A CHRISTMAS AFFAIR?

Returning to Crooked Valley is more terrifying than the battlefield to ex-soldier Duke Duggan. Still, Duke has an important reason to be back—to take control of his late grandfather’s ranch. But being thrown headfirst into his old life makes Duke feel like a fish out of water. That is, until he sees Carrie Coulter again. Twenty years may have passed but the chemistry between them is stronger than ever.

When Duke threatens to sell the ranch, Carrie, the foreman, realizes she could lose her livelihood. But no decisions will be made until after the holidays. Until then, they have time to explore the feelings that draw them to each other. Together, can they come up with a way to keep the ranch…and the burning love between them?

The past twenty-four hours had felt very strange, and yet very right.

At times it had almost seemed as though they were a real couple, decorating their place for Christmas.

Except for the constant reminder that their relationship was transient. That she shouldn’t get used to spending time with him when he could be gone again before she knew it.

Saying goodbye to Duke was going to be torture.

As the afternoon waned and the light dimmed slightly, Duke went inside and flicked the switch to the outdoor plug, making the lights come alive.

It was beautiful.

Duke came back outside and jogged down the steps, coming to stand beside her. “So what do you think?” he asked. “We did good, huh?”

Her breath made clouds in the air, and Duke tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.

He kissed her, slow and soft, making her melt against him. The man knew how to kiss—she’d give him that.

“Whew,” she said when the kiss broke off. “I’m not sure the fun’s quite over, you keep kissing me like that.”

His eyes warmed. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a brand-new trilogy—and just in time for the holidays!

In the Crooked Valley Ranch series, you meet the Duggan siblings: Duke, Lacey and Rylan. None of them are ranchers, so it’s a bit of a shock when they inherit the family spread from their grandfather. Each of them must take their place at the ranch or it goes up for sale.

Which doesn’t really matter much to any of them…in the beginning. In The Cowboy’s Christmas Gift, Duke Duggan returns to the ranch to figure out what to do next with his life. A career soldier, he’s at loose ends now that he’s lost his hearing in one ear. At first he just wants to get his bearings. Look at his options. It all sounds great until two things complicate his “no commitments” plans. First of all, he kind of likes the ranch and the open spaces and freedom. And then there’s Carrie Coulter, the cattle foreman. Smart, feisty and loyal, she keeps Duke on his toes. Duke’s torn between his freedom, wanting to reunite his family for Christmas, and knowing that selling the ranch might have devastating consequences for those who count on it for their livelihoods. That’s a lot of responsibility for one guy to shoulder.

Good thing Duke loves a challenge.

I hope you have a wonderful family holiday and enjoy the warmth of the season—as well as a good book or two!

Best wishes,

Donna

The Cowboy’s Christmas Gift

Donna Alward

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mom and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna has always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for Harlequin.

In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the West. Donna’s debut romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded a Booksellers’ Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.

With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!

Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.donnaalward.com, or follow @DonnaAlward on Twitter.

To Kate Hardy, with many thanks for all the help and words of wisdom!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Duke Duggan turned the slightly battered half-ton up the dirt drive to Crooked Valley Ranch. Whorls of dust swirled behind him, clouding the frosty road as he made his way to the ranch house he remembered from childhood. It hadn’t changed a bit. The white siding and dark green window trim was definitely dated, but the wraparound porch he’d always loved still skirted the house, making it welcoming and cozy-looking.

Or it would look cozy if not for the brown grass and nearly naked trees. November was a pretty bleak month—past the glorious splendor of fall colors but before the blanket of pure white snow that would soon fall in the small ranching town of Gibson, Montana.

Nerves twisted in his stomach. This homecoming hadn’t been in his plans. The letter from his grandfather, sent via the old man’s lawyer, was tucked securely in the breast pocket of his denim jacket.

Duke had still been in the hospital overseas when his grandfather had died, and he wished he’d been here to go to the funeral. Despite the tensions between them, Joe had still been family, and Duke had spent a good part of his early childhood at Crooked Valley Ranch. Those had been the years when his dad had still been alive, and as time passed, it felt to Duke as if the memories were slipping further and further away. He worried that sooner or later they’d disappear altogether.

That time hadn’t come yet, though. He clearly remembered the rolling hills in the shadow of the mountains, waving grass, horses and cows dotting the verdant pastures, and a bedroom decorated with rodeo wallpaper—his dad’s old room. His dad had taught him how to ride a horse before he rode a bike, and it was something he’d always enjoyed during the times he’d spent at his grandparents’ place.

Duke also remembered arguments between his mother and his grandparents, Joe and Eileen—particularly after his dad had died. Mom had never loved the ranch, and her mother-in-law and father-in-law had known it. Something Duke did remember clearly was his mother repeating that she only stayed at Crooked Valley because Evan had wished it while he was deployed.

Sgt. Evan Duggan—Duke’s father and hero.

Duke had only been eight when his dad was killed in Iraq. Twenty-two years ago now. With no further reason to keep her promise, Mom had moved them away from Crooked Valley and the small town of Gibson to Helena, where she took a government job and supported them all. Duke, along with his sister, Lacey, and brother, Rylan, only saw their grandparents occasionally after that. A week in the summer, and maybe once or twice during the year on holidays. Once they were teenagers and more concerned with friends and part-time jobs, they saw the Duggans even less.

Duke had liked the time he spent there in the summer. He’d been able to ride every day, hang out with the hands, most of who had known his dad as a kid, too. They’d shared stories with him that helped Duke feel closer to his father—a man Duke really couldn’t remember all that well beyond a shock of red hair, a big smile and a uniform.

He’d liked it here, sure. What kid wouldn’t enjoy the freedom of the great outdoors? But that was a far cry from wanting to be a rancher himself. Especially when he wasn’t consulted and part ownership was just thrown in his lap, piled on top of his other worries. He didn’t want the ranch to fall into a stranger’s hands, but that didn’t mean he and his siblings were equipped to step in. No sirree. He knew how to be a soldier. He’d been damned good at it. He didn’t know anything about ranching.

One-third of this tired-looking ranch was his—if he wanted it. Trouble was, Duke didn’t really know what he wanted—other than a good dose of peace and quiet. Maybe the odd chance to blow off a little steam once in a while. Time to figure out what was next for him, because he’d only been home for two weeks and he had no idea what he was going to do for the rest of his life. He was out of the army and, without it, he wasn’t sure who he was at all.

Duke slowed the truck as he reached the sprawling yard that contained the house, several outbuildings in need of paint and shrubs that looked as if they hadn’t seen a trimmer all summer. He frowned. It didn’t look like the prosperous, well-tended ranch he remembered. Maybe he’d be better off going back to Helena and bunking in with Ricky Spencer. Spence had given Duke a place to sleep and an offer of a job at his auto repair shop after Duke had left the army behind.

Except working with Spence would just be a Band-Aid solution. He sighed. This probably would be, too. But maybe, once he’d been here for a few months, he’d have a better idea about the future. Like what he wanted to do about it. He was a soldier, period. Except he wasn’t, unless he wanted to be a desk jockey. Without a doubt he knew he’d go crazy doing that. With his hearing loss being permanent, his options were more limited than they used to be.

He felt like a puppet, at the mercy of whoever was pulling the strings.

Duke parked the truck next to the biggest barn, the one where he remembered disappearing to each day in the summer to spend time with the horses. He got out and stretched his arms over his head. The weak autumn sun felt good, though it did little to warm him. The air was clear and fresh, though. He let out a big breath, a cloud forming in front of his face. What did feel right since returning home was the big Montana sky, the sun, the smell of the air. There was nothing like it in the world—and he’d seen a lot of places.

Birds chirped in the skeleton branches of the scrub brush, but Duke had a problem telling where the tweets and burbles were coming from. Losing half his hearing had been a blow, but at least he could still hear out of his left ear, and he still had all his fingers and toes. That was what he kept telling himself anyway. The gash on his arm had healed to a pink scar and so had the bruises. But the hearing loss was permanent. He was damned lucky he hadn’t been killed by the IED and he knew it. That didn’t mean there weren’t adjustments that he had to make. Or that he deeply resented having to make them.

“Hey! I said, can I help you!”

Startled, he spun to his right to see a man, much smaller than himself, marching toward him from the back of the barn. He squinted and realized it was no man at all—it was a woman, in jeans, dirty boots, a denim jacket similar to his own and a battered brown hat on her head. The words she’d hurled at him echoed in his head. I said, can I help you! Clearly they’d been spoken more than once and he hadn’t heard. He clenched his teeth, annoyed at his disability once more.

“Jeez, I called out three times. What are you, deaf?”

He raised a surprised eyebrow as the words hit their mark. “Wow. That was rude.”

She huffed out a sigh as she came close enough he could see her face. “Bad morning. Sorry.”

He looked closer. “I’ll be damned. Carrie? Carrie Coulter?”

Blue eyes looked up into his. “That’s right. And you are?”

It only took a half second after the words were out of her mouth for who he was to register. “Oh, my God. Duke Duggan?”

He hadn’t seen Carrie since what, third grade? Back then she’d had a space between her front teeth and freckles, and sandy blond hair that she always wore in a perky ponytail with pieces sticking out at her temples. Once he’d called her Freckle Face and she’d kicked him in the shin so hard he’d had the bruise for two solid weeks.

She still had the same pieces of hair sticking out and curling by her hat brim and the same freckles, too, only they were a little bit lighter now and the space was gone from her teeth as she gaped up at him, mouth open. Huh. Carrie Coulter had turned out quite attractive when all was said and done, even dressed in dirty jeans and a bulky jacket that didn’t do her figure any favors.

“Well,” she finally said softly. “I think hell just froze over. Didn’t think you’d ever make it back here.”

“Why not?”

He watched her lips as she answered. They were very fine lips, full and pink without even a touch of gloss or lipstick. “Your grandfather always wanted you kids to come back and you never did.” Her eyes took on an accusing look. “I think it broke his heart.”

“His heart broke when my dad died,” Duke stated dispassionately. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked my time here as a kid, but after Desert Storm...” He frowned down at her. “It was always about my dad. Wanting us to take over the place since my dad never would.”

Duke had heard it so many times as a kid, how his father had failed the family. It was no wonder that Duke had rebelled against the idea of joining the ranch, instead determined to honor his father by following in his footsteps and joining the army. But it hadn’t only been about rebellion. Duke had wanted to be a soldier and he didn’t regret that move in the least. Not even considering his injuries. He’d served his country and done it proudly. It was all he’d ever really wanted to do.

“You didn’t hear how much he talked about you,” she replied, a little tartly, he noticed. Clearly Carrie had been devoted to the old man.

“You knew him better than I did.”

“My point exactly. What are you doing here, Dustin?”

She was mad. That had to be the only reason she reverted to his real name. He’d been Duke for so long that he was surprised anyone would even remember that his birth certificate said Dustin. It felt as though she was addressing a stranger.

He made a point of hooking his thumb in a careless gesture, motioning toward the back of the truck where two duffels sat side by side. “I’m here. As one-third owner of Crooked Valley Ranch.” To prove it, he took the letter out of his breast pocket and handed it to her, ignoring the slight feeling of panic he got just saying the words.

She opened it, walked away a few steps as she read the words. Words that had caused several reactions within him when he’d opened the envelope. Anger, grief and, strangely enough, fear. After all the places he’d been, things he’d seen, danger he’d been in, it was the idea of taking over Crooked Valley that made him most afraid.

He could tell she said something because he heard the muffled sound of her voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He turned and took a few steps through the crackly grass until he was facing her again. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

She held up the letter. “I had no idea. When Joe died, I asked Quinn what we were supposed to do and he said keep working until we heard differently from the lawyers. When did you get this?”

“Last week,” he confirmed.

“And your brother and sister?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t talked to them lately. They have commitments. I don’t. Not at the moment anyway.”

She folded the paper and handed it back to him. “Well, I have to say I’m a bit relieved. We’ve all been wondering what was going to happen with the ranch. But what about the army? Are you just on leave, or what?”

It stung more than a little to have to respond, “The army’s in the past. By the way, who’s Quinn?”

There. He’d changed the subject. He’d rather not talk about the circumstances around his leaving his former life. It was still too fresh.

“Quinn Solomon. The ranch manager.”

“And you’re what, a ranch hand?” He couldn’t help but smile a little at the idea. Most of the girls he knew wouldn’t be caught dead with manure on their boots, dirt on their face and less-than-perfect hair. It seemed impossible that the cute little girl he’d teased in school was now working on his ranch. That would make her his employee....

All traces of friendliness disappeared from her face. “No sir,” she corrected him. “Quinn’s the manager, and I’m the foreman of the cattle side of the business. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work. We lost two heifers to coyotes last night. I need to bury the bodies.”

Bury the bodies? Coyotes and heifers?

Duke had had visions of riding the range, surveying his domain, moving cattle from pasture to pasture and some sort of idyllic, carefree life for a few months while he made some hard decisions. That vision hadn’t included predators and dead bodies and digging graves. That wasn’t his idea of stress relief. He’d had enough of that sort of thing during his deployments.

“You need some help?” he asked, knowing he couldn’t send her out there to tackle it alone.

She turned back to face him, which made it easier for him to understand her next words. “I’ve got a couple of hands who’ll help me. Why don’t you go get settled? You’d only get in the way anyway.”

She strode off before he could form a suitable reply. Okay, so he was a greenhorn. He admitted it. But he was part owner of this ranch and she worked for him now, even if it was a formality. Her dismissive tone definitely grated on his nerves.

He turned away, hopped back into the truck and drove over to the main house. Once he figured out where he was going to stay, he’d deal with Carrie Coulter and her uppity attitude.

* * *

CARRIE’S HEART BEAT against her ribs the whole way back to her ATV.

She’d wondered what Joe’s plans for the ranch were. Wondered if she’d find herself out of a job and left with a mountain of bills still to pay and a winter’s worth of heating to come out of her bank account. It was an enormous relief to know that she still had employment and that she’d be able to keep the wolf from the door. And a pain in the ass to find that her new boss didn’t know ranching from his armpit. Duke Duggan had always had too high an opinion of himself in school. He’d grinned and teased and called her Freckle Face and pulled her ponytail. She remembered. It had been a relief when he moved away. Sort of.

And my, hadn’t he grown up. She tugged on a pair of gloves, swung her leg over the seat of the quad and fired up the engine. She gave the throttle a shot of gas that sent her lurching away from the barn and toward the twin tracks leading down the hillside to where the herd was grazing. She couldn’t banish the memory of his deep blue eyes staring down at her in surprise, or the intent way he watched her face as she spoke. Never mind he was now at least six feet tall and, from the looks of it, all lean muscle. His hair was military-short and had looked naked without a hat. If it grew out, she imagined it would be a rich auburn, not quite brown and not quite red.

Son of a...

She bounced over a hard rut and gripped the handlebars tighter. Why the hell should she care what color his hair was anyway?

If she was lucky, Duke would spend most of his time with Quinn. Quinn was the real boss here, overseeing most of the ranch operations, especially once Joe had gotten older and his health had declined. Duke could stay out of her way and just let her do her job. She had enough to worry about. Like paying off her mom’s medical bills. The estate hadn’t covered the expense and now, two years after the funeral, Carrie was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe in another year she could stop scrimping and saving quite so much as she got out from under the debt.

Worrying about money wasn’t going to solve the current problem, though. She had cattle to take care of...and a coyote problem to solve. She was just thankful that Duke was here to take over, no matter how annoying she found him on a personal level. Someone needed to take responsibility for the ranch. It wasn’t the perfect situation, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

“COME ON, CARRIE.” Kailey Brandt fell back onto the bed with her arms outstretched. “It’s Friday night. And I don’t want to go to the Wooden Nickel alone.”

Carrie tried not to laugh. The Wooden Nickel was the nickname Kailey had given the Silver Dollar Saloon, saying a dollar was far more than the old bar was worth. “I’m tired. I had a busy week,” she answered.

“Didn’t we all,” Kailey replied, undaunted. “Girl, you’ve been wrangling cows and coyotes. You need to blow off some steam. Have a beer. Flirt with a good-looking cowboy and have a dance or two. Maybe some mattress mambo.”

Now Carrie did laugh. “You just want to see if Colt’s going to be there.”

Kailey turned her head away and the grin slid from her face. “Colt Black can dry up and blow away for all I care.”

Carrie sat down on the bed beside her friend. She and Kailey were close, both being farm girls at heart. Kailey was in charge of the bucking stock over at the nearby Brandt place, and they were both used to working in a physically demanding, male-dominated industry. Once in a while they got together and decided to feel like girls for a few hours. Friday nights at the saloon usually fit the bill.

“What happened between the two of you?” Last Carrie had heard, Colt’s gaze had been fixed on Kailey just as much as hers was on him. The last time they’d been in a room together, Carrie had been certain she could light a fire with the hot looks passing between the two.

“I waited too long. He hooked up with some girl from Great Falls with big hair and bigger boobs.” Kailey looked down at her ample but not overly huge chest. “What is it with guys and breasts?”

Carrie laughed again. Kailey was like a breath of fresh air.

“Please, Car.” Kailey stared up at Carrie with big blue eyes. “If you don’t, I’ll end up spending Friday night at home with the old folks watching Thanksgiving Hallmark movies on TV.” She shuddered.

“Oh, all right. But I’m not staying late. I’m dog-tired, Kailey.” Never mind she’d spent the past few days trying to stay out of Duke’s way. Their paths had only crossed a few times since their initial meeting, and he’d been engrossed in conversation with Quinn, just as she’d wanted it.

So why had she felt so disappointed when he hadn’t answered her hello, but merely nodded and kept walking?

Because she was a damned fool, that was why. Truth was, everything she held dear was tied up in Crooked Valley Ranch. The fact that Duke had showed up had been nothing short of a blessing. He could be as crotchety as he liked, as long as he kept Crooked Valley running and her in a job.

She straightened her shoulders. “I guess I should get dressed, then. And put on some makeup.”

Kailey sat up. “That’s the spirit! You should wear that red shirt with the V-neck. And I’ll fishtail your hair. You’ve got way better hair than I have for that. The braid makes your summer sun streaks stand out.”

And so it was that less than an hour later, both girls walked into the Silver Dollar. It was busy already, and they had to wait for one of the tables on the perimeter of the scarred dance floor. The Dollar had once been an old barn that Cy Williamson had renovated. Right now the latest country hits echoed to the rafters, along with lots of chatter and laughter.

Carrie took off her coat and tugged at the neckline of her shirt. She’d let Kailey steamroll her and now felt conspicuous at the little bit of cleavage revealed by the V. She was wearing makeup, too, eye shadow and a bit of liner and mascara and lipstick, of all things.

Scott Johnson was staring over at their table and Carrie gave Kailey a kick. “You’re getting attention already. Jerkwad Johnson at two o’clock.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Kailey forced a smile. “Let’s get a beer and forget he’s there. First round’s on me.”

Kailey got up and went to the bar rather than waiting for one of the waitresses to make her way over. Carrie watched as several eyes fixed on her friend’s attractive figure as she leaned against the old wooden bar to give her order. She wondered if Kailey really knew how beautiful she was. No matter how dolled up Carrie got, when she was with Kailey she always felt a bit like the ugly stepsister—without the bad temperament.

The double doors opened again and Carrie froze.

In walked Quinn Solomon—he must have got a sitter for his daughter tonight—and Mr. Prodigal Grandson himself, Duke Duggan. Jumpin’ Judas, the man was good-looking. He smiled at something Quinn said and it made his face light up. His jeans fit his lean body just right and he wore a brown coat with a sheepskin collar that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. His boots were clean but not new, and he’d hidden his buzz-cut look beneath a brown hat.

Mercy.

Kailey returned to the table and put down two bottles of beer. “Mother McCree, who is that?” she asked, nudging Carrie’s arm with the cold bottle. “Whoo-eee.”

“My new boss,” Carrie replied drily, blindly reaching for the bottle. “Duke Duggan.”

“What? No way. I don’t remember him looking like that.”

“He was eight when he moved away,” Carrie reminded her. “You were six. Your memory might be a little foggy.”

“Right. Well. This changes the evening significantly.”

There was no reason on earth that Kailey’s words should inspire a flicker of jealousy, but they did. It was ridiculous. Carrie didn’t like Duke and had absolutely no claim on him. Why should she care if Kailey was interested?

As if he could feel their eyes watching him, he turned their way. She could tell when he looked at Kailey, because his eyes twinkled a little and he raised an eyebrow just a bit.

But then he looked directly at Carrie and her breath froze in her chest. The twinkle disappeared from his eyes, but they remained warm, and a smile touched his mouth. And then he lifted a finger and touched the brim of his hat before turning away and following Quinn to the bar.

Her breath came out in a hot rush. Oh, man. She was in big, big trouble. He was her boss. He was a pain in the butt. And he made her pulse race in a way it hadn’t in a very, very long time.

Chapter Two

Carrie was starting to feel as if her buddy had forsaken her. It was Kailey’s turn to drive, so after the first drink Kailey switched to cola and stayed there. They always took turns when they went out so one of them was a designated driver. It was their way of looking out for each other—the best sort of buddy system.

Except not only had Kailey coughed up the cash for the second round, she’d made sure that Carrie’s drink was a very stiff rum and cola, and then moved their seats closer to the other side of the bar—and closer to Duke.

The hard liquor on the heels of the beer already had her feeling a bit fuzzy, and it seemed as if without even trying she could hear Duke’s voice, deep and gravelly as he talked to a group of ranchers nearby. She tried not to look his way but couldn’t help it. She was intrigued. After their rough start the other day, she’d spent some time thinking about what his life had been like after he’d left Crooked Valley. She couldn’t imagine being taken away from the wide-open ranch land to the confined space of the city, but he had. He’d gone to city schools and not the K-12 school in Gibson, which only had one class for each grade. He’d visited here in the summers but not for years, and then he’d gone into the military. One thing she noticed was that while he was talking right along to Quinn and a few other local ranchers, he didn’t smile much. And he didn’t laugh.

In fact, Duke looked pretty darn somber as he focused intently on the conversation. Way too serious for a Friday night in a saloon with cold drinks and good boot-thumpin’ music.

“Do you suppose he realizes you’re staring at him?” Kailey asked.

“What?” Carrie turned back to her friend and felt her cheeks heat. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sweetie, you know I don’t like to call you a liar, but...you’re a liar.”

“I wasn’t staring.” She looked Kailey dead in the eye. “Much.”

Kailey laughed, and sat back as a plate of assorted appetizers was placed in the middle of the table. “Thanks, Roy,” she said, smiling her best smile at the middle-aged man delivering the food.

He winked at her before turning back to weave through the tables to the kitchen.

Carrie had barely eaten her first onion ring when Kailey lifted her head, gave her curls a toss and called out, “Hey, Quinn! Why don’t you and your friend come join us?”

Carrie kicked her under the table. She knew the toe of her boot had hit its mark when Kailey winced, then pasted on the same bright smile.

“I’m gonna get you for this,” Carrie said as Quinn and Duke left their group and approached the table.

“Kailey.” Quinn smiled down at her. “Planning on stirring up some sawdust on the dance floor tonight?”

“Maybe,” she answered easily. Kailey and Quinn knew each other well. The two ranches backed on to each other and Kailey and Carrie had each taken turns babysitting Quinn’s daughter, Amber, occasionally. He was a good-looking, hardworking man, but they’d known each other too long. They were colleagues hanging out, that was all.

Duggan, on the other hand, was familiar but very, very new. Looking at him resulted in a much different sensation than the one she got looking at Quinn. Something went all jumpy and swirly in her stomach, especially when he looked over at her with that same unsmiling expression. He’d removed his coat and hung it on one of the hooks along the back wall, and his blue-and-white striped shirt gave a clear indication of the breadth of his chest and flatness of his stomach. She wondered if he had a six-pack hiding under there.

“Help yourself,” she offered, reaching for a jalapeño popper simply to keep her hands occupied. She took too big a bite, though, and the heat blasted her taste buds. To compensate, she reached for her glass and took a long gulp.

“Slow down, tiger.” His voice came from close beside her, and she turned her head, a little too quickly it seemed. His eyes were too close, and while he still wasn’t smiling, his eyes twinkled at her. Damned if he didn’t make her feel about fifteen years old with that indulgent gleam in his eyes. Duke Duggan was a bit too big for his britches, in her mind.

“So you do remember how to speak to me,” she said a little sharply. “I thought you’d forgotten this week.”

The amused gaze faded a bit. “Forgotten?”

“It seemed every time I passed you and offered a hello, you were either focused on Quinn or simply ignored me.”

He reached for a chicken wing. “Feelings hurt, Carrie?”

She didn’t want to admit they had been. “Naw. I sort of expected city manners after all.” She wasn’t sure why she was antagonizing him. She really was glad he’d come home, and so was everyone at Crooked Valley. He was the answer to all the uncertainty they’d felt since Joe died. There was just something about him that set her on edge—in more ways than one.

One of the waitresses was passing by and Carrie inclined her chin. “Hey, Suze, a round on me, okay?”

Kailey was grinning widely now. “Just soda for me, Susan.”

“I’ll have a beer,” Quinn said.

“Sweet tea,” Duke ordered. “And the round’s on me.”

“Oh, I insist.” Carrie smiled brightly. “Another rum and cola for me, please.”

But Duke pulled out his wallet before Carrie could unzip her small purse. “I’m not in the habit of letting employees buy me drinks,” he said quietly. Quinn and Kailey didn’t hear, but Carrie did. The man sure did have a way of making a girl feel small.

“Employees,” she replied tartly. “I guess Quinn and I know where we stand.”

His brows pulled together. “That’s not what I meant.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.” She reached for her chicken wing and didn’t worry about being dainty as she ate it, wiping her saucy fingers on a paper napkin when she was done. Susan came back with their drinks and she let Duke pay. Why not, if he wanted to? She wasn’t about to start a spitting match with him over a three-dollar beverage.

And just for spite, she picked up her drink and took a long, refreshing chug.

“So, Duke,” Kailey said, dipping her onion ring in ketchup. “Are you really planning on staying on at the ranch?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, finally smiling. Carrie nearly dropped her second chicken wing. When he smiled, it was devastating. His whole face changed, his lips curved and his eyes crinkled at the corners while the rest of his facial muscles relaxed. When he wasn’t brooding, he was incredibly attractive. And of course that smile had only blossomed on his face when Kailey addressed him. Jerk.

“Are you always going to go by that silly nickname?” Carrie asked, rolling her eyes a bit.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m used to it. It’s all I’ve been called since I was six years old.” He turned away from her and smiled at Kailey. “When someone calls me Dustin, it makes me feel like my mom’s calling me out for doing something wrong.”

Carrie wiped her fingers and took another sip of her drink simply to hide her face. Duke suited him. Suited him better than Dustin. Dustin brought to mind a tall, gangly boy with thick, unruly hair and freckles. The man beside her was muscled, hard, 100 percent male, still with the hint of freckles under his tanned skin but with a no-nonsense military cut taming his cap of hair. More than that, it was his bearing. Solid and steady and a little bit dangerous. The kind of man you didn’t want to cross, but the sort you felt completely safe with, too.

Well, mostly safe.

She looked up and caught him watching her and her heart did that weird thump thing again, feeling as if it was banging up against her rib cage while she grew hot all over.

Maybe Kailey was right. Maybe it had been too long since she’d dated because she was definitely overreacting.

“So how’d you get the nickname anyway?” Quinn asked, reaching for a jalapeño.

Duke grinned. “When I was six, we spent the summer here and my grandmother put all of us in summer Bible school at the church. One day some kid was picking on my little sister. I cleaned his clock and told him never to bother her again.”

Everyone laughed a little, but Carrie wrinkled her nose. “That still doesn’t explain the name.”

Duke met her gaze. “You know Joe. He loved his John Wayne movies, and I sat through lots of showings of Rio Bravo. When the kid apologized to Lacey, I swaggered up to him, doing my best impression of the Duke, and drawled, ‘Sorry don’t get it done, dude.’ I’ve been called Duke ever since.”

Quinn and Kailey burst out laughing and even Carrie’s lips tilted a little at the cute story. Duke’s icy eyes warmed a little as they fell upon her and his face relaxed. He wasn’t the prettiest man she’d ever seen, but there was something about him that was charismatic. Sexy. Maybe it was his general aloofness blended with moments of charm. Whatever it was, Carrie wasn’t immune. Not even close.

A two-step that was popular on the radio these days came on the speakers and Carrie’s toe tapped along with the opening bars. “Hey, Quinn,” Kailey said loudly, to be heard over the music. “You wanna take a turn on the floor?”

Quinn smiled. “Why not?”

Carrie watched as Quinn and Kailey headed out to the sawdust-covered floor and started circling the perimeter with the other dancers. Kailey was laughing and Quinn was smiling. Carrie had once asked Kailey about why she didn’t date Quinn—they got along great. Kailey confessed that once, before Quinn met his wife, they’d gone out on a couple of dates and that kissing him was like kissing a brother. There just wasn’t any chemistry. Now that Quinn was a widower, they’d just stayed friends.

Carrie turned back to the table and her stomach flipped again. Duke was watching her, his gray-green eyes studying her as if he could see clear through her. She wasn’t sure if she liked the sensation or if it made her uncomfortable. Before she could decide, he took a drink of his iced tea. “So,” he said. “You and Kailey. She your wingman?”

Carrie nodded. “Yeah. Most of the time anyway. We’ve been friends a long time.”

“She’s a nice girl. I vaguely remember her from school.”

“She’s a bad influence,” Carrie admitted. “And I love her for it. She keeps me from getting too boring.”

“Are you boring, Carrie?”

She tried hard not to get lost in his eyes. “Occasionally. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

He took a drink of his soda. “You weren’t boring as a kid. Not as I recall anyway. I still remember the day in third grade when you put the frog in Jennifer Howard’s lunch box.”

Carrie couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth. “Oh, my gosh. I’d forgotten about that!”

“I’m sure Jennifer hasn’t. She gave you the stink eye for months. I don’t think I’ve ever heard quite that same combination of crying and grossing out since.”

She took another drink of rum and realized she needed to slow down. Carefully she put the glass back down on the table and stared at it for a few moments.

“So what changed?” Duke asked. “All work and no play? What turned that troublemaker into someone boring and responsible?”

Boring and responsible. When she’d looked at him talking to the other men earlier, those words had popped into her mind, too. Was it a case of pot meeting kettle?

She met his gaze and decided to be honest. It wasn’t as though it was a big secret after all. “My mom got sick just before I graduated. Breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry. Is she okay now?”

A lump formed in Carrie’s throat. “No. She got through the first occurrence with surgery and chemo. It came back, though, more aggressive than before. She died two years ago.”

“God.” Duke put his hand over hers for a few seconds. It was warm and rough. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have brought it up...”

“It’s okay.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she was sure it wobbled a bit around the edges. “It is what it is, right?”

“You and your dad must miss her so much.” He slid his hand away.

And with that he scored another hit. Carrie absorbed the pain, knowing it was completely unintentional on his part. “My dad didn’t take it so well. He turned to the bottle when she was doing her first round of chemo and barely hung on during her treatment. When she was rediagnosed, he fell apart. He left, and I haven’t seen him since. In the end it was just Mom and me.”

She didn’t tell him to elicit his sympathy. She didn’t want people to feel sorry for her. She gave her shoulders a shrug, loosening them up. “Anyway, I guess I put away childish things when that happened.”

Yeah. Including disposable income. She’d gone from being a supportive daughter to assuming the mortgage for the house so the bank wouldn’t foreclose when her father quit making the payments. Not to mention the medical bills and keeping the lights on. The few evenings she spent at the Dollar was about as exciting as her life got.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “How long have you been working at Crooked Valley?”

She smiled then, a genuine one, because she really did love her job. “Your grandfather hired me as a part-time hand when I was seventeen. I liked it so much I stayed on.”

“And now you’re my foreman. At thirty.”

She shrugged, not particularly caring for the reminder of her age. Kailey was twenty-eight and her mother was constantly asking when she was going to find a good man and settle down, that she wasn’t getting any younger. It was as though a woman hit thirty and it was all on the downhill slide.

She peered into his face. “What about you, Duke? What keeps you from smiling more?”

He didn’t answer, but he met her gaze and held it for a few long moments. “It’s a long story.”

She grinned. “It always is.”

“Then, let’s save it for another time.” He treated her to a rare smile, small, but definitely friendly. “This is getting a bit heavy. Maybe we should hit the dance floor instead.” He held out a hand.

Dance. With Duke. She blinked. The conversation had been serious, but the underlying attraction, at least on her part, was still there. Especially when he looked directly in her eyes like that.

“Um, okay.” Her throat felt dry, so she grabbed her glass and finished what was left in the bottom, mentally promising herself to get a glass of water after this dance. Then she put her hand in his and stood up, her heart beating a little bit faster as they weaved their way to the floor with the other two-steppers.

Quinn and Kailey shuffled by, their boots stirring up sawdust as Duke put his hand on her waist and his other clasped her palm. Before she had a chance to take a deep breath, he started them moving around the floor with the other dancers. Carrie made herself relax and settle into the steps; she didn’t want to trip over her own boots and look like an ass. Duke was a good dancer, smooth and even and confident, and with a change in pressure of his hand she knew to slide under and execute a smooth turn. When she was facing him again, he was smiling and the brilliant force of it nearly sucked the air from her lungs.

She was tipsy and dancing with her boss and thinking prurient thoughts about him. This was probably not the smartest thing to be doing on a Friday night.

They’d been late to the floor and the song ended not long after they’d begun dancing. They waited for the next, and Carrie was expecting something fast and fun. Instead the latest hot ballad boomed over the speakers and there was an awkward moment where they wondered whether to end the dance and go back to the table or carry through the next song.

“Care to?” His voice rumbled close to her ear again and she shivered.

“I guess,” she answered, giving a little nod.

The dance hold was different this time, more intimate. His wide palm rode along the small of her back and his fingers curled around hers as he held her close. His belt buckle grazed the button of her jeans as they moved their feet, and her breasts pressed lightly against his shirtfront. Duke’s shoulder was warm and hard beneath her fingertips—maybe he hadn’t been ranching, but there was no denying that what was beneath the material was rock-solid.

The song went on and they moved along the floor like every other couple, but Carrie felt different. The air between them was taut with possibility; each place where their bodies touched was hypersensitive. Duke pulled her closer and his fingers kneaded against the small of her back, barely an inch above her tailbone. It would only take the slightest movement for her to have her head curled against his shoulder, to taste the skin of his neck. Instead she closed her eyes and took in the scent of him—warm skin and whatever aftershave he wore and something that was distinctly Duke without her being able to label it.

“What are we doing?” she whispered, but he didn’t answer her. Instead his lips touched her temple, not quite a kiss but a deliberate contact—a caress—just the same.

Want spiraled through her. She wanted Duke Duggan. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on her. Wanted the rest of the people in the bar to disappear so they could have some privacy. This was crazy. She couldn’t ever remember having this sort of instant reaction to a man. Maybe Kailey was right. Maybe it had been too long a dry spell.

The song went on and her body vibrated with anticipation and need. It was pointless, since in about one minute the song would end, they would part ways and she’d go back to the table and attempt to cool off. With water. Not with more rum. Maybe that was part of the problem....

The final chorus was waning when Duke leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “A few minutes after the song ends, I’m going to make my excuses and leave. I’ll wait in my truck for ten minutes. If you want a drive home, I’ll take you.”

She snapped her head back and looked into his eyes. The fire that burned there made her weak in the knees. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Could it be possible that he was feeling the same connection she was—and asking her to do something about it? “Are you sure? This is complicated....”

His gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be. Just two people cutting loose on a Friday night. Unless I misread the signals...”

She swallowed and shook her head quickly. “No...you didn’t. But...”

“I’m not in the market for a girlfriend,” he assured her, his hand squeezing at her hip. “Knowing that, if you want a drive home, meet me in the parking lot.”

The song ended. Duke stepped back and raised a finger to his hat. “Thanks for the dance, Carrie.”

She had to be out of her mind to even consider taking him up on his offer. Duke walked away, heading straight to the bar where he clapped Quinn on the back and ordered up another drink, looking entirely calm while her whole body was on high alert.

Carrie weaved her way back to the table where Kailey was waiting, virtually bouncing in her chair.

“Oh, my God. You and Duke were smokin’ out there! What the heck?”

“We just danced,” Carrie insisted, though she was still so keyed up she felt as if she might bust out of her skin.

“Just danced my eye. It was like electricity between you. Wow.”

“Shut up, Kailey.” Carrie didn’t know what to do. She was tempted, oh, so tempted by Duke’s unexpected offer. She was a thirty-year-old woman and her sex life was nonexistent. Here was a man, a gorgeous man, propositioning her for...for what? A night of mind-blowing sex? He’d made it clear he didn’t want a relationship. She wished she could be more blasé. She knew these things happened all the time. But they didn’t happen to her. Could she really do it?

It all sounded absolutely perfect except for two nagging thoughts. One, he was her boss. And two, she’d learned a long, long time ago that even the best-sounding ideas came with consequences. It was the consequences she tried to avoid.

A waitress stopped by the table and put down fresh drinks. “From the gentleman at the bar,” she said with a smile.

Carrie looked up. Duke met her gaze evenly and saluted her with his glass, then proceeded to drain his drink and, true to his word, headed for the door.

“What was all that about?” Kailey asked, sipping her soda through a pink straw.

Carrie looked down so Kailey couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “Nothing. He just bought us drinks.”

She couldn’t do this, she decided. She’d be crazy. Never in her life had she hooked up for anything casual. It just wasn’t her style. And yet there was something exciting about it, too, something risky and dangerous. Maybe she should stop being so uptight. Maybe a night with Duke was just what she needed to unwind a little bit and chill out?

“And he just walked out the door. Without Quinn.”

Carrie looked up and wasn’t surprised to see Kailey’s eyebrow quirked knowingly. She wasn’t fooling her friend a bit. “So I, uh, might have another drive home,” she said, the nerves twisting around in her stomach again.

“Oh. My. God.” Kailey repeated and leaned forward. “He’s waiting for you, isn’t he?”

“Shh. Not so loud!” Carrie hissed urgently. “I don’t need it broadcast through the bar, you know!”

“Shut up! You’re going to do it? You’re going to go home with him?” Her eyes lit up. “You go, girl! It’s about time!”

“I don’t know,” Carrie said miserably. “I mean, he wasn’t exactly the epitome of friendliness the other day. And then we started talking and dancing and...” She met Kailey’s gaze. “There’s definitely something. But he’s my boss. It would probably be a huge mistake.”

“Sweetie, you could stand to make a mistake now and again.”

“I know. I’m dull.”

“You’re careful, and I get why.” Kailey put a hand on Carrie’s arm. “Look, I think he’s a stand-up guy and so does Quinn. Go. If you change your mind, it’s no big deal. One of us should find out if he’s a good kisser, and he didn’t look twice at me. If he’s dynamite, I can be jealous later.”

“What if he...we...”

Kailey’s blue eyes met Carrie’s, serious now. “Then you take precautions.” Kailey picked up her purse, rooted around for a moment, and then she slipped her hand across the table and tucked something into Carrie’s palm. Carrie knew from the rough edge of the square packet that it was a condom.

For the first time, Carrie wished she was as sexually confident as her friend. She didn’t know how to do this.

“How long is he waiting?” Kailey asked.

Carrie checked her watch. “Another few minutes.” She looked at Kailey. “You’ll be okay?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably give Quinn a lift home anyway. Go.”

Before she could change her mind, Carrie got to her feet and chugged back the last of her liquid courage. Then she grabbed her purse, took a big breath and smiled at Kailey. “Wish me luck,” she said, and she saw Kailey’s lips form the words good luck but didn’t hear her over the new song that started up.

Anxiety and excitement threaded through her veins as she wound her way through the bar to the door and stepped outside into the cold air. Maybe he’d gone already...

But there he was, leaning against the fender of his pickup truck, his arms crossed over his chest and his cowboy hat shadowing his eyes.

Then he saw her and he smiled, uncrossing his arms and pushing away from the truck. Carrie’s feet took her one step forward, then another, and another...until she was at the truck and he was holding the door open for her.

Chapter Three

She’d actually come.

Duke hadn’t expected her to. Carrie struck him as the buttoned-down type that maybe got out now and again with her girlfriends to cut loose but wasn’t out on the prowl. She was too sweet. Too reserved. Her friend Kailey was more on the vivacious side and good for a laugh. But it wasn’t Kailey he’d danced with. It wasn’t Kailey who’d captured his attention.

It was Carrie, and her sun-streaked hair, big eyes and sad smile. His response to her had been instant and exciting, and before he could think better of it he’d made his proposition. Once outside, though, the cold air had brought him to his senses. He was ten kinds of fool. She wasn’t some girl hanging around a bar on base, looking for a good time. She was Carrie Coulter. Freckle Face. His employee, for God’s sake. What a dumb idea.

He looked over at her as he turned on the heater and put the truck in Reverse. The way her jaw was tensed, she was as nervous as he was. He’d waited for her because he’d said he would, but he hadn’t truly thought she’d take him up on his offer. He’d never actually made that sort of proposition before, and he’d figured he’d blown it. Watching her come out the doors and into the parking lot had set his heart racing. His confidence had taken quite a beating lately, but maybe he had more going for him than he realized.

Either that or Carrie Coulter was desperate.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. More desperate than he was? Not likely. What a pair they made. Secretly, he was glad to be out of the bar. The noise had been overwhelming and instead of relaxing, he’d found himself tensing up. Just trying to hear the conversations going on around him took all his focus. Now he was sitting here, away from the crowd, and neither of them was saying anything.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, turning her head to look at him, chafing her hands together.

“Nothing,” he answered, but judging by the look on her face, she didn’t believe him. “I really didn’t think you’d come.”

“I had second thoughts. And third and fourth.”

Intrigued, he checked the road and then glanced back at her again. “But you came anyway.”

“Let’s not analyze it to death,” she suggested, and he chuckled again. Dammit, he enjoyed her. He liked how she shot straight from the hip without trying to impress, liked the way she smiled and really liked the way she smelled when she was snuggled close in his arms—like shampoo and fresh air and some sort of light perfume, all of it magnified by the heat of her body against his.

It was one thing to proposition a woman on the dance floor and another to wait and then spend fifteen minutes in a vehicle, prolonging things to close to half an hour. It gave a person way too much time to think, and so it was that as Duke turned down the side road leading to Carrie’s house, he felt compelled to let her off the hook.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Her head snapped to the left and he felt her gaze burn into the side of his head. “You don’t want to?”

Damn. “It’s not that. It’s just...I don’t want you to feel pressured if you’ve changed your mind.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. Why the heck was he so nervous all of a sudden? Nervous wasn’t generally part of his vocabulary. He normally made a decision and got on with it, no second thoughts, no reservations.

Until two months ago. Until the IED had changed everything. He’d gone from being 100 percent sure of himself to questioning every single decision. He didn’t even know why he felt like such a failure. The explosion hadn’t been his fault. He’d merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She didn’t say anything, so he let out a breath and said, “You’ll have to tell me which mailbox is yours.”

A few hundred yards more and Carrie pointed with her finger. “The next one,” she said quietly, and he slowed, his headlights sweeping a swath of light across her front lawn as he pulled into her driveway. Her truck sat beneath the protection of a carport next to the bungalow, a model only slightly newer than his with rust spots around the license plate.

He pulled to a stop, killed the engine, and silence settled around them in the twilight.

He wasn’t sure how to start. Wasn’t that the darndest thing?

“So, uh...thanks for the drive,” Carrie said, and without looking at him, she put her hand on the door handle and pulled.

Panic shot through his veins and he reached out, grabbing the wrist of her left hand before she could get out of the vehicle. “Don’t go,” he said roughly, wondering how he could have messed things up so completely between the bar and her home and so little that was said. But he had. He’d tried to give her a way out and instead he’d made her feel like he’d reconsidered his offer.

Such as it was.

He didn’t have a lot to offer a woman at the moment, but he could damn well make sure that Carrie ended tonight feeling desirable and wanted. Because she was both.

“Look, I’m a little out of practice,” he confessed quietly. “And probably going about this all wrong.”

“You? Out of practice?” She’d stayed in her seat but she still had her hand on the door. Her face, in the glare of the interior light, looked amused. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Duke? I bet you have to fight the girls off with a stick.”

“Hardly.” Maybe when he’d been a lot younger. Full of himself and testosterone and with the general hubris that came from being a soldier in his prime. But then he’d met Roxanne, and for the better part of three years they’d maintained a relationship—through two deployments and a base move. He’d been a month into his third deployment when she’d called it quits. Not that he could blame her. It wasn’t an easy life.

There’d been no fighting women off for quite some time.

“Carrie,” he said, his voice quietly commanding. “Shut the door.”

She did. The overhead light turned off, plunging them into darkness once more. Her features were illuminated only by the moonlight that shivered through the windows, and the intimacy he’d been craving came rushing back.

“Come here,” he ordered, and to his surprise she complied, sliding over on the bench seat so she was next to him.

He turned on the seat so he was facing her better, raised his hands to cradle her face. She had her hair up in some fancy kind of braid and the smoothness of it grazed his fingers. Her eyes looked larger now as his mouth hovered only inches from hers and he could hear the quick sound of her breath as she waited. Waited. He closed his eyes, shutting out the voice that listed the reasons why this was a mistake. Then he touched his mouth to hers.

Her lips were soft and pliant, and to his surprise she didn’t take any coaxing. Her tongue tangled with his as the kiss exploded, and Duke’s body felt as if it was expanding within his skin. He heard a sound echo in the cab of the truck—Good Lord, had he made that moaning sound?—as she nibbled on his bottom lip. Her mouth tasted of sweet soda and sharp rum and sultry woman and he decided on the spot that he’d made a good call on the dance floor after all. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected anything this instant, this gratifying.

His hand slid from her neck down to her jacket and he pulled the zipper all the way down until the two sides parted. Inside the material she was warm, and he cupped her breast, finding the nipple hard either from his touch or the frigid air in the cab of the truck. He found the hem of her shirt and slid his hand underneath, encountering a lace-edged bra.

“Mmm,” she murmured, arching into his palm. Before he could reach around to the clasp, she pulled away.

“Slide over to the middle of the seat,” she commanded. He shifted a foot to the right and she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, her mouth on his again. God, she was sweet. Sweet and hot and amazing...

And she was sucking on his earlobe.

“I thought the steering wheel would get in the way,” she murmured, her hot breath and soft words sending shivers down his spine. She unzipped his coat, too, and spread it wide, so that their bodies were only separated by a few layers of denim and Duke was rapidly losing coherent thought. He slid his hands beneath her shirt, unfastened her bra and, in one quick movement, lifted the fabric and fastened his mouth on her breast.

She cried out at the contact and it was all he could do to not flip her down on the seat and make love to her right then and there. The windows had steamed up and without the heater, the interior of his truck was cooling fast despite the heat they were giving off.

He wanted to do this right, wanted to make love on a soft bed with lots of room and no worries about anyone wandering by and discovering them. “Inside,” he grated out roughly. “For the love of God, Carrie, let’s go inside.”

She ground her pelvis against him and he swore his eyes rolled back in his head.

“What if someone goes by and sees us?” He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away a little. “It’s cold. If we’re only going to do this once, I want to do it right.”

Her gaze burned into his and she slid off his lap. In the time it took her to get right-way around and grab her purse, he was out and at her door, reaching for her hand. Halfway to her back door he swept her up in his arms and she let out a musical, sexy laugh that made him smile. After a quick search for keys, he carried her through the door and into her small foyer, then let her down. Her legs slid against his until her toes touched the floor. Once they were stable he moved forward until her body was pressed between his and the wall.

Articles of clothing began to come off; coats dropped to the floor, a few buttons popped as she struggled to release him from his shirt, and her braid was tattered from both his hands and the tangle from pulling her shirt and bra over her head.

It wasn’t until Duke’s hands got busy beneath the waistband of her jeans that things suddenly seemed to be too much for her. Soon they’d cross a line they couldn’t turn back from, and he sensed the moment Carrie’s doubts started to creep in. She pulled back a little. Didn’t resist his touch but didn’t lean into it either, and he slowly got back his control and decided that perhaps a little finesse was required.

“Duke,” she breathed, and he was pretty certain his name had never sounded quite that sexy before.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled at her neck, taking his time. It wasn’t a race after all.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Damn.

He swallowed. Took a deep breath.

“Is it because I’m your boss?” He dropped light kisses on her cheeks, across the soft curve of her ear, resting his hands on the warm skin just above the waist of her jeans. “Because that doesn’t matter. Trust me. I can always fire you and then it won’t be an issue.”

She let out a breathless laugh but it faded quickly. “No, it’s not that. Not entirely. I’m...I’m not ready. That probably sounds stupid.”

They hadn’t even bothered to turn on a light when they’d come inside. In the shadows Carrie’s eyes appeared dark and apprehensive.

Several seconds spun out while Duke tried to regain his equilibrium and common sense. “Whew,” he finally said, down low. “Okay. Okay.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” He frowned. “You always have the right to say no, you know.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed.”

And, oh, he was. His body was still jacked up from all the stimulation, and he was going to have to find some sort of displacement activity to burn off the energy. “Hell yeah,” he murmured, running his finger over her bare shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But not disappointed in you. Right now I’m just cursing your sensible side. You’ve got me wound pretty tight, Miss Coulter.”

“It would appear we have some chemistry going on.”

He chuckled. “And that’s the understatement of the century.”

He bent and picked up her top and helped her get it over her head, but she wore it without her bra, and the idea of her bare breasts beneath the fabric didn’t help deflate his libido one bit. As he shrugged on his own shirt, she hiccuped softly and he knew without a doubt that she’d been right to put on the brakes. She wasn’t drunk but she wasn’t quite sober either, and he didn’t want that on his conscience. If they ever did go through with it, he wanted her clearheaded and present for every single second....

And that line of thinking wasn’t helping cool his jets, either.

“I should go,” he said quietly. “Are you going to be okay?”

She made a dismissive sound. “I’m not that drunk.”

He laughed. “No, ma’am.” He went forward and put a finger beneath her chin, lifted it and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “You are, however, a very difficult woman to walk away from.”

He’d surprised her with that. He could tell in the way her lips dropped open the slightest bit and her eyes widened.

“It’s probably better this way anyway,” she said, stepping back. “If we...you know...it would be awkward at the ranch.”

Only if they let it be, but he understood her concern. “I had a nice time tonight,” he admitted. “And that was unexpected, so thank you, Carrie.”

She nodded quickly. “Me, too.”

“I’ll be going, then. Unless...”

There was a short pause. “No, it’s better this way. I’ll see you later.”

It was another awkward moment where neither of them seemed sure what the right next move was, so Duke stepped forward and placed a kiss on her forehead before sliding out the door and heading for his truck.

He was backing out of her driveway when a light came on inside, and when he went to put the truck in Drive he noticed his hands were shaking.

It bothered him to realize how much he’d truly wanted to stay. And bothered him even more to know that he’d temporarily lost his mind simply because he’d danced with her. Who knew a woman could have such a rapid and visceral effect on him?

It was going to be a problem, though he would never admit that to Carrie. He’d have to either forget about her or get her out of his system. Considering she would be at the ranch day in and day out, forgetting didn’t seem like the most likely option.

* * *

CARRIE’S HEAD SEEMED to pulse at the same tempo as her heartbeat. She swiped her hand across her eyes, scraping away the grittiness in the corners and wincing at the pain that throbbed just behind her forehead.

Stupid rum and cola.

Sun glinted through the blinds she’d forgotten to shut last night, and she squinted. What time was it? A quick check of her ancient clock radio said eight forty-five. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept this late. As she sat up in bed, the room took an uncertain shift. She waited it out, then cautiously stood, shut her blinds, and went in search of acetaminophen and a large glass of water in an attempt to rehydrate.

It was half-gone when there was a knock on her door.

Probably Kailey, Carrie mused, shuffling her way to the foyer. She’d want a play-by-play of last night for sure. Instead she opened the door to find Duke on the step holding a cardboard tray with two coffees and a smile.

She then realized that she was in her panties and the same red shirt—still minus her bra—that she’d been wearing when she fell into bed after he left. His smile was replaced by a slightly shocked expression that mellowed to amusement. “I’d offer you hair of the dog,” he said warmly, “except I thought you’d appreciate coffee more.”

She would not freak out that he was seeing her in her underwear. She would not. “Gimme,” she muttered instead, and reached for the tray. As she disappeared into the kitchen, she called back, “You coming in or what?”

She heard his boots hit the tile and the door shut behind him. “How could I refuse such a warm invitation?” he responded, coming through to her small kitchen. He looked her up and down. “Do you always answer your door in your underwear?”

“I thought you were Kailey.”

“Right.” He grinned at her. She really wished he’d stay grouchy and broody. He was easier to dislike then.

“You didn’t need to bring coffee over.”

“I thought you might be a little worse for wear this morning, that’s all.”

Which she was. Not that she’d had trouble sleeping. But she distinctly remembered dreams last night. Dreams about Duke and what might have happened in his truck. Or inside. She wondered if the reality was even half as good as her dreams, and if it was, she discovered she quite regretted putting a halt to their activities.

Sort of. Because her body was sorry but her brain was a bit blown away by the sheer force of their chemistry. It was too much. Overwhelming. The kind of thing that could swallow a girl up and then spit her out.

“Give me a minute to pull on some pants, okay?” Avoiding his assessing gaze, she resisted the urge to scoot to her bedroom for proper clothing, instead taking calm, measured steps. It wasn’t as if she was naked....

Which she very well might have been if they’d finished what they started and were dealing with a true morning after.

She returned to the kitchen feeling seminormal, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and her hair scraped back into a ponytail. The coffee smelled delicious, so she reached for her cup and took a cautious sip while Duke watched her over the rim of his own, his hips resting against the kitchen counter and his left foot crossed over his right. He looked ultrarelaxed when she was anything but.

Maybe walking away hadn’t messed with his sleep the way it had hers.

“Thanks for this,” she said, cupping her hands around the heat sleeve. “But you really didn’t need to come by. I’m fine.”

“Actually, I wanted to apologize.”

“You did?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “What on earth for?”

He looked oddly embarrassed as his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment and his cheeks grew ruddy. He looked up and gave a small, slightly crooked smile. “Look, Freckles, it’s pretty clear that we’ve got chemistry. But I shouldn’t have let it get in the way of my common sense. You were right last night about it being an awkward situation.”

Chemistry, hah. Carrie remembered the old trick from high school where a bunch of them had dropped a Mentos into a bottle of cola. That was chemistry, too, and that was just about how she’d felt last night. Fizzy. Explosive.

And why on earth did she feel all girlie when he called her Freckles?

“What, you’ve shortened Freckle Face to just Freckles?” She ignored the other stuff he’d said—she didn’t feel like going into a postmortem of “let’s define our relationship parameters” while her head was still throbbing.

“Too many syllables.” Duke’s lips twitched and he took another long drink of his coffee.

“Don’t worry about last night. It’s already forgotten.” Yeah, and her nose was about to grow à la Pinocchio. As if she’d ever forget straddling him in his truck or the way he’d carried her inside as if it was his single purpose in life.

“Deal,” he agreed.

Now that it was settled, Duke seemed to relax and look around him. “So. This was the house you grew up in, huh.”

She nodded, knowing how it must appear to Duke. The house was nothing special. Things had fallen into a bit of disrepair, though Carrie did her best as a handyman. Maintenance usually took up what little budget she had for household items, so she hadn’t really had a chance to put her own personal stamp on the place in the form of homey, decorative touches. Not that decorating was really on her list of strengths...

“I love it here. When Mom got sick again and my dad took off, I talked the bank into letting me assume the mortgage.”

“As a ranch hand? You weren’t foreman then, were you? Wow. I’m impressed they lent you the money.”

She shook her head. “I know you and your grandfather weren’t close, but he was really good to me. He cosigned the loan. It was the only way they’d approve me.”

“That was good of him.”

He sounded sincere, and she was glad. “So much had changed in my life. I think it was a relief to have this house, some sort of consistency. Plus it let Mom stay here during most of her illness.”

“That must have been hard.” He watched her over the rim of his cup, his gaze steady on her face. One thing she’d say about Duke, when you spoke to him, he paid attention.

She met his gaze. “Yeah, it was,” she said quietly. Harder still had been the last days, when she’d had to give in to harsh reality and her mom had gone to a hospice in Great Falls. It had meant that Carrie couldn’t be with her as much as she wanted. It had meant that she’d missed her opportunity to say a last goodbye, too. That was something she’d always regret.

“It must have been tough, being the main breadwinner.”

She shrugged. “You do what you have to do. All I can say is I’m glad the ranch is still running. Without this job, I’d lose the house, and I’m still paying off the medical bills.”

She met Duke’s gaze and saw the expected sympathy. “Hey, don’t feel sorry for me,” she said. “I’m still healthy as a horse. It’s all good. What about you? How’re you settling in at Crooked Valley?”

It was Duke’s turn to make a face. “Honestly? That house is too big and quiet for me. Quinn’s got his office in the downstairs, and I felt like a fool wandering through it all alone. I moved my things into the bunkhouse.”

Carrie put her coffee cup in the trash. “The bunkhouse is all right. Quinn never used it because he has the house nearby and he’s got Amber, too. But it had to be in rough shape. No one’s lived in it for quite a while.”

Duke nodded. “It needed some work. I spent a few days last week cleaning it from top to bottom and dropping some money at the hardware store. I’ve been doing odd jobs in between shadowing Quinn around and getting an overall feeling for the operation. There’s more here than I remember.”

“Your grandfather added the bucking stock in the past ten years. It didn’t take off the way he hoped. He needs a Kailey.”

“A Kailey?”

“She runs the program at Brandt. Our stock has potential, but needs dedicated attention. And that’s not my specialty. Nor Quinn’s. He does the best he can, but he’s not a rodeo guy.”

Duke started to laugh. “You know who’d be good at that? My brother, Rylan.”

“I heard a rumor he was still competing.” Rylan, three years younger than Duke, who’d moved to the city and then surprised everyone by becoming a bareback rider. “Joe wanted him to come back, too, you know. He always refused.”

Duke nodded, then finished his coffee and threw his cup in her garbage can. “I know. Ry was determined to make it his own way. He’s more stubborn than I am.”

“God forbid,” she said drily, and Duke’s eyes twinkled at her.

“Ry doesn’t want handouts. I get that. He got one of these letters, too—that is, if he stayed in one place long enough for the lawyers to find him.”

“He did?”

Duke nodded. “You didn’t read the whole thing, did you? The ranch is left to all three of us. I only own a third.”

Of course. She’d been silly to think that Joe would have left everything to Duke. “So he’s coming back?”

Duke’s face clouded over. “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken.”

“But he’s your brother.” Growing up, Carrie would have given her left arm for a sibling. Someone to talk to and hang out with and share clothes with—who wasn’t a friend from school. Someone to share memories of her parents with or turn to with secrets and support. “Surely you guys speak to each other.”

“Not so much.”

“And you and Lacey?”

Duke frowned. “I saw her when I was first back. She’s been through a divorce, and she’s working for Natural Resources and Conservation.”

Carrie looked up at him. “You’ve got a family and you don’t even seem to care. Trust me when I say they might not always be there.”

“I know that. I lost my father, remember?”

“So what’s keeping you from the rest of your family?”

He pushed away from the counter. “I just came to bring you coffee. I should probably be going.”

“I hit a nerve,” she acknowledged. “What are you hiding, Duke?”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m back, I was at loose ends, I got the summons. I’m just here until I can figure out what I want to do next.”

A cold sensation ran down Carrie’s body. “What do you mean, you’re just here until...? What happens to the ranch if you leave?”

He shrugged. “We all have to take our place at some point during the year. If we don’t, the ranch gets sold.”

Sold out from under them all, and if things went the way they had been lately, the buyer would sell off the herd and turn the ranch land into a housing development. She’d be out of a job. Instead of Duke being some savior, it was a real possibility that this was just prolonging the inevitable. Maybe she should start looking for new employment now, so she didn’t end up scrambling. Didn’t end up defaulting on loans and payments.

The problem was she loved Crooked Valley. It was her home. A home Duke didn’t appreciate at all.

“I see,” she said weakly. “So why bother learning the ropes if you’re just going to pick up and move on again?”

“What if I don’t pick up and move? As I said, I’m figuring out what to do next. Learning about the operation is interesting.”

Carrie’s hopes were short-lived. Ranchers didn’t find things “interesting.” Ranching was part of who they were. It was something that was in the blood. It definitely wasn’t something to dabble in for fun or because you had nothing better to do. Duke would stay a few months and be gone.

“Crooked Valley isn’t really the sort of place where you just fill some of your spare time,” she replied, her voice sharp. The headache was threatening to come back, too.

“Hey, give me a break. I haven’t come anywhere close to making any sort of a decision. I’ve only been here a week. I’ve hardly had two seconds to wrap my head around all of this, let alone relax.”

“Well,” she replied, “you’d better brace yourself, then, because next weekend things are going to get a lot busier and we need every pair of hands available.”

“Get ready for what?”

“You want a taste of what ranching is really like? We move the herd back here to the mountain pastures for the winter. The folks at the Triple B will give us a hand driving the cattle, and the next week we return the favor. It’s exhausting but huge fun, too.”

“A cattle drive?”

She nodded. “Yup. We overnight at the old cookhouse and ride back the next day. When your grandmother was still alive, she cooked for two straight days to feed the crew when they returned. The past few years Joe brought in sandwiches and coffee for the first night’s supper and we did a potluck on the return. All the wives bring dishes and someone generally fires up some music for a bit of dancing.” She knew there was a hint of nostalgia in her voice but she couldn’t help it. It was one of the hardest and best weekends of the year, in her opinion—second only to the branding and vaccination day in the spring.

“I’m expected to coordinate that?” Duke’s eyebrows lifted. “Why didn’t anyone mention it?”

She shrugged. “I thought Quinn would have told you. Until last night, you barely said two words to me all week.”

Duke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to herding cows. And I have no idea what to do about after, either. Do people expect a party?” He looked genuinely distressed. “You’ll help me, right?”

Ah, so here it was. Now that he was stuck he realized she existed. That’s not fair, a voice inside her argued. He sure knew you existed last night.

Yeah. He knew she existed when it came to making out in his truck or needing a social coordinator. She lifted her chin. “Forget it, Duke. I’m the cattle foreman and I’ll be heading up the drive. I’m not a party planner.”

Chapter Four

For a girl who was looking a bit worse for wear after her night on the town, she sure wasn’t giving an inch. He already felt out of his depth, and now he was expected to host some sort of social event at the ranch? It didn’t help that Carrie was being stubborn and he had to sweeten her up somehow. It was his first real test at Crooked Valley and he didn’t want to blow it.

“Of course I don’t expect you to plan it,” he replied, trying to smile at her. “Maybe you could just tell me what I need to do. Make me a list or something.”

“A list? Really?”

“Sure, why not?” He raised an eyebrow. “Rather than stand in your kitchen, which is charming by the way, why don’t I take you out for breakfast?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I usually find the best thing for a hangover is orange juice, bacon and eggs cooked in the bacon grease. The diner still serves that stuff, right?”

She looked tempted. It was a good sign.

“Come on, Freckles. You don’t have to go to work. Let me treat you to breakfast and you can tell me all the stuff I need to do before this big weekend coming up.”

“I need to clean my house....”

“How dirty can it be?” he argued. “You’re the only one here to mess it up. It’s just breakfast,” he challenged her. “Not a proposal of marriage.”

“You’re aggravating.”

But her voice had softened and he could tell she was wavering. He grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

“You’re buying?”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do in exchange for your help.” But her question really did make him think. How hard were things for Carrie? Other than her night at the bar, there was nothing in her life to make him think she was extravagant with her money. The house was plain and her truck was old. And a night out with a friend did not constitute extravagance. Everyone deserved to get out once in a while.

“I guess I could. I am kind of hungry.”

Score. He nodded at her. “Great. You might want to just wash your face before we go.”

Her lips dropped open and her eyes registered dismay. “My face? What’s wrong with my face?”

He slid his index finger under his eye. “You melted a bit during the night.”

She spun on her heel and disappeared into the bathroom. Two seconds later a squeal erupted, echoing off the bathroom tile. “I look like a raccoon! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I just did.” He walked down the hall and glanced in the bathroom. She ran a cloth beneath a stream of water, wrung it out and scrubbed at her eyes.

“This is why I don’t wear eyeliner,” she groused. “Or much makeup at all. I never remember to wash my face before bed and then I get up looking like...” She broke off the sentence. “Well. Looking like this.”

What he thought was that she didn’t need makeup to be beautiful, but he wouldn’t say that because after last night it would take on importance that he didn’t want. Or maybe he did want it but he shouldn’t, which came out to practically the same thing. Mouth closed. Boundaries set.

“Okay. I think I’m okay now. Oh, wait. I need to brush my teeth. They’re fuzzy.”

He chuckled. “The rum really got to you, huh.”

She avoided his gaze. “I’d actually prefer not to talk about last night.”

“Fine by me.” Talking about it would create one of two outcomes. Either they’d argue or they’d pick up where they left off. He didn’t want the first and he was telling himself he’d better not indulge in the second. Last night he’d been carried away. It had been nice talking to someone. To hold her close, to feel so alive. Truth was, since his accident he hadn’t felt that kind of vitality. In the end it wouldn’t be smart carrying on with her, though. She worked for him, and he definitely couldn’t afford for her to quit.

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