As Terese smoothed her hair into place, the image of Hunter Coltrane flashed through her mind. The image of Hunter Coltrane with her…

“Now, that’s a pipe dream,” she muttered to herself. And no one knew it better than Terese.

Because Hunter Coltrane was handsome enough to stop traffic, leaving her with little doubt that she wasn’t the kind of woman who would so much as turn his head.

Plain—that’s what she was. It was an irrefutable fact—Terese Warwick was a plain Jane. The kind of plain Jane who didn’t draw even moderately attractive men on her own merits, let alone men like Hunter Coltrane.

“And don’t you forget it!” she commanded her reflection as if it were another person.

Then she told herself to just be glad she was going to get to meet her nephew.

She’d have to work on erasing the lingering mental image of her nephew’s father. The mental image that had things inside her sitting up and taking notice.

Just the way the man himself had…

VICTORIA PADE

is a USA TODAY bestselling author of numerous romance novels. She has two beautiful and talented daughters—Cori and Erin—and is a native of Colorado, where she lives and writes. A devoted chocolate lover, she’s in search of the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. For information about her latest and upcoming releases, and to find recipes for some of the decadent desserts her characters enjoy, log on to www.vikkipade.com.

For Love and Family
Victoria Pade

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be a part of

Because birthright has its privileges and family ties run deep.

When a shy but beautiful teacher fell for him, he had to decide whether he was ready to love again….

Hunter Coltrane: A widower with a sick little boy, Hunter was reluctant to open his heart to love. But then sweet and beautiful Terese entered his life, and he couldn’t deny the feeling growing inside him. Maybe he could give love a second chance….

Terese Warwick: Terese hadn’t had much luck with men until she met Hunter and his adorable son and instantly warmed to them. They were the loving family she’d always wanted. But Hunter had a damaged heart—could she break through his old wounds and find love?

Bachelors galore!

With the upcoming charity bachelor auction, love was in the air at Portland General, but did someone want to ruin The Children’s Connection’s good name?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

One

“I don’t have the time to explain it to you, mister. Eve Warwick—that’s who I need. And come hell or high water, I’m going to see her and I’m going to see her now.”

After a full ten minutes of going round and round with the Warwick butler, who was blocking the doorway of the sprawling Warwick family mansion, Hunter Coltrane had reached the limits of his patience. He had the man by the shirtfront, his face no more than an inch from the butler’s nose.

Hunter could see that the much smaller man’s features were tightened into a mask of abject fear. But at that moment the butler’s fear was nothing compared to the fear Hunter felt, and he was too desperate to care that he was scaring the man. If scaring him was what it took, he’d terrify the guy.

“She’s about to leave for an appointment and she’ll fire me if I let you or anyone else delay her,” the butler informed him in a strained whisper.

“Then how about if you don’t let me delay her? How about if you just tell me where in this damn mausoleum she is and I go find her for myself?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a grating female voice demanded from inside the house just then.

Without breaking eye contact with the butler, Hunter recognized the speaker. That voice belonged to Eve Warwick. He ungently moved the other man out of his way, stepped across the threshold and went into the foyer of the imposing residence that he and his late wife had visited on only one occasion a little over four years ago.

Eve Warwick was standing at the top of a grand staircase that curved in a full half-circle sweep to the second level of the three-story structure. She looked as outraged as she sounded, but Hunter would suffer that outrage and anything else she wanted to dish out to get what he’d come for.

He consciously tried to calm the unusual flare of temper that frustration had raised and forced himself to speak civilly.

“I don’t know if you remember me or not. I’m Hunter Coltrane,” he said. “My wife and I adopted your baby—”

“I know who you are and you have no business here,” Eve Warwick decreed imperiously.

“It isn’t ‘business’ I’m here for. I’m here for Johnny. He’s—”

“I don’t care what you’re here for. You just need to leave. Now,” she ordered.

Hunter ignored it. “Johnny—that’s what we named him—needs your blood,” he informed her.

But not even blurting that out had an impact on the perfectly coiffed woman in the haute couture pink suit. Her only response was to transfer her gaze to the butler and say, “Pixley, call security.”

“Just hear me out,” Hunter implored. “Johnny is in the Portland General Hospital emergency room and he needs blood. Your blood. You know he has AB negative—your rare type. There was a bus accident yesterday and a whole family with that blood was hurt. They depleted all the blood bank had stored. But Johnny needs a transfusion in a hurry, so you have to come with me to the hospital. Right now!”

Hunter realized that his voice rang with his own worry for his son, but he didn’t care.

“I did the open adoption through the Children’s Connection to be sure the child went to the right people,” Eve said. “Not so that I could be bothered by those people at any time afterward. If you’ll recall, you signed an agreement to that effect. I’m sorry your son is ill, but it has nothing to do with me. So please leave.”

She didn’t sound sorry. She sounded cold, aloof and absolutely unconcerned.

“Did you not understand?” Hunter said, his voice raising an octave all on its own. “I’m not here to bother you and under any other circumstances I would have abided by that agreement and we wouldn’t have ever seen each other again. But my son is in danger if he doesn’t get the blood he needs. Immediately!”

Eve Warwick again turned a hard, demanding eye to the butler who was still standing where Hunter had left him. “Pixley?” she said snidely, “You can’t call security as you were told to do if you’re standing there eavesdropping.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the butler answered, pivoting on his heels and hurrying out of the foyer.

“Look,” Hunter said, trying to reason with the woman. “I’m no happier to be here than you are to have me here. I guarantee that it was as much my goal as yours for us never to have contact again. But my son is in trouble and he needs your help. All you have to do is come with me to the hospital and give blood.”

“I don’t like needles,” she said, raising her nose in the air. “And I have an appointment with my manicurist that I cannot miss. I’m sure you or the hospital will find someone else who can help. Portland, Oregon, is not the end of the earth, after all. There’s bound to be someone else with AB negative blood.”

“There isn’t time to find someone else!” Hunter shouted, his frustration once again rearing its ugly head.

“There will have to be, because I’m not doing it, and that’s all there is to it.”

“That is not all there is to it,” Hunter shouted so loudly his voice echoed in the marble-lined space and made the crystal chandelier overhead tinkle like a wind chime. “Whether you gave Johnny up or not, we’re talking about your own flesh and blood! That has to mean something to you!”

“It means you’re making me late for my appointment. That’s the only thing it means to me. The child is yours. He’s not my concern.”

Hunter and his late wife had not thought highly of Eve Warwick when they’d met her for the interview after applying to adopt the infant she was to deliver three months later. She’d given the impression that the baby was just some sort of debris to be disposed of somehow. But he still couldn’t believe what he was faced with at that moment. No matter how much money she and her entire family had, no matter how much social standing, no matter how glamorous the life she led, how could she possibly be denying blood to any child, let alone the child she’d given birth to?

“Please, just come with me to the hospital,” Hunter said, thinking that if she wanted him to beg, he’d do it. He’d do anything for his son.

But it didn’t matter. Still sounding like a spoiled child vetoing her nanny’s suggestion of a bath, she said, “No.”

“No is not an option,” Hunter countered, heading for that oversized staircase, thinking that if he had to throw the woman over his shoulder and physically take her to the hospital, he’d do it, regardless of the consequences he might have to face later.

But he hadn’t even made it to the first step when two security guards rushed him. He got in a punch, but before he could do more than that, one of the guards yanked his arms behind his back to subdue him.

“Eve? What’s going on?”

The female voice came from behind Hunter, at the front door, which had been left open after his unceremonious entrance.

He didn’t recognize this voice, though. It was much more lilting and pleasant-sounding, in spite of the alarm it held.

“It’s nothing, Terese,” Eve Warwick said, as if the life crisis Hunter had just laid at her feet really wasn’t worth the annoyance it was causing. “Nothing is going on.”

“Something is going on,” the other woman insisted as the butler returned to the foyer, and the security guard Hunter had hit shared the burden of restraining him.

The other woman came around Hunter then and he got a glimpse of her that confused him.

Unlike Eve Warwick, she wasn’t wearing designer clothes. Instead she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain blouse with the sleeves of a sweater tied around her shoulders. Her burnished red hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and if she wore any makeup, it wasn’t noticeable—all of which led Hunter to wonder if she was an employee, despite the fact that even the butler was more dressed up in his three-piece suit.

Yet the woman didn’t show any signs of subservience as she stood in the center of the foyer surveying the situation and using a tone with Eve Warwick that was anything but obsequious or servile.

Her presence did prompt Eve to finally come down the stairs, however. As she did, she began to explain her version of what was going on. “This…person shoved Pixley out of the way and barged in. And I’m having him removed.”

“How can you do this?” Hunter demanded through teeth clenched with rage.

“I can do anything I please,” the haughty woman answered, barely sparing him a glance as if even that was beneath her.

The other woman paid him more attention, looking him straight in the eye when she said, “How can she do what?”

But before Hunter could answer her, the butler seemed to take some delight in doing that himself. “This man wants Miss Eve to go with him to the hospital to give blood for his son.”

“The son she gave birth to,” Hunter added pointedly, glaring at the heiress, who merely rolled her eyes in annoyance at that announcement.

But the jeans-clad woman didn’t take that news in stride. “Eve’s baby?” she said, as if everything had suddenly changed.

“He isn’t a baby anymore. He’s four and he’s in trouble and he needs her blood,” Hunter said, recapping once again for the benefit of the newcomer.

The fresh-faced woman stared at Eve. “Eve! You refused?”

“Oh, please, Terese, spare me. The man is overwrought and—”

“Overwrought?” Hunter said sarcastically. “You bet I’m overwrought. My kid is lying in the emergency room and I’m here jumping through hoops for something that a phone call should have accomplished—if you had taken one of the six I made to you before I came over here!”

The woman Eve had referred to as Terese turned back to Hunter. Or, more precisely, to the security guards who held him captive.

“Let this man go,” she ordered them.

“He was coming after me,” Eve said petulantly.

“Well, he won’t come after you now because I’m going to take care of this,” the woman named Terese said. Then, to the security guards who were still holding Hunter, she said more firmly, “I mean it. Let him go.”

Hunter was released after the second command, though the guards stayed within arm’s reach.

“I’m Terese Warwick, Eve’s twin sister,” the woman introduced herself.

For a moment Hunter stared at her in surprise. There was a resemblance between the women, but not enough that he would have guessed they were twins.

“I know we don’t look alike. We’re fraternal twins,” Terese Warwick said as if she knew what he was thinking.

“I’m Hunter Coltrane,” he said, recovering from his shock. “My wife and I adopted your sister’s baby.”

“And he’s in need of blood?”

“It’s a freak thing. He took a little fall, nothing out of the ordinary. He was standing on a stool and it tipped over. But he hit his nose when he fell and it started to bleed. I did everything I could think of to stop it but when I couldn’t, I took him to the emergency room. The doctors there couldn’t get the bleeding to stop either. Now they’re talking about hemophilia. But in the meantime, he’s lost a lot of blood and he needs a transfusion, and your sister is the quickest hope for that.”

“But you know how I am about needles, Terese,” Eve said defensively, as if that were more an issue than a child’s health.

“Sometimes, Eve, you amaze me,” Terese said.

“Oh, I know, you’re so much better, aren’t you?” Eve countered contemptuously. “Why don’t you just go do it then, Terese? If I looked like you do maybe I’d be a do-gooder, too. It is all you have going for you.”

Terese didn’t respond to that cutting comment. She returned her focus to Hunter as if it had never been said.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “I have the same blood type. I’ll go with you to the hospital and do whatever you need.”

“Come in,” Terese called in answer to the knock on the hospital room door at nine o’clock that night.

After having given two pints of blood and staying long enough for the doctors to make certain that her blood sugar level was back to normal and that she was able to stand without getting dizzy, she’d finally received the go-ahead to be released. So she was sitting in a chair, expecting her visitor to be a nurse with forms for her to sign.

But it wasn’t a nurse whose head poked through the door. It was Hunter Coltrane.

“Are you decent?” he asked in the deepest, richest male voice she thought she’d ever heard.

“I never had to do anything but roll up my sleeve,” she informed him with a laugh. A laugh that was almost giddy for no reason at all except that she’d spent the entire time since she’d met the man thinking about him. Wondering about him.

“Come in,” she repeated, trying not to sound as eager as she felt. She told herself she wasn’t necessarily eager to see Hunter Coltrane in particular, just that after so many hours in that room she was eager to see anyone.

Hunter accepted a second invitation, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him.

The room was small but none of the many doctors and nurses who’d come in and out of it had seemed to fill the space the way this man did. He was a commanding presence—over six feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders and long, thick-thighed legs.

A nurse knocked and came in right behind him to tell Terese the release papers were being processed. Apparently the nurse had also had contact with Hunter and Johnny because she was telling Hunter something about a milkshake that his son had liked.

The conversation didn’t include Terese and while it went on she used the time to take a closer look at Hunter Coltrane.

She didn’t know much about him except that he owned and ran a ranch outside of Portland—Eve had made a point of saying a ranch was a good place for a child to grow up. Now, looking at the man who had adopted her nephew, Terese couldn’t help thinking that hard, outdoor work had served him well because he looked in robust health.

He was dressed for the part of a rancher, too. He had on cowboy boots, a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and jeans that were aged to a faded blue and fit him like an old friend. But it all worked for him better than the three-thousand-dollar suits her father had specially made in London. In fact, the rustic attire only contributed to the rugged good looks of a face that nature seemed to have taken pains to carve.

A face that was no longer as tense as it had been earlier.

A face that Terese studied now that he was standing there in front of her and she had the perfect opportunity.

He had a sharp, square jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of dark beard that looked more sexy than unkempt, and a mouth that was not too full, not too thin. His eyes were the color of the topaz stone in a ring Terese had inherited from her grandmother—brown eyes shot through with brilliant specks of gold. His brow was square and unlined, and he wore his sun-streaked dark blond hair just a little full and disarrayed—not messy, but as if he’d run his hands through it more than once today and let it all fall naturally into slight waves. Certainly it was nothing at all like the no-hair-out-of-place men she encountered in the social circles she was accustomed to.

The nurse left them alone then and Hunter’s attention returned to Terese. “How are you doing?” he asked, barely penetrating her preoccupation.

She consciously pulled herself out of that preoccupation and said, “I’m fine. I felt a little weak and light-headed for a while but they gave me juice and cookies and I’m okay now. They’re letting me go home.”

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the door the nurse had just gone through. “She’d told me before that you were getting out. That’s why I’m here.”

That sounded like it might evolve into a fast goodbye and Terese didn’t want it to. Not before she knew how her nephew was. So she said, “More importantly, how is Johnny?”

If Hunter had been about to make a quick exit, it didn’t show because he swung a leg over the wheeled stool the doctor had used and sat down across from her. “Johnny’s okay,” he announced with relief in his voice. “The nosebleed stopped. Finally. And the transfusion made him feel better. They’re keeping him for forty-eight hours—something about checking his hemoglobin to make sure it stabilizes. But as long as he isn’t bleeding, we’re doing well.”

“And during the forty-eight hours will they know if he has hemophilia or not?” The drive to the hospital had only taken about twenty minutes, but Hunter had filled her in on a few things along the way.

“Yeah, those results should be in before they let him go. They’re pretty sure that’s what we’re dealing with, though. They said we’ll have to be cautious but there’s no reason to panic. It isn’t a progressive disease or a debilitating one. Which is good.”

“In other words, it’s not something you’d want him to have, but it could be worse,” Terese summarized.

“Right. I’m sorry you couldn’t come in and see him. The nurses told me you wanted to, but between the nosebleed and the transfusion the poor kid was overwhelmed and not up for company.”

“That’s okay. I understand.” But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been disappointed. She’d been hoping this would be an opportunity to meet her nephew. The nephew she probably wouldn’t have any other chance to meet, even though it was something she’d always wanted.

“Once the bleeding stopped,” Hunter was saying, “and the transfusion was over, Johnny was exhausted. He fell right to sleep.”

Terese nodded. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”

“I’ll be staying here with him but since he’s out like a light now I thought I could run you home without him missing me.”

“Your wife isn’t here?” Terese asked, knowing that a married couple had adopted Eve’s baby.

Hunter handsome features tensed again. “We lost her two years ago,” he said quietly.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t offer any more information on his wife’s death and although Terese was curious, she didn’t feel free to question him.

He continued with what he’d been saying before that. “I don’t want you to have to take a cab home or bother anyone to pick you up.”

“It’s okay. I called the house when they told me I’d be able to leave and had a car sent to get me.”

Did that sound pretentious? Terese hoped not. But just in case it did, she added, “I don’t usually use the Town Cars or the drivers. I like driving myself. I have a small sedan. But since I rode here with you…”

It occurred to her that Hunter Coltrane was probably not interested in that many details of her means of transportation, so she stopped what she was saying and finished with, “But thanks for thinking of me.”

The rancher’s expression had relaxed once more and he laughed a wry laugh. “It’s me who needs to be thanking you. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you came here and did this. I’m in your debt. If there’s anything I can ever do to repay you…”

Terese didn’t respond immediately to that. Ordinarily she would have merely waved away his appreciation and certainly she wouldn’t have sought any kind of compensation.

But this wasn’t an ordinary situation. And it struck her suddenly that even though she hadn’t been allowed to meet her nephew today, his father’s gratitude might be her chance—her only chance—to meet Johnny in the future.

“There is one thing I’d like,” she said tentatively, nervous about doing what she was about to do, but afraid she’d regret it if she didn’t.

“Anything,” he said.

Terese felt sort of small for putting him on the spot, so before she told him what she wanted, she prefaced it. “Let me say up front that if it makes you uncomfortable you’re free to refuse—absolutely free.”

Terese could tell he was already slightly uncomfortable because he’d been sitting with his elbows on his wide-spread knees, leaning towards her, and now he sat up straight. But this was important to her so she soldiered on, although she couldn’t keep herself from talking very fast.

“Here’s the thing. For the three days after Johnny was born—and before you and your wife took custody—Eve didn’t want anything to do with him. But I hated the thought that he was only being looked after by nurses so I spent a lot of time with him. I fed him and changed him and…” She was getting teary-eyed just remembering it. Remembering how much it had broken her heart when she’d had to accept that her sister really wasn’t going to keep him.

“Anyway,” she said, “I fell in love with him and then he was gone and… Well, I’ve always wished I’d been able to keep in touch with him. To know him and how he’s doing. To watch him grow up, even from a distance…”

Hunter Coltrane’s posture seemed more stiff than it had before and Terese rushed to ease whatever tension she might be raising in him. “There’s no question in my mind that you’re his parent, that you’re his family. Please don’t think I’d ever—ever—forget that. But I really would like to meet him. Totally on your terms,” she was quick to add. “And he wouldn’t have to know there’s a connection if you don’t want him to. You could just say I’m a friend, or the person who gave him blood, and leave it at that.”

Now it was Hunter who didn’t respond readily. Instead he seemed to be thinking it over. Or maybe he was just trying to come up with an excuse.

Worrying that she was out of line, she didn’t wait for an answer and instead spoke again. “Honestly, don’t feel obligated. I give blood regularly so if the blood bank’s supplies hadn’t been depleted Johnny might have gotten my blood, anyway, and I would never have known the difference. So if you want to keep everything the way it’s been for the last four years, it’s okay. It isn’t as if I’ll take the blood back or anything.”

The joke was lame but she was trying to lighten the tone, to keep him from feeling pressured.

“Maybe it wouldn’t even be what’s best for Johnny,” Terese continued, the words spilling out on their own at a breakneck pace before Hunter could respond even if he was ready to. “And I wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t good for him.”

“It’s okay,” the rancher said then, holding up one hand, palm outward, to stop more of the verbal avalanche. “If you’d give me a minute I’d tell you that I don’t see anything wrong with Johnny meeting you.”

Despite the fact that she’d been hoping he would agree, she was shocked that he had.

“Really?” she said.

“Really.”

“And you aren’t saying that just because you feel as if you owe me anything? Because you don’t. I wouldn’t want to do anything that disturbs you. I know that sometimes an adoptive parent’s security can be—”

“I’m not insecure about being Johnny’s dad,” Hunter assured her with a hint of a smile that let her know how true that was. “Adopted or not, he’s my son and nothing is ever going to change that. I don’t think I want him going over to your house or anything like that, but just to have you meet him? I don’t see any problem with that.”

Terese didn’t want to tell him that her twin sister wouldn’t want Johnny at the house any more than he did, so she merely agreed with his qualification. “No, I don’t think it would be good for Johnny to be at the house either. I’d come to you. I could even do it here, while he’s in the hospital, if you don’t want me to know where you live or—”

“I’m not sure if seeing him in the hospital is a good idea. There are so many strangers and he’s already pretty intimidated just by being here. But where we live isn’t a secret.”

“I’m willing to do it any way you want to do it,” Terese said.

The rancher paused another moment, and she worried he might be having second thoughts. In fact, he paused for so long and seemed to be watching her so intently, that she began to think he was going to say no after all.

But then, as if he’d made some sort of decision, he said, “You know, I have a guest cabin at the ranch. Nothing fancy, but if you wanted to come out and spend a few days with us, you could meet Johnny and get to know him a little on his own territory. What would you say to that?”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, because she was so stunned that not only was he willing to let her meet her nephew, he was actually offering her a way to get to know the little boy. It was more than Terese had ever hoped for.

“That would be wonderful,” she finally said.

“Can you take some time off work— Do you work?”

“I do. I teach psychology at Portland State University. But I’m on sabbatical right now so my time is my own.”

“Great.”

Another nurse knocked and opened the door just then, coming in with papers for Terese to sign.

Hunter stood to give the stool over to her. “I’ll get out of the way so you can go home. But I’ll call you as soon as I get Johnny out of here and we can set up a time for you to come to the ranch.”

“I can’t wait,” Terese answered.

Hunter gave her a little wave then and left her to the nurse who showed her where to sign the release forms and then told her she was free to go.

“You’ll probably want to put on that sweater,” the nurse said as she left. “It’s feeling very Octoberish out there tonight.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

Terese slipped the sweater over her head and then went to the small mirror on the wall to pull her shirt collar up and make sure she was presentable.

But as she smoothed her hair into place something else flashed through her mind—the image of Hunter Coltrane. The image of Hunter Coltrane with her.

“Now that’s a pipe dream,” she muttered to herself.

And no one knew it better than Terese.

Because Hunter Coltrane was handsome enough to stop traffic and she, as proven by the reflection in the mirror, was hardly the kind of woman who would so much as turn his head.

Her stepmother had always said it. So had Eve. Eve had alluded to it today. And it was an irrefutable fact—Terese Warwick was a Plain Jane.

The kind of Plain Jane who didn’t attract even moderately attractive men on her own merits, let alone men like Hunter.

“And don’t you forget it!” she commanded her reflection as if it were another person.

Then she left the hospital room, telling herself just to be glad she was going to get to meet her nephew.

She worked hard to erase the lingering mental image of her nephew’s father, a mental image that had things inside her sitting up and taking notice.

Just the way the man himself had….

Two

“Uh, Johnny? What do we have going on there?”

It was Sunday evening and Hunter was expecting Terese to arrive at his ranch any minute. He’d had his son home from the hospital since Thursday and after some soul-searching, on Friday night he’d kept his word and called her to arrange a time for her to come out and stay so she could meet Johnny and get to know him.

She’d said she had charity functions to attend this weekend, so would it be all right if she got there around nine o’clock. Hunter had agreed. But she was late and since it was already past Johnny’s bedtime, Hunter had gotten the boy ready for bed, complete with bath and pajamas. But the little boy had just disappeared upstairs for a while and now that he’d returned to the living room, Hunter was surprised to see the results of that trip.

“You look nice and I wanted to, too,” Johnny informed him.

Leave it to his son to notice that he’d taken a second shower and shaved again today, and that he was wearing slacks and a polo shirt rather than the jeans and sweatshirt he would normally have been in on a lazy Sunday evening.

“Come over here and let me see what you’ve done,” Hunter said, trying not to laugh.

Johnny had just turned four last month and was very intent on proving that he was more independent than he had been before. But as Hunter sat on the coffee table and pulled his son to stand between his legs, the boy seemed small and fragile to him.

“So what did you do to yourself?” Hunter asked, surveying how his son had spruced himself up.

Johnny had flaming red hair that Hunter kept short on the sides and in back. But he let the barber leave a little on top and now Johnny had done something to make only the front part stick straight up.

Hunter lightly patted the stiff-looking tips with his palm. “How’d you do this?” he asked, careful to sound impartial so as not to offend what his son was clearly proud to have accomplished.

“My friend Mikey showed me. You wet your hair and then you kinda comb it up with the bar of soap till it stays. Then you let it get dry.”

That was a relief. Hunter was afraid he’d used super-glue.

“It makes you cool,” Johnny informed him.

“Cool,” Hunter repeated. “Uh-huh.”

Accepting the hairstyle for the moment, he lowered his gaze to his son’s chubby-cheeked face with the sprinkling of freckles across his tiny nose.

“And did you wash your face again since your bath?” he asked, surprised since it was always a struggle to get his son to wash his face once, let alone twice.

“I din’t wash it. I shaved just a little bit,” Johnny informed him, rubbing a hand along his peach-skin jawline.

“You must have pressed kind of hard,” Hunter observed. “Your cheeks are all red. You made sure you used the special razor I gave you, didn’t you? It’s more important than ever that you never touch mine, you know?”

“I know. ’Cuz yours has a really sharp thing in it and ’cuz of the hemolilia I got now.”

Hunter had tried to get him to pronounce hemophilia correctly but it was a losing battle.

“Right. And did you put some of the soap in your eyebrows to make them stand up, too?” Hunter asked, seeing that the pale brows over his son’s blueberries-and-cream colored eyes were going in all directions.

“No, I think they musta just getted that way when I dried off my face ’cuz the water in my hair dripped.”

“So can I fix them?”

Johnny nodded and Hunter licked his thumbs and smoothed his son’s eyebrows into place.

Then he glanced down at Johnny’s rodeo pajamas. And the way his son had accessorized them.

“That’s one of my best ties, isn’t it?”

“Yup. I wanted to look nice.”

“And you do,” Hunter assured him. He couldn’t stop the smile that escaped. The tie was knotted into a wad at his throat and hung nearly to his knees. “I’m just thinking that this might not be a necktie kind of night. See? I don’t have one on.”

“Maybe you should put one on.”

“I don’t think so. And you know, a tie is sort of fancy for pajamas. Even for the good rodeo pajamas.”

“I look nice,” Johnny insisted.

“You do. You do. I’m just thinking that our company might not have dressed up quite that much and we wouldn’t want her to feel bad, would we?”

Johnny creased his forehead and looked down at the striped tie. “We could tell her it was okay that she didn’t get dressed up good as us.”

“You really want to leave the tie on, huh?”

“Yup.”

Hunter nodded. He didn’t have the heart to force the issue. “Okay, then. Well, I guess since you’re all ready, you can help me get the rest of your toys put away so this place doesn’t look like a cyclone hit it.”

Apparently feeling dressed up made the little boy agreeable because he didn’t balk at that suggestion the way he usually did. Instead he turned and went right to work.

“Who’s this lady again?” Johnny asked as he picked up his toys.

Hunter hadn’t known how to explain Terese Warwick. Johnny knew he was adopted; Hunter and his wife had decided when he was still an infant that they would be open and honest with him on the subject. Despite that, the whole concept seemed slightly out of his grasp yet. Whenever they talked about it Johnny seemed only concerned with the fact that Hunter was his dad no matter what.

Hunter hadn’t wanted to confuse him by trying to explain that Terese Warwick was the sister of Johnny’s birth mother, so he’d opted for a more simple description. Which he repeated now.

“She’s a friend who knew you when you were only a baby, and she’s the person who has the same kind of blood that you have, so she gave you some of hers when you were in the hospital.”

“When I was bleedin’ on accounta the hemolilia.”

“When your nose was bleeding so badly because of the hemophilia, yes.”

“Is she your girlfriend like Mindy Harper wants to be my girlfriend and kiss me?” Johnny asked, being silly.

“When did Mindy Harper want to kiss you?”

“Before last week. At preschool. When we were havin’ graham crackers and yogurt. She told Mikey she loooved me and she wanted to kiss me and I said yuk.”

Again Hunter suppressed a smile. “No, the lady who’s coming to stay with us for a while is not my girlfriend and there won’t be any kissing going on. She’s just a friend who’s a girl. And really she’ll be here to see you more than to see me.”

“Oh, no!” Johnny shouted in a panic.

It was an indication of how on-edge Hunter still was about his son and his son’s health that that simple exclamation was enough to tense his entire body and make him spin around to face the boy.

But Johnny’s current crisis was far less distressing than the one the week before.

“I forgetted about my hair and put my hat on!” the little boy informed him, holding up his cowboy hat. “I gotta fix it!” Then he dashed back upstairs.

“Don’t put any more soap in it,” Hunter called after him. “Just use a little water if you have to.”

Hunter shook his head and laughed to himself at his son’s antics. Then he returned to straightening up the living room.

He knew that it wasn’t Terese Warwick herself that had Johnny so excited. The little boy didn’t know her, after all. It was merely the novelty of having someone come to stay with them.

Hunter, on the other hand, was a different story. For him it was the woman he was looking forward to seeing again. And he was none too happy about it.

In fact, wanting to see her again was what had caused him to drag his feet about calling her to arrange this visit.

Wanting to see any woman hadn’t happened to him since Margee. It sure as hell hadn’t happened to him since Margee’s death.

But with Terese Warwick it had happened. And it had Hunter feeling pretty unsettled. And confused. Why her, of all people? he kept asking himself.

Of course, she didn’t seem anything like her sister. But maybe the difference between them was actually the problem.

For all her money and high-class social circles, Terese still had a sort of girl-next-door thing going for her. And flashy, overly made-up, beauty-shop-perfect women—like Eve Warwick—put him off. Who wanted somebody who looked as if they needed to be kept on a pedestal and dusted once a week? Somebody who might as well have a hands-off sign posted on her forehead?

But the girl-next-door thing? That had more appeal to him. Give him Terese’s long, thick ponytail over her sister’s helmet hair any day. That ponytail was the color of red oak and shiny and neat and clean.

Give him those few freckles that dotted Terese’s pale porcelain skin, keeping her from being too perfect and putting a hint of mischief into her appearance. And there was no doubt that he preferred Terese’s pert nose to that surgeon-fashioned one her sister sported.

Plus, Terese’s eyes didn’t need all that glitter and fake stuff on the lids, he thought as he tossed a few more of his son’s toys into one of the cupboards that lined a wall of the living room. Terese had eyes that were incredible on their own. Warm, sparkling, iri-descent, vibrant blue eyes, with lustrous dark lashes. He’d rather be looking into those eyes any day of the week than into those cold baby-blues of her sister.

Oh yeah, given a choice, he’d vote for the natural, fresh-scrubbed beauty. And when it came attached to a tight little body with breasts that were just the right size…

“Geez,” he muttered to himself in disgust, knowing he didn’t have any business thinking about her breasts. Not now and not the other ten dozen times he had in the last several days.

It was just that something about Terese had gotten to him.

But it wasn’t only the way she looked that kept coming back into his head to taunt him. Or the way she looked that seemed to set her apart from her twin sister. Terese also seemed sweet and kind and unselfish, though not in a doormat sort of way. After all, she’d stood her ground with her nasty sister and that was saying something.

But at the same time, Terese’s sweetness and kindness and unselfishness had seemed natural, too. Innate. And bolstered by a strength of character her twin clearly lacked.

And so there he was, Hunter thought as he jammed more toys into the cupboard and had to force the door closed. He’d taken two showers in one day, he’d gotten himself dressed up, and he was having problems holding down his own excitement at the prospect of Terese Warwick arriving on his doorstep any minute now.

Excitement he was none too happy about at the moment.

All it did was get him riled up for no good reason.

And why?

Because of the who and the when.

The who being that she was Terese Warwick. Which meant that no matter how much appeal she might have, it came in the shadow of her sister and the fact that her sister was Johnny’s birth mother.

And if that shadow wasn’t enough, Hunter also knew he needed to keep uppermost in his mind the fact that though Terese seemed like the girl-next-door, she wasn’t. She was someone who operated on a whole different level than he did. She was someone who lived in a whole different world than he did.

Oh yeah, who she was was sure as hell something he needed to keep in mind.

And as for the when part?

The when part was even more important. So important that if Terese Warwick wasn’t a Warwick at all, if she was the most amazing, beautiful, perfect, wonderful woman on the face of the earth, he still wouldn’t do anything about it.

Because right now was not the time for a woman in his life. For any woman. Right now was Johnny’s time.

It was a vow Hunter had made to himself. Johnny was his priority. Johnny was the one and only person he was devoted to.

Maybe not forever, because he knew that eventually his son would be more interested in his own friends and activities and wouldn’t want his old Dad hanging around. But for now, for as long as dad was the center of Johnny’s universe, Hunter wouldn’t take that lightly. He wouldn’t let there be any distractions, any intrusions. Not by anyone.

So Terese Warwick couldn’t have more than a superficial place in their lives and that was all there was to it.

Which was why he had no business looking forward to her coming. No business getting excited.

But whether he had any business doing all that or not, the feeling was there, anyway.

So he guessed he’d just have to keep it under wraps. Keep it from flourishing. And he’d also have to make sure he didn’t let anything come of any of it.

This was going to be Johnny’s time with Terese, and her time with him. Hunter would just stand on the sidelines and oversee it. He’d keep himself as removed from it as he could.

That was his plan.

But damn if he wouldn’t feel a lot better if this excitement would go away and leave him in peace.

It was almost nine-thirty when Terese finally found the wooden arch that proclaimed Hunter Coltrane’s ranch, the Double Bar S, and turned from the main road onto the gravel drive.

The drive was lined on both sides by a white rail fence that bordered grassy fields where several cows grazed lazily and watched her without enthusiasm. It was a sentiment she hoped Hunter Coltrane didn’t share at the prospect of having her there.

She was surprised by how small the house was when it came into view in the distance. Of course, not only was the white two-story farmhouse in the midst of a vast expanse of open ground, there were also an enormous white barn and a silo looming up behind it, and it occurred to her that they might be dwarfing Hunter’s home, too.

It was a well-kept little house, though, with black shutters neatly decorating each window. The first level was larger than the second and there was a big covered front porch with a crossbuck railing around it that gave the place an inviting, homey feel.

Terese pulled to a stop at the end of the drive where there was a patch of manicured lawn and a cobbled sidewalk led the rest of the way to the house.

Stretching along the porch were brick-bordered flower beds. Although it was too late in the year for blooms, the flower beds were festively adorned with teepees of dried corn stalks and artfully displayed pumpkins, brightly colored gourds and squashes. There was also a life-sized stuffed scarecrow dressed in a red bandana shirt and denim overalls lounging on the chair swing that hung from chains at one end of the porch.

All in all, even though the place was nothing fancy, Terese liked it.

A porch light to the right of the screened front door was lit for her, providing a warm golden glow even after she’d turned off her engine and her car lights. She got out from behind the wheel and just stood there for a moment, looking at the house and letting it sink in that her nephew really was just inside.

In those first few days of his life, she’d fallen in love with the baby Eve had given birth to. She’d held him and rocked him and cooed to him. She’d felt him curl up against her; she’d spent hours with him sleeping in her arms.

In the process she’d begun to hope that her sister would change her mind about giving up the baby. That she could convince her sister to keep him and that then she would get to be a part of his life.

But nothing she’d said or done had changed Eve’s mind. Eve had wanted nothing to do with that baby. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to hold him. She didn’t even want to know he was alive. And she certainly wasn’t going to keep him.

When Terese had finally had to accept that, her thoughts had turned to an alternate course. She’d decided to adopt the baby herself.

Eve had hit the ceiling when Terese had told her. It was the biggest argument they’d ever had, culminating in Eve’s flat refusal to relinquish the infant to Terese. Then, to make it even harder on Terese, Eve had arranged for the baby to be immediately turned over to the parents Eve had chosen. Terese hadn’t had so much as the opportunity to say goodbye to the baby she’d come to love.

It had wrenched Terese’s heart. In fact, she’d gone through a long period of grieving before she’d given up the hope of ever seeing him again.

And then she’d come home to find Hunter Coltrane in her entryway.

Of course the circumstances had been less than ideal. Certainly she didn’t want a health problem to be the cause of bringing her nephew back into her life. But now that it had happened and she was only moments away from getting to see him again, it seemed too good to be true.

Terese opened the rear door and pulled out her leather suitcase, not wanting to waste any more precious time when she could be meeting her nephew.

And seeing his dad again.

But Terese pushed the thought of Hunter out of her mind as soon as it popped into it. Exactly as she’d been doing since she’d seen him at the hospital. Hunter might be drop-dead gorgeous and honest enough to have kept his word, but meeting and getting to know his son was the only thing this visit was about. And she couldn’t let herself forget that.

Terese was determined not to lose sight of just how touchy the whole situation was. She knew she had to keep in mind that she was an outsider in the lives of both father and son. She had to keep in mind that even though she might be a blood relative of Johnny’s, she still had no rights to him, that she was nothing more than a stranger here, allowed to get to know him only out of the kindness and generosity of his father, a father who could very well have dug in his heels and refused to have the line between birth family and adopted family crossed.

No, she had no doubt whatsoever that this was a touchy situation. Touchy and complicated. And it didn’t need to be complicated even more by her drifting into thoughts of Hunter Coltrane as a man.

Terese closed the rear car door with a resounding slam, as if that would help put an end to any thoughts of her nephew’s father.

Then she climbed the four steps to the front porch with her suitcase in hand.

But before she had a chance to knock on the screen, the carved oak door opened and there stood Hunter Coltrane.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Strappingly good-looking.

Taller, broader of shoulder, and even more strappingly good-looking than her memory had made him in all the images that had haunted her since she’d come in on his confrontation with her sister this past week.

It didn’t help matters.

But Terese tamped down the instant, involuntary appreciation that flooded her at that first sight of him and reminded herself that she was out of his league when it came to looks, and that she’d better remember it.

Johnny. This was only about Johnny….

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in lieu of a greeting as he pushed open the screen. “I’m the chairwoman for the committee that gave this dinner tonight and I just couldn’t seem to get away.”

“It’s okay. The man of the hour is still awake and champing at the bit to meet you,” the rancher said in that lush, masculine voice she’d been hearing call her name in her dreams.

As if on cue, a little boy bounded down the stairs behind Hunter just then, shouting as he did, “Is she here? Is she here?”

“What’d I tell you about comin’ down those steps more slowly and holdin’ on to the railing so you don’t fall, little man?” Hunter asked sternly.

“I know,” the small boy grumbled half under his breath. “But is she here?”

Hunter still didn’t answer that. He turned back to Terese, propped the screen open with his backside and reached for her suitcase.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” he said. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Terese muttered as she crossed the threshold in front of him, catching a whiff of a light, heady aftershave that smelled like a pine forest.

The big man had been blocking a clear view of the little boy but once she’d stepped into the entryway Johnny was right there, in full sight, fidgeting with excitement.

“I’m Johnny!” the pajama and necktie-clad child proclaimed proudly.

Terese had no idea how his father had explained her so, as she drank in that first opportunity to set eyes on him in four years, she simply said, “Hi, Johnny. I’m Terese.” But there was a catch in her throat as a combination of emotions put moisture in her eyes and made her smile too big at the same time.

There he is, she just kept thinking as he held out a tiny hand for her to shake as if she were a visiting dignitary.

He couldn’t have been more adorable with that chubby-cheeked, freckled face, that turned-up nose and that fiery red hair that he’d done something with to make it stand at attention in front. And in that instant, Terese fell in love with him all over again.

She wanted badly to scoop him up and hug him, but of course she didn’t do that for fear of frightening him. She did probably hold on to his hand a shade longer than she should have.

“Nice to meet you, Johnny,” she said, finally letting go of him.

“What’s our deal?” Hunter asked then.

Terese glanced over her shoulder at him to see whom he was talking to and found him leaning a shoulder against the door he’d just closed, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his slacks, observing this meeting.

His question had been aimed at his son, though, and Johnny knew it because the little boy said, “I can show her ’round the house and have one short story and then I have to go to sleep.” It had been a recitation peppered with reluctance and it made Terese smile all over again. Especially when Johnny added, “Can our company read me the story?”

“Our company’s name is Miss Warwick.”

“Oh, no, please, I’m Terese,” she implored.

“Okay. It’s up to Terese whether or not she wants to read you a story. Maybe she’d rather get settled in,” Hunter told his son.

“I’d love to read the story,” Terese interjected.

“She’d love to read the story,” Johnny repeated for his father, making Hunter chuckle.

He raised his sculpted chin in the general direction of the house then. “Okay. Well, get to it, Mr. Tour Guide.”

A tour guide was exactly the persona the small child put on for her as he led Terese from the entryway to the living room that opened to the right.

“This is where we play games and watch TV,” Johnny said as if Terese wouldn’t know what the room was used for otherwise. “There’s not s’posed to be food in here since I spilled the orange juice on the couch and we had to turn over the pillow so nobody’d know.”

“Johnny…” Hunter groaned from behind them.

But Terese merely laughed again—both at the son giving away secrets and the father’s embarrassment. “You would never know by looking,” she assured, glancing at the gray tweed sofa that matched an over-stuffed easy chair.

They were positioned with an oak coffee table and a full wall of shelves and cabinets that, from what she could see, acted as an entertainment center, library and knickknack holder in front of them. Solid wood doors blocked the view of the contents of the lower cabinets.

“The kitchen’s this way,” Johnny said, heading through an open arch to the right of the living room.

It was a big country kitchen with an abundance of plain white cupboards and appliances and a large pedestal table with four barrel-backed chairs around it.

“This is where we eat—even at Christmas and stuff. My friend Mikey’s got another room where they eat on Christmas but we don’t.”

“That means there’s no formal dining room,” Hunter translated from where he’d stopped in the kitchen’s entrance.

“Ah,” Terese said.

“This is the mudroom,” Johnny informed her, pointing into the much smaller space that was off the kitchen. It contained a washer and dryer as well as a shelf with coat hooks and a bench beneath it. “My dad says it was named for me because I’m always comin’ in muddy and I need to take off my shoes in there before I track it everywhere else.”

“Good idea,” Terese confirmed.

“So if you get muddy feet, you can do that, too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Now we can go upstairs,” Johnny announced.

Terese followed him back into the living room, casting Hunter a faint smile when she glanced back to see if he was coming, too.

But he didn’t catch the smile because his eyes were too low. In fact, she thought they might have been on her rear end.

Had Hunter Coltrane been checking out her derriere?

She must have been mistaken, she told herself. But even so, she couldn’t help the little rush that went through her.

A little rush she tried to ignore.

They returned to the stairs Johnny had run down earlier and went up to the second floor.

“That’s the bathroom over there. Always knock first,” Johnny said, adding his advice by rote. Next he held one arm straight out and pointed a miniature index finger at another door. “That’s the guest bedroom for when somebody has a sleepover but doesn’t stay in the cabin.” The index finger moved slightly. “That’s my dad’s room.” Another move of the index finger. “And this one is mine!”

Terese couldn’t see into the guest bedroom because the door was closed, but she did catch a glimpse of a tall antique bureau and a king-size bed with a fluffy brown comforter in the room Johnny had said belonged to his father.

There was no time for more than that glimpse, though, as her nephew charged into his own room, clearly intending her to go with him.

“Come on, I’ll get the book for you to read.”

Terese went into the toy-cluttered room, but as she did, she once more cast a glance to Hunter. “You’re sure you don’t mind my doing the honors?” she asked, wanting to make sure she wasn’t stepping on any toes.

“It’s okay,” Hunter assured, leaning a single shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t say any more to Terese but aimed his attention at his son once again. “The necktie has to come off for bed.”

The little boy obeyed without an argument, brought the tie to his father and then situated himself to one side of the bed so Terese could sit on the mattress beside him.

“Green Eggs and Ham,” Johnny said when he handed the chosen book to her. “My dad is tired of it but maybe you’re not.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever read Green Eggs and Ham, so it will be a treat for me.”

Reading to him was a treat for her, but the book itself had little to do with it. Just the fact that Terese was sitting there with her nephew, participating in his bedtime routine, was something more special to her than either Johnny or his father could know.

She was sorry when she reached the last page.

As she closed the book, the little boy slid under the covers and said, “You’ll be here tomorrow, right?”

“I will be,” Terese confirmed.

“We gots ranch work to do but I’m gonna show you our barn and our barn cat and all the stuff outside that I couldn’t show you in the dark.”

“I’d like that.”

She also would have liked to bend over and give him a good-night kiss on the cheek or the forehead, but, as with the urge to hug him earlier, she resisted. Instead she said, “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” and traded places with Hunter to stand at the doorway while he tucked Johnny in, roughed up his hair and gave him the good-night kiss she hadn’t been able to.

“Sleep tight, big guy,” Hunter said once the ritual was accomplished.

“Sleep tight,” Johnny answered, already sounding groggy.

Hunter switched on a small bedside lamp and then joined Terese at the door, turning off the overhead light.

She stepped aside to allow him to go out into the hall but once he had she couldn’t keep herself from craning around the doorjamb for one more look at her nephew.

A wealth of emotions swelled in her and she had an odd feeling that he might once again disappear from her life if she left him behind.

But of course that was silly. She knew she was going to see the little boy again the next day. Reminding herself of that finally made her able to tear herself away from the door.

Once she had, Hunter motioned toward the stairs without saying anything and waited for Terese to precede him.

Not until they were at the foot of the steps did he say, “So that’s our boy.”

Our boy. That pleased Terese. “I wasn’t sure if he knew exactly who I was,” she said then, recalling her introduction to her nephew.

“I didn’t go into the details,” Hunter answered, explaining what he had told Johnny about her.

She didn’t mind her nephew thinking of her as only a friend of the family so as not to confuse him and she let his father know that.

“This way,” Hunter said in conclusion, “he’s just happy to have company.”

There didn’t seem to be any more to say on that subject so Terese felt free to voice the other question she’d been anxious to ask. “What about the blood test? Does he have hemophilia?”

Hunter nodded. “’Fraid so. But now that we know, we can deal with it.”

“Which is why you didn’t want him running down the stairs,” Terese guessed.

“Mmm. I’m probably being overly cautious right now because this episode last week kind of shook me, but yes, he needs to be more careful than most kids since it’s so easy for the bleeding to get out of control if he’s hurt.”

“Well, at least now you know where you can get him a refill,” Terese joked.

Hunter had been very quiet since her arrival but that comment garnered her a smile. A warm smile that softened his features and made her stomach flutter.

Hunter seemed to realize they were still standing at the foot of the steps and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? Or shall I just show you the cabin?”

It hadn’t struck Terese until then that Hunter was hanging back, making her visit only for his son and not participating any more himself than was absolutely necessary. Now that she realized it, she figured he’d prefer showing her where she’d be staying rather than having to socialize with her.

Which was probably how it should have been anyway, she told herself through the wave of disappointment she knew was totally inappropriate.

So, again thinking to give him what she assumed he wanted, she said, “I’m fine. I mean I don’t need anything to eat or drink. You can just show me the cabin.”

He didn’t argue. He just picked up her suitcase and led her out the back door.

Terese paused a moment to look around when she got outside. An industrial-sized light on the barn illuminated the entire area.

The grounds were divided into the plain dirt patch and fenced-in paddock that were immediately in front and to the side of the barn, and a small, grassy yard like any suburban backyard. There was a jungle gym waiting to be played on beneath a tall oak tree, a brick patio complete with a barbecue, several trucks and toys here and there, and, about eight or nine feet off the south side of the house, there was, indeed, a log cabin.

“The cabin was the first house here,” Hunter informed her as he led her down the brick path that connected it to what was now the main house. “My great-great-great-grandfather built it when he bought the land and he and my great-great-great-grandmother and their three kids lived in it their whole lives. There’ve been a few amenities added over the years—you have heat and electricity and plumbing now—but most of it is original and rustic. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’m afraid.”

The door was unlocked when they reached the cabin and Hunter opened it and flipped a switch that flooded the space with light. Then he waited for Terese to go in ahead of him and followed her in just enough to set her suitcase down.

He hadn’t been joking about it being rustic. The walls were log and mortar and it was a single open space that, while not cramped for one person, was impossible to imagine for five.

But there was a four-poster double bed, a dresser, an easy chair and a television, a café-sized table with two chairs, and a black woodburning stove that had probably been the only source of heat for the place originally.

“It’s rustic but nice,” Terese said, meaning it.

“The bathroom is through that door over there,” he said then, pointing it out. “There are some mugs and tea bags and cocoa and instant coffee. You can heat water in that microwave over there if you want any of that. But there’s no kitchen otherwise. I leave the mudroom door open, though, so you can raid the fridge even in the middle of the night if you get hungry. Otherwise, we’ll be eatin’ regular meals together.”

“I don’t usually raid the refrigerator at night, anyway.”

“Wish I could say the same thing. Anyway, we usually have breakfast around eight but I’ll be up and about doin’chores long before that, so if you hear anything, don’t think there are burglars or something, and don’t feel as if you can’t stay in bed a while longer. I’m usually up before dawn but Johnny’ll be sleepin’ later than that.”

“Before dawn? Really?”

“Rancher’s hours. It isn’t so bad. You get used to it,” he said. “So, anything else I can do for you or get you?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“All right, then.” Hunter took two steps to get back out the door and Terese went to the threshold behind him.

“I want you to know how grateful I am for this,” she said, not wanting him to get away without telling him that. “When I didn’t hear from you until Friday, I thought you might have had second thoughts.”

“I did do some thinking before I made the call,” he admitted with a half smile that was a little guilty and only more charming because of it.

“But you let me come, anyway,” Terese said, wondering where the almost flirtatious tone had come from when she hadn’t intended it.

“I think it’ll be okay.”

“I’ll do my best to make it okay. I know this can’t be something you’ve dreamed of.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said more to himself than to her.

Terese had no idea what that meant and didn’t feel as if she could question him about it. And since he didn’t offer an explanation, she continued with what she’d wanted to say. “I’ll be really careful not to overstep my bounds. I don’t have any illusions about being a part of your family and I know Johnny is your son.”

“I appreciate that,” Hunter said, his topaz eyes meeting hers.

“He seems like a great kid, though,” she said then.

“He is a great kid. But a pistol, in case you missed that.”

“I didn’t,” Terese said with a laugh. “It’s part of what I liked.”

“Me, too,” Hunter confided.

Something about that confidence gave Terese a sense that that hanging back he’d been doing was over, that they’d just shared something that broke down a wall of some kind. And she was glad.

Even though, as a result, her mind started to wander in a direction all its own and she began to compare this moment with Hunter at the door to the end of a date.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast, then,” he said after a moment.

“I expect to do my share so don’t think you need to cook for me or anything,” Terese said.

“I’ll be cookin’ one way or another. But maybe you could take a turn of your own,” he suggested with a hint of mischief to his tone.

Terese guessed what was on his mind. “You think I can’t, don’t you?”

He shrugged one broad shoulder and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. “Can you?”

“Maybe you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Oh, more of the flirting. What was she doing?

“Maybe I’ll just have to,” he countered. And unless she was mistaken, there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice, too.

But then he seemed to catch himself because he drew back almost imperceptibly and took another step away from the cabin door.

“I’ll let you get settled in,” he said.

Terese nodded. “Good night.”

“’Night,” he answered, turning on his heels and heading for the house.

But even though that hanging-back thing he’d been doing earlier had returned at the last minute, Terese was still fighting those images of this as the end of a date.

The end of a date when a kiss might have been possible…

A kiss from Hunter?

Even thinking about that was out of those bounds she’d just told him she would stay in.

But out of bounds or not, that was exactly what she was thinking about as she finally closed the cabin door.

Three

The next morning at eight o’clock on the dot Terese left the cabin. She’d been up for more than an hour by then, showered, shampooed her hair and braided it into a thick plait down her back. She’d dressed in one of the three pairs of jeans she’d bought for this visit—not the trouser-cut jeans she ordinarily wore, but the five-pocket kind—and a red turtleneck, also purchased when she’d shopped cluelessly for what to wear on a ranch.

She’d debated about going over to the house before eight to see if she could help prepare breakfast. But since her host had said eight, she’d thought that maybe he hadn’t wanted her there before that and had refrained. That didn’t change the fact that she was eager to get back to Johnny. And Hunter—although she really, really tried to keep the Hunter part of that at bay.

It was just that her mind kept replaying the end of last evening, and every time it did, eagerness to see him again slipped under her radar.

So as she walked along the brick path to the house, she once more reminded herself that this visit was about the opportunity for her to connect with Johnny. Hunter was nothing more than incidental to that goal.

Incidental or not, when Terese knocked on the mudroom door and a woman her own age opened it, a pang of something very unpleasant shot through her.

“You must be Terese,” the woman said warmly, pushing open the screen as if she were letting Terese into her own home. “I’m Carla.”

Carla.

Who was Carla?

“Hi,” Terese said, stepping inside as the wheels of her mind began to spin with questions not only about Carla’s identity, but whether she had been the reason Hunter had seemed eager to end the previous evening as soon as Johnny was in bed. Had Carla been due to come over afterward and spend the night?

Terese told herself that none of that was her business. Hunter Coltrane was a grown man—an amazingly handsome, masculine, sexy and no doubt virile grown man—and there was no reason he couldn’t or shouldn’t have female companionship. He was, after all, single and available.

She also told herself that there was no reason for her to feel so awkward suddenly about being there herself because nothing about her visit had changed just because there was now a Carla.

But she felt terribly awkward, anyway.

“’Mornin’,” Hunter called from the kitchen.

Terese would have liked to turn tail and run back to the cabin to hide until she could regain her equilibrium. Unable to do that, she forced a cheery face and followed Carla into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, answering Hunter’s greeting and wishing she could blend into the wallpaper.

“You don’t ever have to knock, you know,” he informed her. “Just go ahead and let yourself in. Anytime.”

Terese nodded, looking around the big country kitchen for Johnny. But he wasn’t there. It was only Hunter setting three places at the table and Carla, who had moved to the coffeepot.

“Can I get you a cup?” the other woman asked Terese, again as if she were right at home.

“Yes. Thank you,” Terese answered somewhat stiffly, taking in the sight of the pretty brunette with the dark eyes and flawless skin and a bust size Terese couldn’t even come close to measuring up to.

“How’d you sleep?” Hunter asked her then, apparently feeling no inclination to explain Carla’s presence.

The first thing that popped into Terese’s mind was that she’d probably gotten a whole lot more sleep than these two had. But all she said was, “Fine. That’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hunter said.

“Where’s Johnny?” she asked then, hoping she would feel less like a third wheel if her nephew would appear.

It was Carla who answered her question, though, by hollering for the boy as if it were something she did regularly. Then, handing Terese a mug of steaming coffee, she said, “He’ll be right down. Sugar and cream are over there.”

This was silly, Terese lectured herself as she took her coffee cup to the kitchen table that Hunter had set and had now left to go to the stove. She hadn’t come here with designs on Hunter Coltrane. She hadn’t come here with any illusions that they would form any kind of relationship that didn’t revolve solely around Johnny. So what if Hunter had a girlfriend or a significant other or whatever Carla was? Why should it make her feel so uncomfortable? So weird? So…

Jealous? Was she feeling jealous? That couldn’t be….

The mud room door opened again just then and Terese turned in that direction, wondering why Carla had aimed for the upstairs when she’d called Johnny if the little boy was coming in from outside somewhere.

But it wasn’t Johnny who joined them a moment later. It was a tall man with coal-black hair and a bushy mustache.

“Where’s my coffee, woman?” he demanded playfully of Carla, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up against his side.

“I’m pouring it right now. Behave yourself,” Carla chastised, nodding toward Terese before she said, “This is Terese. Terese, this is my Willy.”

“Willy works the ranch with me,” Hunter explained then. “Carla comes over when she has a little time on her hands and helps out with things around the house.”

Never had Terese felt the kind of relief she did at that moment.

“It’s nice to meet you, Willy,” she said, her cheeriness genuine this time. And probably out of proportion to the simple introduction of the ranch hand.

“John Paul Coltrane, get yourself down here now,” Hunter called in a booming voice as he set a platter laden with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages on the table.

“He’s doing something with his hair to look nice for Terese,” Carla confided.

Hunter grimaced. “Not that slicking up the front with soap again?”

“I think so.”

“He did that last night, too.”

“Well, I’m going up to clean the bathroom and I’ll send him down,” Carla said. Then, as she headed out of the kitchen, she added, “If I don’t see you again before I leave, Terese, it was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Terese said with more enthusiasm now that she knew the other woman wasn’t Hunter’s girlfriend.

“I’m headin’ out again, too. I’ll take this coffee to the barn with me,” Willy added, retracing his steps through the mudroom.

And suddenly the whirlwind that Terese had walked in on had passed and she was alone with Hunter.

And much happier than she’d been moments earlier.

Of course Hunter was oblivious to the turmoil she’d just induced in herself, and he merely motioned toward one of the barrel-backed chairs for her to sit down.

“We might as well get started before everything’s cold,” he said, not taking the chair across from her until she was seated.

Terese had been so enmeshed in imagining a romance between Hunter and Carla that she hadn’t taken much of a look at Hunter before. But now she did, surreptitiously making note that ranch-wear was pointy-toed cowboy boots, jeans that fitted him to perfection, and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, exposing muscular forearms and wrists that seemed sexier than mere forearms and wrists could possibly be.

“So Willy and Carla are married?” Terese heard herself say without considering—until after the fact—whether she was being nosy.

But if Hunter thought she was, he didn’t seem to take offense. He just answered her question. “They’ve been married for a long time now. Since we all graduated from high school.” He handed her the platter of food and then added, “I was best man at their wedding and they were best man and matron of honor at mine.”

“You must be very good friends,” Terese said as she took some of the eggs and a piece of bacon.

“Willy’s more than a good friend,” Hunter amended, putting some of everything on Johnny’s plate and then serving himself. “Will’s closer to me than my brother. We work together every day. Spend time together when we aren’t workin’. We own a boat together. We fish and hunt and watch every football game together. He’s Johnny’s godfather. I’d give him the shirt off my back if he needed it, and I know he’d do the same for me. And Carla… Well, Carla was my wife’s best friend and she’s Johnny’s godmother. I don’t think Johnny or I could have made it through the last two years without them both.”

Which left Terese feeling all the more ridiculous for the conclusion she’d jumped to about the woman and her relationship with Hunter.

What had gotten into her? she asked herself.

But she decided it was some kind of fluke that would never happen again and that it was best to put it behind her.

“I’ve never had friends like that,” she admitted then. “I couldn’t even say any of that about Eve.”

“I don’t think many people are lucky enough to have friends like Will and Carla.”

Johnny came running into the kitchen then, putting an end to the conversation as he climbed onto the chair between Terese and his father.

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