DO YOU NEED A COWBOY FIX?

New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson is back with more …

Sons of Chance

Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged

Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

Saddle up with:

SHOULD’VE BEEN A COWBOY

August 2012

COWBOY UP

September 2012

COWBOYS LIKE US

October 2012

Take a chance … on a Chance!

Dear Reader,

THE SONS OF CHANCE are back! You’ve already met brothers Nick, Gabe and Jack Chance. And boy, was it ever one hot summer, as each cowboy took on new responsibilities and paired up with the strong women they needed. The last book, Claimed!, ended with Gabe and Morgan’s wedding, plus a little rendezvous in the hayloft involving Morgan’s sister, Tyler, and Alex Keller, the DJ at the wedding reception.

I guess quite a few of you were paying attention, because I got many questions about that hayloft scene, and whether it would lead to anything. Well, it does. And this is the book that picks up Alex and Tyler’s story ten months later. As you might imagine, neither of them has forgotten that night in the hayloft!

The ranch itself is a haven for all those, including animals, needing a last chance to live the life they were meant for. That mission dovetails nicely with a new venture initiated by my fellow Blaze® authors, the Blaze Pet Project. We believe everyone, including our furry friends, deserves a last chance for a happily ever after. For more information, visit our blog at www.blazeauthors.com. And welcome back to the Last Chance Ranch in beautiful Jackson Hole, Wyoming!

Yours in cowboy country,

Vicki

About the Author

New York Times bestseller VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’s love affair with cowboys started with The Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick, and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website at www.vickilewisthompson.com.

Should’ve Been a Cowboy

Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my editor Brenda Chin,

who gave me the opportunity to create a multi-book

series about my favorite subject—cowboys.

A tip of the Stetson to you, Brenda!

Prologue

May 14, 1956, from the diary of Eleanor Chance

I LOVE GIVING birthday parties. And when your only child turns ten, well, today was a big day at the Last Chance Ranch. We had unseasonably warm weather in Jackson Hole, and after the kids left, tummies full of birthday cake and ice cream, Archie went to the barn and brought out Johnny’s big present.

She’s a beautiful little filly who looks exactly like the horse that the Lone Ranger’s sidekick, Tonto, rides—white with bay patches. While most kids would want an all-white horse like the Lone Ranger’s, Johnny loves Tonto’s horse, Scout.

And so this filly will be named Scout, even though she’s a girl. Everyone around here calls Scout a pinto, which is what Tonto’s horse is, but she’s actually a registered paint. That means she has pinto coloring, but she also has papers and can be bred later on.

She cost us a fair bit, but the money went to a good cause. One of our neighbors needed to sell this filly so he could pay for his wife’s back operation. The operation was Ginny’s last chance to avoid living in a wheelchair, and I’m happy to say the surgery was a success.

That’s what this ranch is about, giving people and animals one last chance. So everyone came out ahead on this deal. Besides, Archie says Scout is an investment as well as a birthday present for Johnny. Cattle ranching has been good to us, especially during the war when the army needed beef, but Archie thinks we should diversify, and for years he’s dreamed of raising horses.

Scout’s a dream come true for Johnny, who’s begged us for a pinto from the moment he saw his first episode of The Lone Ranger. But Scout could be the beginning of Archie’s dream, too. I sure hope so, because spending all that money on a registered paint was a gamble, even if it was for a good cause.

I keep reminding myself that Archie won the Last Chance in a card game nineteen years ago, and that’s turned out pretty well. As Archie always says, “Chance men are lucky when it counts.”

1

WHAT ROTTEN LUCK. Alex Keller ended the phone call, tucked his phone in his jeans pocket and nudged Doozie into a canter. He needed to get back to the ranch house and figure out what the hell to do now that the country band he’d hired wouldn’t be showing up tomorrow. He couldn’t expect to get a replacement at four o’clock on a Friday afternoon, which meant no live music for the open house. Damn.

The open house had been his idea. Two months ago, after accepting a job as the first-ever marketing director for the Last Chance, he’d proposed the event to increase the ranch’s visibility and establish it as the premier place to buy registered paints. Technically he was up to the challenge. He held a degree in marketing, and although he’d spent most of his career as a high-profile DJ in Chicago, he’d also been instrumental in the radio station’s marketing campaigns.

But this was his first event for the ranch, and he needed it to go well. The Chances were family now that Alex’s sister Josie had married Jack Chance, so the ranch’s bottom line had personal significance. The Chances weren’t in immediate financial danger, but spring sales had been slow. Alex had been hired to fix that.

He’d saddled Doozie earlier that afternoon, figuring a ride might settle his nerves. Instead he’d ended up with a phone call that added to his growing list of problems. Most of the issues involved keeping the invited guests dry. Rain-filled clouds hovered on the horizon and only one of the three canopies he’d ordered had shown up. Now he had no band, either.

Live music would have gone a long way toward setting the tone for tomorrow’s open house, even if it rained. Sure, he could rig up a sound system and use canned music and his DJ abilities, but it wouldn’t have the same feel as live music, and he couldn’t be stuck behind a microphone all day.

At this point on Friday afternoon, nothing could be done about either of those glitches. He’d spent all his life in Chicago and was used to its vast resources. If one band canceled, you hired another, and if one delivery of event canopies didn’t work out, you went with a different company. Jackson Hole, Wyoming, was a whole other situation, and he was screwed.

He had to make this work, though. All three of the Chance brothers—Jack, Gabe, and Nick—had put their faith in him, and he’d do his damnedest. Everyone knew Alex Keller was a hard worker, especially his ex-wife, who’d wanted him to work less and play more.

Oh, well. Crystal was back in Chicago cavorting with her new boyfriend, and he was out here in God’s country, working his butt off because that’s who he was. And he couldn’t complain. The ranch’s location, west of a little town called Shoshone in the Jackson Hole region, was spectacular.

Following his divorce last summer, he’d left Chicago and found a combination DJ/marketing director position with a radio station in Jackson. But he’d spent more time out at the Last Chance than at his apartment in Jackson and had, to his surprise, gone country. When the offer came to work for the Chance brothers, he’d jumped at it.

Slowing Doozie to a trot as he approached the barn, he glanced over at the massive, two-story ranch house, a log structure that had grown as the family had grown. Its front windows faced north with a view of the state’s scenic crown jewel—the perpetually snowcapped Tetons. The acreage was worth millions, and the family wanted to keep every square foot of it, which meant the Chances were land rich and cash poor.

From what Alex had heard, Jonathan Chance Sr. had been comfortable with that, but after his death, his three sons had taken stock of the situation. They’d decided on a more aggressive breeding and sales program for the ranch’s registered paints to give the operation a bigger financial cushion.

Alex could see why. A ranch this size had a fair amount of overhead, including a payroll for several regular hands and a few seasonal ones, all of whom had to be housed and fed in addition to their wages. On top of that were maintenance and utility costs for the large ranch house, the bunkhouse, the heated barn and various other outbuildings.

Dismounting by the hitching post beside the barn, he answered a greeting from Emmett Sterling. The ranch foreman, a seasoned cowboy in his late fifties, paused on his way into the barn. “Want me to take care of her for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it.” Alex had bonded with this bay mare, who’d put up with his beginning riding mistakes without complaint. Doozie had arrived in Jackson Hole last summer about the same time Alex had. They’d both been in need of sanctuary, and the Last Chance had provided that.

Doozie wasn’t a paint, so she couldn’t be part of the breeding program, but she’d been allowed to stay, anyway. Alex thought it was appropriate that she’d been assigned to him, because he wasn’t a cowboy, but he’d been allowed to stay, too. Doozie would never become a paint, but damned if Alex hadn’t started to feel like a cowboy.

After settling Doozie in her stall with Hornswaggled, a goat who was her constant companion, Alex headed for the ranch house, where a cold bottle of Bud was calling his name. These days he drank beer instead of wine, just as he wore jeans instead of chinos.

A guy couldn’t hang out in a living room with a wagon-wheel chandelier and Navajo rugs on the walls and keep wearing city-slicker clothes. The unwritten dress code for logging time in the cushy leather armchairs in front of the giant rock fireplace included faded jeans, boots and a Western shirt.

Alex had complied. The day he’d bought a Stetson and settled it on his head, he’d bid a permanent farewell to the Chicago city boy he used to be.

His boots echoed hollowly on the porch as he crossed to the large front door and pulled it open. No one was in the living room, which always smelled faintly of wood smoke even if the hearth was cold, like now. He turned left down a long hall. His route to the kitchen took him through the dining room with its four round tables that each sat eight people.

At this time of the afternoon the tables were empty, but three hours ago the place had bustled with activity. The Chance brothers had continued their father’s tradition of eating lunch with the hands so everyone could exchange information about ranch chores. Sarah, Jonathan’s widow, usually joined the group, and now her three daughters-in-law were included, too.

When Alex heard Sarah’s laughter coming from the kitchen, he knew she must be talking to the cook, Mary Lou Simms, who was as much a friend as an employee. Alex wished he weren’t the bearer of bad news. He’d worked hard to make this event tomorrow successful, but now he wasn’t sure it would be.

Sarah needed to know that, even if it spoiled her good mood. He could talk to the Chance brothers over dinner. Friday night was family night at the big house, a way to stay connected now that all three pairs of newlyweds lived on different sections of the ranch’s vast acreage.

Taking a deep breath, Alex walked into the kitchen and found Mary Lou and Sarah pulling baby stuff out of a mail-order box. Gabe’s wife, Morgan, was eight months pregnant, and soon-to-be grandma Sarah had obviously gone catalog shopping.

Sarah was the kind of woman who seemed ageless even though she’d let her hair go white. She wore it in a sleek bob, and her high cheekbones and flawless skin made her look years younger than she was. Her mother had been a runway model, and Sarah took after her.

Alex had heard that Mary Lou had been a blonde bombshell twenty years ago, but now she enjoyed her own excellent cooking and didn’t seem to care about a few extra pounds or the state of her unruly gray hair.

Sarah glanced at Alex as he came into the kitchen. “What do you think?” She waved an impossibly tiny shirt in a red bandanna print. “Since Gabe and Morgan won’t tell me if they’re having a boy or a girl, I’m going with unisex clothes, which is probably better because they can be handed down.”

“Cute.” Alex hoped that was the appropriate response, because he’d never given much thought to baby clothes. Crystal had been fanatic about birth control during their years together, and he’d had no burning desire to be a father, especially after the marriage began to sour. Baby clothes were foreign objects to him. “Mind if I grab a beer?”

“Help yourself.” She held up a one-piece deal that was supposed to look as if the baby wore jeans and a Western shirt, although it was printed on stretch terry. “Is this adorable or what?”

“Sure is!” Alex crossed to the refrigerator and opened it. Maybe once he’d wrapped his hand around a cold beer, he’d be able to find a gentle way to introduce some gloom and doom into this happy little baby scene.

Sarah was understandably excited about the impending arrival of her first grandchild. Alex had been the DJ for Morgan and Gabe’s wedding reception last August, and Morgan had stated clearly then that she didn’t plan to rush into motherhood. Yet within a couple of months she’d turned up preggers and was apparently thrilled about it.

Thoughts of Morgan’s wedding always reminded Alex of Morgan’s younger sister, Tyler, who had agreed to spend a memorable few hours in the hayloft with him following the reception. Alex couldn’t smell fresh hay without remembering the feel of Tyler’s soft, willing body and her muted cries of pleasure. They’d taken care not to make too much noise so they wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention.

She’d left the next day, returning to her job as activities director for a luxury cruise line headquartered in L.A. She’d confessed that constant traveling didn’t leave much room for relationships. Just as well, he’d told her. He was still recovering from his divorce.

True enough, but watching Tyler leave hadn’t been easy. That night in the hayloft had been perfect, at least from his viewpoint. He’d tried to talk himself out of that assessment but hadn’t quite succeeded.

He’d resisted the urge to ask Morgan about Tyler in the months that followed. He was pretty sure nobody knew that he and Tyler had spent the night together in the hayloft. The Chance family had been too preoccupied to notice, and Alex somehow doubted Tyler had confided in Morgan.

If she had, he would have seen it in Morgan’s eyes or felt it in her treatment of him. So maybe the night had meant nothing more to Tyler than a champagne-flavored roll in the hay. Somehow he doubted it, though.

He’d sensed that she’d been as deeply affected as he’d been. Then again, she’d been his first since the divorce, so maybe his perception hadn’t been accurate. In the following months he’d dated a couple of women from the Jackson Hole area, but they hadn’t inspired the gut-level response he’d had to Tyler.

As Mary Lou and Sarah continued to coo over the baby clothes, Alex reached for the longneck. He’d curled his fingers around it when Morgan called out a greeting from the kitchen doorway. He hoped the baby clothes weren’t supposed to be a surprise.

“Look who’s here!” Morgan sounded breathless. “My world-traveling sister just flew over from L.A. to surprise me!”

Alex straightened up so fast he banged his head on the door of the refrigerator. Praying nobody had noticed, he held his bottle of beer in a death grip and slowly closed the refrigerator door. His heart hammered as he turned to face the woman who’d played a prominent role in his dreams for nearly ten months.

His memory hadn’t done her justice. She was even sexier than he’d remembered, with her ebony hair curling around her face and down the back of her turquoise dress. Dark eyes that reflected her mother’s Italian heritage met his. She seemed as shocked to see him as he was to see her.

Although she looked nothing like Crystal, who was blonde with Scandinavian ancestry, Alex couldn’t help noticing surface similarities to his ex-wife. Obviously Tyler spent time and money on her hair, nails and clothes.

She wore a dress that revealed a little cleavage and high-heeled sandals that showed off her pedicure. And she smelled amazing, like a bouquet of peach-colored roses. Although he’d fully embraced the country life, he’d been a Chicago boy first, and all that careful grooming still had the power to turn him on.

But it was more than that. One glance into those eyes and he knew that what they’d shared in the hayloft had been more than just sex. Whether they were prepared to deal with it or not, they were emotionally involved. Still.

“Hey, Tyler.” He managed what he hoped was a nonchalant smile. “How’re you doing?”

TYLER HAD BEEN DOING just fine until she’d walked into the Last Chance’s kitchen and found Alex leaning into the refrigerator, his tempting buns encased in well-worn jeans. She hadn’t expected him to be at the ranch, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to have transformed himself into a cowboy. Judging from his denim shirt, snug jeans and scuffed boots, that’s exactly what he’d done.

Ten months ago he’d been a hottie who’d tempted her into one night of wild sex. She’d tried to convince herself it had been about superficial pleasure, but there was nothing superficial about the feelings flooding through her now. She’d had casual affairs. This didn’t qualify.

And God, did he look good. Apparently Wyoming agreed with him. The cute city boy had been replaced with a ruggedly handsome man. The dark blond hair he’d worn short and preppy now touched his collar. His face was leaner, his gray eyes more piercing, his body more ripped than she remembered. In ten months he’d gone from hottie to hero.

And what they’d shared had definitely been more than just sex. This man had made wonderful love to her, and she wanted him to do it again. Her skin warmed and her heartbeat quickened at the memory of his caress, his kiss, his gentle words. The time they’d been apart shrank until she felt as if she’d lain naked with him only hours ago.

On that cool August morning she’d forced herself to leave without a backward glance, although she’d mentally glanced back more than she cared to admit. Now she had even more reason to avoid a relationship, but she wondered how on God’s green earth she’d be able to resist him.

“Tyler, you remember Alex.” Morgan seemed to think her sister’s silence meant she needed prompting. “He was the DJ at our wedding reception.”

“Right.” Tyler smiled at him. “I thought you looked familiar.”

He cleared his throat. “There was a lot going on that night.”

Especially in the hayloft. “It was a memorable evening.” Tyler forced her gaze away from his before someone figured out just how well she remembered the guy who’d played the music, the guy who had a really talented mouth, clever hands and a way of stealing a girl’s heart when she wasn’t looking.

“I adored my wedding.” Morgan seemed oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between Tyler and Alex.

“The ceremony on horseback was certainly unique.” Tyler focused all her attention on her hormonal and understandably self-centered sister, who looked as if she’d stuffed a basketball down the front of her green paisley dress. Morgan had a month to go before she delivered, which meant this would be a large baby, because she looked ready to give birth at any moment.

Anyone who saw dark-haired Tyler and redheaded Morgan and knew they were sisters would understand why their parents had decided to combine last names and create the O’Connelli surname to honor both the Irish and the Italian sides of the family. It had been a quirky solution from a certifiably quirky couple.

“And there was Jack’s incredible toast at the reception,” Sarah added. She’d managed to shove into the box whatever she’d been holding when they’d arrived. “I’ll never forget that toast.”

“Me neither.” Morgan sighed. “The whole event was so romantic and happy that I think it helped bring Jack and Josie back together. Was that when they decided to have a double wedding with Nick and Dominique?”

“I think the four of them did come to that conclusion sometime during the reception.” Sarah moved in front of the box sitting on the round oak table, as if wanting to block it from Morgan’s view. “We were lucky to get their ceremony planned and completed before the first snow.”

Tyler suspected the box was full of baby things. She had quite a few in her suitcase, too. She’d managed to finagle this short leave from work, knowing she’d be in the middle of the Mediterranean when the baby arrived.

She glanced at Sarah. “So how does it feel, having all three of your sons married?”

“Very empty nestish,” Sarah said. “I hope you can stick around for a while. We have plenty of room upstairs now and I’d love the company.”

“She might be happiest here,” Morgan said. “I’d love to have her sleep at our house, but with the construction still in progress, and only the master bedroom finished, it’s sort of—”

“Like camping out.” Sarah laughed. “Tyler, you’ll want to take one of the upstairs bedrooms and leave the newlyweds to their chaos. I told them all to wait and move when the houses were done, but all three couples insisted they wanted to rough it in their new digs. I’ve tried not to take it personally,” she added with a grin.

“I can sleep wherever,” Tyler said. Except the hayloft. “But if there’s a room available upstairs, that sounds wonderful.”

“Great.” Sarah beamed at her. “How long can you stay?”

“I have to fly back next Wednesday.”

“Wow.” Sarah blinked. “That’s hardly enough time to unpack.”

“But at least she’s here, which is totally awesome.” Morgan’s happy gaze met Tyler’s.

“I had to see the new mommy-to-be.” And her sister’s enthusiasm made the effort so worthwhile. Alex’s presence was a small complication she’d work through.

“Tyler about gave me a heart attack,” Morgan said. “I didn’t know she was coming until she called me from the L.A. airport and said she was on her way.”

“I wasn’t sure I could get off until the last minute, and I had to sign in blood that I’d be back on Wednesday.”

Morgan regarded her sister with obvious pride. “That’s because Tyler’s the activities director for a world cruise that sails from L.A. a week from today. If she gets a good evaluation at the end of it, she’s been promised a promotion to cruise director, which means she’ll be the head honcho next time out. How cool is that?”

“Very cool.” Sarah gazed at Tyler with obvious respect.

“Good for you, Tyler,” Mary Lou added.

“Thanks. If I get this promotion, I’ll be the youngest cruise director in the history of the company.” Tyler found herself basking in Sarah’s and Mary Lou’s approval. Her parents, who claimed to care nothing for status or worldly goods, hadn’t been particularly impressed by her rapid rise in the business. She hadn’t thought she cared whether they were impressed or not, but maybe she did.

“That’s terrific.” Alex lifted his unopened beer bottle. “Can I get drinks for anyone? We should toast Tyler’s success.”

“Well, I don’t have the promotion yet.” But maybe it was good that the subject was on the table, so that Alex knew that she was still fully immersed in her career and excited about the next big step.

Or maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he was over his ex and had hooked up with somebody from around here. All her worries about resisting him might be for nothing if he was otherwise occupied.

“I’d love a beer,” Mary Lou said. “Move aside, Alex, and I’ll see that we all get something cold to drink and happy-hour munchies. Sarah, I know you’ll join me in a Friday-afternoon beer. Tyler, what will you have?”

“The same, thanks.” Maybe a cold beer would settle her nerves. She’d expected she might see Alex while she was here, considering that he was Josie’s brother and part of the extended Chance family. But she hadn’t planned on running into him first thing out of the gate and immediately having to deal with her emotional reaction.

“Root beer for me, please,” Morgan said.

“I know, honey,” Mary Lou said. “I have it right here.” She opened the refrigerator and began passing out bottles.

Sarah quietly removed the box from the table and tucked it out of sight before swinging into hostess mode. “Everybody have a seat. I’ll get us some chips and dip. The rest of the gang will probably show up pretty soon, and if I know my boys, they’ll be ready to toast the beginning of the weekend with a cold one.”

Tyler chose a seat at the opposite side of the table from where Alex stood. She couldn’t help sneaking glances at him, and every time she did, he was looking back. Not the usual behavior of a man who had a girlfriend.

He could still be unattached, and if so, she’d have to be very careful. As if her memories of his lovemaking weren’t enough to make her heart race, he’d turned into every woman’s fantasy—a broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, yummy cowboy. She wondered if he’d bought himself a Stetson.

In no time Mary Lou and Sarah had the impromptu party organized with drinks all around. Bowls of chips and several kinds of dip sat on the table along with a stack of napkins.

Sarah took a chair and raised her beer bottle. “Here’s to your world cruise, Tyler, and the important promotion I’m sure will follow.”

“Thank you.” Tyler began to understand why Morgan loved being a part of this stable, loving family. Morgan, Tyler and their six siblings had lived a vagabond lifestyle, traveling the country in a psychedelic van with their New Age parents.

They’d spent a few months in Shoshone back when Morgan and Tyler were teenagers. For Tyler, it had just been one stop in their constant travels, but Morgan had loved it and had vowed to come back. Although Tyler had inherited her parents’ wanderlust, Morgan had yearned for roots, and now she had them. Her baby would represent the fourth generation of Chances living on this ranch.

“I guess that means you can’t be here when the baby’s born,” Mary Lou said.

“Exactly, which is why I came now. When that little tyke arrives, I’ll be somewhere in the Mediterranean. On the way here from the airport I tried to talk Morgan into setting up Skype in the delivery room, but she wasn’t buying it.”

Morgan made a face. “Sorry, but I have this image of the entire crew of the Sea Goddess gathered around your computer watching me give birth. I’m even thinking of having the baby at the ranch, to keep the moment more private and special.”

“You thought I’d invite people to see the birth on my laptop?”

“Well, maybe not, but—”

“Shoot, I’d put it up on the big screen in the movie theater!” As Morgan’s eyes widened, Tyler nudged her in the ribs. “Gotcha.”

“No, you didn’t. I knew you were kidding.”

“Did not. You should have seen your face. Are you really thinking of having a home birth?”

Morgan glanced at Sarah. “I’d like to.”

“And Gabe and I are trying to talk her out of it,” Sarah said. “Maybe if we were five minutes from the hospital, I wouldn’t worry, but if something goes wrong, it’s a long trek into Jackson.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Morgan said. “My mom had all of us in the back of the family van.”

“Yes, but dad said he always parked it next to the hospital.” Tyler was inclined to agree with Gabe and Sarah on this one. She looked across the table to where Alex sat peeling the label off his beer bottle. Maybe he wasn’t all that comfy discussing the birthing process.

Giving birth wasn’t her top priority, either, but she found herself longing to hear him talk. During the reception last summer his voice had seduced her long before she’d suggested they share a bottle of champagne in the hayloft. “Ever seen a baby being born, Alex?”

He stopped peeling the label and looked at her with his intense gray eyes. “Can’t say that I have. How about you?”

That voice, honed by years of radio work, gave her goose bumps. “Yes, and it’s an awesome experience, so I was hoping for a Skype’s-eye view of my big sister’s event.” She was still curious about why he was at the ranch this afternoon. He seemed completely at home, as if he lived here, and yet she was sure he’d planned to rent a place in Jackson once he started his job there.

“So how are things at the radio station?” she asked.

“Oh, he left that job, Tyler,” Morgan said. “He’s the marketing director for the Last Chance now, and he lives out here.”

Tyler could have used that information earlier, before she’d walked into the kitchen and been struck dumb by the incredible backside of Alex Keller. But Morgan would have no reason to tell her. Morgan didn’t know about the night in the hayloft.

Alex leaned forward. “And speaking of my job, I’ve run into a couple of snags for tomorrow’s event.”

“What event?” Tyler had a feeling that Morgan had neglected to mention several important items during the drive from the Jackson airport. Tyler couldn’t blame her, though. Morgan had spent the drive talking about her plans for the baby’s room, assuming it was completed in time for Morgan to add the decorating touches she had in mind.

“I’ve set up an open house,” Alex said. “I’ve had to operate under some tight time constraints, but I wanted to catch people at the beginning of the summer with the idea that if it goes well, we can do it again in August.”

“It will go well,” Sarah said. “We’ve invited everybody who might be a candidate for buying one of the Last Chance paints, and we should have a good turnout because June is when the summer tourist season gets rolling. We’ll have tours of the barn, cutting-horse demonstrations, plenty of food—”

“Sounds great,” Tyler said. “I’m not a prospective buyer, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy all that, if I’m invited, that is.”

Morgan touched her arm. “Of course you’re invited! You’re family!”

“Thanks.” Tyler was surprised by how pleased she was to hear that. She loved her carefree life and didn’t mind that home was a sparsely furnished efficiency apartment in L.A. with no live plants and a refrigerator that was usually empty. But she wouldn’t mind borrowing the nurturing environment of the Last Chance for the next few days, providing she could control her urge to snuggle up with Alex.

Her fantasy man leaned back in his chair. “The thing is, I’d hoped to establish the mood with live music, but the country band I’d hired just canceled a half hour ago.”

“What about Watkins?” Mary Lou set down her beer. “That cowhand plays a decent guitar if you could talk him into doing it.”

“It’s a thought, but that’s not the only issue. I also ordered three event canopies because we’re supposed to have some rain, but only one showed up. I’m a little worried that—”

“Say no more.” Tyler leaped into the breach automatically, a learned response from handling this kind of crisis all the time on cruises. “It’ll be fine. I’ll help you figure out some alternatives.” Belatedly she realized that her offer would throw her into direct contact with the man she’d decided to avoid for the duration of her visit.

Alex sat forward, hope in his eyes. “You will? That would be great.” Then he seemed to catch himself. “Wait a minute. You’re on vacation. You shouldn’t have to—”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Morgan said. “She loves this kind of thing. It’s her job to coordinate all the onboard entertainment, so parties are her deal. I had to hold her back or she would have planned my entire wedding from her stateroom on the Sea Goddess.”

“Then I accept.” Alex blew out a breath. “I don’t know what kind of magic you can work, but whatever it is, I’ll take it.”

Magic. That was the exact word she would use to describe the night they’d spent together in the hayloft. She was realistic enough to know how much she’d be tempted to make love with him again, but that was a really bad idea. Considering the emotional tug she felt every time he looked at her, they could end up in a no-win situation that would break both their hearts.

2

LOOKING INTO TYLER’S dark eyes, Alex imagined he could read her mind. She already regretted her decision to help him, but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook. He needed her expertise.

If that meant they’d have to work together and deal with the heat that still simmered between them, so be it. He wasn’t about to interfere with her world cruise and probable promotion. He’d tell her so once they were alone.

In fact, having a private moment to clear the air was a very good idea. “I don’t want to rush you, but we don’t have a lot of time to cook up those alternate plans. If you’d be willing to take a look at the outdoor setup before dinner, that would be great.”

“Sure.” She pushed back her chair. “Give me ten minutes to take my suitcase upstairs and change clothes.”

Morgan stood and pressed a hand to the small of her back. “I’ll go with you and help you get settled in.”

“That’s okay.” Standing, too, Tyler wrapped an arm around Morgan’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “No point in lugging baby whosit up those stairs.”

Sarah’s eyebrows arched. “So she hasn’t told you whether it’s a boy or girl, either? I thought she might have let it slip to her little sis, and then we could pry it out of you before you leave.”

“I haven’t told anybody.” Morgan sat down again. “Gabe and I are the only ones who know, and it’ll stay that way until July when the little kid makes an appearance.”

“How about a name?” Mary Lou asked. “Have you picked one?”

Morgan nodded. “Yes, and I promise that you’ll know immediately from the baby’s name whether I had a boy or a girl.”

Tyler sighed with obvious relief. “Thank God. As you noticed when some of us were here last summer, our parents conspired to give all of us unisex names.”

“And I have to admit I had trouble keeping everyone straight during the wedding last year,” Sarah said. “I’m sure I called you by your twin brother Regan’s name at least twice.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. Regan and I had our names switched so many times in school it wasn’t funny.”

“I agree it was a nightmare while we were growing up,” Morgan said. “But now, as a real-estate agent, my name works because it’s easily recognizable. Still, I’m not doing that to my child.”

“I’m glad.” Tyler picked up her empty beer bottle and the napkin she’d used for her chips. “Anyway, let me scoot upstairs and get changed.”

Mary Lou made a flapping motion with her hand. “Leave the bottle and napkin, sweetie. I’ll take care of it.”

“And I’ll carry your suitcase upstairs.” Alex pushed back his chair and stood.

“I can manage,” Tyler said.

Alex gave her a smile. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, and I’m the gentleman who’s available.” Hell, he probably shouldn’t have said that. He’d blame all those years of being a glib DJ.

“Thank you, but it’s a small suitcase, and I really can—”

“You don’t know which room.” He was determined to grab this chance to talk with her. “Where should I put her, Sarah?”

“Let me think.” Sarah tapped her chin. “Maybe we should stick with the wing you’re in, because we’re having some problems with the pipes on the other side. I need to call a plumber, but I haven’t done it yet. Gabe’s room should be in decent shape.”

“It was the last time we were up there packing his high school trophies,” Morgan said. “I don’t think the bed’s made up, though.”

Sarah started to rise. “Maybe I should come up there with you.”

“Sit still.” Alex wasn’t giving up this opportunity to have a conversation with Tyler. “I know where the linen closet is. Tyler and I can handle it.”

“Absolutely,” Tyler said. “I’m perfectly capable of making a bed.”

And lying in it? Alex was trying so hard to play it cool, but thinking of Tyler smoothing sheets over the bed she’d sleep in for several nights, a bed that would be in a room right across the hall from his, didn’t help at all. He’d never shared a bed with her, but he had no trouble imagining how wonderful that would be. The hayloft had been earthy and exotic, but a good mattress had advantages, too.

At this point, he needed to decide how he felt about the possibility. Obviously, considering her career plans, it couldn’t be more than a short-term experience. Was that a mistake? Maybe, but not a huge one unless they slipped up on birth control, and he wouldn’t let that happen.

Still, an affair could be a small mistake in that both of them could get more involved than they wanted to be. He didn’t know if he could jump into a temporary affair with her and jump back out with ease. And even if he could, what would be the point? When he was totally honest with himself, he had to admit that he craved what all three Chance men had found—a solid marriage that showed all the signs of lasting a lifetime.

He’d always wanted that, but he’d chosen the wrong woman the first time around. He didn’t like making mistakes, and he wasn’t about to make another one. That meant being careful with his heart. He wasn’t convinced that Tyler didn’t already own a piece of it.

She had a zest for life he’d admired from the moment she’d stepped onto the dance floor last summer. She’d been the one to suggest the romp in the hay, which had told him she wasn’t some finicky city girl and she had self-confidence, besides. That night he’d also learned that she was an unselfish lover with a great sense of humor.

Being wanted by someone like Tyler had soothed his divorce-battered ego. But he wasn’t feeling battered anymore, and she still had the power to make him ache with longing. He wasn’t positive he could satisfy that longing without taking an emotional risk.

“We’d better get with the program,” Tyler said.

What program? Alex made a mental U-turn so he could figure out what she was talking about. Oh, yeah. He was supposed to get her settled upstairs so she could go outside with him and make suggestions for the open house. His concentration was already whacked.

“I left my suitcase and purse out in the front hallway.” Tyler looked at Sarah. “Thank you so much for putting me up for a few nights.”

Sarah laughed. “I’m afraid Alex plans to make you earn your keep. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

“Actually you should worry about me working Alex too hard. He may regret asking for my help. I’m a slave driver when I get going.”

Alex shook his head. “No worries. I admire dedication.”

“Good. Me, too. We should make a good team.”

And maybe that’s all she had in mind. He could tell by her matter-of-fact tone that she wasn’t flirting, not even a tiny bit. He should be relieved if she wasn’t interested in getting chummy. Instead he felt the sting of disappointment.

He followed her out of the kitchen and through the empty dining room. Her hair bounced when she walked and her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. Her shoes were the kind that didn’t make an appearance very often at the Last Chance, where boots were the norm.

Tyler’s shoes consisted of an arrangement of black straps that left most of her foot bare. Her toes were shiny, as if they had clear polish on them, but the white part was brighter than a natural nail would be. Crystal used to get that kind of pedicure, and he vaguely remembered it was connected with a nationality. Maybe French.

He’d never thought of himself as having a thing about toes, but Tyler’s French pedicure generated a definite response from his libido. He could imagine himself kissing his way down to her slender toes and running his tongue between each one. During the night they’d shared, they’d been too busy with some very satisfying basics and hadn’t detoured into embellishments like sucking on toes.

Her shoes stirred his baser instincts, too. The heels were at least three inches, maybe closer to four. In Chicago they’d call them do-me shoes.

He wasn’t sure what they’d be called in Wyoming, but the effect was the same on a guy no matter where a woman wore them. As Tyler’s heels created a sensuous beat, Alex imagined backing her up against the nearest wall and wrapping her legs, sexy shoes and French pedicure included, around his waist. Her skirt would be easily bunched up, and if she still favored thongs, her panties would provide no challenge whatsoever.

“How long have you been living at the ranch?”

“Uh …” His brain wasn’t functioning as efficiently as it might, considering a certain amount of blood had been routed elsewhere. “About three months, I guess.”

“I thought you liked being a DJ.”

“I did. I do. But as a DJ I work indoors, and that just seems like a waste in this kind of country. The marketing director job allows me to live on the ranch and spend a lot more time outside.” Talking about something besides sex helped control his reaction to her. But every time he took a breath, he caught a whiff of her sweet perfume—part peach roses, part Tyler.

“The Jackson Hole area seems to have a strong effect on people. It sure captivated my sister. She loved it when we lived here years ago, and she loves it even more now.”

“Yeah, she’s talked about going to high school in Jackson.” Alex paused to pick up Tyler’s flowered suitcase and she grabbed her black leather purse before they headed up the winding staircase to the second floor. “So you didn’t fall in love with the place?”

“We were only in Shoshone for about six months. I was thirteen and miserable because I had to wear hand-me-downs to school. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.”

“That’s a tough age. I don’t know if anybody’s happy at thirteen.” He was willing to bet she’d been a knockout, though, even at thirteen and wearing hand-me-down clothes. “So what do you think of the area now?”

“It’s beautiful. And Morgan’s so happy here.”

“So’s my sister Josie. She came out on a skiing trip and made the decision to move. I wouldn’t have discovered this place if she hadn’t come here first.”

“And now she’s married to Jack. Were you the DJ for the reception then, too?”

“I was. They got married, along with Nick and Dominique, in early October.” But there had been no Tyler O’Connelli on the dance floor that night, no woman stirring him up and tempting him with hayloft sex. “Like Sarah said, we barely beat the snow, but now all the Chance men are hitched.”

“Wow.” Tyler laughed. “Must be something in the water.”

“Yeah, you might want to stick with bottled.”

“No kidding. Does Josie still own the Spirits and Spurs bar in Shoshone?”

“She does.” They reached the top of the stairs. “To your left.” He gestured in that direction. “Now that Josie lives out on the ranch, she’s not constantly at the bar, but she loves that place and I think she likes having her own income, too.”

“I sure get that.” Tyler’s voice grew more animated. “I would never be financially dependent on a man. My mother and father seem to have worked it out, but sometimes I wonder if she’d had her own money whether she might have vetoed some of his crazy ideas.”

Alex filed that statement away as a valuable insight into Tyler’s attitude. She wanted to maintain control over her life, and he admired that, too.

He paused beside the doorway into Gabe’s room on the right side of the hall. “This is it. Home sweet home for the next five fun-filled nights.” Probably shouldn’t have said that, either, but it was cruise lingo and … okay, he was flirting, even if she wasn’t.

She glanced up at him. “And where is your room?”

He pointed across the hall.

“Oh.”

He put her suitcase on the floor. “Look, Tyler, that wasn’t my idea. There are some plumbing issues in the other wing, like Sarah said.”

“I know. I just—”

“You just wanted to pay a surprise visit to your sister,” he said gently. “You didn’t count on dealing with me, and you certainly didn’t expect me to be sleeping across the hall.”

“Right.” Relief softened her dark eyes. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Oh, I understand, all right. I’m as conflicted about this situation as you are.”

“Because of your ex? Are you still—”

“Hell, no, I’m not still hung up on Crystal.” He looked into her eyes and figured the truth would work as well as anything. “But I’m afraid I might get hung up on you.”

Her pupils darkened and her full lips parted. Then she glanced away, as if she wanted to cancel that involuntary reaction.

Too late. He’d seen desire flare in her eyes and it had created a predictable response in him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his jeans. “Are you afraid you’ll get hung up on me?”

Her breathing quickened, making the turquoise fabric covering her breasts quiver. A turquoise pendant nestled in her cleavage and silver-and-turquoise drop earrings peeked through her dark curls. Her outfit was sexy, but he knew that had nothing to do with him. She hadn’t expected to see him today.

The dress, the shoes, the jewelry, the hair—they were an expression of Tyler’s style and another reason he’d been attracted to her last August. From his position on the DJ platform he’d watched her rhythmic, undulating movements with increasing fascination. When she’d appeared with champagne and an invitation, he’d been a goner.

“I am afraid we’d become too involved.” She gazed up at him. “When I saw you in the kitchen, I had instant recall of you and me in the hayloft.”

“I always wondered if you told anybody about that.”

“No. Did you?”

He shook his head. “We agreed it wasn’t going anywhere, so talking about it seemed too much like adolescent bragging.”

“I appreciate you keeping it quiet. I saw no point in telling anyone, either. We’re consenting adults who wanted to have some harmless fun. End of story.”

“Exactly.” But it wasn’t the end of the story. He knew it, and he suspected she did, too.

She hesitated. “I like you, Alex. I’m worried that if we pick up where we left off, it could turn into more, and I’m leaving on Wednesday. That isn’t going to change, no matter what happens between us.”

“I know.” He couldn’t seem to stop looking into her eyes. The hayloft had been dark and he hadn’t been able to see how beautiful they were—a deep, velvet brown that was almost black. “It might be better if we could just avoid each other.”

“I screwed that up by offering to help you with your open house tomorrow. It was a reflex. I see a party in trouble and I’m all over it. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He loved the way her lashes fluttered when she apologized. “I could tell you wanted to take that offer back, but I really could use some ideas, and I’m sure you’ve dealt with unexpected problems hundreds of times.”

“You mean like a typhoon in the middle of a formal dinner dance?” Her full mouth curved and two tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks.

He smiled back. He’d forgotten about the dimples. “Yeah, like that. My lack of entertainment and my canopy issues must seem pretty small compared to what you’ve experienced.”

“When it’s your event, nothing is small. Listen, we’ll work this out. Just because we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean we have to act on it. You may not believe this, considering our past history, but I’m pretty good at controlling those urges.”

“No shipboard romances?”

“God, no.”

A surge of relief told him he was already feeling slightly possessive. Not good. “I have to believe guys have tried. I mean, you’re so … so …”

She watched him with a bemused expression. “Sensual. I’m a sensual woman. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yeah.” Normally he had an excellent vocabulary, honed by hours behind a microphone, but Tyler had the ability to reduce his IQ by several points. “That’s what I’m trying to say. So I don’t understand, unless you hook up with somebody on the ship …”

“That’s dangerous. The passengers are strictly off limits, obviously, and getting involved with a staff member can result in disaster if it blows up. I’ve seen it happen and it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

Alex gazed at her standing there in her flirty dress and come-hither shoes. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t understand how celibacy works for you.”

Her cheeks grew rosy and her glance slid to somewhere over his left shoulder. “I haven’t figured that out yet. It’s the only negative factor in my career plan.”

He wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. She’d constructed the perfect trajectory for herself, except that she’d left her sexual needs completely out of the equation. She hadn’t successfully submerged them, either, despite what she’d said. Her choice of shoes told him that.

She straightened and looked him in the eye. “But FYI, I’m not a sex-starved woman who would be grateful if a virile cowboy came along to reduce her frustration level for a few days.”

“I would never think of you like that.” But he would think of her as a sensual, vibrant woman who needed to be loved. He sighed with regret. “It’s probably better if we don’t become involved while you’re here. No point in starting something that could lead to problems.”

“I agree.”

“I wanted a chance to discuss that, which is the main reason I volunteered to bring your suitcase up and direct you to your room.”

“I thought you were doing it to be a gentleman.”

“No, to be gentlemanly. A true gentleman wouldn’t have followed you up to the hayloft after the wedding reception. So don’t ever mistake me for a gentleman.”

“All right, I won’t.” Her eyes sparkled.

He wanted to kiss her, and he vividly remembered the feel of her lips on his. He resisted the impulse.

“So, Alex.” She took a breath. “Let’s forget about whatever chemistry we have and concentrate on your event.”

He doubted he’d be able to forget about this attraction, but he moved into safer territory because that seemed to be what she wanted. “I will only admit this to you, but I’m feeling in over my head this first time. I have a marketing degree, but in Chicago they wanted me on air, so I—”

“Because you have such a great voice.”

He shrugged off the compliment. He couldn’t take credit for that because he’d never worked at trying to sound good. “It fit their criteria, I guess, but consequently I didn’t get into the marketing end quite as much. I was part of the team that put on events for the station, mostly for charity, but this is my first solo effort.”

She gazed up at him. “You’ll be fine. You have a fabulous venue and people are more flexible than you think. If you keep your sense of humor, they’ll keep theirs.”

He understood why she was good at her job. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day.” He gestured toward the open bedroom door. “If you want to check out your room, I’ll bring you some sheets and towels from the linen closet.”

“Thanks. Just leave them by the door and I’ll make up my bed later. Right now I need to change clothes if I’m going to be any good to you.”

He could think of several ways she could be good to him, and none of them involved clothes. “Before I look for sheets, I need to see Gabe’s bed. I can’t remember what size it is.” Picking up her suitcase, he carried it into the bedroom.

Oh, yeah. Now he remembered that Gabe’s old room was furnished with an antique four-poster and dresser, which meant the mattress and box springs were a double rather than a queen or king. Alex had Jack’s former room, which Jack had outfitted with a king-size bed set on a massive oak frame. The place was a man cave that was totally Jack. Jack would have taken the bed with him except he’d built it inside the room, and moving it would have been more trouble than building another one in his new house.

If Alex remembered right, the four-poster in Gabe’s room had belonged to Archie and Nelsie Chance, the couple who’d settled on this ranch in the thirties and created the legacy that now belonged to their grandsons—Jack, Nick and Gabe. Like most guys in this century, Gabe thought a double bed was too small for two people, so he’d left the antique here to be used as a guest bed.

“What a gorgeous bed frame,” Tyler said. “It looks old.”

“I think it is. Don’t quote me, but it might have been the marriage bed for Archie and Nelsie Chance.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Tyler walked over and wrapped her hand around a carved post at the foot of the bed. “Couples were willing to sleep closer to each other in those days, weren’t they?”

“I guess so. Now a double bed is considered crowded with two people in it.”

Tyler’s grip on the bedpost tightened. “I suppose it depends on how much they like each other.”

Alex remembered how her fingers had wrapped around his cock. He had to get out of there. He had to leave now, before he crossed the room and tested how crowded the conditions would be if he and Tyler rolled around awhile on that double mattress. Because they’d made do with a hayloft, he doubted that either of them would mind the size of the bed.

He set her suitcase on the hardwood floor with a soft click. “I’ll get your sheets.” Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.

The image of her manicured nails wrapped around the bedpost stayed with him. He wanted her hands on him, tangling in his hair, stroking his skin, caressing his penis. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and he was dizzy from craving her.

He needed to get over it. They’d set the parameters and he would abide by them. But he might not get much sleep for the next five nights while he lay across the hall from the woman who’d given him the most fantastic night of his life.

There. He’d admitted that making love with Tyler in the hayloft had topped anything he’d experienced with any other woman, including Crystal. The spectacular nature of that experience had been neatly contained in one night of craziness, but the situation wasn’t so neat anymore.

Obviously he was still wildly attracted to her, and the force of that attraction made him a little nervous. Ultimately, he’d be happier if he kept away from her. The more time he spent with her, the more right she’d feel and the more he’d want her to be his forever girl. And she couldn’t be.

3

TYLER HUNG ON TO the bedpost to keep herself from walking right into Alex’s arms. Her strong response to him scared her a little. No, it scared her a lot. She hadn’t planned on this kind of complication.

Releasing her hold on the bedpost, she walked over to her suitcase, her legs trembling from the adrenaline rush of wanting Alex. Maybe she should leave, catch a flight out of Jackson and return to her little apartment in L.A. Then her longing for Alex Keller couldn’t possibly create a detour on her carefully charted course.

She couldn’t leave, though. Morgan would be crushed, and Morgan was the person Tyler had come here for. When Tyler had walked into baggage claim at the airport and caught sight of Morgan waiting for her, they’d both squealed and jumped up and down like teenagers. Their hug had been awkward because of Morgan’s big belly, but that hug might have been the happiest, and the most tearful one, they’d ever shared.

No, Tyler couldn’t pack up her marbles and go home just because Alex happened to be living here and he tempted her with the kind of bone-deep commitment that might make her forget all about her promotion opportunity. Unzipping her suitcase, she rummaged through it looking for jeans and a T-shirt, both of which she’d bought last week for this trip to the ranch.

She loved her job, loved the challenge of making a ship full of passengers happy while seeing the world she’d always dreamed of as a child. As a bonus, she could afford nice clothes and regular trips to the ship’s beauty salon. She’d been raised to dismiss such things as unimportant, but her parents’ disdain for material wealth had meant their kids never wore anything new and got haircuts at home.

Tyler agreed that character was more important than outward appearance, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with being a worthwhile person who happened to be well dressed and well groomed. In the first place her job demanded it, and in the second place, looking good didn’t mean she was shallow and materialistic.

Once she’d left home—or rather, the wildly painted van that had been a home on wheels for her entire childhood—she’d vowed to find a profession that allowed her to buy pretty clothes and patronize a good salon. And travel well. She adored seeing new places and having new experiences, but she never wanted to camp out again as long as she lived.

The cruise business was a perfect fit for her, with the tiny exception of having no room for a man in her packed schedule. Alex had quickly uncovered the one disadvantage to her chosen lifestyle. That might be another reason the night with him in the hayloft sparkled so brilliantly in her memory. She hadn’t had many such experiences since taking a job with the cruise company.

She’d have to figure out how to fill that lack, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. She was one world cruise away from nailing the job she’d coveted from the beginning—cruise director. Sure, it would be more responsibility, but she had tons of ideas and the job would give her the authority to act on them.

Tossing her dress on the bed and taking off her sandals, she put on the snug jeans and formfitting yellow T-shirt with the scoop neck. She hadn’t brought anything baggy to wear because baggy wasn’t her style. As a kid she’d been forced to wear clothes that didn’t quite fit, so now she chose outfits that showed off her figure.

Alex might think she did that to attract a man, but that wasn’t really her goal. She bought the outfits to please herself. She’d spent too much time as a child hating the shabby girl she saw every day in the mirror.

Once she’d put on socks and running shoes, she took a deep breath. Then she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Alex leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed as he waited for her, long legs stretched out, a tooled belt that drew attention to his narrow hips, and a chambray shirt that emphasized his broad chest and wide shoulders. Her heart rate kicked up. She couldn’t help that automatic reaction, but she didn’t have to give in to its power.

Male appreciation flickered in his gaze before he pushed himself away from the wall. His expression became a careful mask. “Ready?”

“Show me what you’ve got.”

He laughed. “You might want to rephrase that.”

“Is everything between us going to turn into a sexual joke? Because that won’t work.”

He started toward the stairs. “I’ll try to do better if you’ll try to avoid saying things like show me what you’ve got. You have to admit that line begged to be turned into something suggestive.”

“I was referring to your … oh, never mind.” She descended the winding staircase beside him, her palm sliding down a banister smoothed by countless other hands, and possibly a few fannies, too. The house and its history fascinated her. That kind of permanence and connection between generations was foreign, almost exotic, and she’d learned to appreciate exotic experiences during her travels.

She glanced down into the living room with its leather furniture grouped around the massive fireplace, and remembered that Alex was missing two of his three canopies for the open house. “Were you planning to make use of this space tomorrow?”

“I hadn’t thought I would. This area seems more private. I’ve called the event an open house, but I wasn’t really figuring on opening the actual house, just the grounds and the barn.”

“If it rains, you might not have that luxury. How would Sarah feel about extending the event into the living room and possibly the dining room?”

“I don’t know, but let’s see if there are alternatives before we ask her. She might agree, but I doubt if the Chance brothers would like it. They’re protective about this house.”

Tyler paused at the foot of the stairs to glance around. “I can understand that. I—”

She was interrupted as the front door opened. A blast of cool air was followed by a broad-shouldered cowboy sporting a sandy-colored mustache. Until he took off his hat, Tyler didn’t recognize that he was her brother-in-law, Gabe. She hadn’t seen him since the wedding last August, and apparently he’d decided to grow a mustache over the winter months.

“Tyler!” He pulled her into a quick hug scented with horse and dust. “Thanks for coming. Morgan sounded so excited when I talked to her. I know it means the world to her that you made the effort.”

“I’m glad it worked out.” She stepped back and smiled at him. “I can tell you’re treating her right. She’s really happy.”

“I hope so.” Gabe turned and hooked his hat on a rack standing beside the front door. “We didn’t plan for her to get pregnant this quick, but …” He shrugged.

“She doesn’t seem to mind a bit.”

Gabe scrubbed a hand through his hair, which bore the imprint of his hat. “No, she really doesn’t, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am about that. When we first got together she wasn’t sure she ever wanted kids.” He glanced over at Alex. “Looks like the two of you were headed outside.”

“That was the plan,” Alex said.

“Then you’d better get going. The clouds are moving in.”

“We’ll go fast,” Tyler said. “I just want a quick overview.”

Gabe looked puzzled. “Of what?”

“She’s going to save my ass,” Alex said. “Some of my plans for tomorrow have fallen through, but as luck would have it, an activities director from a major cruise line just showed up and offered to help me put on this shindig.”

“That’s the Chance luck working for you,” Gabe said.

“But I’m not a Chance.”

Gabe clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re part of the family, so that makes you an honorary Chance. As such, you might as well learn the family motto handed down from Grandpa Archie.”

“Which is?”

“Chance men are lucky when it counts.”

Alex sent the briefest glance toward Tyler. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tyler waited until they were out the door and standing on the covered porch before she commented. “I saw that look.”

“What look?” Alex had grabbed a gray-felt cowboy hat from the same rack Gabe had used. Holding it by the crown, he settled it on his head with practiced ease.

“The look you gave me when Gabe told you about the family motto. Just to be clear, the motto is ‘Chance men are lucky,’ not ‘Chance men get lucky.’” But, oh, man, he’d increased his odds exponentially by adding the hat. She couldn’t say what it was about a guy in a Stetson, but wearing one sure did multiply the sexy factor.

Alex laughed. “What made you think I had any such thoughts?”

“Are you saying you didn’t?”

He gazed at her for a moment before answering with a brief smile. Then he turned to study the darkening sky. A tug on the brim of his hat brought it lower over his eyes. “We need to take that tour of the ranch ASAP before the storm hits.”

Tyler’s breath caught. The hat was a sexy addition, but when Alex took hold of the brim and pulled it down, she melted. One little innocent gesture created a soulstirring image of courage and purpose, of protecting the weak, and shoot-outs in the middle of a dusty street at high noon.

That simple movement made Alex seem more focused and intense, even a little bit dangerous. No doubt about it, there was something compelling about a guy wearing a cowboy hat. For a gorgeous specimen like Alex, it was almost overkill.

She took a deep breath of air that already smelled of rain. “Lead on.” She followed him down the porch steps.

Once they moved away from the shelter of the two-story ranch house, the wind cut through the light cotton of her T-shirt.

“The hands set up bleachers over by the largest corral.” Alex pointed to a spot where a small set of metal bleachers had been erected. “I’d planned to protect the guests with a canopy, but now I only have one, and the food and beverages should be under cover, either for shade or rain protection.”

“Let’s check out the barn.” She started toward the large hip-roofed structure that was the biggest building on the property outside of the main house. “There should be places in there where people can get in out of the rain.”

“At least it’s clean as a whistle. The hands have been working on it all day. They’ll go through again first thing in the morning, but they’ve put down fresh straw everywhere and set out some fresh hay bales which can be used for seating.”

“I can smell the hay from here.” And the scent turned her on. She still had a three-inch piece of it she’d plucked from the mounds scattered in the hayloft. It sat on a shelf along with her collection of souvenirs from her travels, and every once in a while she’d pick it up and sniff it. The aroma was fading, but her memories of Alex never had.

Last August as she and Alex had gathered up their clothes in preparation for leaving, Alex had explained that the ranch had outgrown the capacity of the hayloft and it was now strictly ornamental. A hay barn held the bales that supplied the ranch animals. But the old barn was the only structure left of the original ranch buildings, and so the Chance brothers threw some loose hay up in the loft every spring because their father had liked the picturesque way it looked.

The romance of that tradition had appealed to Tyler. She’d wondered if Jonathan Chance had enjoyed an episode or two in the hayloft himself. She’d asked Alex, but he hadn’t known much about the family secrets at that point. Now that he was an honorary Chance, he might.

Two dogs were stretched out in front of the barn, one on either side of the open door. Tyler remembered them from her first visit last summer. At Alex and Tyler’s approach, the dogs lifted their heads and thumped their tails in the dirt.

“Hey, Butch.” Alex leaned toward the dog on the right side of the door. Butch was medium-size, with a short tan-and-white coat and a snub nose. Alex scratched behind Butch’s ears and the dog’s tail thumped faster.

“Right. This other one’s Sundance.” Tyler figured the dog on the left, all black with slightly curly hair, was her responsibility to pet. “Hi, Sundance.” She stroked the dog’s silky head. Dogs would have been a luxury when she was growing up, so she’d never had one, or a cat, either. She liked animals, but she wasn’t used to them.

If an animal rooted a person to one spot, and Tyler thought maybe they did, then the Chance family must really be rooted with all the ones they had around here. Besides the horses, they had these dogs, a few barn cats and at least one goat, if she remembered correctly. Last summer she’d been a bridesmaid, so she’d been concentrating on the wedding instead of cataloguing the animals, so she could be wrong about the goat.

She certainly remembered the hayloft, though. The details of that area were permanently recorded in high def, probably even 3-D, and the movie flickered in her head every time she looked at Alex. Even if they never touched again, she would never forget those glorious hours in his arms.

Another gust of wind whipped up the dust at their feet and would have blown off Alex’s hat if he hadn’t grabbed it at the last minute. Thunder rolled overhead.

He straightened and glanced at the dark clouds hovering over the ranch. “We’d better finish up this tour and get back to the house.” He walked through the large door and flicked a switch to his right, which turned on a row of ceiling lights that ran the length of the stalls.

As Tyler followed him into the barn, the scent of fresh hay swirling around her was an aphrodisiac more tempting than she could have imagined. Her body hummed with eagerness. They’d kissed here in the barn before climbing into the hayloft. The kiss had begun as gentle exploration and had ended with enough heat to melt all her inhibitions.

The open house, she reminded herself. She was here to evaluate the space for entertainment possibilities. The barn was quiet except for the sound of horses munching their evening meal. Somewhere a horse stomped a hoof, and another blew out a noisy breath. The scent of oiled leather mixed with the aroma of hay.

“I guess all the hands headed for the bunkhouse when they saw the storm coming,” Alex said.

“Smart.” She chose not to glance over at him as they stood in the center aisle of the barn only about two feet apart. Hearing his voice in this setting reminded her of how he’d murmured in her ear as he’d undressed her, and how he’d coaxed her to new heights of pleasure during that long, glorious night.

His voice had been a big part of the attraction early on. Hearing it coming through the sound system during the reception had begun the seduction, and by the time the festivities were over and she’d suggested moving the party to the hayloft, she’d been more than ready to hear that voice in a more intimate setting.

The open house, girl! You told him you’d help him plan his party! She cleared her throat. “If you lined the center aisle with tables for food and beverages, you could sweep out a few stalls and have potential seating in those. People could meander up and down this aisle and be close to the horses, which is what you want, right?”

He didn’t answer.

“Right?” she prompted, turning to him.

“Yeah.” His tone was husky, and he gazed at her with longing in his eyes.

Her heart began to pound. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Can’t help it.” He took a step toward her.

She thought about moving back. She didn’t. “We talked about this.” But her words lacked all conviction.

“I don’t want to talk.” He reached for her.

“Me neither.” With a groan she surrendered to the kiss she’d been craving for ten long months, the kiss she’d promised herself wouldn’t happen, the kiss that was so … damn … good.

4

MISTAKES SHOULDN’T FEEL like this. Mistakes should torture a guy with regret and anxiety. But this one—and no question that it was a big mistake—filled Alex with incredible joy.

The moment he connected with Tyler’s full mouth, his world made sense again. Kissing her was, he realized, his favorite thing to do. Cancel that. His second favorite.

She nestled against him and her body aligned with his as if they’d held each other only hours ago instead of months. His body remembered the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her spine, the press of her thighs. Predictably, within seconds of beginning this mistake of a kiss, he wanted to make more mistakes, bigger mistakes, juicier and more satisfying mistakes.

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