The man was dressed in a suit, distinctly out of place here amid longhorns and chaps

He could be a businessman from Houston, but even in the city the men wore boots and Stetsons. He looked…

Cassie pulled in a sudden, shocked breath. She felt as though she’d been kicked, taken a blow, hard and fast.

Ethan.

Here. Back on Flying M property.

The man who had made her heart slip again and again into overdrive.

The man who had helped shape her entire existence.

The man who had given her Donny, the most precious thing in her life.

Dear Reader,

When I was much younger (and a lot thinner) my sister and I had horses. We spent all our free time with Shalimar, Sparky and Sheba. We rode the pine trails, played horseback hide-and-seek in the orange groves and used the rumps of our mounts as diving boards into the lake near our home. We took dozens of spills off their backs, chased them all over the pasture to get their hooves trimmed, and chanced getting nipped if we dawdled in giving them hay.

Having horses was hard work, expensive and time-consuming. But I wouldn’t have missed a minute of it. They’re wonderful creatures, and to this day, I still love the smell of molasses sweet feed and a leather saddle on a sweaty horse.

So I guess it’s only natural that sooner or later I’d draw on all those old memories. My Texas heroine, Cassie Wheeler, has a deep love of horses, but she’s seen the worst of them, too. The danger and unpredictability of a two-thousand-pound animal has left her scarred, both emotionally and physically.

Fortunately, that’s where Ethan Rafferty comes in. He was in love with her before her life changed so dramatically, and he’s in love with the woman she is now. Whatever the consequences, he’s ready to become part of her life again. If only she’ll let him.

I love to hear from readers, and a lot of romance novel fans have a love of horses, as well. Share yours by sending me an e-mail at abair@cfl.rr.com.

Happy trails!

Ann Evans

That Last Night in Texas
Ann Evans

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ann Evans has been writing since she was a teenager, but it wasn’t until she joined Romance Writers of America that she actually sent anything to a publisher. Eventually, with the help of a very good critique group, she honed her skills and won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America for Best Short Contemporary Romance of 1989. Since then she’s happy to have found a home at Harlequin Superromance.

A native Floridian, Ann enjoys traveling, hot fudge sundaes and collecting antique postcards. She loves hearing from readers and invites them to visit her Web site at www.aboutannevans.com.

For Sherri Angell, who has never lost her passion for horses, cowboys and living life to the fullest.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

CASSANDRA RAFFERTY. Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Rafferty. Ethan and Cassie Rafferty.

With a pleased sigh, Cassie McGuire smiled down at the delicately scrolled words she’d written in her diary. She resisted the temptation to dot the i in her name with a tiny heart. After all, she was two days past her eighteenth birthday and a woman now, no longer a child.

She ran her fingers over the lines, as though they were braille symbols whose importance she could discover through touch. They were important, because very soon this was who she would become—Cassandra Rafferty—and nothing anyone said or did could change that.

Ethan’s wife.

She felt her heart go into a wild gallop. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it.

There was a knock on her bedroom door and Cassie jumped, startled. As usual, her father didn’t wait for permission to enter. She had little time to slip her diary into her desk drawer before he appeared.

“It’s getting late, cupcake,” Mac McGuire said, offering her a tentative smile. They had barely escaped an argument earlier this evening, and he was obviously hoping all was forgiven.

She couldn’t leave tonight without trying to make it right between them. Crossing the room, she gave him a hug.

He was a big man, barrel-chested, with skin turned to leather by years of riding in the hot sun. His full name was Donald Alastair McGuire, Scottish through and through, but everyone in East Texas called him Mac. The Flying M wasn’t the biggest ranch in the Beaumont area, and it certainly wasn’t the richest, but her father was well-liked and respected.

Cassie adored him. After her mother’s death, it had been just the two of them. He was a good, loving father, a man of strong opinions, but possessing a tender heart. Especially where she was concerned.

Unfortunately, he could also be unbearably overprotective, and she hated that her marriage to Ethan had had to be planned in secret. When their absence was discovered tomorrow, her dad would be hurt and angry. Better to face him afterward with marriage license in hand. He would come to terms with it, though she couldn’t bear the idea that he might not. But somehow, one day, she would make it up to him.

“I’m heading over to the Wheeler place for a little while,” he said.

“Now? It’s so late.”

Josh Wheeler lived at the next ranch over from the Flying M. He had inherited River Bottom after his parents were killed in a car accident last year. The place was small, but had great potential, and Cassie’s father seemed to have taken Josh under his wing.

“Josh says his prize mare is looking colicky. Probably nothing, but I thought I’d drive over and take a peek. I suspect he’s just lonely and wanting company on a Saturday night.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Cassie thought. You’re not drawing me back into a discussion about how I ought to spend more time with him. Josh Wheeler was twenty-five. He was smart, had sunny good looks and had been her best friend for years. Lately, he’d made it pretty clear that he had a romantic interest in her as well.

Unfortunately, she felt nothing for him except friendship.

In fact, tonight’s near argument had been over Josh, who had asked her out on a date. She’d refused. Her father had thought she ought to reconsider, and Cassie had been forced to dig in and defend her decision without revealing the basic truth of the situation.

How could she go on a date with one man, when in less than twenty-four hours, she’d be married to another?

A sudden niggling worry made Cassie bite the inside of her cheek. In a few hours she was supposed to meet Ethan in the horse barn. The last thing she needed was to run into her father coming in the front door as she was going out. She’d have to be extra careful.

She faked a yawn. “Well, have fun, but don’t stay out too late. Since tomorrow’s Sunday, I think I’ll sleep in.”

“Don’t forget that we’re going to work Bandera at ten. Time for me to see what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Bandera was the new chestnut stallion her father had purchased during his last trip to Dallas. He’d been delivered today, and from the glimpse Cassie had seen of him from her bedroom window, his sleek red coat and her father’s auburn hair would make an arresting, impressive sight.

“Is Ethan supposed to help?” Cassie couldn’t resist asking.

Her father shook his head. “The horse doesn’t need to be broken. He just needs some manners.”

“You will be careful, won’t you? You’re too old to be getting bounced.”

“Brat! Not too old to keep young stallions and impudent daughters in line,” he said, reaching out to tweak her nose. “I know how to keep my mind in the middle. But don’t worry, I told Ethan to make sure Bandera stays tranked until we give him a workout tomorrow. Just a small second dose to keep him calm. I don’t want all that pent-up energy exploding under me before I get a read on him.” Her dad gave her an odd look. “Why do you ask if Ethan’s involved?”

“Just curious,” Cassie said with deliberate nonchalance. Had she been foolish to mention Ethan’s name? “I like watching him work the horses.”

“Stay away from him. He could use some manners, too.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean it. He’s too rough around the edges to associate with anyone but the crew.”

“Dad!”

Cassie couldn’t help that surprised response. Her father never spoke about anyone this way. She tried not to look defensive or hurt, but the remark worried her a little. Once she was married, it would be crucial that the two men she loved most in the world get along.

“He seems very nice to me,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t nice, although he seems to like horses better than people. I said he was rough around the edges. He’s good at what he does and he learns quickly. He could make something of himself one day when he’s ready to settle down, but that’s a long way off. Stick to men like Josh.”

Predictable men like Josh, she amended in her head.

To cut the conversation short, Cassie produced another yawn and caught the edge of her door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

He chucked her on the chin and started to turn away.

“Dad.” Impulsively, she caught his arm, and when he turned back, she looked him directly in the eyes. Her senses were dull with misery at the realization that, after tonight, nothing between them would ever be quite the same. “You do know I love you, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Love you, too, cupcake. More than life itself.”

She rose up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Her throat suddenly felt tight at the thought of leaving him, deceiving him. But what else could she do?

Her decision had been made. She’d finally gotten up the nerve to follow her heart, and she wouldn’t change her mind.

Not even for a father she loved dearly.

PRECISELY AT MIDNIGHT, Cassie slipped down the stairs, suitcase in hand. She didn’t think her father had returned from the Wheeler place yet. The ranch truck wasn’t parked out front, and there was definitely no snoring coming from his room.

Careful, Cassie. The first real adventure of your life. Don’t blow it now.

She quietly let herself out and hurried along the path to the horse barn. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Not from fear, really, although it would be horrible if she was caught; mostly it was excitement that left her breathless with anticipation. In a matter of hours she and Ethan would be married, starting a brand-new life together. The night felt as though it held magic.

When they’d first met a year ago, he’d seemed so foreign, so different from the usual men who came looking for work at the ranch. He had shown up to apply for one of the wrangler jobs, without a horse, a dog for company or even a well-worn duffel bag. He didn’t look or act like the other hands on the Flying M. The crews who worked the herds were either grizzled older men with a lifetime of scars and tall tales behind them, or college kids playing cowboy until school started again.

Ethan seemed to be neither. At twenty-one, he already had the physique of a man, with the soft edges of boyhood filed down to toned, lean muscle. He was handsome, but in a rough, slightly battered kind of way that actually made him seem better-looking than if he’d been conventionally attractive. And that devilish twist to his mouth—that made him seem slightly dangerous.

She’d heard that he didn’t smoke or drink, and he kept to himself, never joining the other men who went into town on Saturday nights. Her father said he took his job seriously, which was a good thing, because everyone knew Mac McGuire didn’t put up with slackers on the Flying M.

Initially, when their paths crossed, Ethan had been respectful of her position as the owner’s only child, but he still unnerved her. He seemed so self-contained, almost secretive. Sometimes she had caught him watching her—a glimpse of soulful blue eyes under those long, dark lashes that perfectly matched his silky-looking black hair. She’d pretended to ignore his surveillance, but inside she had shivered.

He still made her shiver—though for completely different reasons now.

The barn door creaked open on rusted hinges. Several of the horses along the corridor moved restively and stuck their heads out of their stalls. Midnight visitors were uncommon at the Flying M.

She found Ethan in the tack room, and slipped up behind him to place her hands over his eyes. “Guess who? And if you say any name but mine, the wedding’s off.”

He turned and grabbed her up, grinning. “Hey there, darlin’. What’s your name again?”

She laughed softly and punched his arm. He responded by giving her the kind of kiss she’d never experienced from anyone but him. He smelled of leather and spice and a heated male energy that sent tingles through her stomach.

She bathed in the heady delight of his touch, his scent, the nudge of his thighs against her legs. Her body hummed and sizzled, sparked by nothing more than simple contact, and he knew it instantly because he kissed her again, more slowly, more thoroughly this time.

She nestled against him, and when his hands pushed under her thin blouse, cupping her breasts, she almost stopped breathing. He was coaxing her body to life, his eyes speaking volumes of need and want and desire, and Cassie couldn’t help but answer.

Slowly, savoring every murmur and sigh, she let her head fall back. She clutched his dark hair in both hands, bringing his head down. Ethan’s mouth came against the pulse point at her throat, stroking with his tongue, teasing, raking his teeth lightly against her skin until she felt consumed by fire.

She let her fingers trail along his strong back, thinking of all the ways she’d daringly slide her hand down his body the next time they made love. They’d been intimate twice before, but she had been embarrassingly unskilled and nervous. Tomorrow, she would find the courage to be the aggressor.

She adored the weight and shape of him, the coiled strength of his biceps and the taut muscles of his stomach. His fingers were callused, and their texture as they moved over her body made a quick, jittery thrill trip through her.

She wanted more. She wished desperately for it.

But when Ethan’s hand slipped to the top button of Cassie’s jeans, her hand stopped him. She straightened as best she could, and though her body protested the separation, her brain demanded they go no further.

“We can’t,” she whispered against his ear. “We have to leave.”

“You’re early.”

“I’m on time,” she said as she shifted her clothes back into order.

“I hate a clock watcher.”

“You should have thought of that before you proposed.” Ethan’s one failing—at least the only one she’d found so far—was that he was seldom punctual for anything unless it was a direct order from her father. “Still want to marry me?” she asked, smiling up at him and trailing a finger across his bottom lip.

He growled low and brushed his stubbled chin gently against her cheeks, as though branding her. “Yes, I want to marry you. I want to make love to you. I want to make babies with you and watch them grow up to make babies of their own.” He caught her face in his hands so that their eyes met. “Good enough for you, princess?”

“Yes.” She exhaled with a happy sigh. She loved this about him—the secret, tender sincerity beneath the rough, sexy exterior that everyone else saw. She liked to think that she was the only one who knew the real Ethan Rafferty, though the truth was, she’d fallen so quickly, so hopelessly in love that she knew little more about him than the most basic facts.

He talked so seldom about his past. She knew only that he’d walked away from an abusive home when he was eighteen and that his father had been a horse trainer in Kentucky, a great one, but that talent had drowned in buckets of booze.

For three years Ethan had drifted, but the talent with horses that he’d inherited from his father had made him believe he had a future. Someday.

Just who was this man she intended to marry? Was she really willing to walk out of the pampered life she had known, cut herself loose from her youth and the adoring shelter of her father’s love to set her future on this unknown path?

Yes, she thought. It didn’t matter. She knew enough. She knew the essentials of Ethan Rafferty, the shape of his courage, the depth of his heart, that quiet confidence that could make her believe that anything was possible. And it pleased her to think that she’d have an eternity to find out everything else about him.

He had latched on to one of her long, red curls, rubbing it between his fingers as though testing it somehow. He loved playing with her hair. She pulled the lock through his fingers. “Stop that. I want it to look halfway decent tonight.”

His fingers cupped her face. “Decent is much too ordinary a word to describe what I see when I look at you.”

She lowered her head, embarrassed by the way his eyes caressed her.

A slow smile twisted his lips. “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

She had no illusions about her looks. She might be blessed with her father’s dark red hair, but she could never do anything with it thanks to the humidity of East Texas. She had inherited her mother’s ready smile, but her lips lacked that full, pouty look that seemed to make men drool. For a while Cassie had actually prayed to have a perky cheerleader’s nose, but with her Scottish heritage there was little chance of that.

As for the spunky personality she’d longed for to offset her mundane features, it had never developed. The truth was, most of the time she was shy, contemplative and given to playing it safe. Only Ethan seemed to bring out her wilder side, her adventurous spirit. She knew her weaknesses. That he seemed to find her remarkable in any way both delighted and surprised her.

Feeling awkward, she gave him one last kiss and stepped back, suddenly all business. “Enough flattery. You’ve already won me over. Dad’s at Josh’s place, but I don’t know how much longer he’ll be there. We need to get on the road.”

“We should just wait for him,” Ethan said. “Tell him we’re getting married, and we hope we’ll have his blessing, but—”

“Are you insane?” Cassie exclaimed. “We can’t do that.”

He tilted his head as though examining her closely. “Why?”

“Because he’d never give his blessing.”

“Because you’re too young to get married? Or because you want to marry me?”

“Trust me. I know Dad.” She stroked her hand along his arm, hoping to ease the slight trace of hurt she thought she saw in his eyes. “Please, Ethan. Let’s just go.”

He grimaced, then nodded. “I’m almost ready. I’m just leaving a note for Hank to check Cisco in the morning. I think he’s coming down with thrush again, and I want to suggest a new treatment.” When she gave him a look, he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll only be a minute. Go check out your dad’s new toy. He’s a beauty, and he’ll probably be glad to see a friendly face. Last stall on the left.”

Her body still humming with the residue of passion, Cassie took the suggestion and wandered down the barn’s dimly lit corridor. No point hanging over Ethan like a puppy. Besides, she was curious about Bandera.

The end stall was slightly larger than the rest, but the chestnut stallion within made it seem small. Bandera was tall for a quarter horse, at least sixteen hands, with deep, muscular shoulders and the powerful hindquarters so common to the breed. In the diminished light he looked almost bloodred.

He was magnificent, and Cassie regretted that she wouldn’t be here to see her father’s first real contact with the animal. They were definitely going to make a striking pair.

The hayrack overhead was nearly empty. Bandera nibbled halfheartedly at the remaining flake of Bermuda grass, but pawed the floorboards as though annoyed there wasn’t more.

“You’ve got quite an appetite, don’t you, fella?” she said, holding out her hand.

Bandera’s ears pricked forward, and he turned in Cassie’s direction to rub his face against her palm. She wished she had some treat to give him.

To make up for the fact that she didn’t, she spent a minute or two stroking his head and raking her fingernails gently under his chin. He was calm and well-mannered, very sweet really, for a stallion. The big horse blew out a contented snort. Evidently the second tranquilizer Ethan had given Bandera had the animal under tight control.

“You’re just a big baby,” she whispered to him. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it here.”

The stallion turned away to pull the last of the hay out of the rack. Cassie glanced down the aisleway. Still no Ethan.

Spotting a pitchfork nearby, she retrieved it and speared a fresh flake of Bermuda grass. Might as well make herself useful while she waited.

She swung the hay up and over the stall wall, hoping it would drop squarely into the rack. It didn’t. Instead, it landed on the stall’s floor and broke apart.

Damn. As a kid, her baling arm had been pretty good, but she supposed it had been too long since she’d had to use it. Bandera would trample the sweet-smelling strands to dirty straw in no time, and the stallion shouldn’t eat compromised hay.

Wishing Ethan would hurry, Cassie pulled the latch on the half door and entered the stall. Bandera’s ears pricked forward in attention, and he eyed her curiously. She nudged the animal aside with her shoulder so she could reach the hay to repitch it.

This time her aim was better. It went right into the rack, and immediately the horse stretched his neck to pull down a mouthful.

“How’s that?” Cassie asked as she stroked his powerful neck and crooned soft words. She had her father’s love for horses. Standing this close, Bandera was even more beautiful. A coat like warm silk. Proud head and sleek lines. She’d bet he’d have the gait of a rocking horse.

“Cassie, get out of there!”

A male voice behind her made Cassie and Bandera both jump. Ethan was at the stall’s entrance, already sliding back the latch. He looked surprised and angry, as though she had no right to be inside.

She made a face at him as she entwined her fingers around the stallion’s halter. “Ease up, cowboy. We’re just getting acquainted.”

“Come out. Now.”

Bandera jerked his head, clearly disliking the sound of harsh voices. Cassie wasn’t all that thrilled herself. Ethan’s attitude annoyed her; the stallion was as much her horse as her father’s, and Ethan had no right to order her around.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder, intent on telling him what he could do with his demands. He wasn’t her husband yet, she would teasingly inform him. “I’m just—”

With her hand still on Bandera’s halter, the horse nearly pulled her arm out of its socket as he jerked his head again. With flattened ears and rolling eyes, the stallion suddenly came to life.

Cassie’s hold was ripped loose as Bandera swung away. Ethan rushed forward to calm the animal, and just as quickly the horse lowered his head and struck out with one back leg, whacking Cassie on the left knee. The pain was immediate, intense. Somehow she kept from going down completely, knowing that to do so would mean the end of her if Bandera couldn’t be quieted.

Everything seemed to happen so fast. She heard the stallion’s harsh whinny and the click of teeth as he tried to bite Ethan. She stumbled toward the stall door, but the horse was everywhere—a kicking, rearing red demon that couldn’t be avoided.

She saw Ethan’s hand—strangely bloody—flashing out to yank her to safety, but Bandera backed into her and dragged their stretching fingers apart. As the horse reared, his hooves slipped out from under him on the bare boards. Cassie looked up to see Bandera’s back coming toward her as the animal screamed in fear. She tried to move, but there was nowhere to go, and she found herself being carried down, down. Suddenly she lay crushed against the straw with the panicked horse thrashing on top of her.

Ethan was shouting, calling her name, but she couldn’t speak. The air had left her lungs. She didn’t know what happened after that. Maybe she blacked out. When she opened her eyes again, she was still on the floor, but Bandera was gone.

She blinked up to find Ethan hovering over her.

“Be still.” His voice sounded shaky and more uncertain than she’d ever heard it. He brushed her long hair out of her eyes. “I’m going for help.”

Too shocked to do more than nod, Cassie was barely aware of his quick kiss. Then he was gone.

As though from far away, she heard one desperate whinny. She tried to concentrate on taking deep breaths, but every pull of air felt like shards of glass in her lungs. The pain was suddenly unbearable, as if someone had set fire to her chest, hip and left leg. Was she going to die right here? Right now?

How could she? Today was her wedding day.

She stared at the bare boards of the barn’s roof, waiting for Ethan to return. Her mind drifted as she lay still. Perfectly, utterly still. Somewhere in that awful silence the truth came to her, spinning away in a mist of pain and fear.

Mrs. Ethan Rafferty. Cassandra Rafferty.

Such a lovely, lovely dream…

But not tonight.

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN SAT SLUMPED in an emergency room chair, watching blood pool slowly into the cupped palm of his left hand.

Under the ripped mess that had once been his favorite jacket, his biceps burned. He was pretty sure that if he could find the strength to peel off the bloodstained material, he would see a sizable bite mark where Bandera’s teeth had caught him. As it was, he knew his arm was broken.

God, what was Cassie doing, going into that stall? And why didn’t I think to tell her that Bandera wasn’t sedated?

His hand fisted around the blood. His muscles turned to fire with that movement, but Ethan almost welcomed the pain. He didn’t care if his damned arm fell off. The only thing that mattered right now was Cassie, who’d disappeared into the chaos and mystery of one of the hospital’s trauma rooms. She’d been so pale, barely conscious, as though her life was slipping away like a frightened ghost.

Ethan ducked his head, praying for the first time in years. His mother had dragged him to church when he was a kid, but after her death, his father, who had no use for God or anyone else, had never made him go back.

Please, God. Not Cassie. Anything you want from me. Just not Cassie.

The doors from the ambulance bay slid open with a whoosh, and Ethan looked up to see Mac McGuire and Josh Wheeler hurrying toward him. McGuire’s lips were tight with anger, his eyes wild and searching.

It occurred to Ethan that very soon Cassie’s father would hate him. And tonight, he thought, the man had good reason to.

Ethan rose, waiting. The room started to spin, but he gritted his teeth and refused to give in to it.

“What happened?” McGuire demanded.

“Cassie went into Bandera’s stall. The animal spooked. He reared and went over on top of her.”

“Dear God,” Josh muttered.

McGuire frowned. “How is that possible? The horse was tranked. He should have been asleep on his feet.”

“He wasn’t because I…” Ethan lifted his chin. He knew a confession would be the end of the joy he’d found at the Flying M, but he had no choice. “I—I don’t like tranquilizing horses, and I didn’t think he needed the second one.”

“You didn’t think!” McGuire bellowed. A couple of people in the waiting room glanced at him nervously. “Since when do you know more about horses than I do? And you let Cassandra go into that stall, when I expressly told you that no one was to go near Bandera tonight?”

“Mr. McGuire,” Ethan began, “I’m sorry—”

“You don’t know how sorry you’ll be if anything happens to my baby.”

At eighteen, Cassie was hardly a baby. She’d been sheltered by this man all her life, but now wasn’t the time to argue about how overprotective he was.

“You’re fired,” her father continued. “Get your stuff and get off my ranch tonight, before I kill you with my bare hands.”

The older man actually took a step forward. Frankly, Ethan wouldn’t have cared if he got the beating of his life. He figured it was no more than he deserved.

As though trying to deflect McGuire, Josh Wheeler slid between them. “What does the doctor say? Maybe we should try to get some answers.”

McGuire nodded vaguely, obviously trying to bring himself back from the brink of violence. He turned away, and almost on some sort of stage cue, one of the emergency room doctors appeared through the double doors. He looked so grim that the bottom dropped out of Ethan’s stomach.

“Cassandra McGuire’s family?” the physician called to the roomful of minor burns, broken bones and shell-shocked bystanders.

Mac McGuire crossed the distance between them, and Wheeler followed. Despite the fact that the older man would not want him there, Ethan moved forward as well.

McGuire introduced himself, and the doctor wasted no time getting to the point. “She’s stabilizing, and we’re taking her to surgery in a few minutes. She’s bleeding internally and she has some broken ribs, a collapsed lung and possibly a ruptured spleen. It’s serious, but I believe we can get her through it. However…”

McGuire’s face was no more than a crumpled mass of wrinkles. He looked stunned, and something in the doctor’s face sent another chill down Ethan’s spine.

“What else?” he asked.

The doctor gave Cassie’s father a grave look. “Her left leg took quite a beating. It’s fractured in three places, and the foot’s badly mangled. We have an excellent orthopedic surgeon here, but I think you should be prepared for the worst.”

“What’s the worst?”

“Amputation of the limb.”

The blood sang in Ethan’s head, and all that was left of his heart, wrapped inside a miserable bundle of flesh, nearly stuttered to a halt. He was dimly aware of Cassie’s father talking to the doctor, but he had to blink a couple of times before he could focus. His beautiful Cassie. Less than two hours ago he’d held her against his body, and she had seemed so lush, so full of vibrant life. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t…

Oh, God, don’t… Don’t…

“Does she know?” McGuire asked.

“Yes. We needed her permission if the leg can’t be saved.”

“You should have come to me.”

“Mr. McGuire, legally your daughter’s an adult.”

Ethan wasn’t interested in this conversation. He caught the doctor’s attention. “Can I see her?”

The man glanced uncertainly from Ethan back to McGuire. “She’s been given something for the pain, so she’s pretty well out of it. But family members can go in for a few moments before we take her up.”

When Ethan started to follow in the doctor’s wake, Cassie’s father grabbed his uninjured arm. The look in his eyes was steely. “I thought I told you to get out of here.”

Ethan stood as tall as his battered body would allow. He supposed it was now or never. “I’m not going anywhere. I love her, Mr. McGuire.”

There was a brief throb of silence.

“Love her?” her father finally said in a surprised, low voice. He moved threateningly close. “What are you talking about?”

“Cassie and I have been in love for several months. It’s not important right now to explain how it happened, it just did.”

McGuire shook his head. He looked like a bull that had just rammed a concrete post. “If you love my daughter, you’ll leave her alone. You’re not good for her, and if you ever needed proof of that, this is it.”

“Cassie’s not a child, sir. You can’t control her life.”

The man’s face went a shade darker, if that was even possible. Wheeler moved nervously. “How dare you?” McGuire snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what you want? There isn’t anyone in the state who doesn’t know Cassie gets everything when I die.”

Ethan felt his body go tense and tight. “You think I want her money? You don’t—”

“I think you’re a badass, amoral drifter without a dime to his name who thinks he’s found a golden goose. I think you’re the worst thing in the world for my daughter. She doesn’t need you. She needs stability, nurturing, someone with good judgment. She’s fragile.”

In spite of everything, Ethan almost laughed out loud. Cassie—fragile? Her father didn’t have a clue how completely untrue that claim was. She might be quiet, even shy with others, but with him… What would her old man say if Ethan told him how her eyes could flash like blue fire in candlelight? How deep and throaty her voice could sound in the throes of passion?

He felt a weariness that was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t tell McGuire any of that. Love was one thing, but seduction? Impossible for the man to digest and accept right now. What he managed to say instead was, “You want the Flying M to be a pretty prison for her, don’t you?”

“Better a prison than a cemetery plot,” McGuire said. He looked suddenly undone, his eyes clouded with tears. “I pray it’s not too late to keep that from happening.”

He swung around and stalked through the double doors, leaving Ethan weaving on his feet next to Josh.

The young rancher guided him to a nearby chair. “You’ve done enough damage for now. Sit down.” He blew air through his lips. “Damn. I’ve never seen him this mad.”

“He’s just afraid for Cassie.”

“Yeah, but he’s gonna have your ass on a plate if you don’t watch out.” Josh angled a look toward Ethan. “You’re really in love with her?”

“Hopelessly.”

“She never told me. I thought we might—hell, right now it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?”

Wheeler left him then. Ethan didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the doors that led to patient trauma rooms. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saw Cassie himself, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to move.

He was furious with McGuire and scared for Cassie, but his mind wouldn’t let go of one insistent question. Cassie wasn’t the delicate flower her father thought she was, but was Ethan the right man for her?

It was strange how quickly they had forged a bond once they got past her initial reserve and his belief that she was nothing more than a snotty, privileged Daddy’s girl. Yes, they came from different worlds, but they had some of the same dreams and similar ideas, whispered in the dark as their relationship blossomed into a physical one. And none of it had anything to do with what Cassie would inherit from her father.

If anything happens to her…

Josh Wheeler was suddenly standing over him. “You hanging in?”

Ethan nodded, though just barely.

“Cassandra’s being taken to surgery soon. Mac has gone to Admitting.” Josh bent to give Ethan a meaningful look. “I ought to have my head examined, but…I’ll keep him there as long as I can if you have any plans. I just don’t want to know what they are.”

With his good hand, Ethan squeezed Josh’s shoulder as he stood. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

He walked with slow deliberation toward the swinging doors that led to patient trauma rooms. The place was busy enough that it was possible nobody would notice one more person rushing past. Before he’d become such a loser, his father had always told him, “Act like you belong, and people will assume that you do.”

No one stopped him. He went down a long corridor where most of the rooms were occupied. He heard the hiss of equipment, the low moans of someone in pain, and in one room, a cluster of people were weeping softly behind a curtain.

None of that prepared him for the sight of Cassie. The small room was a mess, cluttered with equipment and its floor littered with bloody bandages. A small pile of rags lay in one corner, and Ethan realized it was her blouse and jeans, obviously cut into pieces to remove them. As for Cassie, she was in the center of all this, on a stretcher, as white as the sheet that covered her.

He pulled the privacy curtain in place and stepped forward until he could touch her face. His skull was pounding so hard it felt made of glass.

“Cass,” he whispered. “Cassie.”

Her eyes were closed, but they fluttered open when he spoke her name. Her brow puckered. Her eyes were blank for a moment and he felt like dying, but then she finally focused. “Ethan…?” The word came out on a raspy whisper.

“I’m here. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. I love you so much.”

“Such…a stupid…mistake.”

“I know.” He laid the back of his hand against her cheek, which was scraped raw. He wanted so badly to ease her anguish, but he didn’t know how. “I’m so sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

“No.” She turned her head slightly away from his fingers. “Don’t…don’t touch.”

“It will be all right,” he said again quickly, thinking that he’d somehow caused her more pain. “You’re going to come through this just fine, and when you’re all better, we can make new plans.” He bent to place his mouth against her ear. “You and me—we have a date with the justice of the peace, remember?”

“I want…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing hair away from her forehead. “Some water? A nurse?”

“I want…” She stopped to lick her lips. Her gaze swung back to him, and again she seemed to be trying hard to concentrate. “I want you…to leave me alone. I don’t want to…marry…you.”

It felt suddenly as though someone had opened a door in his heart and let in the north wind. He shook his head. It had to be the medication talking. It had to be. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she said more strongly, then winced. “Just…go away.”

“Cassie… Just think about getting better right now. We can talk later.”

Her head rolled back and forth. “No…no…” With obvious effort, she looked him directly in the eyes. Every breath seemed to be a struggle. “We’re too…too different. We have to accept…you’ll never…fit in my world…and I don’t…don’t want yours.” She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “I mean it. I don’t want…to see you anymore.”

“Cass—”

“Please…” she moaned. Tears leaked out from under her lids and slid down each side of her face. “Please…go away! It’s…over.”

Stunned, Ethan just stared at her, not knowing what to do. This couldn’t be happening. She was afraid. Confused. Drugged out of her mind. Or maybe her father had gotten to her. Whatever the truth was, he wouldn’t argue with her now. She was too weak and in pain.

A nurse entered and came up beside him. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Numbly, he left the room.

His mouth was dry with panic. The grimmest sense of hopelessness overtook him. Could Cassie really mean what she’d said?

He could understand why she would hate him. What he had done was unforgivable. But did she really think he wasn’t good enough for her?

Back in the waiting room, he simply folded up and landed in one of the chairs because his knees were shaking so badly. He hunched forward, his arm throbbing all the way to his shoulder.

His vision grew hazy, and a sudden thickness lodged in his throat. He hadn’t cried since the day they’d buried his mother, and he’d sworn never to break down again, but he couldn’t seem to help it now. He felt as if he were imploding, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Someone dropped into the chair beside him. It was Josh Wheeler.

“Man, what a night,” the man said with an exhausted-sounding sigh. He frowned at Ethan. “You okay?”

Ethan wiped his hand over his face, trying to compose himself. “No.”

“McGuire’s following Cassandra up to surgery, then camping out in the waiting room until it’s over. My advice is not to be around him right now. Not unless you want to go for round two with the guy and maybe end up in jail.”

Ethan barely registered those words. He stared straight ahead, thinking.

“Listen, if I were you, I’d get out of here. Mac’s talking about having you arrested. Reckless endangerment, and whatever else they’ll let him come up with. He’s damned mad, Ethan. What the hell were you thinking, putting the moves on the boss’s daughter?”

“I was thinking that I loved her. I was thinking I was good enough…” He left the rest unfinished because his voice had dried up, died, in the back of his throat.

Josh shook his head. “I’m sorry. Let’s just pray that she pulls through.” He stood. “I’m heading upstairs.” Giving him the once-over, Josh added, “You had anybody take a look at you yet?”

“No.”

He swore under his breath. “What do they expect you to do, set your own arm? I’ll stop at the desk and demand some help. In spite of you being a complete lunkhead, I suppose you’re still worth saving.”

Ethan watched Josh walk away. The waiting room was more crowded now, filled with the fallout from another wild Saturday night. He didn’t know how long he sat there, feeling as if he was in a corner from which he could not escape. His mind was just one terrible blank, except for that same litany that went round and round in his head and wouldn’t let go.

Was he worth saving? Was he worth anything at all?

For years he had tried to distance himself from his upbringing. He’d left home at eighteen, scared but determined to make a better life. In the past three years he’d started to feel the difference—the respect and confidence his expertise with horses had brought him. The sense that one day he could actually be someone.

But here, right now, he was still a nobody who had come from nothing. If they married, what kind of life could he give Cassie? Her father would probably disown her. There was no way McGuire would accept him as a son-in-law now and welcome him back on the Flying M. Take him under his wing.

Ethan had plans for the future and a little money saved. But not much. No home. No car. They’d be like gypsies, going from place to place. It would be a disaster. Cassie was right. That kind of helter-skelter life was too different from what she was used to. He wouldn’t be marrying her, he’d be sentencing her.

It couldn’t work between them, and no matter how much it hurt his pride and stung to hear it, he knew it was true. And in that moment he knew what he had to do.

His blood pumped through his veins like wildfire, but he managed to stand. Though his legs threatened to buckle, somehow he put one foot in front of the other and made his way toward the sliding double doors that led out of the hospital.

Outside it was raining, hard, and in spite of the street-lights and neon entrance sign, the darkness seemed so black it had no dimension. Although he had no idea yet just where he was going, Ethan lowered his head against the pelting downpour and hurried along the sidewalk.

His teeth clenched in despair as the blood ran in rivulets under his jacket and down his hand. It splashed onto the pavement, a bright, ruby-red pattern that was washed away in moments.

CHAPTER THREE

Thirteen years later

“WELL? WHAT DO YA THINK?” Meredith Summerlin asked. “Isn’t it as pretty as a Texas bluebonnet?”

Ethan looked at the Realtor he’d hired over the phone last week. She was sharp and ambitious, but she obviously saw herself as Annie Oakley reincarnated.

A passably attractive blonde with model-white teeth and a perky smile, the woman dressed as though she’d just come off a Western movie set. Fringed jacket, cow-girl hat and boots. Buxom as an overstuffed turkey. Only the fact that she carried a clipboard instead of a six-shooter killed the fantasy.

They had walked some of the property, and now they leaned against Meredith’s SUV in the pleasant April sunshine. The broad field in front of them could have been the middle of nowhere, but the Texas land was just what Ethan wanted—gently rolling meadows of grass, an occasional stand of oak trees for shade, and easy frontage to the highway that led back to Beaumont.

“I like it,” he agreed, and Meredith’s smile got wider as she envisioned a potential sale.

“So you think it would work for what you have in mind?” she asked, inspecting him like a cop.

“Possibly.”

Actually, it was perfect for what he had in mind, something he had known from the moment Meredith had told him yesterday that the property was on the market. After all, thirteen years ago he’d ridden this ground dozens of times.

It was part of the Flying M Ranch.

Meredith retrieved two bottles of water from a cooler in the backseat of her car and passed one to Ethan. “If you don’t mind my asking, what use would you make of it?” She squinted down at his business card, caught by its corner on her clipboard. “What exactly is Horse Sense? You break horses?”

She sounded skeptical, and he wasn’t surprised. Dressed in an expensive suit, and a silk shirt, and without the requisite Texas Stetson and boots, he didn’t look like a wrangler. Knowing that he was coming back here after all these years, he hadn’t intended to.

“Not anymore,” Ethan admitted, taking a sip of the cold water. “Until recently, I’ve taught difficult horses and their owners to overcome their fears. A spooked horse is a danger to everyone around it, and I offer a behavioral clinic that builds confidence in the rider and acclimates the animal to the triggers that make it want to buck or rear.”

“So you’re looking to branch out?”

“In a way,” Ethan said. “I’ll need about two hundred acres.”

He surveyed the land that would become a big part of his future—whether a failure or a success. Two months ago he’d contracted with the Mounted Police Association to develop a program exclusively for them. Instead of a weekend course, it would be a six-week one. Complete with obstacle courses, barns to stable the mounts and a few simple log cabins the men could share.

Meredith glanced at her MLS sheet on the property. “Just about the right size, I’d say. And it’s been on the market for a few months.”

“As I mentioned to you on the phone, I’d like to put this sale on the fast track. Financing is already lined up. It will be a cash deal.”

The woman looked practically giddy with excitement. “Wonderful! Financing and the land survey are really the only holdup these days, and the property was surveyed last year. The title company should have no problem with providing a clean deed. I’d say this can be a done deal in less than two weeks.”

“Perfect. That would leave me almost two months to have the place up and running by the middle of June.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem. You’ve done so much of the preliminary work already, you barely even need me!” Meredith frowned, aware that, for the sake of her commission, she should have left off that last statement. She recovered quickly, smiling up at Ethan. “Why don’t we see if I can get a little negotiating room in the price?”

“You know the owner?” he asked, canceling the impulse to admit that he already knew this was McGuire land.

“I’ve lived in Beaumont for only a couple of years, so I can’t say we’re tight, but everyone knows the Flying M. Shall we go talk to the seller?”

They got back into the car. Meredith left the area in a swirl of dust as the vehicle bounced onto the dirt road. Ethan remembered that, from here, the Flying M was no more than a three-minute ride.

He wanted to see what information he could get from Meredith about the McGuires, but before he could lead her into answering questions she went off on problems she was experiencing with her own horse, a pinto named Goody that wouldn’t walk through standing water.

Ethan nodded and listened with half an ear. He tried to convince himself that he was calm inside, but there was no denying his heart was racing about as fast as a Thoroughbred coming down the homestretch.

Thirteen years since he’d left this place, and only once had he ever come back. He’d changed so much since that frantic, frightening night in Beaumont’s E.R. Sometimes the year he’d worked on the Flying M seemed like a blur, a dream.

Especially when he thought about Cassie.

He had walked out of the hospital and out of her world, broken and bloodied, but determined not to be defeated. At first, bad luck had dogged his heels like a faithful hound, and everything he’d touched had turned to shit. He hadn’t much cared. A hollow feeling had lain inside him, as though someone had scooped out his vital organs. He’d thought he would be part of Cassie’s future, and the next thing he knew, he’d been drop-kicked into her past.

There was no denying that a part of him had embraced bitterness and an irrational desire to prove himself. Leaving Cassie and the Flying M behind, he was back at square one, which meant doing whatever it took to survive.

He soon realized that the most dangerous, least desirable work often paid the most. Hazardous jobs in remote, unpleasant places became his bread and butter.

Eventually he found his way to a new life. A college degree, a few solid investments that paid off. Somehow, he beat the odds. Somehow, he made a modest success of himself, one he was damned proud of.

With savage pleasure, he’d spent long hours envisioning a time when he would return here and show Mac McGuire how wrong he had been to discount him. When Cassie would see what she had thrown away.

What will you think when you see me now, Cassie? Good enough for you?

The day after the accident, he had called Josh Wheeler from a bus stop in Oklahoma. Nothing that happened to him in the intervening years had ever seemed as scary as waiting for the young rancher to tell him the outcome of Cassie’s surgery. After hearing the news that her leg had been saved, Ethan thought he could face anything, including a murky future.

Two weeks later, he’d called Wheeler again. Cassie would soon be moved into rehabilitation; one corner of the ranch house had been outfitted with therapy equipment. She’d probably always have a limp, but she was healing. There wasn’t much more Ethan could ask for than that, and in spite of his resentment and anger, he was relieved.

But like a child unable to stop scratching a painful itch, it hadn’t been possible to leave it alone. He had to see for himself.

Three months after that disastrous night, Ethan had contacted Josh Wheeler one last time. The man had been a little more distant this time, but he’d eventually told him that Cassie almost never left the Flying M. She had thrown herself into her rehabilitation, and only occasional doctor visits to town interrupted her self-imposed seclusion.

Knowing he would never be welcome by Mac McGuire, Ethan had hitchhiked back to Beaumont and the ranch. He’d walked up to the house without a soul seeing him. Just as he’d been preparing himself to march up to the door and knock, Cassie and her father had come outside. Ethan had slid back into the shelter of trees beside the house and watched as McGuire helped Cassie into the company truck.

She’d said nothing, not even offering one of her dynamic smiles to her father. Her face was thinner, paler. She’d leaned heavily on a cane, and her limp was very pronounced. Once she’d settled in the passenger seat, she had seemed carved out of stone and lost in her own thoughts.

Ethan had no idea where they were headed, but the time was right to approach. He’d step out of the shadows, despite knowing McGuire would pitch a fit. But Ethan had to find a way to talk to Cassie, to make her talk to him.

As it happened, no part of his less-than-brilliant idea had panned out. Not because father and daughter had driven away too quickly. Not because McGuire had had him tossed off the property the moment he’d seen him.

It hadn’t taken place because Ethan just couldn’t do it. He’d stood in the protection of the trees and realized that he couldn’t let go of his pride, his sense of being treated unfairly, his anger at being considered unfit to be part of Cassie McGuire’s life.

As much as he’d longed to talk to her, he couldn’t humiliate himself that way, begging for scraps from people who were no better than he was. He would always regret the part he had played in Cassie’s injury, but she was recovering. She obviously didn’t need him, didn’t want him. It was time he left her alone and moved on.

As the years had passed, he’d deliberately resisted the temptation to check up on her. But now, as he and Meredith reached the front drive to the ranch, he couldn’t help wishing he’d at least bothered to do an Internet search or make a few calls. Anything to keep from arriving blind like this.

Two iron arches with winged Ms announced that they were on McGuire land. It hadn’t changed much. Broad pastures spread out behind wooden perimeter fences on either side of the drive. Black-eyed Susans clustered around the base of both entrance posts. Cassie had loved flowers. Had she planted those? Had her recovery been complete enough to allow her that kind of mobility?

Up ahead, the big, handsome house Mac McGuire had built came into view. All log and glass beneath a sky bright and almost tropically blue.

Ethan felt his gut tighten. It was finally here, the moment he had imagined for so long. He could feel excitement flickering through him like an electric current. Something inside him was hungry for this.

“I lived here once,” he found himself saying.

“Here?” Meredith asked, turning her head to give him a curious glance. “At the Flying M?”

“When I was twenty-one. Mac McGuire hired me to wrangle stock.”

“The place probably hasn’t changed much. Although I understand that Cassie’s father died some time ago. Since then, she’s kept the place running as best she could, considering.”

The knot in Ethan’s stomach turned into a spasm of dread and panic. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mac McGuire could be dead, and he suddenly didn’t want to know what Meredith might tell him about Cassie. “Considering what?” he managed to ask.

“Considering the economy, the hurricanes and the influx of foreign investors who want to turn every bit of ranch land in Texas into shopping malls. Everyone says Cassie’s done a great job following in her father’s footsteps.”

His breath came back. Not a disability, then. “I’m glad everything’s worked out well for her.”

“Of course, it didn’t hurt that her father got her married off before he died.”

Ethan looked at the woman sharply as a sinking feeling settled inside him. “She’s married.” The words sat like stones in his mouth. They didn’t belong there.

“Uh-huh,” Meredith said. “To someone who can help her run this big ole place. A local rancher, I hear.”

CASSIE SLIPPED A doggy treat out of her denim pocket and tossed it toward Ziggy, who caught it with no effort at all. The border collie wolfed it down in one gulp, then sat eagerly waiting for another.

“I don’t have any more,” Cassie said, showing the dog her empty hands. Ziggy just kept staring at her, tail wagging, mouth shiny with energy and anticipation.

“You’re spoiling him,” a male voice behind her scolded.

She turned to find Josh approaching from the back porch. He looked handsome in jeans and a pale green, long-sleeved shirt with button-down pocket flaps. His lanky stride was pure Texas cowboy, and even after all these years, she could still admire those slim hips and broad shoulders. He wore his hat, but he’d slipped it back on his head so that she could see the wide smile he gave her.

“That’s what I do,” she said, as he joined her midway down the outside row of her herb garden.

Leaning over, Josh snapped off a woody stem from a large rosemary bush, releasing the strong aroma. “What are you up to? Mercedes says you’ve been out here most of the day.”

“I’ve been replanting all afternoon, but when Donny got home he said he wanted to show me something, so I’m just waiting. I’m not sure what he’s up to.”

“How did he seem?” It was a question they had asked one another a lot in the past few months.

“All right, I suppose. He seemed to think I should be delighted that he got a C on his history exam. He’s never going to pass if he doesn’t bring his grade up. You know what he said when I told him that?”

“What?”

“‘What’s the point of studying about the past if you can’t change it?’” She straightened, pulling the kinks out of her spine. Her back ached from bending over, and her bad knee was determined to show her who was boss. “I swear, Josh, I wanted to wring his neck. His behavior lately has been deplorable.”

“He’ll come around. You’ll see. He just needs more time.”

“I’d feel better about that theory if you hadn’t been saying it since last October.”

Josh knelt to pluck a few stray leaves from a ragged line of thyme plants. “You worry too much.”

She couldn’t refute that claim, so she remained silent. But really, why shouldn’t she worry? Donny would be thirteen later this year. Puberty. Hormones out of whack. Mood swings. And on top of that, he was in the midst of the crushing reality that he had not been able to keep his parents from getting a divorce.

Cassie moved along the row of herbs, gathering empty plastic pots, stacking them as she went.

It had been six months since she and Josh had called it quits. Amicably and fairly, without a single harsh word between them. Their breakup had been as civilized as their marriage.

Last year, she’d been the one to broach the subject of divorce after she’d discovered Josh had cheated on her. One time, he’d sworn, and meaningless. But once given an opening, the truth emerged, though Josh had had a hard time articulating the dissatisfaction Cassie had been sensing in him for a long time.

“You know I love you, Cassandra,” he had said sadly. “I always have. I thought it would be enough for us to start from there. But let’s face it. You’ve never felt the same about me. And over the years, there are times…I can’t help thinking maybe…what if…I want a houseful of kids. And I don’t want to be too old to enjoy them…”

As though ashamed to have such thoughts, he had looked away. Personally, Cassie could have wept at his honesty. She’d never been unfaithful in all her married years, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t entertained some pretty unwifely thoughts. Josh was too good for her. Too nice. It made her want to behave badly just to see if he could be pushed into passion.

Well-mannered coupling with him had left her feeling cheated, and the man had never stirred more than feelings of deep friendship in her. She didn’t know why. It was just a fact, like the sun rising tomorrow.

For years she had tried not to think about the only other man she had ever made love to. Tried not to recall those times when she had kissed Ethan Rafferty and his mere touch had been the end of decency and good manners. Going there only brought back a memory of grief and pain so raw that she could hardly breathe.

Not that it mattered much whether she consciously thought of Ethan or not. She had the constant reminder of him in their son—Donny’s dark hair and sky-blue eyes. That devilish twist to his lips when he was up to mischief. God must have a sense of humor, after all, to give her a child who looked so much like his father.

Thinking of her son, Cassie scanned the land behind the house. The yard ended at the beaten trail that ran from the side of the house to the barns. Beyond the trail, fenced paddocks held a few horses that munched grass contentedly. There was no sign of Donny.

The afternoon sun was brutal on her back, and she wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothes and slip into the tub for a soothing soak. Where was he? And what was he up to?

Josh had followed her down the row and now stopped in front of her. His hand touched her cheek, and she caught the scent of sweet, pungent thyme. “You have dirt on your nose,” he said, swiping his finger across it.

She didn’t pull away. Their relationship had always been so easy, so uncomplicated. His brief fling hadn’t changed that. Neither had divorce. And no matter what, he was still a wonderful father to Donny.

He glanced over her shoulder as Ziggy began to bark. Cassie turned to see what had caught their attention.

A man and woman were coming around the corner of the house. They were no more than silhouettes because of the rusty light of the lowering sun behind them. Cassie squinted and shaded her eyes, waiting.

The woman wore typical Texas casual, and Cassie thought she looked familiar. A Realtor, maybe. Melody? Meredith? Yes, that was the name.

As for the man, he was dressed in a suit, distinctly out of place here amid longhorns and chaps. Cassie supposed he could be a businessman from Houston, but even in the city the men wore boots and Stetsons. He looked…

She pulled in a sudden, shocked breath. She felt as though she’d been kicked, hard and fast. Josh must have heard her, or sensed her stiffening, because his arm came around her possessively, protectively.

Ethan.

Here. Back on Flying M property.

The man who had made her heart slip again and again into overdrive. The man who had helped to shape her entire existence. The man who had given her Donny, the most precious thing in her life.

How could he be walking toward her this very minute? How could the fragile universe she’d created for herself crumble so quickly?

Some animal instinct briefly flared, then just as quickly burned out. Disgusted by her reaction, Cassie forced herself to draw a deep, fortifying breath, while sanity made a welcome return.

She could handle this. No need to let old memories stir and ridiculous hungers awaken. She was no longer a lovesick eighteen-year-old girl. Lovesick. Even now, the word made her cringe when she remembered how foolish she’d been thirteen years ago.

“Ziggy!” she admonished the dog, who immediately began running silently in happy circles.

The couple reached them. The blonde held out her hand. “Hello there! Your housekeeper said everyone was out back. I hope you don’t mind if we join you.” She handed Josh her business card, offering him a big smile. “Do you remember me from the last town meeting? I’m Meredith Summerlin, from Summerlin Realty.”

“Yes,” Josh said. “Nice to see you again.”

Meredith indicated her companion. “This is my client, Ethan Rafferty. He says he used to work on the Flying M years ago.”

Josh nodded. “Of course we remember him.”

Something in her ex-husband’s tone told her that he was just as surprised as she was, but Cassie couldn’t have glanced at him if her life depended on it. She had not been able to stop looking at Ethan, no matter how determined she was to remain composed. The truth was, her heart was racing, and she couldn’t make it slow down.

“It’s nice to see you both again,” Ethan said politely, and held out his hand.

She took it. What else could she do, really? She was dimly aware that his calluses and nicked knuckles had disappeared. He carried himself well, and his muscular body seemed honed to new hardness. Every inch of him looked sophisticated, tamed, important.

“Hello, Ethan,” she said simply, keeping her tone neutral even though her nerves were a jumbled mess.

He gave her a quick smile as if he appreciated and even admired her attempt at indifference. Then his features were unreadable once more.

Thank God Meredith Summerlin was in full business mode. “Mr. Rafferty’s interested in the acreage you have for sale off Jackalope Road. I was wondering if we could sit down sometime soon and discuss the particulars.”

Cassie frowned at Ethan. “You want to ranch that land?”

“No, that’s not—”

“Mom! Dad!” a distant voice shouted. “Check it out!”

Everyone turned to see a palomino come flying around the corner of the house, ridden along the grassy trail by a boy who waved wildly at them.

It was Donny, on his new gelding, Cochise. He’d had the animal less than two weeks—a surprise present from Josh because he’d outgrown his older mount. Cassie didn’t think the two were used to one another yet, and she wished Donny would take things more slowly. Right now, he had the reins clenched in his teeth as he spread his arms wide and guided Cochise only with his legs, like a rider in a Wild West show.

A wave of tenderness for so lively and charming a child ran through her, but she couldn’t help that her heart jumped a little. Be careful, she wanted to shout. Don’t you know what can happen?

Then, just like that, a different kind of panic zoomed up her spine. A fluttering sensation spread out from her abdomen. If Donny came any closer, Ethan was sure to notice the resemblance. He would see his own features in his son’s face.

He would know the truth.

“Way to go, Donny!” Josh yelled, clapping his hands. Ziggy began barking his support, too.

Cassie kept silent, trying to think what to do.

Donny and Josh often accused her of being too protective. Having put up with her father’s smothering concern for so long, she had never wanted to be that way, but she knew how quickly things could go wrong.

And yet you couldn’t grow up on a working ranch without spending hours in the saddle. Donny had been on horses since he was a toddler. Josh had seen to that, and he was right. Her incident with Bandera mustn’t be allowed to poison the boy.

Could she play the “worried mother” card? Not difficult to do since her son often frightened her with his antics these days.

Yes, definitely. Now.

“Donny!” she called. “Enough. Put Cochise away and—”

“That was nothing,” the boy said. “Watch this!”

He urged the palomino into a tight, circling canter, kicked his feet out of the stirrups, then swung himself around in the saddle until he was mounted backward.

Really frightened for him now, Cassie made a move in his direction. “Stop that right now.”

“But, Mom—”

Josh caught her arm. “Cassandra—”

“I said stop!”

Donny pulled the horse to a halt, slipped front-ward again easily, then began walking Cochise toward them.

Cassie’s facial muscles froze as he approached. She spun around, understanding that radical change could come to her life in a heartbeat. She searched Ethan’s face for any glimpse of recognition. His eyes were on Donny, but she couldn’t spot the slightest shift of interest in him.

“It looks like you’ve got a daredevil on your hands,” she heard Meredith say mildly.

Obviously feeling thwarted, Donny slumped in the saddle like a beaten warrior. “I can’t do anything around here!”

Cassie turned back to him. “Put Cochise away and go inside,” she snapped. The last thing she wanted was for the boy to come any closer. “Feed Ziggy and take your bath. We’ll talk later.”

As though sensing Cassie’s tension, Meredith spoke up, offering a light laugh. “Kids! They can really make you want to pull your hair out, can’t they?”

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said, her heart starting to settle at last as her son headed off toward the horse barn. She pulled in a deep breath. “We were discussing the property…” The words rose clear and steady from a throat she would have sworn was paralyzed.

“Yes, we were,” Ethan said. Nothing showed on his face. Nothing had to. The too quiet, too silky timbre of his voice said it all. “I thought we might agree on a price for the property fairly quickly. But now—” his eyes followed Donny’s departing figure “—it appears there may be something else we have to negotiate.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BY THE TIME ETHAN PULLED into the parking lot of his hotel, he was ninety-nine percent certain he had a handle on the situation.

He had a son. A son he’d never known existed.

But that didn’t mean his world had to be turned upside down.

This sort of thing happened sometimes. People made mistakes, lost control. You couldn’t always erase what you’d done. Sometimes, no matter what you planned, you had to live with the consequences of your actions. Hadn’t he learned that years ago, the hard way?

So here was a new challenge. A big one. But he knew he’d find a way to manage it. So what if this was Cassie’s turf, and she had the home field advantage? They could still work this out. Calmly. Reasonably. He’d call his attorney, see what his options and responsibilities were. Cassie didn’t need to worry. He had no desire to play daddy. This didn’t have to impact his game plan for the future. Not one damned bit.

Yanking off his tie, Ethan threw it onto the passenger seat. He caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. Who do you think you’re kidding, Rafferty?

Just that quickly, his life was on a different track, like a train careening off its course. He had a kid, a twelve-year-old handful by the looks of it. A child who was so much a younger version of Ethan that he could have been looking in a time-traveler’s mirror.

Unwanted emotions churned through him, feelings he couldn’t even put a name to.

My son.

Mine.

He sat in the silence of the parking lot, listening to the ticking of the car’s engine as it cooled. For just a few moments, a hard knuckle of anger sent a jolt through his body.

Why had Cassie kept him in the dark all these years? How did she dare? By what right…?

Restraint shattered inside him. Only one way to find out.

Ethan threw the rental car in Reverse, heading back toward the I-10 and the Flying M Ranch.

WHEN HE STOOD AT THE ranch’s front door, he was a little calmer, but not by much.

There were questions he wanted answers to, but he wasn’t likely to get them if he came charging in full of righteous indignation. Conquering the impulse to pound his fist on the thick wood, Ethan drew a huge breath and knocked with all the practical determination of a traveling salesman.

He wasn’t expecting Cassie to answer. A housekeeper had led them to the backyard earlier that afternoon, but when the door swung wide, it wasn’t either woman.

It was Donny.

For a moment Ethan was completely tongue-tied, something that rarely happened to him anymore. He felt slightly breathless, as though he’d been jogging. Worst of all, he couldn’t seem to stop staring.

The boy, either uncomfortable under Ethan’s scrutiny or simply impatient, shifted. He jerked his chin up in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” he said without any particular grace. “You’re the guy who was here earlier.”

“Yes,” Ethan answered. “And you’re Donny.” Named after Cassie’s old man, he supposed. He wondered what would happen if he added, “And I’m your father.”

But of course he said nothing like that. Instead, he gave the boy a smile. “Are your parents home? I’d like to speak with them.”

“Dad’s staying at River Bottom. Mom’s in the Torture Chamber.”

Josh was staying at his parents’ old place, instead of here with Cassie? What did that mean?

Ethan lifted one brow. “Your mother’s in the Torture Chamber?”

“It’s just a gym, but that’s what she calls it. She hits the hot tub almost every night, but she should be out soon.”

Ethan enjoyed a fast, private fantasy about how Cassie would look relaxing in bubbling, steamy water up to the swell of her breasts. He might be furious with her, but when he’d first seen her this afternoon, it had pained him to accept the brutal truth. Over the years he had convinced himself that she meant nothing to him anymore, but his body, his senses, seemed to have remained infatuated.

It annoyed him that just the sight of her could still pack that kind of wallop. He shut those thoughts down before they could take hold. “Can I wait?”

“I guess,” Donny answered with a shrug.

The kid led him across the oak-floored foyer, into what Ethan remembered as the living room. It looked the same as when Mac McGuire had been alive. Lots of heavy furnishings, a high-end Western theme courtesy of Neiman Marcus. Leather and suede and beaten iron.

Ethan moved to the center of the room, then turned toward his son. Donny was slipping into a denim jacket. The dog Ethan had seen earlier came up to join them, and the boy leaned down to give its head a scratch.

“I gotta go,” he said. “You can park it here until Mom gets out. Will you tell her I’m going for a walk? We’re just going down to the pond. I like to look at the moon on the water while Zig chases frogs.”

Something in the boy’s tone made suspicion blossom in Ethan’s mind. Before he could stop himself he asked, “Is that really where you’re headed?”

Donny’s posture developed a distinctly offended stance. His jaw looked rock solid. “Dude, are you calling me a liar?”

Not a very good start, Rafferty. Ethan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I was young once, and too many details always made my mother suspicious. You need to keep it simple.”

Hot color swam in Donny’s cheeks. There was a long moment of silence while the boy nibbled at his bottom lip uncertainly and swept his gaze over Ethan.

Finally, he said awkwardly, “Okay, I’m going down to the barn to see my new horse. I’m just hanging out with him, though. No riding in the dark, no messing around trying to teach him tricks. So Mom doesn’t need to freak out. Tell her that. But only if she asks where I am. Deal?”

“Seems fair.”

As though satisfied, Donny nodded and snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come on, Zig.”

Before he could get to the doorway, Ethan called out, “Hold on a minute.”

Donny blew out an audible sigh as he turned. Were all twelve-year-old boys like this? How would Ethan know? He’d never spent much time around children, so he had virtually nothing for comparison.

“Would you mind telling your mother I’m here?”

The boy left the room, and Ethan heard him tromping heavy-footed down the hallway.

A few moments later, he heard Donny shout, “Mom! You got company!”

Ethan couldn’t hear a response over the sound of Donny talking to the dog and his boots returning to the living room. His hands were shoved into his pockets, but just before he turned to leave with Ziggy at his heels, he seemed to remember his manners.

“You want anything?” he asked. “Water? Iced tea?”

Answers, kid. That’s what I want. But all Ethan did was politely decline. In another moment, the boy banged out the front door, and he was alone in the Flying M’s living room.

The place was tomb-quiet, as though brooding about the crisis threatening its owner. He’d only been in the ranch house a few times, and he’d forgotten how big it was. Impersonal and stiff in spite of the massive fireplace and warm, earthy colors. Back in Colorado Springs, he’d built an entire cabin for himself that wasn’t much bigger than this room.

No wonder Cassie had decided he wouldn’t fit in here. It was true.

To keep himself occupied while he waited, he roamed the room, trying to admire Tim Cox paintings and Remington sculptures that spoke of wealth in a Western world. The Flying M must still be doing all right. Mac McGuire’s little girl didn’t seem to have lost her father’s fortune over the years.

Of course, she’d had a husband to help her.

A long bookcase stood against one wall. Ethan stopped in front of it, remembering that trophies had been displayed here once. Now it was full of memorabilia and framed pictures.

He studied the lineup of photographs. Cassie’s father, astride a black stallion. A shot of Josh Wheeler, shaking hands, accepting an award from some organization. His parents were here, too—a younger version of Josh standing between them in cap and gown.

Gradually the pictures became more current, and Ethan immediately realized that it had been a mistake to wander over here.

Josh with Donny astride his first horse. Cassie and a younger Donny opening Christmas presents in front of a towering fir. School photos. Vacations. There was one of the three of them at a football game, the confident young family linked together by laughter. Josh Wheeler’s arm was draped around each of them. Cassie’s head lay against his shoulder and a gap-toothed Donny grinned up at them both.

The three of them. Tight-knit. Loving. Perfect.

To his surprise, Ethan felt a cold hand seize his heart as he replaced the photograph. The pure pain of time lost exploded within his chest. Twelve years of missed opportunities. Twelve years of memories from a boy’s childhood that could never be re-created. Ethan’s son didn’t know him from Adam.

Deep inside, there was the cruel, bleak knowledge that Donny had grown up calling Josh Wheeler “Dad.”

Ethan moved away from the bookcase. Now that he knew about Donny, how difficult would it be to make things right? How long would it take? And what was “right,” anyway?

His gut told him with dark certainty that, whatever lay ahead, it was bound to be hard and painful for everyone.

He looked at his watch. It had been ten minutes. What was keeping her? Did she think if she stalled long enough he might go away and never come back? Was she afraid to face him? Or was she simply making him wait to show who was in charge here?

Whatever her reasons, it only made him more angry. And more determined than ever to get some answers.

CASSIE PLUCKED THE headphones out of her ears and slid her iPod into the basket beside her therapy pool. Then she slid lower into the tub until the hot, bubbling water tickled her chin. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. After a day like today, she needed this. Not just to soak away her body’s stiffness, but to calm her nerves and soothe the tension that made her every muscle feel as though it had been attached to a live wire.

She lifted her bad leg, letting it rest against the side of the tub. The flesh was crisscrossed and puckered with surgical scars even after all these years. That night in the barn, everything had shattered Humpty Dumpty style. The pieces had been put back together again, but the doctor could only do so much. It wasn’t pretty, and no matter how diligently Cassie worked out in this room, it never would be.

With a frown, she slipped her leg back under the hot water. She had never allowed herself extended forays into the deep end of the pity pool, and there was no reason to start now. Forget aches in the winter and pain when she stood too long in one place. Her body was whole. She’d been so incredibly lucky.

Lucky.

She drew a shaky breath and, for the first time in ages, let her mind run freely over the night of her accident.

The time spent in Bandera’s stall was still a blank to her, and what came afterward at the hospital was no more than flashes, snapshots of pain and fear. A nurse trying to keep her awake. Vital signs. Her father weeping over her.

Most of the memories refused to mesh, but the sound of the doctor’s voice had somehow sliced through her haze. Asking permission to take her leg if it proved necessary to save her life. She had felt her insides shut down with the shock of that possibility, with the fear that even if she lived she would never be the same.

By the time Ethan had come to her, she had known what she had to do. They couldn’t marry. It would be so wrong to tie a virile, exciting man like Ethan Rafferty to a cripple. Their plans of travel, adventure, of starting a new, exhilarating life together—all of it disappeared like smoke as she lay there feeling the pain medication take hold. Dreams were fine for those who had some hope of attaining them. But starting that moment, she didn’t have that hope.

He had kissed her, an achingly gentle touch of his mouth against hers. She’d fought to stay conscious, to ignore the sweet, rough purr of his voice promising that everything would be all right. She had made herself concentrate on her breathing. One slow, even breath. Another.

And somehow, she had told him to go. She’d told him that she blamed him for what had happened. That he wasn’t right for her.

That she never wanted to see him again.

Now, it seemed so foolish to think that had been the end of it. Twenty-four hours later, when she had awakened to find her leg still intact, though permanently damaged, the doctor had informed her that she was pregnant. She might have managed to keep Ethan from throwing his life away, but hers had been altered forever.

Looking back, she remembered being terrified momentarily at the idea of becoming a single mother. Yet at the same time she had felt something light and airy travel through her.

Ethan’s child.

It didn’t matter that her father was horrified and angered by the news. It didn’t matter that her pregnancy would make the long, torturous months of therapy that lay ahead that much more difficult. Her heart reeled with the sweetness of it, willing to snatch at any crumb. The blaze of light within her was too beautiful and dazzling to be extinguished.

Slipping her hand beneath the water in the tub, Cassie ran her fingers over her submerged belly, remembering the way it had looked when she had been carrying Donny. It seemed like only yesterday that she had held her son for the first time, and Ethan’s imprint on that tiny face had been so clear.

Not once had she ever regretted the decision to have her baby. From the moment of his birth, Donny had become the fulcrum upon which her life was balanced. And never, ever, would she allow Ethan’s reappearance in her life to change that.

All her protective instincts were humming. She would find a way to handle this latest development. Josh would help her. Together they would protect Donny from anything Ethan might have in mind. She just wished she knew what it was.

Cassie inched down again, until the curve of her neck rested against the back of the tub. She closed her eyes, concentrating on taking deep, calming breaths, wishing her mind would stop ping-ponging back and forth with a dozen possibilities.

Maybe, as Josh had suggested, they were worrying needlessly. Who could guess what Ethan had in mind? He had come back to Beaumont on business. Obviously he had plans for the future. Wasn’t it possible that he had no interest in establishing a real relationship with his son? Were they contractually obligated to sell that Jackalope land to him?

Maybe he had a wife and children of his own someplace. No reason he shouldn’t after all this time. She tried to envision it, and discovered that she couldn’t. He had been an only child, a loner all his life. Hadn’t he once told her that, given his parents’ history of creating the most undesirable home life possible, he could not imagine ever having children?

Stop it. Everything will be okay. You’re worrying for nothing.

She heard the Torture Chamber’s door open. Since Mercedes had already left for the day, and Josh had moved back to River Bottom, it had to be Donny. She loved him beyond life, but lately he’d developed a disobedient streak designed to annoy the heck out of her. She refused to open her eyes and give him her attention until he behaved like the gentleman she had raised him to be.

“What happened to your manners?” she asked him over the sound of the bubbling water. “Go back outside and knock. Just because you live in this house doesn’t give you the right to trample my privacy.”

“Considering what I learned today, it seems strange to hear you talk about respecting a person’s rights.”

Startled, Cassie snapped her eyes open. She sat upright so fast that water splashed over the edge of the tub and one shoulder strap of her swimsuit slid down her arm.

Ethan stood in the doorway. He was still dressed in the suit she’d seen him in earlier, minus the tie. His collar lay open at the throat, but other than that, he looked every bit the successful businessman.

She’d barely been able to look at him that afternoon, and the setting sun had helped to mask his features. Now she saw that he was still the handsome heartbreaker. The deep-set eyes she had fought to forget were still the same intense shade of blue, the jaw still strong and square and fiercely proud. But there were some changes. The light caught a few silver threads in his dark hair, and it was no longer the reckless tumble she had once loved to run her fingers through. She supposed it was his mouth that had changed the most. No longer cocky and inviting. It was cast in such a somber line right now, so taut she could never imagine it smiling.

He came to the edge of the tub and stared down at her. He seemed taller than ever and she felt foolish, off center. Two feelings she abhorred.

She lifted her chin. She would be strong for Donny’s sake, just as she’d made herself be strong during those first terrible months of her pregnancy. “What are you doing here, Ethan?” she managed to ask.

One brow spiked. “You can’t guess?”

“Get out.”

“We need to talk.”

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