Jo tell him the hot tub wasn’t working and her sorority party was the next day—in a few hours, in fact—and Wade had had a hard time teasing her out of her the-world-is-going-to-end mood.

He went into the kitchen and leaned back against the cool ceramic counter, every tile of which had been laid and grouted with his own two hands. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the coffeepot gurgling behind him, tempting him to check. As usual, his patience ran out before the water in the reservoir, and he poured a mug while drops danced and scuttled on the hot plate. After returning the decanter, he headed back out the door into the predawn coolness.

He’d had to leave from the bndal fair and head directly to the airport to catch his flight to Midland-Odessa. His meeting had gone well with the man who owned the black Angus bull Wade had his sights on, but he was perturbed by the frequency with which his thoughts had been interrupted by the memory of one Leah Houston. In the end, he’d left without the bull because it seemed a stupid time to start indulging his whim for a purebred herd.

Wade paused, taking a careful sip of the strong, hot brew as he watched the gradual lightening of the sky above the scrub-covered hills. There was something amusing about the demarcation between his manicured lawn and the beginnings of the rough soil and tenacious plants of the Texas hill country. Without constant attention, the fragile yard would quickly be taken over by the tough range grasses that defied the rocky soil.

Much like he felt his life was being taken over, at times.

So when had his baby girl grown up? Hadn’t he been a band booster and Future Farmers of America sponsor just yesterday? He clearly remembered sitting at the kitchen table, poring over course catalogs with her, back in the days when his opinion had mattered.

What had happened to the giggling girl who could rein a horse with one hand and hold a portable phone with the other? Somehow she had turned into a beautiful, stubborn woman who wouldn’t listen to her daddy when he told her she was picking the wrong man to marry.

Which reminded him—just how had he convinced himself that his attraction to Leah at Tammy’s wedding had merely been a healthy man’s reaction to a beautiful woman? He’d only attended out of obligation to Tammy, who had been one of Myra Jo’s best friends since they were gangly little girls.

But he’d been delighted by the diversion Leah had provided. She’d been cool, contained, an economy of motion, and he’d had the absurd desire to ruffle her feathers, to put a chink in the perfect armor she’d worn around herself. His reaction had surprised him. In fact, he still wondered what it was about her that intrigued him so.

The easy answer was that he was darn near celibate these days. He hardly saw Ysabel anymore, not with the travel demands her new promotion put on her. Even so, his relationship with Ysabel had always been more of a deep, abiding friendship with a little sex thrown in—hardly the typical dating couple, he was sure. So was he drawn to Leah because his body longed to be with a soft, sensual woman, or because he was drawn to her calm, professional demeanor in the midst of all the wedding hysteria? Since he liked to think of himself as being mature enough to handle his sex drive, he wanted to believe the latter.

Yeah, right.

And maybe her lush figure had stood out among the line of nearly anorexic sticks in attendance like a rose in full bloom in a vase full of cattails.

Much more likely.

Seeing Leah and Myra Jo together had also reinforced his concern for his daughter. She was dangerously thin. Not that her mother was any help. The rare times Myra Jo saw Julie, the first words out of Julie’s mouth contained a question about whether Myra Jo had gained weight or not. He’d forced himself to stay quiet and wait until after the witch was gone to reassure his baby girl of her intelligence and her beauty. Just thinking about his ex-wife was enough to make his neck ache.

Wade took one last swallow of coffee and threw the dregs from his cup onto the lawn. If he didn’t get busy, Leah would be arriving with her crew to find the pool area a mess and the hot tub still not working. He ignored the funny trip of his pulse at the thought of seeing her again. After all, hadn’t he just convinced himself that there was nothing unusual about his reaction to the curvy brunette?

As he worked on the pump in its crowded little shed, he reminded himself with each twist of the wrench that he’d better get his libido under control. He might have allowed himself a small fantasy or two at the Griffen wedding, but Leah worked for him now, and he wasn’t about to let any nonsense happen.

“Excuse me...” a hesitant voice said from the doorway.

He knew who owned the voice, even though the bright sun backlit Leah’s form and hid her face in shadows. Her full curves cast an intriguing picture, and he was stunned as the desire to find out what her softness would feel like if pressed between him and, say, the nearest wall ripped through him.

He pulled himself up short, amazed by the suddenness and intensity of his reaction. Hadn’t he just told himself to get his thoughts under control?

At the rate things were going, this wedding would be the death of him.

Two

“Excuse me,” Leah repeated, peering into the dim room. “Do you work here?”

She groaned when the man stood up and her eyes adjusted from the brilliant sunshine. She felt like a fool for asking Wade Mackey if he worked there, but he was supposed to be out of town.

“I’m sorry, Wade, I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped outside the pump house with her and retrieved his shirt. “Much to Myra Jo’s disappointment, I try hard not to look the part of the landed gentry.”

Now there was the unvarnished truth. If there was one thing Wade Mackey looked like, it was a dyed-in-the-wool cowboy. Make that Cowboy, with a capital C, she amended as she watched him slip the blue chambray shirt over his muscular arms and broad chest. Her mouth went dry as she watched his long fingers work the buttons, slowly hiding the enticing view from her.

“I take it you’re ready to set up for the wingding.”

Leah nodded, then cleared her throat before adding, “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“No bother at all. I was getting the hot tub running before Myra Jo calls in the National Guard to contain the disaster.”

She tried not to chuckle, but she couldn’t help it. “So is it safe to stand down from red alert?”

“Yeah, I think so. I was just about to fire things up and make sure. Did you need my help?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to be sure it was all right for me to get started. We’ve got a lot to do before the girls arrive.”

“Help yourself to anything you need. I can call some of the boys up from the bunkhouse if you’d like.”

“Heavens, no, but thanks for the offer. I wouldn’t dream of taking the men away from their duties.”

“Their duties are to do whatever I tell them to do.”

Leah focused sharply on his words. In a second’s span, the good ol’ boy had been replaced by the boss. And she strongly doubted the warning she’d heard had been her imagination.

“Be that as it may, I have things under control,” she said in a polite tone. There was always some jockeying for position at the start of any job, and Leah had to be careful to establish her inability to be intimidated. Her fleeting hope that Wade’s tenseness at the convention center had been a momentary thing faded as fast as the dew under the sweltering Texas sun.

“Then I’ll leave you to your work. By the way,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his repairs, “get with me before you leave. We need to talk without Myra Jo around.”

“Fine. I’ll see you early this afternoon and we can visit.”

Leah walked toward the house to start her crew at their tasks, replaying the last few moments in her head. There was no doubt she had just been ordered—politely, of course—to be available to receive her instructions. Leah had never dreamed she would be working exclusively with Myra Jo. Since the girl’s mother was living in Dallas, it was easy to extrapolate Daddy Wade would be the PIC, otherwise known as the parent in charge.

Leah found that during the course of the morning she could hardly keep her mind off her coming meeting with him. She directed the luncheon on autopilot, and, thank goodness, everything went off flawlessly. But by the time the last cup of coffee had been served, and Myra Jo and her sorority sisters were lounging by the pool, Leah’s nerves were stretched thin.

With a trepidation she rarely felt, she went to the house to find Wade. The only person she found inside was a young woman who spoke little English. Leah caught uno momento, por favor and then Señor Mackey. The girl pointed down the hall so Leah smiled and said, “Gracias,” then headed in that direction.

Instead of finding Wade’s office, however, she walked straight into his bedroom. The decor was unabashedly masculine. From the cream-and-blue curtains to the massive wooden furniture, it emanated strength. The faint smell of toothpaste and aftershave hung in the air. She felt like a fool for blushing as she stared at the rumpled sheets and comforter on the king-size bed, only to have her uneasiness increase when the image of him standing at the sink, shaving, filled her mind.

She quickly returned to the center of the house, ill at ease with her unintentional snooping, to find an office also carrying Wade’s unmistakable stamp. Although the smell of leather and rich mahogany furniture weren’t uniquely male, in this case she had little doubt who usually sat behind the large desk, his dark head bent over papers stacked in seemingly haphazard piles.

Her inspection was interrupted by the excited yips of a beautiful border collie. The dog came into the office and danced around Leah’s legs on dainty feet. Leah couldn’t help but grin.

“Some guard dog you are!” she scolded. The dog was clearly unimpressed, for her hind end only wagged harder as Leah read the metal tag shaped like the state of Texas attached to the collar.

“Where’s the boss man, Spoiled Rotten? Where’s Daddy?”

Rotten’s black-tipped ears perked up, and she raced around the desk to jump into the chair.

“I know this is his office, silly.”

But the collie merely circled in the chair and barked.

“All right, all right.” Refusing to believe she was conversing with a dog, Leah sat on one of the two matching wingbacks facing the large desk. After five minutes, she thought about finding the maid again, but decided that would be futile. After five more minutes of crossing and uncrossing her legs, she finally gave Wade’s stand-in a glare.

“Look, he may be the boss, but that doesn’t give him the right to keep me cooling my heels.”

Rotten just wagged her tail.

With a frustrated sigh, she wrote Wade a note and tore the page from her day planner. She included a business card before placing them in a relatively clear space on his blotter. With a final pat on Rotten’s silky head, she went home.

Her drive was uneventful, but as she neared Austin, Leah began to regret leaving without finding Wade. She couldn’t afford to mess up this opportunity to redeem her reputation, but at the same time, she wasn’t a servant at Wade’s beck and call. She had things to do, and waiting on an autocratic cowboy wasn’t one of them—even if that stubborn cowboy held her career in his hands.

The phone was ringing when she unlocked the door to her office. She glanced at her neat, black-lacquer desk and her floral print couch and armchairs. Elegantly draped white tiebacks muted the bright sunshine, creating an exquisite decor. Oddly, she couldn’t stop the image of dark wood and stacked papers from flashing across her mind.

She almost didn’t answer the persistent ringing—she had planned to use this rare weekend with no events scheduled to catch up on her paperwork, but her conscience prevailed.

“Leah Houston.”

“I thought I told you I wanted to talk with you.”

So much for chitchat.

“You did, and I tried to find you. When I couldn’t, I left a note on your desk.”

“I know, I smelled your perfume.”

Leah couldn’t stop the thrill that ran up her spine.

“I was in the barn,” he continued. “Someone should have told you.”

“The only person I found was your maid, and we had a little trouble communicating.”

“That would be Amalia, my foreman’s daughter. We’re working on her English since she wants to go to college next year.” He paused. “We have a ways to go.”

She was surprised by the dryly affectionate tone in his voice. He already had a habit of doing that...surprising her. She didn’t like it.

“Yes, well, my Spanish is exceptionally rusty, and I’m not psychic, so I apologize for missing you.” Feeling a little silly, she crossed her fingers before saying, “I can come back later this afternoon, if you’d like.”

“No, I’d rather meet without Myra Jo around, and her friends have left.”

She released a silent breath and uncrossed her fingers.

“How about dinner this evening instead?”

She frowned at the phone. So much for luck....

“I don’t—”

“If you’ll give me directions to your place, I can pick you up about eight.”

Leah took a deep breath and held it. As she slowly exhaled, she reminded herself that she had worked with difficult clients before. Sometimes she had to compromise to get what she wanted. Reluctantly, she gave him instructions to her condo.

Although she tried to work, it soon became clear she wasn’t going to get anything accomplished. Her mind wouldn’t stay on task. Visions of Wade—his naked chest bathed in the morning sun, a sardonic twist curving his lips—kept appearing before her eyes. Forty-two-year-old men were supposed to have the beginnings of a paunch and receding hairlines. They certainly weren’t supposed to look as though they could pose for fitness magazines.

With a frustrated sigh, she repacked her briefcase and headed home.

It wasn’t until she was sitting on her bed some hours later, gathering one leg of her panty hose in her fingers and mourning the loss of her lazy evening of air-popped popcorn and channel surfing, that Leah realized how tense she was.

Bra, hose, slip, low-heeled pumps, jewelry—the works—when she could be in old sweats and her favorite holey red socks. She tugged on a rayon coatdress and artfully tucked a silk scarf into the deep neckline. She had no idea what Mr. Mackey had in mind, but this was a dinner meeting, not a dinner date.

She had just clasped her watch around her wrist when the doorbell rang. She checked her appearance in the mirror and smiled wryly at her reflection. He was punctual, she could say that for him.

She opened the door to find her breath taken away once again. Half-naked, he had been nearly indescribable. In creased black jeans, a white dress shirt open at the neck, a sports jacket and boots, Wade was nothing short of yummy. The black Stetson he reached up to remove from his head made him the quintessential cowboy.

And she’d purged cowboys from her fantasy list a long time ago, she reminded herself. She wanted a nineties man, an urbane one, one who treated her as an equal, a partner. Cowboys weren’t known for their modern mind-sets.

It took a stern mental rap to get her hand off the knob and welcome him inside. Her fortitude returned when his gaze raked over her dress and she had the distinct impression she’d lost marks on his tally stick.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks. Nice place.”

“But not your style,” she offered helpfully.

“No, I reckon not.”

“Let me grab my purse, then, and we’ll get going.”

Once outside, she was ready to find a pickup truck waiting. What she hadn’t expected was a bright yellow Mustang. She hadn’t taken Wade for the sports car type, but maybe she’d misjudged him. Could her perceptions be that far off?

He laughed when he saw her expression. “Not exactly a limousine, I admit. I had to bring my truck into town for some work so I borrowed a friend’s car. Or rather, I ended up with my friend’s son’s car.”

Leah blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just caught off guard.”

His manners were flawless as he helped her into the car, but that was no surprise. Country boy or not, he was a gentleman. And she wasn’t surprised when he pulled into the crowded parking lot at the Broken Spoke. She’d hardly expected him to take her to the country club, considering the man she was coming to know, and she had no doubt she was being tested again. Well, she’d eaten her share of chicken-fried steak, and she could probably remember how to dance the schottische in a pinch.

As soon as the waitress had taken their orders, Leah got down to business. “What would you like to talk about first?”

Wade folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I don’t like Pennington Bradford, and I don’t like his daddy even more. But I do love my daughter, and I want her to be happy.”

He paused. Leah waited.

“Myra Jo doesn’t think so, but I was young once, and I remember what it was like to be impulsive, to believe love was enough to solve any problem. I don’t think she has a clue what she’s facing if she goes through with this marriage, and I’d do anything to keep her from getting hurt.”

Warning bells went off in Leah’s head. “I think most fathers feel as you do,” she said, treading softly.

He raised one eyebrow. “Even in this day and age, I don’t think most fathers raise their daughters by themselves.”

Despite her earlier vow to be cautious, Leah decided to go ahead and say what was on her mind. If Wade was as up-front as he claimed, he’d respect her. If he wasn’t, it would be better to lose the contract now instead of risking a second disaster.

“Wade, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and one thing I’m sure of is that it’s a mistake to play God. I’ve seen couples I was certain were doomed become inseparable, and vice versa. So if you’re asking me to help you to keep Myra Jo from marrying Pennington, I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.”

Wade cast her an amused glance. “I’m not asking you to. I know the quickest way to get a child to do something is to forbid it, so my goal hasn’t been to stop her. I’ve dragged things out as long as I could to see if she’d open her eyes.”

“Start seeing things your way, you mean,” she said, unable to stop herself.

His look turned mocking. “No, I meant it the way I said it. If I thought she had any inkling of what marrying Pennington really means, I’d feel more at ease. The way it stands, I’m not convinced. The long and short of it is, I’m going to give Myra Jo the biggest wedding money can buy. And I’m also going to do my best to ensure her a chance at a happy future.”

“And if things don’t work out that way?” Leah asked quietly.

“Then my little girl can come home, and her daddy’ll do his damnedest to heal her broken heart.”

Hot tears sprang into Leah’s eyes despite her most valiant effort to contain them. It was clear that Wade would gladly play the bad guy, even risk his daughter’s rejection, to assure her happiness. Considering her “I’ll do it on my own” philosophy, Leah should have been scornful, convinced Myra Jo would never stand on her own two feet as long as she knew she had her daddy to fall back on. Instead, all she felt was a pang of envy.

“Maybe someday Myra Jo will know how lucky she is to have you for a father,” she finally managed to say.

“Maybe,” Wade echoed in a lighter tone, “but I’m still not wearing a tuxedo.”

Leah had to roll her eyes, but was grateful that Wade had lightened the mood.

“Come on, Wade. Surely that’s just another delaying tactic?”

“Maybe.”

Hope quickened in her breast only to fade as she realized he was serious about not wearing a tuxedo. The wedding was only a month away; now was not the time for him to be unreasonable.

“I’m no weekend cowboy, Leah, living in Westlake and thinking I’m a rancher because I own a few acres and run a few head. I work my land and my herds. My hands get dirty and my boots aren’t for show.”

He took a breath and continued. “I can still remember the year we got indoor plumbing. I remember the year we didn’t eat meat until fall and we butchered a hog. I remember skipping school because I had to help my dad. Those things mold a man.”

He studied his clean, square nails.

“My Daddy’s word has always been worth more than gold, so if my family wasn’t good enough for people like the Bradfords then, we’re sure the hell not good enough now.”

“I can understand how you feel, but in the end this is your only child’s wedding.”

“I’ve told you that I’ll give Myra Jo the full three-ring circus, but I won’t play the trained bear for anybody.”

Wade suddenly looked weary, and Leah felt her heart pull. She had to believe growing up poor was not the only reason Wade was so firmly set in his ways. She wondered if Myra Jo’s mother was to blame for him putting up such high walls, or if some other woman had turned him so self-contained.

Whatever the reason—sheer cussedness or deep conviction—it was clear a battle would wage to put some shine on a man who wore his humble beginnings like a badge of honor.

“So,” he said, drawing her attention again, “have I scared you off?”

Leah loved a challenge, but she doubted Wade knew how reasonable it was for her to be afraid. Her reputation was at stake. Wade might not think she understood pride, but she did. Just like him, she knew the desire to be judged for who she was, not what she could do or how much money she made. Oh, how she knew the desire for people to see past the trappings and accept her for the woman she was on the inside.

She gave her head a little shake to stop her wandering thoughts. She could take comfort in the fact that Wade would play fair. Tough, but fair. That she could handle.

“Nope,” she finally said, holding out her hand. “You may have met your match, Wade Mackey.”

He paused a long moment before a smile slowly grew and he took her offered palm. “That would be a rare treat, Leah Houston.”

They sat back and let the waitress serve their dinners, and Leah discovered her appetite had returned.

“So what’s the next shindig on the list?” Wade asked between bites of steak.

“Myra Jo wants a barbecue as a combination graduation party and official announcement.”

“That’s right, I’d forgotten. I still think it’s pretty silly to ‘announce’ a year-old engagement.”

“I’ve seen the guest list,” Leah said carefully. “It’s going to be quite an affair.”

His lips tightened. “Bradford’s up for reelection and I guess he saw an opportunity to slap backs at my expense. But hell, I don’t care.”

Leah wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but she was sure this wasn’t a financial issue. She’d already been given the okay to hire the best caterers in Texas and one of the hottest up-and-coming bands. The decorations alone were no small cost, but the agreement she’d sent him had come back to her desk without a mark on it except his bold signature on the approval line.

“At least attire won’t be a fight,” she said, trying for some levity. “Denim will be de rigueur.”

“You think so?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “We’ve already had three fights that my brand of denim isn’t good enough. Myra Jo wants to buy me some highfalutin designer jeans and have boots custom-made for the occasion. My Tony Lama’s will be just fine with a little spit and polish.”

Since they were back to square one, Leah decided to let things go for now. She only had a week until the barbecue, but then she would have another two until the rehearsal. Surely she could find a way to make him change his mind in three weeks. After all, she’d gotten the governor to dress up as The Beast so his daughter could be Belle at a costume party, hadn’t she?

The conversation drifted into the mundane for the rest of the meal, and the evening took on a delightful air. It wasn’t until the check arrived that they once again squared off.

Wade reached for it at the same time she did. His face took on that stubborn expression Leah decided she’d better get used to, so she finally let go. The test of wills had only taken a matter of seconds, but the battle had been real.

How foolish of her even to think of picking up the tab, even though the meal was a business deduction for her. He might only be seven years her senior, but feminism seemed to have passed this cowboy by without even ruffling his hair.

Leah noted Wade’s generous tip with absurd pleasure. She might have scratched cowboys off her fantasy list, but selfish men had never even been a consideration.

“Look, Leah, I’ve had about all the arguing I can stand. I clean up real good, so I can promise you I won’t show up at the barbecue, or even the wedding, in overalls. You just take care of Myra Jo and don’t worry about me.”

Oh, sure. That should be a breeze. Just as it had been a breeze to reserve the country club for the reception on such short notice, and book the caterer who was usually scheduled a year in advance, and cajole the baker into guaranteeing a five-tiered bride’s cake, a groom’s cake and the numerous extras required for an affair this size. What had Myra Jo been thinking to send out her invitations without these details planned? Now she could add getting the world’s most stubborn cowboy into a cutaway.

Any more “easy” tasks and she might just scream.

She calmed her wayward thoughts as Wade led her to the car, keeping a solicitous hand on her elbow. The evening sky was filled with a billion twinkling diamonds, and the quiet wrapped around them, incongruously making the parking lot seem intimate after the music-filled evening.

She wasn’t expecting the thrill that raced through her veins when he stopped and turned to give her an inscrutable look.

“Would you like to go for a walk on Town Lake before I take you home?”

Years of practice allowed Leah to keep her astonishment hidden. No, their meeting hadn’t been a date by the usual definition, but she probed her memory and found many real dates which hadn’t been this enjoyable.

Why did she find Wade’s interest in her companionship so hard to believe? Why was she looking for ulterior motives when the man might simply wish to spend some time with her? They’d had a pleasant evening, and all he wanted was to go for a walk by the lake.

Perhaps most surprising of all, she wanted to accept the impromptu invitation.

“That sounds lovely.”

The short drive down Lamar Boulevard was companionable. Leah congratulated herself on being able to put Wade a bit more at ease, and hoped she was building a good foundation to work from when things got dicey. For now, she decided to follow Wade’s example and enjoy the moment.

She matched his slow pace as they strolled along the Town Lake trail. The moon, pregnant with summer promise, reflected off the Colorado River. Pecan and cypress trees held hands over their heads, flirting with the night wind.

The occasional lap of the water against the bank, the crunch of gravel under the wheels of a passing bicycle, and the muted sound of traffic from the street only made the solitude seem safer, more comfortable. When they reached the rock overlook departing from the trail, it seemed entirely natural to lean her arms on the railing beside Wade’s and watch the lights from the power plant dance on the water. If it were earlier in the day, they’d be visited by the ducks and swans in search of a handout, but they had all found their nests, leaving the humans to enjoy the evening in relative peace and quiet.

Leah shivered when a gust of wind chased down her spine.

“Are you cold?” Wade asked, concern coloring his voice.

“No, just goose bumps. I’ve lived in Texas all my life, so you’d think I’d be used to the scorching hot days and cool nights of early summer in these parts.”

“Or maybe a rabbit hopped over your grave.”

She tilted her head. “Now there’s a pleasant colloquialism!”

Leah looked back out over the water. On the surface, Wade seemed content to stand in companionable silence, but she sensed a controlled hunger in him. It was her business to read people, and her instincts said his confident bearing was hiding something. Maybe she simply recognized a kindred spirit, a soul not yet fulfilled, a yearning for something ineffable.

Those thoughts making her want to reach out to him also awakened the little voice that had served her well over the years. And the voice reminded her to tread carefully. Wade had not invited an intimacy with her, and in fact, the very idea was illogical to contemplate. If anything, Leah knew better than to mix business with...anything else.

“Wade, it’s been a nice evening and all—”

“But...”

“But I’ve had a long day and my nap is wearing off.”

One side of his mouth tipped upward. “That’s an awfully roundabout way of saying you want to go home.”

“In my business, you learn subtlety.”

“Meaning you have to fib to get what you want?”

“Not fibbing, exactly. More like...redirecting.”

“So instead of telling the groom’s mother she looks like a purple sausage in the outfit she’s wearing, you’d do what? Give her a gift certificate to a dress shop?”

Leah was losing the fight against a grin. “I’d probably mention to her how lovely she’d look in peach, with her hair and complexion, and ask her if she’d seen the new collection by a designer I think would flatter her.”

“Very good!” Wade took his hat off and set it on the flat rocks off to his right. “So if I told you I wanted to haul you into my arms and kiss the daylights out of you, you’d say...?”

Leah’s jaw worked silently for a second or two before she realized she probably looked like a fish out of water. Heaven knew she shouldn’t be this flustered, but he’d managed to blindside her yet again.

She cleared her throat and said, “I’d probably say...um...something like I was flattered but it wouldn’t be a good idea. Yes! I’d tell you it would be foolish for you to kiss me since I’m going to be working so closely with you and your family and...uh...kissing, as it were, would be inappropriate since—”

Her words were cut off as his mouth closed over hers, a warm, firm pressure that served effectively to silence her.

As he pulled her into the steely strength of his arms, she was forced to wonder again if she were dreaming. She felt the wind snatch away the scarf Wade had dislodged, the slide of silk against her sensitized skin almost harsh.

She tried to think, tried to concentrate. She never lost control. Ever. And she wanted to deny her will was being drained so easily. Not her, no-nonsense Leah, who never wasted time in hopeless moments of pure whimsy. She simply couldn’t be standing on the Town Lake trail kissing a man she barely knew.

Surely it wasn’t she, melted against a rugged cowboy’s length, feeling the cool smoothness of his buttons slide provocatively against her breast...feeling the hardness of his sex pressed intimately at the apex of her thighs and the gentle scratch of his callused thumb against her throat, sending tremors down her spine.

Leah gasped softly as his kiss deepened and his hands moved against the fabric of her dress, pulling her just the slightest bit closer. Her awareness of him increased, if that were possible, making his chest feel like a granite wall against her softness, making her fingers clutch the bulging muscles of his biceps, making her swear she’d have a denim pattern stamped on her thighs for a week after this.

Oh, but it would be worth it. She felt vibrantly alive and thoroughly desired, feelings she couldn’t ever remember feeling.

With a shuddering breath Wade abruptly set her away from him and turned back to the railing, clenching the cool metal so tightly his knuckles showed white.

“Leah, I apologize. I’ve never been quite so...impulsive... before.”

Impulsive? She was still standing there like a dazed idiot and he was worrying about being impulsive?

Somehow she forced a brain cell to work and stepped back one more pace. With an unexpectedly even tone, she said, “Please don’t apologize. You’ve only proven my point. We need to maintain a proper relationship if we’re going to work together to make Myra Jo’s wedding a success.”

Wade pushed off the rail and picked up his hat. He seemed inordinately preoccupied with brushing away nonexistent particles of dust. “That might be good.”

He straightened then and walked a few steps down the trail to retrieve her scarf. His eyes seemed drawn against his will to the skin exposed by the vee of her dress, but he forced himself to look away. A shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze shook her. His gaze had flowed over her like warm, gray smoke, and combined with his citrusy aftershave still in her nostrils, it was overwhelming to her still-dazed senses.

She accepted his offered arm, and they walked to the car as if nothing had happened, but she was glad he couldn’t see the hand holding the strip of silk. The fabric would never be the same from being clenched in her fist.

During the ride to her house, Wade was as congenial as a woman could hope a man to be. And she amazed herself by responding in a normal voice.

“I’d like you to come out and meet my folks,” Wade said as he took the turn into her neighborhood. “If you think Myra Jo wants you to groom me a bit—”

“She didn’t say—”

“Leah,” he said shortly, “I’m nobody’s fool.”

This was not new information to her. “Certainly. I can come out anytime,” she said as they reached her condo and Wade walked her to her door.

“Well,” she said a shade brightly, all too aware of the dreaded end of the evening. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap or cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be headed back to the homestead. Do you think you could come out tomorrow and meet my folks?”

Tomorrow was Sunday, and for once her calendar was free. Spring and summer months usually had her at some church or hall every weekend, but her new executive assistant was taking the Baker affair, leaving Leah the illusion of having one whole day to laze around the condo.

“Don’t you think I should call first and set an appointment?”

“Heck no! You go all stiff and formal on my dad and he’ll be a pain in the—” Wade cleared his throat quickly. “I mean, he’ll be difficult to deal with. Myra Jo’s terrified of what her grandfather’s going to pull in a roomful of politicians and their cronies.”

“It’s a wonder she doesn’t elope,” Leah muttered under her breath.

“And please don’t come all citified,” Wade warned, ignoring her comment, if he’d even heard it. “Take your hair out of that knot and put on a pair of jeans, for God’s sake.”

A short laugh burst from her lips. “Yes, sir.”

Wade looked annoyed, but Leah wanted to believe the distracted look meant he was upset with himself, not her.

“I apologize,” he said. “It’s just nearly driven me crazy all evening to see that beautiful hair of yours all mashed back. I’ve been imagining it would look like liquid chocolate and feel like silk. It’s been all I could do to keep my hands off.”

Her face flushed hotly. She always wore her hair up, unless she was at home or in an extremely casual situation. Without thinking, she put a self-conscious hand to her ear.

“I’ll do my best tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Leah.”

She had the foolish urge to turn her face so their lips would meet.

“Good night, Wade.”

As she closed the door behind her, the silence of her professionally cleaned and decorated apartment surrounded her. She walked into the dimly lit living room and glanced around. For some silly reason, all she could think of was Wade going home to his daughter and the excited greeting of a beautiful collie. She, on the other hand, would say good-night to an expensive painting and curl up in bed with the printout her accountant had dropped by yesterday.

Yep, she decided as she headed for her bedroom, she had it all.

Wade settled into a comfortable cruising speed, noting absently that Highway 290 wasn’t crowded this time of night. It was too late for commuting traffic and too early for the drunks headed home. But Wade’s mind was bumper-to-bumper with jumbled thoughts.

He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He didn’t think he’d ever acted so irrationally with a woman before. The need to kiss her had just overwhelmed him, and he’d been helpless to resist the urge to pull her into his arms.

He called himself a thousand kinds of fool. And the foolishness had to stop. There was too much at stake for him to be acting irresponsibly. His daughter’s happiness was more important than his hormones.

But he couldn’t deny that that not-so-simple kiss had been a soul-rocking event, something of a shock to a man who thought spontaneous combustion was mere theory. Lord help him if he had been in a position to go any further. He doubted he would have come to his senses until he’d buried himself inside her and found release.

He’d meant what he’d said. He was never impulsive. Yet even now, while worrying that his daughter was giving him the fastest-forming ulcer in history, his mind would not let go of the image of making Leah lose control with him, driving her mindless with passion underneath him. She was so contained, so self-assured, he wanted to rock her as deeply as she’d rocked him. He wanted her primal...not sleek and oh-so-correct.

He shook his head sharply. Yes, he was attracted to Leah, but he’d just met her, for criminy’s sake. Of course, she’d thrown him off guard by not reacting to his “I’m the boss” speech as he’d expected, and there was nothing like surprise to intrigue a man. He’d been so sure she would disapprove of his motives. Not that approval or disapproval mattered, but she had empathized with him, and for the first time in months he felt a little less like bubblegum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Oh, he’d definitely seen the wheels beginning to turn in her beautiful head when the discussion had inevitably turned to the damned tuxedo issue, but he was sure he could hold his own with her. No amount of coaxing from Myra Jo had changed his mind, so he doubted the machinations of the curvaceous consultant would have any better effect.

He was sure of one thing, though—

The sound of a siren and bright strobe lights in his rearview mirror jerked him rudely to attention.

Without hesitation he pulled onto the shoulder and cut his engine while he rolled down the window. He was reaching for his wallet when he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“All right, Bobby Ray, I clocked you at ninety-two. I’ve caught your—oh! Mr. Mackey!”

“Evenin’, Tim.”

Wade looked out the window at a boy he’d almost raised. Tim Anderson’s folks were some of his best friends, and Tim and Myra Jo had gone to school together since grade school. Then Myra Jo had gone off to college and Tim had gone to the Department of Public Safety academy. Wade had even attended the boy’s graduation.

“What are you doing in Bobby Ray’s Mustang, Mr. Mackey?”

Wade got out of the car and leaned back against the quarter panel. He rubbed the tension lines on his forehead. “It’s a long story, Tim.”

“Well, uh, did you know how fast you were going?”

“No, Tim, I’m afraid I didn’t. I was daydreaming a bit.”

“That’s dangerous at any speed, Mr. Mackey, but certainly at over ninety.”

“I know, son.”

“Well, if you’ll give me your word you’ll watch it the rest of the way home, I’ll let you go.”

“I appreciate it.”

Wade held his hand out to the young man, remembering the time when Tim had solemnly informed him that men didn’t hug. If he recalled correctly, Tim had been about seven.

He’d almost slid back into his seat when a thought occurred to him. Stepping back out, he called to Tim. “How’d you know this was Bobby Ray’s car?”

Tim’s laugh carried the few feet between the vehicles. “Bobby Ray and I used to drag out here in high school. I told him when I became a Trooper I was going to nail his butt someday. I thought I had my chance tonight.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, son.”

“No problem. You just slow down and drive more like a man your age should. You got that?”

Wade chuckled. “Yeah, I got it. And you’re gonna get it, too, as soon as I catch you out of uniform.”

“Now, Mr. Mackey, don’t make me haul you in for threatening an officer.”

“You know me, Tim. I don’t threaten. I promise.” Tim laughed again as he slipped inside his vehicle and turned off his strobes. Wade indulged in another chuckle as he pulled back onto the highway, determined to set aside his obsession with one particular lady. No matter how beautiful she was, he wasn’t going to get a ticket. Or worse.

“Drive like a man my age, my foot!” Wade snorted. “That pup thinks anyone over thirty is old, but I’ve got news for him.”

He might have edged past forty, but he was hardly over the hill. He had a long life ahead of him.

His smile faded. Long and alone, if the truth were told. Myra Jo was starting her new life, and he felt as if his had gone into limbo.

He used to know exactly who he was and what he had to do. He was a single father, a son and a rancher. He used to get up every day before the sun, knowing he had a family to support and more bills to pay than money to pay them with. Now his baby was leaving, he was starting to parent his parents and he had people running the ranch for him. He was supposed to be free to do the things he wanted, but running the ranch was what he wanted.

Did this mean he was in a midlife crisis? He’d always thought the midlife crisis thing was a bunch of hogwash people used to excuse their misbehavior.

Hell, he decided he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Except his inability to get his mind off one beautiful, elegant brunette.

Three

Leah checked her hair self-consciously before she left the sanctuary of her car. She’d spent the entire drive to Wade’s vacillating between congratulating herself on her casual attire and berating herself for obeying him. She’d picked her oldest and most faded pair of pleated jeans and had added a simple cotton top knotted over a peach-colored tank. Her only wish was that jeans did a better job of masking the few extra pounds giving her hips a roundness not exactly in style these days. She hadn’t cared what a man thought about her body in a long time, and it made her uncomfortable to acknowledge that she wanted Wade to think she was attractive.

During the time her mind wasn’t occupied with those thoughts, she had lectured herself not to make a fool of herself when she saw him again. She absolutely forbade her heart to flutter, her stomach to constrict and her pulse to race. He was just a man, for heaven’s sake, and the father of her client. The man who, incidentally, would be writing her a check.

The man who’d kissed her as though her lips tasted of honey.

The man whose touch had reminded her how very long it had been since she’d felt desired.

With a fortifying breath she gathered her purse and planner and headed toward the house. As she expected, Wade answered the doorbell. Unexpectedly, though, she went a little light-headed—in spite of her self-directed lectures.

But it was his fault, she decided. No available fortysomething man should be this good-looking. If he were married or attached it would make sense for him to be this handsome. The ones that were taken always were. The available ones—at least the ones she’d met—usually seemed a little desperate.

She found she wasn’t attracted to desperate men. Go figure....

“Good morning,” he said, taking in her boots, jeans and French-braided hair. His short nod of approval irked her, and she was glad for the uncomfortable feeling. It kept her from reading too much into the little smile that curved his lips and lifted the corners of his eyes.

“You look beautiful.”

It wasn’t fair. Even his voice was gorgeous. How was she supposed to stay irritated if he wouldn’t cooperate?

“Thank you.” She determinedly made her voice light, and ignored the pleasant tingle his compliment gave her. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all. It’s refreshing to have a woman show up when she says she will.” Wade squinted one eye shut. “Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Leah gave him a lopsided smile as she shook her head. “Wade, you may not be politically correct, but you’re probably the most straightforward man I’ve ever met.”

He tipped his head to the left. “And that’s a good thing?”

“Yes, it is.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Well, thank the Lord for small blessings.”

“Are your folks ready to meet me?” she asked as she followed him to the kitchen, trying to gain some equilibrium. He was so stern one minute and smiling the next. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose—just to keep her flustered.

“Myra Jo and my brother, Jonathan, went to church with them, and we’re supposed to meet at Mama’s for lunch. I hope you haven’t eaten.”

“Not since breakfast, but I really don’t want to intrude on your parents—”

“Trust me. Mama is in her glory when she’s feeding people. You’ll win her over forever if you praise her cooking.”

“If you say so.”

“And I have to warn you. If you think I’m a straight shooter, there’s no telling what my daddy might pop off with. Your best defense is to not act shocked.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Leah wondered, not for the first time, just what she’d gotten herself into.

“Great. Since we’ve got some time, why don’t I show you around the place a bit? Then we’ll head down the road.”

Curiosity more than politeness made her agree. The blandness of his expression should have told her he had something up his sleeve, but it wasn’t until they went out the back door that the sight of two saddled horses made her realize what it was.

She stopped in her tracks and gave him a sardonic glance.

“I don’t suppose you have a Jeep we could use instead?” She tried to disguise the near terror building in her stomach.

Wade turned from checking the cinch on a saddle. She assumed the reddish brown horse was for her since it was smaller than the black behemoth that looked as if he wanted to take a bite out of her.

“Are you going to tell me you’ve lived in Texas all your life and you’ve never been on a horse?”

She gave an exasperated snort. “Wade, lots of people in Texas have never been on a horse.”

“Not true natives.”

She knew he was teasing her, but she still felt a little defensive. “Yes, even true natives.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

Leah rarely felt inclined to answer taunts, as she rarely cared what people thought about her personally. Professionally yes. Otherwise they could take her or leave her.

But for some strange reason, she found she cared very much what Wade thought of her. And even more surprising, she had to admit the wedding had nothing to do with it. She wanted Wade to like her, not just respect her as a businesswoman.

That interesting thought deserved more attention, so she filed it away for later inspection.

“No, I’m not scared.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m terrified.”

He raised the other, but his expression contained a generous dose of sympathy.

“But,” she said, taking a solid breath and continuing, “I’m willing to try this if you’ll be patient with me.”

Besides, she rationalized, her efforts might pay off when it came time for the next round on the tuxedo issue.

“Deal.” He studied her for a moment and then said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

As he went into the house, Leah watched the horses warily and muttered, “And where would I go?”

The black brute snuffled and shifted his hooves, making Leah jump back, her heart racing. She knew nothing about horses and here she was baby-sit—er...horse-sitting as if she would know what to do if one of the two beasts decided to run away.

Wade returned before she could talk herself out of the whole deal. When he handed her a beautifully shaped cowboy hat, she let out a sigh.

“Great, Wade. First you want to scare me to death, then you want to give me hat hair. Thanks a lot.”

He simply smiled and put the tan felt on her head. “It’s one of Myra Jo’s. I figured you two’d be close in size.”

The hat was a bit small, but not uncomfortably so. Leah decided it was prudent to keep playing Wade’s game at this point. She sent a mental fax to the fairness gods to make sure she was earning points for this.

Leah nearly fainted when he introduced her to the monster named Thunder and then to Thumper. The little mare stretched her nose closer, and Wade had the poor grace to laugh at her stricken expression.

“She wants you to blow back in her nose, Leah.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. Watch.”

She was fascinated to see the horse brighten from his attention. Wade finally convinced her to try it, but only laughed at her again.

“That wasn’t a blow. That wasn’t even a sneeze. Come on, Leah, this animal weighs seven times as much as you do. Blow!”

When she did, she earned another snuffle from Thumper and actually felt her fear lighten a small notch.

Finally Wade gave her a quick course in mounting before helping her onto Thumper with surprisingly little discomfort on her part, considering his proximity. His face near her thighs and his hands on her calves as he adjusted her stirrups might have caused her blood to heat and her face to flush, but it wasn’t from embarrassment.

She admitted feeling envy as she watched him take his seat on Thunder’s muscular back. His fluid grace as he mounted told her he’d done this countless times, and it was as natural to him as breathing. She may not have been on a horse herself, but being a “true native,” she could deduce a real horseman.

Suddenly Thunder didn’t seem so frightening with Wade sitting confidently, almost negligently, in the saddle. She didn’t care how corny it sounded, he looked as if he’d been born there. And it was easy to see how the mystique of a cowboy had lured more than one feminine heart down the garden path.

Which she would do well to remember.

Instead her imagination rolled right over the warning. Wade carried the essence of a born-and-bred Texan male, something that couldn’t be purchased at a Western-wear store. All the boots leather could make would never endow the wearer with the long-limbed stride so much a part of Wade Mackey. Leah had little doubt he also held the code-of-the-West attitude that tended to make the feminist in her twitch; but at the same time, she felt a traitorous thrill when she wondered what it would be like to be loved and protected by this unapologetically alpha male.

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