It happened so fast she had no time to gather her wits before he bent his head and kissed her.

She caught her breath, startled, as his warm mouth covered hers. For long moments, his lips lured hers, changing pressure from firm to soft as he coaxed her to respond. By the time he lifted his head, she was breathless and fighting the urge to pull his mouth back to hers.

“Sometimes a demonstration is better than a thousand words,” he said, the words rumbling. “Are you still convinced pretending the heat between us doesn’t exist will make it go away?”

The rasping sound of his deep voice rubbed over Cynthia’s nerves, stirring a yearning need she suspected was better left sleeping.

Dear Reader,

I’ve often wondered how a person with a genetic urge to seek excitement managed their life. In some ways, I was able to satisfy my curiosity while writing Zach’s story … because Zach Coulter has a lifelong history of pushing the boundaries, testing the outer limits of his endurance and chancing death whenever possible. His mother, Melanie, also possessed a reckless nature—and when the eleven-year-old Zach dared her, Melanie had jumped into the creek to join him—and died.

Twenty-three years later, Zach returns to the Triple C, where—he’s always believed—he caused his mother’s death. He plans to stay in Montana only long enough to join forces with his brothers and save the ranch they’ve all inherited. But the world shifts on its axis when he meets and joins forces with beautiful Cynthia Deacons. Soon, he begins to wonder if Cyn might permanently satisfy his thirst for excitement and calm his restless heart.

I hope you enjoy reading Zach Coulter’s story and that you’ll return with me soon to the Triple C Ranch and the third installment in Big Sky Brothers when Zach and Cade welcome home the youngest, famed silversmith Eli Coulter.

Warmly,

Lois

About the Author

LOIS FAYE DYER lives in a small town on the shore of beautiful Puget Sound in the Pacific Northwest with her two eccentric and lovable cats, Chloe and Evie. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA. Visit her on the web at www.LoisDyer.com.

The Virgin and
Zach Coulter

Lois Faye Dyer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my sister Shirley—

children need more extraordinary schoolteachers like you

Prologue

“Hey, Zach, the phone’s for you!”

Zach Coulter laid his cards facedown on the down-filled sleeping bag and stood. Outside the sturdy tent, the wind moaned and tugged at the corners and tie-lines while a half-moon cast silver light and shadows over the Mount Everest base camp.

“Don’t look at my cards,” he warned his two companions, grinning at their four-letter-word responses as he crossed the tent and took the satellite receiver from the team leader. “Hello?”

“Zach, it’s Angela.”

“What’s up? Everything okay?” Zach tensed, a frown creasing his forehead.

Static crackled on the line, but then his assistant reassured him with her usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. “Your brother Cade has been calling. I told him you weren’t reachable until you descended to base camp, but I promised to keep trying to contact you.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know—he didn’t say. All he would tell me is that he needs to talk to you.”

“I’ll call him,” he told her.

“How was the summit?” Angela asked.

“High. And cold. And snowy,” Zach said drily. “I notice you didn’t ask if I made it to the top.”

“Of course not,” she said with cool confidence. “I’ve never known you to fail. We’ll have champagne when you get back to the office, boss.”

Zach laughed. “You’re buying, right?”

“Absolutely. The grocery store carries bubbly.”

Zach groaned and his assistant laughed, her amusement clear despite the intermittent static. After she’d assured him there were no other urgent matters at the office, they said goodbye and hung up.

It took a few moments to place the call from the satellite phone in Nepal to Cade’s cell phone back in the States.

“Cade, it’s Zach.”

“Where the hell have you been, Zach?” Cade’s deep voice demanded. Once again, the line crackled with interference.

“Climbing Mount Everest in Nepal,” Zach told him without missing a beat, amused at his older brother’s growl. “We made it to the top and are on our way down. At the moment, I’m in a tent at base camp.”

“Good to know you survived,” Cade said. “There’s no easy way to say this, Zach.” His voice was suddenly solemn, grim. “The old man died. He left the Triple C to you, me, Eli and Brodie. I’m in Indian Springs and I need you to come home.”

“Hell.” Zach was stunned and barely aware he spoke aloud as he tried to get his head around Cade’s words. Joseph Coulter was gone—and his sons were his heirs? How was that possible? He shook his head to clear it, focusing on his brother’s last sentence. “I always said I’d never go back there, Cade, but if you need me, I’m on my way. Have you talked to Eli and Brodie?”

“I left a message on Eli’s machine asking him to call me but I haven’t heard from him. And I have no idea where the hell Brodie is. The last phone number I had for him isn’t good anymore. Have you heard from him over the last six to eight months?”

Zach frowned, trying to recall. “No, I think it’s been more like ten months. Last I remember, he was still on the road following the rodeo circuit. We talked about meeting up in Oregon this summer to go white water rafting and fly-fishing on the Rogue River.”

“Damn.” Cade’s disappointment carried clearly over the line, as if he were standing in the tent with Zach instead of thousands of miles away. “I was hoping you’d talked to him.”

“We’ll find him, Cade,” Zach said. “None of us ever goes a year without checking in. If he and Eli haven’t called you before I reach Indian Springs, I’ll have Angela start searching, too.” His assistant was as reliable as a bloodhound at tracking down information. “I’ll head out as soon as I can. First, I have to get off the mountain and there’s a storm kicking up so just leaving Nepal might take a while.”

“All right. Let me know if you need a ride from the airport. And Zach …” Cade paused, his voice rougher, deeper when he continued. “I’m glad you’re coming home.”

“It’ll be good to see you, Cade,” Zach told him, his voice quiet. “It’s been too long. And don’t worry about Eli and Brodie—we’ll find them.”

“Right. See you soon.”

And Cade hung up.

Zach switched off the satellite phone and frowned, staring unseeingly at the black plastic. He hadn’t seen his father since he and his brothers left the Triple C ranch thirteen years earlier. He hadn’t had any contact at all with Joseph Coulter—and he’d been fine with that, relieved even. So why did he feel a wave of sadness at the news that his father was gone?

A swift mental image of Joseph’s furious face the morning he’d left was quickly replaced by the same face, warm with affection, before Zach’s mother died.

That’s why I feel sad, Zach thought. Because there was a time when life on the Triple C was good.

But the good times ended for her family when Melanie Coulter died. Joseph became a different man—a man who hated his sons and blamed them for her death.

Zach shoved the painful emotions deep and forced himself to focus. He couldn’t do anything to change the past. He had to deal with the present. His mind raced as he considered the logistics necessary to leave the Asian continent and return to Montana.

And the home he’d left behind years ago.

“What’s the weather report for tomorrow, Ajax?” he asked, turning to the team leader. “I need to get off the mountain. Now.”

Chapter One

Indian Springs, Montana

A week later, Zach stepped out of the Billings, Montana airport terminal at just after 1:00 p.m. and was welcomed by warm spring weather.

Normally he enjoyed the adventure of travel, but for once he was damn glad to have solid ground under his feet. Swinging his loaded duffel bag over his shoulder, he raised a hand to hail a taxi.

He left the lot at Haagensen’s Auto Rentals driving a new pickup truck an hour later, the leasing documents tossed on the passenger seat beside him as he headed north toward Indian Springs and the Triple C Ranch, where he’d grown up. He hadn’t been in eastern Montana for thirteen years—not since he and his brothers, Cade, Brodie and Eli had left the Triple C the day after Eli, the youngest, graduated from high school. They’d all sworn they’d never come back, and Zach had mixed feelings about returning even now. But Cade had said he needed him and his brother rarely asked for anything.

In fact, Zach thought as he slipped sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t remember the last time Cade had asked him for a favor.

He made good time, even making a quick stop for a much-needed cup of coffee. When he was fifty miles south of Indian Springs, his cell phone rang. A quick glance at caller ID made him smile.

“Yo, Cade, what’s up?”

“Zach, glad I reached you. Where are you?”

“About fifty miles out. I should be there in less than an hour.”

“Can you stop at Ned Anderson’s law office in town first?” Cade asked. “He has documents for you and the keys to the Lodge.”

“Can I see him tomorrow? I’d rather come straight to the Triple C.”

“You could—but it would be better if you talked to Ned first.”

“All right. But you owe me, and as soon as I sleep for about forty-eight hours and can function again, I’m collecting.”

Cade’s deep chuckle sounded over the connection. “Just as long as it’s food or a bed, you’ve got it. Anything else and you might be out of luck.”

“Works for me. See you in a couple of hours.”

Zach disconnected before he remembered he hadn’t asked Cade why he wanted the lodge keys picked up. And why Cade hadn’t collected them himself.

Oh, well, he thought with a mental shrug. I’ll see the attorney, then head out to the ranch. Then I’ll find a bed and sleep until tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

He rubbed his eyes; the inside of his lids felt as if they’d been sifted with sand. He’d lost track of time somewhere during the endless round of waiting for trains and planes, and he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d slept more than a couple of consecutive hours. Weariness dragged at him.

He rolled his shoulders, picked up his coffee and swallowed the barely drinkable brew. Caffeine had kept him going this far, he reflected. It would have to do for a few hours more.

He reached the outskirts of Indian Springs and within minutes was driving down Main Street in the center of the small town. He scanned the businesses, locating the attorney’s sign halfway down a block, and angled his truck into a parking spot.

He yawned, scrubbed a palm over his face and stepped out of the pickup and onto the curb before he stopped abruptly, riveted by the sight of the petite blonde standing a few yards away with her back to him. Tired though he was, testosterone fired off rockets, sending adrenaline racing through his bloodstream and erasing his weariness as if it had never existed.

He was so focused on the gleam of sunlight in silky blond hair and the slim, curved body in snug jeans and red sweater that he paid little attention to the man she was talking to.

But then the pretty blonde moved to walk on and the older man shifted to stop her.

Her shoulders moved in a faint shudder before she lifted her head, her body tense.

Oh, hell, no. A surge of protectiveness had Zach stepping forward as he heard the woman’s clear feminine voice ask the man to step aside.

Cynthia Deacon left the small but well-stocked department store on Main Street and stepped out into the warm afternoon sunshine. A shopping bag holding a new pair of crimson lace bikini panties dangled from the fingers of one hand.

Slipping sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose, she strolled down the sidewalk. The weather was warm for a May afternoon in northeast Montana. The old-timers in town were predicting an early summer with temperatures hotter than usual.

Indulging in window shopping was a rare luxury for Cynthia. Until three weeks ago, her daily routine meant long hours on the job managing high-end hotels around the world and most recently, that meant a posh hotel in Palm Springs, California. She’d resigned abruptly, however, when her boss made it clear he expected her duties to include sexual favors.

She had no regrets that she’d stood up for her principles. Being unemployed, however, was shockingly outside her comfort zone. She’d worked nearly nonstop since she was sixteen—part-time during high school and while studying at Harvard, and full-time thereafter. She’d spent the day after resigning sending out résumés and calling or emailing her business connections to let them know she was looking for a new position. Then she’d packed her bags, moved out of her rooms at the hotel and driven north from Palm Springs to her childhood home in Montana. She’d been putting off dealing with her great-uncle’s estate for several months and her unexpected free time seemed the perfect opportunity to do so.

Today, though, she refused to worry about being unemployed. Instead, she embraced the novelty of leisurely shopping and dawdling along Main Street in the small ranching community where she’d grown up.

She stopped and pulled off her sunglasses to look more closely at a window display just as the throaty growl of a powerful engine broke the sleepy afternoon quiet. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a black pickup truck nose into a parking spot behind her. The vehicle’s tinted windows prevented her from seeing the driver clearly and she turned back to the boots displayed in the store window.

She’d been considering buying the pair of turquoise-and-black Tony Lama cowboy boots for the past week. Being temporarily unemployed, she knew she should stay on a budget, but the boots were seriously gorgeous. She could almost hear them whisper her name, calling to her each time she walked past the window.

A quick burst of loud music startled her and she glanced sideways down the sidewalk to her left. A beefy, middle-aged man in jeans and a cowboy hat exited the open door of Slocums Bar and walked toward her. Behind him, the heavy door swung shut, cutting off the music and crowd noise.

Cynthia registered the swift interest and smile on the man’s face before she turned back to the window, hoping he’d take the not-so-subtle hint and walk on by.

“Well, hello there.”

Cynthia nearly groaned aloud at the suggestive note in the male voice. She didn’t turn around, although experience told her it was unlikely he’d leave her alone.

“Didn’t you hear me?” The voice was closer. A hand cupped her shoulder.

With a practiced move, Cynthia slipped from beneath his touch and turned to face him.

“I beg your pardon,” she said with cool precision. “You must have mistaken me for someone you actually know.”

She didn’t recognize the man but the interest gleaming in his brown eyes was all too familiar.

“But I’d like to get to know you. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” His gaze swept over her, lingering on her breasts. His smile widened, creasing his florid face. “Let me buy you a drink,” he said, his voice heavy with innuendo. “We’ll get acquainted.”

“Sadly,” she said, her voice icy enough to chill, “I’m afraid I have to turn you down.”

“Aw, come on, honey,” he coaxed. “You’ll like me if you spend a little time with me.”

Cynthia moved to step around him.

He shifted sideways, blocking her.

“Let me pass,” she said tightly, ruthlessly holding down a wave of panic. She hated the feeling, hated being unable to control it, especially since she knew on a rational level that it was unlikely the man was a serious threat. Not on Main Street in broad daylight. At the end of the block, two young mothers strolled, three little boys bouncing along beside them down the sidewalk. Despite knowing she wasn’t alone on the street with the man, Cynthia couldn’t stop the instant shudder that shook her.

“The lady said step aside.” A different deep male voice held cold authority.

The man’s face tightened into a belligerent scowl as his gaze moved past her. Whatever he saw made his eyes widen, as the ruddy color leached out of his face and he immediately took a step back.

Cynthia drew a deep breath and fought for control. She half turned to look over her shoulder and felt her own eyes widen as she caught her breath at the sight of the man standing a few feet behind her.

He was over six feet tall with broad shoulders and long legs. Beard stubble shadowed his jaw and his coal-black hair looked several weeks overdue for a haircut. The hard angles of his face were set in implacable lines and beneath the slash of dark eyebrows, his grass-green eyes were narrowed and focused on the other man in a menacing stare. He wore a scarred brown leather bomber jacket that hung open over a black T-shirt and faded jeans with scuffed black cowboy boots. The jeans had apparently seen so many washings that they were faded white at stress points, the soft worn denim stretched over the powerful muscles of his thighs.

He looked as if he’d ridden straight in off the range, packing a six-gun and looking for trouble, Cynthia thought with disbelief. There was something vaguely familiar about him but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

That deep, cold voice prompted the other man. “I think it’s time you moved on.”

“Uh, yeah.” The shorter man touched his hat with a quick nod at Cynthia and turned on his heel to hurry off down the sidewalk.

“Are you all right?” The stranger turned his gaze on her and Cynthia was transfixed.

Dangerous, she thought. This gorgeous male could be seriously dangerous.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, gathering her wits. “He was annoying but I don’t think he would have actually hurt me.”

The stranger smiled, white teeth flashing in his tanned face, turning him from lethal to the poster boy for male charm.

“I certainly hope not,” he drawled. “Unless Indian Springs has changed drastically, women don’t normally have to worry about being assaulted on Main Street.” He cocked his head to the side and eyed her with interest. “It’s been a long time since I lived here, but I don’t ever remember anyone in town as pretty as you.”

Cynthia laughed, amusement bubbling at his obvious line. “I grew up here,” she told him. She was immensely relieved to find she was comfortable with his flirting. Lots of men had flirted with her over the years and she usually enjoyed the fencing with words that ensued. It wasn’t until someone stepped into her personal space and wouldn’t accept a refusal, as the older man had earlier, that she lost her composure and felt threatened.

“Not possible,” he promptly denied. “I would have remembered you. I have an infallible memory for beautiful women.”

“And I bet you’ve known a lot of them,” she shot back, smiling when he winced and grinned at her.

His eyes twinkled, only slightly easing the heat in his green gaze.

Cynthia hadn’t felt this attracted to a man in … well, she realized, never. Though he was clearly a heartbreaker, he was undeniably charming and just as clearly, interested in her.

“I’m Zach Coulter,” he said.

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. Of course you are, she thought. I should have realized the moment I saw you. All the Coulter boys had coal-black hair, green eyes and lady-killer charm. It was part of what made them so unforgettable.

She was five years younger than Zach, and he’d graduated from high school while she was still in junior high. Cynthia wasn’t surprised that he didn’t remember her because she’d simply been too young for him to notice. But she suspected most females who saw the Coulter brothers before they left town hadn’t forgotten them—and that included her.

“And you are …?” he prompted with the lift of a brow.

“Cynthia Deacon.” She held out her hand and felt it immediately enclosed in hard masculine warmth. His grip was firm, the surface of his palm and fingers faintly rough with calluses.

“Cynthia.” He repeated her name slowly, as if savoring the sound of it on his lips. Then his mouth curved upward in a small, wholly male smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she told him, tugging gently to free her fingers. “I’m sorry about your father. I’d heard your oldest brother was back at the Triple C, but the local grapevine said he was the only Coulter who’d returned.”

“He was until today.” Zach nodded briefly in confirmation. “I just got in.”

“From where?” Cynthia knew her question was impolite but curiosity overrode good manners.

“Nepal.”

She felt her eyes widen again. “Nepal? What on earth were you doing there?”

His eyes laughed at her as his white teeth flashed in a grin. “I was climbing Mount Everest.”

“Seriously?” Nonplussed, she stared at him, speechless. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who even attempted that. Did you reach the top?”

“Summit,” he corrected her. “And yes, we did.”

“What was it like?” She stared at him, wondering what drove a man to climb mountains covered in snow and ice.

“Cold,” he told her gravely. “Really cold.”

Startled, she laughed out loud. Amusement lit his features and laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

“What? You don’t believe me?” he asked mildly.

“Oh, I believe you,” she said hastily. “I just can’t believe that’s the first thing that comes to mind when you’ve climbed a mountain most people only dream of attempting.”

He shrugged, broad shoulders shifting beneath the leather jacket.

“It was … awe inspiring.” The teasing quality was gone from his voice. “Like standing on top of the world.”

If she’d been attracted earlier by his teasing smile and unconcealed male interest, she found herself even more powerfully drawn by the depth and sincerity in his words.

“It must have been amazing,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve never had an experience like that. The highest I’ve ever been—outside an airplane—is standing on top of the Empire State Building’s observation deck and looking down on the streets of New York.”

“I’ve done that, too.” He smiled down at her, easy charm once more in place. “I liked it.”

“So did I,” she said drily. “But it hardly compares with climbing Mount Everest.”

“Maybe, but it’s much warmer. And there aren’t as many obstacles along the way, which is always a plus,” he commented. “As hallmark experiences go, there’s a lot to be said for the Empire State Building’s observation deck.”

She shook her head, smiling. “If we’re comparing dangerous experiences, I’m betting climbing scary-high mountain wins.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating and sending shivers up her spine.

No wonder he had a reputation as a heartbreaker back in high school, Cynthia thought, blinking against the sudden urge to step closer, lay her hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat and tuck her face against the warm, strong column of his throat to breathe in the subtle scent of his aftershave. I need to get a grip.

Before she could comment, the patter of feet on concrete sounded behind her, accompanied by the shrieks of children.

“Douglas, watch where you’re going!” a feminine voice warned.

The cautionary warning came too late. One of the little boys crashed into Cynthia from behind, knocking her forward.

And straight into Zach.

Her hands rested on his chest and his arms instantly wrapped around her. She was swamped with a flood of emotions—desire, and an odd sense of security. He was much taller than she and the top of her head barely reached his chin. The body she pressed against was solid and strong, the muscles of his chest hard where her palms flattened against him. Up close, the curve of his mouth was unbelievably seductive and his green eyes darkened as she stared.

Belatedly realizing she was lying against him, unmoving, she stirred and his arms instantly loosened. His hands shifted to her shoulders, his firm hold steadying her as she stepped back before he released her fully.

“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” A worried female voice broke the spell.

Cynthia glanced over her shoulder at the flustered young mother, her gaze dropping to the little boy the woman held firmly by the hand.

“Yes.” She managed a shaky smile as she turned to face them. “Yes, I’m fine. No harm done.”

Relief moved over the young woman’s face. “Thank goodness.” She bent to the little boy. “Douglas, apologize to the lady.”

“Sorry.” The child looked up at Cynthia through thick lashes.

He was adorable. Charmed, she couldn’t be upset with him.

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling at him.

He rewarded her with an ear-to-ear grin that lit his face before he bashfully ducked his head.

With a final apology, the two women and their charges set off down the street.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Cynthia turned to face Zach.

His green gaze was intent, focused on her. She was instantly swamped with the memory of his arms around her, the sensation of her body pressed against his.

“Thanks for catching me,” she said. The effort to appear cool and unaffected by those brief moments took all her control.

“Anytime.” His mouth curved in a slow, wholly masculine smile.

Cynthia’s heartbeat stuttered before settling in a faster, harder rhythm.

With great effort, she pulled her gaze from his mouth and glanced at her watch. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Zach—and welcome back to Indian Springs. I have to run. I have an appointment.” As she spoke, she took several backward steps down the sidewalk. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. It’s such a small town.” She smiled vaguely and turned on her heel. Walking swiftly and purposefully, she headed toward her car that was parked halfway down the block.

And felt his intense gaze with every step she took.

Zach watched her go, surprised at the speed with which she’d gone from friendly conversation to abrupt departure. His gaze tracked her smooth, graceful walk, the slight sway of her hips and the silky blond ponytail that brushed against her shoulders with each step.

Tired though he was after days of travel and little sleep, every cell in his body had snapped to attention the minute he’d seen her. Riveted, his eyes had swept her from head to toe, his body tightening as he did. Her legs were encased in snug jeans, and the red stiletto heels on her small feet made her legs look even longer. Her hair brushed against the red sweater she wore. A shopping bag and small leather handbag dangled from one hand.

He’d only been a few feet away when she attempted to step around the older, beefy cowboy blocking her path.

Zach registered the instant tenseness that gripped the slim, curvy female body.

Then she’d turned and he’d seen her face. Heart-shaped, with dark brows winging above deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, a stubborn little chin below a lush mouth—she was outrageously feminine.

The swift urge to protect and claim swept through him.

Down the sidewalk, Cynthia stepped off the curb and opened the driver’s door of a bright red sports car. A moment later, she backed out of the parking slot and drove away.

Zach shook his head. He hadn’t reacted to a woman with this much instant lust since he was a teenager. He shrugged and turned to stride to the entrance of the Anderson Law Office only yards away.

It must be the lack of sleep, he told himself.

Even as he blamed his reaction to Cynthia on exhaustion, Zach knew he was lying. He had to admit she’d knocked him off stride without trying, and when she’d smiled …

Damn, he thought ruefully. Just thinking about her smiling up at him was enough to make him want to turn around, find her and see if he could tease her into laughing again.

He realized he was standing outside the law office door, a half smile on his face, and shook his head to clear it.

He needed to focus on seeing the attorney and heading out to the Triple C.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Ned Anderson might reveal about his father—and if the attorney could explain why Joseph Coulter had named his sons in his will. Zach had avoided any thoughts about his estranged father for so long that having to talk about him felt strange—and oddly painful.

He steeled himself and pushed open the door.

Chapter Two

Chimes rang, announcing his presence as Zach entered the attorney’s office.

“Is Ned Anderson in?” he asked the receptionist.

“No, I’m sorry, he’s not. Do you have an appointment?” The older woman eyed him over half-glasses.

“No. My brother told me to stop and talk to him before I head home, but if he’s not available I’ll come back tomorrow.” Zach turned toward the door, not the slightest disappointed that the lawyer wasn’t in. He’d rather be at the ranch, sleeping in a warm bed, instead of meeting with his father’s estate attorney. He’d been traveling nonstop for nearly a week to get this far. The journey from the base camp at Mount Everest, where he’d spoken with Cade, had required hiking with stubborn pack mules, a train to the nearest city, and finally several airline flights just to reach the U.S. This morning he’d boarded an 11:00 a.m. flight from Seattle to Billings, where he’d rented the truck and driven to Indian Springs.

“Wait!” The woman’s voice stopped him and he looked back at her. “Are you Zach Coulter?”

“Yeah.” He paused to look back at her.

“Mr. Anderson had an emergency in Great Falls today, but he asked me to give you something if you arrived while he was gone.” She quickly bustled across the waiting area and entered an office. A second later, she popped back out. “Here it is.” She held out a sealed manila envelope and a silver ring holding a collection of metal keys. “He said to tell you the letter and enclosures explain everything and that he’ll be back in the office next week. He hopes you’ll come in to see him then.”

Zach took the keys and envelope from her outstretched hand.

“I’ll do that.” He nodded and left the office. He returned to his truck, tossing the envelope on the passenger seat and shoving the key ring into his jeans pocket before backing out. As he drove off, he glanced at the wide plate-glass window of the attorney’s office. Anderson’s receptionist watched him, lifting a hand in a wave of farewell.

He returned the gesture, realizing that he’d forgotten how friendly the people in his hometown could be. He liked the energy and convenience of living in San Francisco. It was the perfect base for someone who traveled as much as he did. But he couldn’t remember the last time a business acquaintance in the city had waved goodbye to him.

Zach obeyed the twenty-five miles per hour speed limit, giving him time to assess the buildings and shops lining Main Street. Surprisingly, not much had changed in the thirteen years he’d been gone. The Black Bear Bar and Restaurant still took up the corner across from the pharmacy. The big door of Miller’s Feed Store was rolled up and stood open for business. The neon sign over the Indian Springs Café still flashed bright red, and Connors Auto Parts had dusty ranch trucks parked at the curb out front.

There were several small shops he didn’t remember but all in all, Zach was pleasantly surprised to find his hometown apparently alive and well.

Driving through the center of the town where he’d grown up brought a wash of memories. Picking up speed as he drove toward the Triple C, every mile that brought him closer to his boyhood home held even more.

At last he slowed, braked to turn off the highway and drove beneath a tall, welded metal arch that spelled out Coulter Cattle Company in graceful curves. The lane was edged with pastures dotted with sagebrush before it rounded the base of a butte and topped a rise.

Zach braked, letting the engine idle. At nearly five o’clock the late-afternoon sun highlighted the familiar buildings clustered at the foot of a flat-topped butte on the far side of the valley. From this distance, the ranch looked exactly the same as it had on the morning he’d driven away years ago—for what he’d sworn was the last time.

And damned if he wasn’t glad to be here, he thought with surprise. He hadn’t seen Cade in nearly a year and it was always good to catch up with his brother. As for returning to the ranch? There was an odd mix of reluctance to see the place and an uncomfortable weight on his chest that reminded him of the way he’d felt after his mother had died. That same heaviness had returned when he’d left the Triple C, and again when Cade had told him Joseph was dead.

He shook his head. He’d never spent a lot of time examining his feelings and he didn’t plan to start now. It was enough that he wasn’t turning the truck around and heading back to San Francisco.

What the hell, he thought with a shrug. Life was full of surprises. He’d never expected to be driving down this road again.

He shifted the truck into gear and left the crest of the hill, following the gravel road as it descended to the valley floor. The wood-and-iron bridge rattled beneath the wheels as he crossed the creek before the road climbed again to reach the buildings.

Zach automatically swung the truck in a wide circle before parking in front of the house with the nose of the truck pointing toward the exit.

An older pickup sat in front of the bunkhouse across the graveled ranch yard, and a newer model silver truck was parked just beyond Zach’s pickup.

Guessing the newer vehicle belonged to Cade, Zach grabbed his duffel bag from the jump seat and stepped out, stretching in an attempt to relieve the aches from the long days of nonstop travel.

The gate in the fence to the house yard opened without a creak when he lifted the latch.

Cade had obviously been doing a lot of work on the place, Zach thought as he closed the gate behind him, his gaze assessing the semicircle of buildings facing the house around the large yard. The bunkhouse was freshly painted and although the barn, machine shop and other buildings were weatherworn, the structures appeared to be solid.

He turned back to the house, running a quick glance over the roofline and corners. Fresh white paint and green trim around the windows and doors had the old house looking better than Zach remembered it.

He strode up the walk, crossed the porch and stepped inside without knocking. The aroma of simmering pot roast filled the air and he caught the murmur of a radio from the direction of the kitchen.

“Hello? Anyone home?” He dropped his duffel bag just inside the door. “Cade?”

“We’re in the kitchen—come on back,” a feminine voice called.

Zach wondered if Cade had hired a housekeeper. He walked down the hall and entered the kitchen just as the woman standing at the stove turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise before her lips curved in a smile, lighting up her face.

“Hey,” he drawled, stopping just inside the door to glance around the room. “I’m looking for Cade—”

The door to the back porch opened and his brother stepped inside, halting abruptly.

“Zach.” Cade crossed the room and grabbed him in a brief, hard hug before stepping back. Eyes as green as Zach’s narrowed as he stared. “It’s good to see you—but damn, you look like hell.”

Zach laughed. “And hello to you, too.”

Cade laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back. Even if you do look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I probably haven’t,” Zach drawled. “I plan to say hello and find the nearest empty bed to sleep for a day or two. Have you heard from Eli or Brodie?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping you’ll ask your ace assistant to join the search.”

Zach shrugged. “Angela’s never failed to find whatever she’s looked for. Want me to call her?”

“Yeah,” Cade said. “Any help she can give us would be great. It can wait until you get some rest, though.”

“All right.” A movement behind Cade caught Zach’s attention and he looked over his brother’s shoulder. The pretty blonde was smoothing her fingertips over her lashes, her brown eyes damp.

Cade turned, his gaze following Zach’s.

“Mariah, honey.” His deep voice gentled and it held a note Zach had never heard from his big brother.

Intrigued, he studied their faces as Cade walked to the woman and slung an arm around her shoulders to pull her close against his side.

“This is Mariah Jones, Zach,” Cade said, his quiet voice filled with pride and love. “As soon as I can convince her to settle on a date, we’re getting married.”

Zach felt his eyes widen, and his gaze sharpened on the woman’s beautiful face. She smiled at him before tipping her head back to look up at Cade, the love in her expression matching his brother’s.

“I’ll be damned,” Zach murmured. “Congratulations, Cade. And welcome to the family, Mariah.” He shook his head, stunned and trying to absorb the fact that his oldest brother was in love. “Never thought I’d see the day when one of us got married.”

Mariah laughed, her smile impish. “You’re second born, Zach, which means you’re next.”

“No.” He held up his hands, palms out, before crossing his index fingers in the classic gesture to ward off evil. “No way. Not gonna happen.”

Cade’s deep chuckle blended with Mariah’s laughter.

A sudden yawn caught Zach by surprise and he scrubbed his hand down his face, feeling the scratch of beard stubble. “Sorry,” he apologized. Exhaustion hit him like a wave. “I haven’t slept much over the last few days. Not to mention the time zone change. I’m jet-lagged and sleep-deprived.”

“We weren’t sure how long it would take you to get here, but as soon as you called from Nepal we put clean sheets and blankets on the bed in your old room,” Cade said. “Why don’t you head upstairs? We can talk later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Zach agreed. “Nice to meet you, Mariah. Will I see you later?”

“I’ll be around when you wake up,” she told him.

“Good.” He nodded and turned away. “Good night, you two.” He lifted a hand in farewell, their echoes of “good night” following him down the hall. He paused at the front door to collect his duffel bag and then climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to his old bedroom stood open and he turned on the bedside lamp, dropping his duffel on the bed before closing the door.

He was too tired to do more than give the room a cursory inspection but did register that while the furniture was the same, someone had hung new curtains. The room was clean, the top of the pine wood dresser where he dropped his wallet and assorted clutter from his pockets dust-free.

He shucked off his boots and jeans, pulled his shirt off over his head and clad in only his boxers, slid between the sheets.

Just before he fell asleep, he thought about how Cynthia Deacon had fit into his arms as if custom made just for him. And he wondered how long it would be before he could see her again.

Chapter Three

Cynthia couldn’t stop thinking about Zach Coulter. She’d felt his gaze burning into her as she’d walked to her car, and hadn’t been able to resist checking him out in her rearview mirror as she drove away. He’d stood on the sidewalk without moving, staring after her.

He wasn’t shy about letting a woman know he found her attractive, she thought, her lips tilting upward at the corners as she remembered the interest in his green eyes while they’d talked. She’d met a lot of good-looking men at the hotels where she’d worked over the past few years and more than a few had made passes at her. But Zach raised “handsome and charming” to a whole new level.

At dinnertime she pulled open the refrigerator door in her kitchen and took out red leaf lettuce, a slim English cucumber, tomato, avocado and a red bell pepper. Standing at the counter, she rinsed and, with practiced, efficient movements, quickly chopped, sliced and diced.

She wondered how long he would be in town.

She paused, knife in hand, and looked out the window above the sink at the backyard, lit by late afternoon sun. The big elm tree in the far corner was in full leaf, the spreading branches shading the white picket fence and at least six feet of elderly Mrs. Riley’s yard next door. The snowball bush along the back fence was covered in fist-sized clusters of green buds that would pop into circles of white flowers.

Neatly edged in brick, the flower beds along the one-car garage in the corner opposite the elm tree were raked, fertilized and seeded.

The old house and the gardens her great-uncle Nicholas had loved were ready for summer. She vividly remembered working beside him, her small hands next to his gnarled fingers as they tucked the roots of green living plants into warm black soil. The gentle elderly man, his garden and home had been a haven of peace and sanity in a childhood threatened by her mother’s chaotic lifestyle.

How long will I be in town, Cynthia wondered. She’d sent out résumés immediately after her arrival, but she’d been back in Indian Springs and the welcoming old house for almost two weeks. She’d readied the flower beds and seeded them, aired out the upstairs bedrooms and folded away winter bedding, trimmed and fertilized the roses along the front porch. She’d certainly been busy. But she hadn’t received any response to her résumés, nor to any applications online.

Cynthia opened a cupboard door and took out a rose-colored Depression-era glass salad bowl and a matching stemmed glass. Long before she and her mother had come to live at his house, Nicholas had lost his beloved wife, Min. He’d continued to care for her lovely glass, crystal, silver and the house’s antique furnishings as if doing so had somehow kept a part of her with him. He’d taught Cynthia a deep appreciation for fine old things and given her one of her great-aunt Min’s handmade quilts when she’d left Indian Springs to go to college. The quilt had traveled with her ever since and was currently spread out over the foot of her bed upstairs.

As she filled the bowl with tossed salad, layered chilled shrimp atop and drizzled balsamic vinegar and oil over all, she considered what to do with Nicholas’s cherished home and furnishings.

The question had plagued her over the weeks since Nicholas had passed away. He’d been ninety-two and although his body had become frail, he’d always been spry and fit with a sharp mind. On some level, she knew she’d simply refused to think about him ever being gone. But now, he was. And here I am, she thought as she carried her salad, glass of water and silverware into the adjoining dining room.

Her work required her to travel and she’d always loved that aspect. But it also prevented her from settling in any one spot, limiting her ability to create the kind of home with treasured furnishings that Nicholas had entrusted to her.

She glanced around the room with its long, graceful table and tall sideboard. The table had room to easily accommodate eight people and she knew there were additional leaves and chairs that allowed the table to expand and seat twelve.

Nicholas should have left his home to someone with a big family, she thought as she sipped her water and ate her salad. I’ll never fill these chairs with a husband and children.

Not that she didn’t want to marry and have children. She’d always dreamed that someday she’d find the right man and fall in love. But given her trust issues, she wasn’t sure that was possible.

Cynthia sighed, frowning. She’d never been particularly fond of any of her mother’s boyfriends, but it wasn’t until she was twelve years old that she’d learned to fear men. That was the year the man who’d been dating her mother had caught her alone in the house. By the time Nicholas arrived and pulled the man off of her, she’d been bruised and terrified, her lip cut and her blouse torn. Her mother had been furious—at her, not the boyfriend. And despite counseling during college, Cynthia had never been able to move past the suffocating panic when a male acted aggressively.

Which is why I’ll probably never marry, she thought, staring at the empty chairs ranged along the sides and the far ends of the table.

She had an unexpected, instant mental image of Zach Coulter, eyes alight with amusement as he smiled at her, sitting at the head of the table on her left.

“Not likely,” she said aloud in the silent room. She shook her head, popping a pink shrimp into her mouth. “He’s out of my league. If I ever consider looking for a husband, I should probably start with a basic small-sedan-level guy. Zach’s more like a high-performance-sports-car-level guy. Still,” she mused with a sigh, “a girl can dream.”

Her voice seemed loud in the hushed room.

“I’m talking to myself,” she muttered. “Definitely time to find a new job with real people to talk to.”

She rose and walked back into the kitchen to switch on the radio on the shelf just inside the door. When she returned to the table, the muted strains of Memphis blues followed her, filling the hushed, waiting silence.

Determinedly, she turned her attention to finishing her dinner and her thoughts to job hunting and considering whether to tweak her résumé.

But when she turned off the light and settled into her bed later that evening, her last drowsy thought was of Zach’s green eyes smiling down at her.

Zach didn’t wake until six o’clock the next morning.

By the time he’d showered, shaved and dressed to head downstairs, his stomach was growling. The aroma of coffee teased his nostrils and he followed it down the hallway.

“Morning.” He nodded at Cade and Mariah, seated at the heavy wooden table in the far corner of the kitchen. He automatically pulled open the cabinet door above the coffeemaker and took out a mug, only realizing as he filled the cup that he’d remembered where they were kept.

It had been thirteen years since he’d taken a mug from that cupboard, but somewhere buried deep, the memory had lain dormant till needed.

The human mind was a weird and wonderful thing, he thought, carrying his steaming mug with him to the table.

Just as he pulled out a chair and sat, his stomach growled again, this time more loudly.

“How long since you ate?” Cade asked, his long legs stretched out beneath the table.

“Yesterday,” Zach said, sipping his coffee.

“I mean something besides fast food at the airport,” Cade said drily.

“Ah.” Zach nodded, pursing his lips as he considered. “I think that might have been at a sushi bar in Tokyo.”

Mariah’s eyes rounded. “How long ago was that?”

“You know,” Zach confessed, “I’m not sure. What day is this?”

Cade laughed and Mariah pushed back her chair to stand.

“I’m making you breakfast,” she announced, crossing the room to pull open the refrigerator door. “How do you feel about steak, eggs, hash browns and toast?”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he told her. “But you don’t have to cook for me. I can do it.”

She laughed. “We take turns cooking around here so you’ll have your chance. For now, sit, talk to Cade and drink your coffee.”

“Thanks.” Zach looked at Cade. “I think we should keep her.”

“I’m keeping her,” Cade told him with a grin. “You’ll have to get your own girl.”

Zach had a swift mental image of Cynthia Deacon’s face. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said aloud, deciding Cade’s words had only made him think of the pretty blonde because he’d seen her just yesterday. “I stopped at Anderson’s office in town. He wasn’t there, but his secretary gave me a thick envelope and a set of keys. I haven’t opened the envelope yet, but I’m assuming it’s a copy of the will.”

“Probably,” Cade said. “And the keys must be for the Lodge.”

“Why am I getting keys to the Lodge?” Zach lifted his cup and sipped, his gaze fastened on his brother’s face, which had gone from relaxed to somber.

“Because Dad left the Triple C to all of us in equal shares, but he also left an asset to each of us individually,” Cade said. “The Coulter Lodge belongs to you now. You can do anything you want with it.”

Zach stared at him. “Why did the old man leave me anything?” he said at last. “He hated my guts.”

Cade sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I felt when I heard he’d left us the Triple C.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Mariah convinced me the old man had a change of heart. She worked for him and lived here on the ranch for the last several years, took care of him when he got sick. She says he regretted the drinking and everything that came with it. And Wayne says he stopped drinking and became a hermit after we all left.”

“He stopped drinking?” Zach stared at Cade. “That’s hard to believe.” Although if Wayne Smalley had told Cade that Joseph Coulter had given up alcohol, it was hard to dispute the claim. Zach had known his parents’ friend, and Wayne’s buddies—Asa Kelly and Ben Hol-comb, since he was a child.

“I know.” Cade nodded in agreement. “But it seems to be true.”

Zach lifted his mug and realized he’d emptied it. He pushed back his chair and stood, crossing to the counter and the coffeemaker. Beside him, Mariah removed bread from the toaster and proceeded to spread butter on the slices.

“It’s true.” She glanced sideways at him, her brown gaze level. “I never saw him take a drink in the three-plus years I’ve lived here.”

“Hmm,” Zach responded noncommittally. He’d worked with men who drank too much and concealed it from most people. Where there was a will, there seemed to always be a way. Nonetheless, Mariah apparently was convinced Joseph Coulter had quit the bottle and if she wanted to believe, who was he to question her conviction?

“Tell me about the will,” he said as he returned to the table and Cade. “I’ll read the entire document and whatever else Anderson put in the envelope later but for now, give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Cade told him. “Dad left everything he had to the four of us—you, me, Eli and Brodie—except for the cabin and the three acres it sits on. He left that to Mariah.”

Surprised, Zach’s gaze flicked across the room just as Mariah turned from the stove with a steaming plate of food. She met his gaze calmly as she slid the plate of steak, eggs, hash browns and toast on the tabletop in front of him.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Looks great.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled and went back to the counter, returning with a carafe of coffee and setting it in the center of the table before slipping back into her chair.

Zach wasn’t sure how he felt about his grandparents cabin being given away outside the family, but Cade seemed fine with it. He decided to question his brother later, outside Mariah’s hearing.

“Go on.” He nudged Cade as he cut into the steak and began to eat.

“As I told you earlier, Dad left each of us individual assets that we solely control. He left me the livestock except for the horses, Eli gets Mom’s studio and the contents and Brodie has the horses. And you got the Lodge.”

Zach lifted his head, his attention caught. “What horses? Are the Kigers still here?”

Cade shrugged. “I don’t know—haven’t gone looking for them. Figured I’d leave that for Brodie to find out.”

“Hard to believe Dad didn’t sell the Kigers,” Zach commented. “Mom loved those mustangs and he got rid of everything she loved when she died.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cade agreed. “But since I’ve been back, I learned he did several things that didn’t make sense. For instance, he left longhorns in the far pasture. They interbred with Brahma stock and Herefords that probably escaped the lower pastures and climbed into the rough country. We rounded up enough rodeo stock and whitefaces to make a payment on the taxes.”

“Why didn’t Dad sell them years ago?” Zach asked, puzzled. “It wasn’t like him to let an asset sit idle, especially not cattle.”

Cade glanced at Mariah, then back at Zach. “Mariah says he was sick for several years before he died. It’s possible he didn’t have the energy to drive them in and brand them.”

“Hmm.” Zach considered Cade’s words. It was hard to picture his father without the physical strength and energy to run the Triple C. The last time he’d seen Joseph, he was a strong, physically powerful man. He shook off the questions that rose with the thought and looked at his brother. “So tell me the bad news. None of this sounds like you’d need my input. What’s wrong?”

“The inheritance taxes are astronomical and there are no cash assets.”

Zach went still, eyes narrowing over Cade. “So we have to sell?” he asked slowly, surprised at the instant rejection of the idea that slammed into him.

“That’s one option,” Cade agreed. “But it’s one we can’t take without all four of us agreeing. And, so far, you and I are the only ones here.”

“You mean we all have to agree before we can sell any sections of land?” Zach guessed shrewdly.

“Exactly.” Cade nodded and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, his mug cupped between his hands. “As I said, I rounded up cattle and sold off all I could to make a payment on the taxes. Anderson said it bought us some time, but we’re going to need a hell of a lot more to clear the tax debt.”

“No other assets?” Zach asked. “What about Mom’s collections—and Dad’s. Did he sell them all off after we left?” Zach had vivid memories of the art, antiques and historical artifacts his parents had gathered. His favorite had been the dozens of wagons, buggies and other conveyances that had filled a huge storage building a mile from the ranch house.

“If any of Mom’s sculptures were in her studio when Dad locked the doors and sealed the building after she died, they have the potential to be very valuable. Mom’s more famous now than she was when she was alive and working. And if Brodie decides to sell some of the horses—if there are any horses—they could be worth quite a bit.” Cade paused to lift his mug and drink. “And if you find a way to raise money with the Lodge, it could go a long way to paying off the tax debt. I’m assuming you don’t have a few extra million sitting in a bank account that you’d be willing to use?” he added drily, his lips quirking.

“Me?” Zach shook his head. “I have investments, but nothing I can liquidate to get that kind of cash.” He eyed Cade. “Exactly how much money are we talking about here, in round figures?”

The amount Cade quoted had Zach whistling softly.

“That’s a hell of a lot of zeroes,” he said. “If we all agreed, what about selling off some acres of land to raise the money?”

“We could do that,” Cade told him. “But if we do, the size of the Triple C would be radically reduced. And if we want to keep it, we’d have a hard time making it profitable.”

“So we either find a way between the four of us to raise the money to pay the taxes, or we sell the ranch intact, pay off the taxes, split what’s left between the four of us and walk away.”

“That’s about the size of it,” Cade agreed.

“Hell.” Zach pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair, frowning at his brother. “I vote to keep the place. But I don’t like the odds of our being able to raise that kind of money.”

“And we can’t have a definitive plan until we talk to Eli and Brodie,” Cade finished for him.

“Exactly.” Zach crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes over his brother’s face, considering. “But I’d bet my life neither of them will want to sell.” He looked at Mariah, then back at Cade. “It’s unlikely I’ll stay in Montana when all this is over. But you two—” he gestured at them “—you’re going to live here and work the ranch, right?”

Cade’s gaze met Mariah’s and she smiled faintly, nodding at him.

“Yeah,” he said with surety. “We’d like to raise our kids here.”

“Kids.” Zach was suddenly sidetracked by the memory of himself and his three brothers swimming in the creek on a hot summer day, riding horses at breakneck speed over the prairie, or climbing the butte behind the house to get closer to the stars hanging in the velvety black night sky. Yeah, he thought, this would be a good place for kids if Cade was their father. “You plan to make me an uncle?”

“Sure.” Cade grinned him, deep green eyes lit with amusement.

“Damn.” Zach shook his head in mock disbelief. He couldn’t remember seeing Cade this happy in years. He winked at Mariah. “Are you sure you want to take him on? He was hell on wheels as a kid—what if you have a boy like him?”

“I’d love it,” she answered promptly.

The sound of an engine turning over sounded from outside and Cade glanced at his watch.

“That must be Pete taking J.T. to the bus stop,” he said. “It’s later than I thought.”

“A bus stop? Have we got school kids living here?”

“Just one,” Cade told him. “J.T. Butler is in high school. He works before and after school, on weekends and vacations, and lives in the bunkhouse with an older ranch hand, Pete Smith.”

“How many other employees?” Zach asked.

“None.”

Zach eyed Cade. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope, that’s it.”

“So the three of you are running the Triple C?”

“Pretty much.” Cade’s grin told Zach he understood his disbelief.

“Hell.” Zach shook his head and muttered, “The hits just keep on comin’.”

“Yeah. The good news is the Turner brothers still own their place and they’ve been helping out. A lot,” Cade told him. “And the neighbors all pitched in to help when we rounded up the cattle.”

“Thank God for that.” Zach couldn’t believe two men and Mariah had been working the Triple C. The ranch needed a crew big enough to fill the bunkhouse. Even when his father, Zach and his three brothers were all working, they’d still had several hired hands. Clearly, life on the Triple C had changed drastically over the years. And if he was going to contribute to paying off the tax debt, he’d better take a look at the condition of the ranch and the Lodge to get a better idea of just what he and his brothers were facing. “What are you doing today?” Zach asked Cade.

“Nothing that can’t be put off until tomorrow if you want company.”

Zach stretched, shoving one hand into the pocket of his faded jeans to pull out the small metal ring with its set of keys. He contemplated it for a moment, then looked at Cade. “Let’s open up the Lodge.”

Cade nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Zach shoved back his chair and stood, carrying his dirty dishes to the sink where he rinsed them off and slotted them into the dishwasher rack.

“I’ll grab my hat and be down in a minute,” he said. As he left the room, he caught a quick glimpse of Cade bending to brush a kiss against Mariah’s mouth.

He wondered how she’d managed to get close enough to Cade to get under his skin, let alone capture his heart. Cade had always sworn he would never fall in love and marry. He’d claimed he carried too much baggage after enduring their father’s misery and alcoholism following their mother’s death.

Hell, he thought. We probably all do. It was good to see Cade had found a woman he wanted to share his life with.

Mariah was wrong if she thought Zach would ever get married, though. He loved women, but marriage? Not in the cards. His lifestyle had him traveling often for work and his love of adventure did the same, which left little time or space to consider settling down. It wouldn’t be fair to ask a woman to put up with his absence from home two-thirds of the year.

But in a flash of stark honesty, Zach realized that was the stock answer he’d been giving for years to anyone who quizzed him about his bachelor status.

It was all true, but it wasn’t the whole story.

If he were being honest, he knew he had the same reasons for avoiding marriage that Cade had. His parents had seemed happy and deeply in love before his mother died. After her death, Joseph had plunged into an abyss of grief and alcoholism, dragging his sons with him into their own particular hell.

Zach couldn’t remember exactly when he’d made the decision, but within a few years of his mother’s death, he’d vowed to never love anyone as much as his father had loved his mother.

And if Cade had leftover baggage from their childhood spent struggling to deal with Joseph’s alcoholic rages and violence, then Zach was sure he did, too, despite the years he’d spent in counseling.

Still, he wondered if there was a possibility that someday, a woman might look at him like Mariah looks at Cade.

The swift image of Cynthia’s soft mouth curving in a smile as she looked up at him, blue eyes warm with amusement, made his step falter.

He barely knew her, had only spent a few moments talking with her. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have her look at him with love.

Chapter Four

When Zach came back downstairs, Cade was waiting at the front door and they left the house together.

Zach paused on the porch, sweeping an assessing glance over the property. His ability to analyze and predict the potential of businesses had brought him executive-level success in San Francisco. He reported directly to the CEO of a capital venture firm; it was his responsibility to descend on companies in trouble, analyze their strengths and weaknesses, then recommend either a plan to save them or to dismantle them.

He’d never imagined that expertise would be used on his childhood home.

Though all but the house and bunkhouse were weathered and needed paint, each appeared to be in relatively good condition. What he could see of the fences in the pasture, they were straight and strong, with white-faced Hereford cattle grazing within the barbed wire enclosures.

“I see you’ve started painting,” he commented as he and Cade left the porch and walked to his truck. “Any major repair work needed on the buildings?”

Cade detoured to his own truck, collected a toolbox from the back and returned to set it in the bed of Zach’s truck. Then he pulled open the passenger door. “Everything is pretty sound. I haven’t had to make any emergency repairs.”

Zach halted, hand on the driver’s door handle, as a green truck pulled into the yard and stopped on the far side of Cade’s vehicle. Zach instantly recognized the driver.

“Hey, Grady.” Warm pleasure filled Zach’s voice as he greeted his old friend. The six Turner brothers lived on a neighboring ranch, and although Zach was five years older than Grady, they’d been best friends before he left Indian Springs. He purposely hadn’t kept in touch with anyone in Montana, but he’d missed Grady and his brothers. “It’s good to see you.”

“When did you get back?” Grady Turner jumped out of the pickup and jogged across the graveled yard to join him, the two men shook hands and exchanged a brief, hard hug. Grady nodded at Cade before turning back to Zach.

“Just yesterday,” Zach replied.

“I heard you were climbing Mt. Everest. How was it?”

“Cold.” Zach laughed at the expression on Grady’s face.

“How was the trip home?”

“Long.”

“Damn.” Grady laughed. “I heard Cade reached you overseas.”

Zach nodded. “There was a message waiting for me when I descended to base camp.”

“Did you make it to the top of the mountain?” Grady asked with interest.

“Hell, yes.”

“Should have known.” Grady clapped him on the back. “Congratulations.”

“How are your brothers?”

“Fine—all five of them. We’ve all spent some time here on the Triple C over the last few months,” Grady said.

“Yeah, Cade told me how great you and your brothers have been.” Zach studied his old friend. “I appreciate it. I know Brodie and Eli would tell you the same if they were here.”

“Have you heard from your younger brothers?” Grady asked.

“No.” Zach shook his head. “I have an assistant who’s talented at tracking people and I’ve asked her to start looking. With luck, she’ll find them.”

“It’s good to see you Coulters here on the Triple C again—since Cade’s been back, the place is looking up. And now that you’re here, too, things can only get better, right?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Zach said. “We’re headed to the old Lodge to take a look inside—want to come with us?”

Grady shook his head. “I’m supposed to meet Mason in town and I’m late already. I just wanted to stop by and say welcome home.” Grady held out his hand and Zach took it, the warm firm clasp an affirmation of friendship. “I’m damned glad you’re home, Zach.” Grady clapped him on the shoulder once again. “You should join me and Mason at the Black Bear on Saturday. The management booked a good local band and you’re sure to see people you know. My brothers will probably show up if they’re in town.”

“I’ll be there unless something comes up,” Zach promised.

The two men parted; Grady returned to his truck while Zach joined Cade in his pickup.

“Are you ready for this?” Cade asked, his deep voice quiet.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Zach replied, knowing he’d have to steel himself to step into the Lodge. Memories of his mother were sure to blindside him on occasion, especially now that he was back on the ranch she’d loved.

He wondered how she would have felt about the son who caused her death owning the Lodge she’d created.

“I haven’t gone inside, but the outside of the Lodge and Mom’s studio seem just as solid as the rest of the buildings,” Cade said. “Hopefully the interior is fine.”

Zach twisted the key in the ignition and shifted the pickup into gear. “We’ll soon find out.”

They left the ranch yard, following the gravel road past the big barn. Just beyond Mariah’s cabin the road curved to follow the creek to the Lodge, a half mile away.

Joseph Coulter had built the Lodge based on his wife’s love of the steep-peaked, log skiing lodges where they often vacationed in the mountains near Yellowstone Park. The Coulter Lodge’s two-story structure was built of heavy, massive logs, but the deep slant of the metal roof—its once dark red faded now to rose—combined with lots of window glass, always managed to give the solid, substantial building a graceful air. The porches that edged the front and three sides beneath the shelter of the roof’s overhang were still welcoming despite the boards nailed over the big windows and doors, sealing them shut.

Zach parked, and he and Cade left the truck, climbing the shallow, wide steps to the porch and the front door.

“These boards look new,” Zach commented as he and Cade used hammers and crowbars to pry them loose.

“J.T. and I replaced them not too long ago,” Cade told him as Zach ripped the last board free and laid it atop a stack behind them. “Somebody attempted to break in, probably kids.”

“Huh.” Zach pulled the key ring from his pocket. Much to his surprise, the key slid easily into the lock and after a moment of careful jiggling, turned with a grating squeal. He pushed the door inward and stepped inside, halting abruptly just over the threshold.

Cade joined him, his low whistle echoing in the big lobby.

Sunlight slanted through the open door behind them, throwing a bar of gold across the dust-covered floor. The rest of the lobby was swathed in gloom. Zach could just make out the wagon-wheel chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling at each end of the long room. They appeared to be draped in cobwebs, and what he remembered as iron sconces set at intervals along the walls were only gray shapes beneath more spiderwebs.

The room was eerily silent, the air heavy and still with a musty scent. Zach wondered if this was what archeologists felt when they opened a long-sealed tomb.

He flipped the light switch next to the door frame but as he expected, the power was off.

“Let’s get the boards off the windows,” he told Cade. “We need more light.”

The two headed back outside, leaving the door open, and worked their way around the porch, prying off the two-by-fours and plywood covering the big windows, stacking the lumber in piles as they went.

When at last they finished and returned to enter the lobby, sunlight flooded the big room.

The last time Zach had been here, the lobby had been alive with light, bustling with a throng of partygoers attending a celebration for his parents’ wedding anniversary. Now, the burgundy leather sofas and chairs, the gleam of polished wooden floors with deep red and cream wool carpets and the subtle sheen of wax on log walls—all were dulled beneath layers of dust.

As he and Cade walked farther into the lobby, he noticed the undeniable leavings of mice.

“Looks like something bigger than mice have been in here,” Cade commented, pointing at protruding stuffing visible at the corners of sofa cushions and littering the floor beneath.

“I hope it’s not rats,” Zach told him. “I hate rats.”

“Might have been raccoons. They can do a lot of damage.”

Zach nudged the shredded corner of the dirt-dulled oriental carpet. “Whatever it was, they were destructive.”

Cade nodded and walked toward the fireplace at the end of the room. Zach followed, assessing the damage along the way.

“Looks like the fireplace is still standing,” Cade commented.

“Yeah. Who knows if it’s still functional.” Zach bent to lean into the shoulder-high hearth and peer up the chimney. “I guess we won’t know until we get up on the roof and check it.” He turned, hands on hips, his gaze following the wall to the reception desk. “I’ll be damned,” he said, stunned. “Mom’s mustang sculpture is still here.”

Cade followed as Zach strode back down the long room to halt in front of the curved wooden oak counter that served guests at registration. On the wall behind, beneath a layer of dirt, tarnish and cobwebs, hung a four-foot-tall, six-foot-wide sculpture. Melanie Coulter had used her favorite Kiger mare as a model for the lead of four horses in full gallop. Even with the bright metals dark with dirt and tarnish, the mustangs seemed to dominate the wall, threatening to leap down and thunder across the lobby floor to freedom.

“I always thought this was one of the best things Mom ever did,” Cade said quietly.

Zach nodded silently. He remembered the days after his mother’s funeral, when his father had ridden out early one morning, leading his mother’s mare. Joseph Coulter had returned hours later without the mustang. Zach had always assumed his father had shot the horse, but his father refused to explain.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.