Soldier. Cowboy. Father. Husband?

Hired to work the Callahan brothers’ New Mexico spread, Shaman Phillips doesn’t know what to do about the stunning blonde he finds on his porch…except haul her into his arms. Turns out Tempest Thornbury wants to share more than just the returning soldier’s out-of-this-world kisses. She wants to have Shaman’s baby!

Tempest came home to turn her not-so-hot past into a better future. The sexy, broody military man’s bringing that dream one step closer to reality—she’s got twin boys on the way. At Shaman’s insistence, she agrees to marry him…and remain his lawful wife for one year after their sons are born.

But once he’s officially a father, Shaman can’t let Tempest head back to Hollywood. It’s time for this lonesome cowboy to join the ranks of those Callahan cowboys—and open a new chapter in all their lives!

“I have a proposal for you,” Shaman said. “It’s not a Hollywood contract type of proposal, but it’s one that might interest you.”

“I consider all proposals and offers,” Tempest said.

It was worth a shot. “About that baby you wanted.”

The silence went long. “I might want a child one day.”

“Mmm. And if you decide you do, I wouldn’t mind letting you try to have that baby with me.”

“That’s nice to know, soldier.”

“I thought you might think so. But here’s the hook—”

“There’s always a hook with you.”

“You have to marry me first. Then we’d practice,” Shaman said. “I’m just saying that if you decide the bright lights aren’t what you want, and that you want to see if you can handle the heat back here in Tempest, maybe I’ll let you get in bed with me again, with that intent in mind.”

“Well, that is an offer I’ll have to consider,” Tempest said. “Considering I’ve been chasing you all this time, cowboy.”

Dear Reader,

The Callahan Cowboys series is such a pleasure to write! I really enjoy the journey of these cowboys and their friends—I hope you do, too!

In this story, we find that Shaman Phillips, who wants peace and quiet more than anything, has taken over his brother Gage’s job. He’s content to live at Dark Diablo and give himself some time to lick his war wounds—that is, until the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen finds her way to the ranch. Tempest Thornbury seems to want him—but why she’s attracted to a beast like him, Shaman just can’t figure. Tempest brings him a lot of wonder and peace he thought he’d never feel again; giving his heart to her feels easier than he ever imagined it could be. Yet he’s well aware the gorgeous blonde has no desire to tie herself to the town whose name she bears—and there are plenty of secrets she’s keeping safely hidden away in her heart. Is there any way Shaman can convince Tempest that protecting her—and her heart—is the one job this warrior wants more than anything?

Writing about the Callahans and the Phillipses is like coming home for me. I hope you find a little sliver of home among these pages, and that wherever you are, you find the happiness you deserve.

Best always,

Tina Leonard

The Cowboy Soldier’s Sons

Tina Leonard

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty projects, including a popular thirteen-book miniseries for Harlequin American Romance. Her books have made the Waldenbooks, Ingram and Nielsen BookScan bestseller lists. Tina feels she has been blessed with a fertile imagination and quick typing skills, excellent editors and a family who loves her career. Born on a military base, she lived in many states before eventually marrying the boy who did her crayon printing for her in the first grade. Tina believes happy endings are a wonderful part of a good life. You can visit her at www.tinaleonard.com.

No book is ever dreamed in a vacuum, and I have lots of help. Many thanks to Kathleen Scheibling, editor nonpareil, and Laura Barth, who gently keeps me in line. Also my darling and fearless agent, Roberta Brown. Much love to my cheerleading family, who always put me first, and a special thanks to the readers, who have made my career a dream come true.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

—Shakespeare’s The Tempest

Shaman Phillips wasn’t expecting a blonde bombshell to show up at the front door of the Dark Diablo farmhouse, but one glance at her shapely legs, long silky hair and beautiful face made him believe tonight might be a lucky night for a lone wolf. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Hi.”

Shaman decided the voice of an angel went with her amazing looks. She was way out of his league—and yet even a man with scars liked to gaze at beautiful things.

“I’m looking for Chelsea Myers.”

“Ah. The Chelsea Myers who married my brother Gage in July. She’s Chelsea Phillips now.” Shaman leaned forward, out of the doorway, planting his well-worn boots on the porch. “They live at the Callahan place, Rancho Diablo, in Diablo.”

The goddess stepped closer, her high fire-engine-red heels clicking on the wood porch. “My name is Tempest Thornbury. I met Chelsea and Cat in July, before I returned to Italy.” She held up a small Louis Vuitton bag, complete with tufts of tissue paper coming out the top. Shaman knew what Louis Vuitton was; his sister, Kendall, was a huge fan. “I brought this for Cat. Is there a possibility you could give it to her?”

“Come on in,” Shaman said, tamping down the wolflike tendencies fighting inside him. “I’ll get their address and you can send it to her. It’d probably be quicker. I never know when I’ll see them, now that the school year has started.”

Tempest smiled. “Thank you.”

Shaman went to get the address, and she followed him into the house. He handed her a piece of paper. “Cat started school in the middle of August in Diablo. She’s real happy there.”

“I’m so glad.”

He decided his visitor was even more beautiful close up. The hot-red suit fit her curves to perfection. She didn’t wear a wedding ring or jewelry, just some gold hoop earrings that kissed her cheeks.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Tempest added.

Shaman nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why. His first thought was to seduce this angel—what man could resist?—but she was too perfect for him. How dumb was that?

Ten years in the military, most of them spent in Iraq and Afghanistan, might have left him hungry for female companionship, but it had also left him with scars on his back, a chunk missing from his shoulder and a red slash across his sun-browned cheek. He was lucky those were his only visible scars. Many of his buddies hadn’t fared so well.

A little less perfection in a woman would suit him better. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

Tempest smiled and turned on her heel. “I was hoping to see Cat and Chelsea, but I suppose they won’t be back until the semester is over?”

“Can’t say.” He wasn’t familiar with Cat’s routine. “Chelsea and Gage just announced that they’re expecting a baby, so I don’t know how often Chelsea will be out here.”

Tempest glanced back at him, looking pleased. “That’s wonderful! I’m glad to hear it.” She opened the front door before he could do so. “I didn’t get your name?”

“Shaman Phillips.” He held the door for her, and as she walked out, caught a tease of a light flowery perfume. “You staying in Tempest, Tempest?” He grinned. “I didn’t realize you were named after the town.”

She leaned into him, catching him off guard. “It’s a stage name. My real name is Zola Cupertino.”

His brain tried to process that information, along with the distracting fact that she was dangerously close to him. And he didn’t think it was an accident. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she—

“Soldier...” Tempest murmured.

“Yes, ma’am?” he said, out of habit. She must have seen his military bag, and his combat boots in the living room.

“I just got off a plane from Italy,” she announced. “I wonder if you might be interested in taking me out to dinner?”

He blinked. “Certainly,” he said, trying to be chivalrous and not sound as surprised as he was by her unexpected invitation.

She smiled at him, a sweet, slow, sexy smile, her angelic eyes free of artifice, but holding a silent plea. Maybe he didn’t want to see it. But she was still standing oh-so-close to him, and the next thing he knew, he’d taken the statuesque blonde in his arms and was kissing her like a dying man.

She kissed him back hungrily.

“Wait a second,” Shaman said. He was a lucky guy, but not this lucky. Angels didn’t just drop from the sky into his hard-edged world. “How did you say you know Gage and Chelsea?”

“Met them this summer. Don’t stop what you’re doing, soldier.”

He kissed her again, his mind trying to find the hook in the sweet deal she seemed to be offering him. She could have any guy in the world. Why would she choose him, instead of running from the sight of his scar-streaked face?

What the hell. A man didn’t get too many gifts in life, and if this angel wanted to fly into his arms, he needed to quit acting like a skittish horse. “Hey, you want that dinner or not?” he asked, giving her one last chance to back away.

“After,” she murmured, melting into him.

He carried her to his bedroom, taking his sweet time, being careful with the soft suit and delicate white camisole. Her bra and panties were angel-wing white and breathlessly lacy, the kind that didn’t do much for support but everything for a man’s libido. Keeping the lights low, he whispered to her in soothing tones, expecting at any moment for her to tell him she wanted out of his bed. But she let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she was sweet like he’d never tasted sweet before.

And when he finally entered her, Shaman thought he’d died and gone to some magical place he’d never known existed. In all the dirty, lonely nights he’d been scared out of his wits—and he’d been plenty scared, tough guy or not—he’d fantasized about a woman. Any woman. A soft, sweet woman to take away the pain.

This woman was a velvet-soft gift from the gods, and whatever he’d done to deserve this time with her, Shaman wanted the moment to last forever.

Tempest cried his name, and he lost himself in her. She grabbed at his shoulders, and he didn’t even think about his wounds or his scars. He held her and kissed her, savoring her like a treasure.

Then they slept—maybe for an hour; he wasn’t certain. A glance out the window showed a moon that was huge and high in the sky. Getting out of bed, he said, “Let me shower. I’ll take you for that dinner.”

She smiled at him in the moonlight. “Thanks, soldier.”

Afraid to keep the lady waiting, he took the world’s fastest shower, dressing like a madman. Yet he wasn’t all that surprised when he came out and all that was left on the bed was the little Louis Vuitton bag, and a note that read, “Just remembered I have a meeting in town. Rain check for the dinner? Tempest.”

He grunted. She’d signed the note as if it was an autograph for a book or a photo. “A meeting,” he muttered. Shaman glanced at the note again, massively disappointed. Rain check.

I’ll just bet.

* * *

“WHO IS HE?” Tempest asked her dearest friends, Shinny and Blanche Tuck, after they’d hugged each other. It was so good to be here, in the Ice Cream Shoppe where she’d spent so many happy hours. The couple had been parents of sorts, shepherding her through difficult times as a child. Shinny could always be counted on to give her one of his delicious “specials,” a frothy chocolate milkshake she’d adored as a kid. Now she knew he’d simply been trying to put meat on her scrawny bones, but back then she’d thought she was the luckiest girl in the world when he gave her the scrumptious treats.

Shinny and Blanche sat across from her in the lipstick-red booth. The store was closed, and soon they’d go home. But for now they were enjoying catching up.

“He’s one of the Phillips boys from Hell’s Colony,” Blanche said. “Seems to be a good family, if his brother Gage is any indication.”

Shinny was happy to let his wife tell the story, but filling in the details was his forte. His balding head with its white tufts of hair shone under the fluorescent bulb overhead as he leaned back in the booth. “Gage comes out every once in a while. Shaman and he are trying to fix up Dark Diablo. They’re the ones Jonas Callahan hired to bring the place to a working condition.”

“Why’d you go there?” Blanche asked worriedly. “You don’t want to be around Dark Diablo. Nothing good can come of it, even with him there.”

Tempest conceded she wasn’t quite sure what had happened tonight. Seduction wasn’t her style, and she hadn’t had a lover in years. But the man at the ranch had seemed so defenseless, so...sexy. Sexier than any guy she’d ever seen, in some way she couldn’t identify. His coffee-colored

eyes had had a faraway, lonely, almost vulnerable look in them, and for some reason she’d sensed in him a safe harbor. “I wanted to take Cat a present. I thought she and Chelsea would be there. Funny that everything changed in the two months I was gone.”

“Yes,” Blanche said, her tall dark updo quivering under the light. She had enough hair to make up for Shinny’s lack of it. “Gage and Chelsea decided living at Rancho Diablo would be best, to help Cat make the transition to the area. She adores being around all the Callahan children. We went to their wedding, by the way. It was so lovely.” Her friends looked at her. “It’s the kind of thing I hope you’ll have one day.”

“Oh.” Tempest shook her head and stood. “I don’t think so, Blanche. But thank you for always wanting the best for me.” She looked down fondly at the people who’d been like family to her. “May I rent the bed-and-breakfast from you for a few days?”

“No,” Shinny said, standing in turn. “You may stay there free of charge. It’s your home, now that you’re back.”

Tempest gazed out the window for a moment, thinking of her villa in Italy and the job she’d been offered in New York. She hadn’t planned to come out of her self-induced retirement, but something in her had said it was time to go home for a visit.

While Tempest had been living a life few people would ever experience, Shinny and Blanche had this small ice cream and soda shop, and a tiny adobe bungalow they sometimes rented as a B and B. They worked like crazy for the little they had.

They were getting older, and Tempest felt they should be slowing down. Most folks their age would be thinking about retiring. Of course, her dear friends didn’t burn out from their careers, as she had.

But they were so happy to see her that just looking at their faces revived her. Made her remember that changing from the dull moth Zola Cupertino to the butterfly Tempest Thornbury was something that mattered to people who were important to her. And somehow that pride invigorated her, made her want to swim in starshine again instead of burying herself at her villa. “Either you let me pay or I’ll have to find someplace else to stay.”

Blanche shooed her to the door, after handing her a key. “We’ll talk about money another time. Until then, you go rest. And if I were you, I’d stay away from Dark Diablo.” She looked at Tempest in concern. “There’s no reason to dig up bad memories by going out there.”

Tempest hugged Blanche. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about me.”

“We do.” Shinny wrapped the two of them in his big, beefy arms.

Tempest closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the closeness. “I’m fine,” she said. “Truly. Thank you for letting me stay with you.” She went out the door, seeing that the moon hadn’t changed a bit since she’d left the cowboy soldier. Only in Tempest does time never seem to move.

She got into her rental car and drove around back, parking it in the garage of the only place that had ever seemed like “home” to her, a small southwestern, Pueblo-style adobe house that was clean and spare. It felt wonderful to unpack her bag, take a quick shower and melt into the soft bed.

Recalling the hungry way Shaman had kissed her warmed Tempest, settling her into a hazy place between wakefulness and slumber. Shinny and Blanche thought he was a solid man, a good man, if a loner. Tempest herself was a recluse, had been for years. Maybe that’s what she’d responded to—the sense of isolation people sometimes chose when they didn’t feel they deserved better.

He deserved better than her.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, Shaman hadn’t left Dark Diablo for even a grocery run. He had too much to do. So he stayed put, even though lust prodded him to go hunt down the beautiful woman who’d seduced him with sweet kisses.

He didn’t allow himself to think about her much—just about five hundred times a day. Instead, he worked on the barn Gage was determined to have torn down, and he spent time breaking the new mare Jonas Callahan had bought. Her name was Candy, but she was anything but sweet. Jonas was determined that this ebony mustang he’d gotten from a horse rescue society might be the basis for his equine program. He said she reminded him of the black Diablo mustangs that were rumored to run through the canyons of Rancho Diablo, but Shaman wasn’t sure Candy had anything mystical or magical in her. She was bad-tempered and stubborn, maybe not even a diamond in the rough.

Only Jonas would want a wild mustang for his equine program. Not exactly a quality ride—and yet Shaman relished the chance to learn, and to shape the animal’s spirit. It had to be done just right: slowly, patiently.

One thing a man learned in the military was patience.

He ran his hand lightly over the mare’s neck, making certain the lead rope wasn’t too tight. She did have a shiny coat and beautiful brown eyes. It was the attitude that he had to work on.

“Hi.”

When Shaman heard the voice behind him, he knew at once that it belonged to the sweet angel who’d ditched him.

“Easy, Candy,” he said, taking his time turning to face his visitor. She was dressed in blue jean capris and a filmy pink top today, a sexy dream destined to keep him sleepless. “Hello, Cupertino.”

She seemed surprised by what he’d called her. He shrugged. It was her name, and he wasn’t much for anything fake. “What brings you out here?”

She held up a picnic basket. It was high noon and hot; he was sweaty and had been alone with his thoughts too long. “The rain check,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to leave the other night.”

“No, you’re not.” He ignored the basket and gently tugged Candy forward by the lead rope. The mare didn’t seem too disposed to be pliable, and Shaman moved carefully so she wouldn’t shy away. “But that’s okay. I’m not much of a guy for talking during meals.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He ignored that, too, drawing Candy in a circle. “What’s in the basket?”

“Veggie wraps, made by Shinny and Blanche. Cheese and crackers. Some white wine. White-chocolate pretzels and strawberries. They said you and your family are vegetarian.”

He kept the woman waiting for a few minutes, drawing out his surrender to her. Candy kicked up a hoof, trying to show him that she might be on a lead, but that didn’t mean she was giving up any of her sassy spirit.

“Sounds good,” he finally said. “Why don’t you take it into the kitchen, put it on the table and leave it for me?”

She stared at him. “I...know you’re not much for conversation, but I’d really hoped...”

He looked at her directly, daring her to be honest. “Hoped for what?”

After a moment, she said, “I’m not sure.”

She wasn’t being honest. And he demanded honesty. “Just leave it in the kitchen,” he told her. “Tell Shinny and Blanche thanks. And I sent your bag to Cat this morning, with Jonas.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave it here.”

“Yeah, you did.” He wasn’t going to give her an inch.

She didn’t say anything, and he felt her indecision. After a minute, the tall, gorgeous blonde carried the picnic basket to the farmhouse, disappearing inside. He stayed outside with Candy, never looking toward the house, yet listening for the sound of her white Land Rover to start up. After thirty minutes, when he didn’t hear it, he put Candy away with a hose-down she despised and a rub she tried to kick him for as her equine thank-you. Then he let her go, after putting out hay for her to eyeball with wild eyes. She galloped off to forage for herself—but he knew she’d remember that treats were here and always available after training.

She’d remember, and she’d have to make up her mind to cool her attitude just a bit, day by day.

He went inside the house, took off his boots. The picnic basket wasn’t on the table. Instead, the table had been set, with white wine in the glasses. Tempest was asleep on the sofa, her long, silky hair falling over her shoulder.

He could stand here all day, doing nothing more than stare at her.

But she hadn’t come here to be stared at.

“Cupertino,” he said, “wake up.”

She came awake, her big blue eyes widening when she saw him standing over her. “Thanks for the grub,” he said. “Either you go now or you stay. If you stay, know that I intend to love you like you’ve never been loved.”

She didn’t move, but kept her wide eyes locked on his, with that same angelic look she’d worn two nights before.

“Fair warning,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her from the sofa. “Get the strawberries. I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

She made a move to do as he requested, but when he started slowly undoing the buttons on her blouse, she didn’t pull away. Shaman kissed her, ravaging her mouth, not bothering to hide the fact that he wanted her like mad. She moaned, and he murmured, “Rain check later,” and carried her down the hall.

* * *

TWO WEEKS LATER, Shaman waved to the demolition crew who’d come to raze the barn, his brother Gage standing nearby to help oversee it with him. Today was the day, a big day. Finally, they could begin the complete rebuilding of Dark Diablo. Tearing down the barn and bunkhouse was necessary in the vision Jonas Callahan had for his vast acreage.

It was good to tear down old and build new. Cleared out ghosts.

“What is that?” Gage demanded, his vision not on the crew’s heavy equipment, as it should have been, but on the fabulous blonde leaving the farmhouse after a very satisfying night spent in Shaman’s arms.

“Looks like a woman to me,” he said. “Focus, bro. We’ve got a job to do here.”

“I know it’s a woman. In fact, I know who it is.” Gage stared at him. “What I want to know is why she’s here.”

Shaman shrugged. “Cupertino hangs around on occasion, brings me a meal or two.”

His brother was agog. “Not you.”

He shrugged again. “Guess so.”

They watched the blonde get in her Land Rover and drive away. Shaman always hated to see her go. He never knew if she’d return. She usually came around dinnertime, and stayed through the night, letting him worship her between the sheets.

Sometimes she didn’t return for a day or two, and that always worried him. One day she’d get tired of him, a simple man with not much to offer, and he would never see her again. Whatever demons she was exorcising out of her soul were nothing she cared to talk about. In fact, the two of them didn’t do much talking.

“Listen,” his brother said. “Tempest is not someone you just toy with. That is a very kind woman. Cat and Chelsea consider her a friend.”

“Yeah.” Shaman liked her, too. His gaze went back to the giant bulldozer about to push into the enormous old barn. “She’s real nice.”

“No, no.” Gage shook his head. “You don’t understand. Tempest is a good woman.”

“I got that. You’re getting twisted up for nothing, bro. Listen, Cupertino brings me dinner. I guess she thinks I’m starving. And I say thanks, because the truth is, she’s a darn good cook. And I like to look at her.” He shook his head. “You can’t expect me to turn that down.”

Gage was clearly astonished. After a minute, he said, “You call her Cupertino?”

“That’s her name.”

“But do you know who she is?” he demanded.

“She’s a woman who grew up in Tempest.” Shaman didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was sending out engraved invitations begging her to come by. She showed up when she wanted, she left when she wanted.

“She’s in negotiation right now for a starring role in a major Broadway production that might be turned into a movie, for one thing,” his brother told him.

“Is she?” Shaman watched the bulldozer tear into the first wall, collapsing it. Dust and bits of wood flew everywhere.

“If you’d read the newspaper, you’d know that,” Gage said. “The New York Times publishes a Sunday edition that’s really quite informative, if you cared to learn about the world around you.”

He laughed. “The paperboy must have left me off the route.”

“Online Times is just fine. You can read it every day. Takes very little effort. You get twenty free articles the first month, and if you decide you like being informed about the world outside of your shell, you can subscribe. It’s great.”

“Yeah, well. There’s no internet here. If you haven’t noticed, we’re miles from civilization.” And Shaman didn’t really care. He liked the setup just the way it was. He didn’t want to know more about the woman than he did. Whatever it was that she wanted from him, it suited him well.

“There is internet,” Gage stated. “In fact, the internet is how Cat found Tempest in the first place.”

That caught Shaman’s attention. “Our niece wrote her?”

“Yes. Cat wanted Tempest to come home. She thought my wife’s writing creativity would get a boost if she met Tempest. Cat had other reasons for choosing her for pen pal status, but that’s the main idea. So don’t tell me the internet doesn’t work. It’s what brought her all the way from Italy.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll go to her gig when she’s ready. In the meantime, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering, does she?” Shaman asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, if you’re trying to infer that she can do better than me, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no prince, bro.”

Gage shook his head. There probably would have been more discussion of the wonders of the woman who seemed to want nothing more than nights in Shaman’s arms, but two walls collapsed on the barn, and workers started yelling and running around, ending the debate.

Thankfully. Because if he heard any more about what a goddess she was, he was going to have to tell her to take her picnic basket and hit the road. Shaman knew that, like the beast in the fairy tale, you should just appreciate the pretty things in life—while in the back of your mind you heard your mother saying, “Don’t touch anything in the store! You might break it.” You heard your father say, “A woman only wants a man with money and power.”

One day it’ll be over.

Right now, I just try to make her happy.

Chapter Two

“We’re going to have to quit meeting like this.” Shaman got out of bed, glancing back at the beautiful blonde gracing his sheets.

Tempest rose, too, dragging the sheet with her. If he had more time, he’d consider snatching it off her and tumbling them both back into bed.

“Shaman,” she said, “it’s not forever.”

He wondered what was happening about her negotiations for the Broadway show, but wasn’t about to ask. She’d never mentioned her career, so presumably it was something she didn’t care to discuss, at least not with him. “Yeah,” he said. “Forever’s a tough thing to plan.”

She smiled. “I’m going to get dressed.”

He turned away. “Be my guest. The workers arrived about ten minutes ago, so I’m going to head out.”

“Thanks.” She took her sheet into the bathroom with her, wrapped toga-style, goddesslike. He stared at the door for a long moment, briefly pondering taking her in the shower, then decided maybe she wouldn’t welcome that. These “visitations” of hers were strictly on her terms.

He finished dressing and took off for the barn, snagging a bagel from the stash Tempest had put on the counter.

Then again, one never knew which visit would be the last. He was not a man to look at destiny without a measure of appreciation—and she had mentioned “not forever,” though they’d never talked about the future before. A warning sensation shifted inside him, a prickling of unease. Intuition was a powerful thing, whether in looking out for mines and roadside bombs, or knowing that eventually a woman like her was ready to move on.

“What the hell,” Shaman said, and went back inside to appreciate the best thing that had happened to him in years.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS since she’d seen Shaman. Tempest was trying to figure out why spending time with him was beginning to matter so much to her. He was kind and strong, qualities that really called to her.

But she needed distance. Deeply felt the need for some space. So today she was renewing a special friendship instead of concentrating on hunky cowboys. She’d brought Cat Phillips, Shaman’s niece, to share a Shinny “special” with her. The change in the teen from sullen to happy heartened Tempest, made her yearn for the same sort of carefree joy in her own life.

“My dad says,” Cat Phillips began, settling into the red-lipstick-colored booth, “that you’re a short-timer.”

She smiled at the teen. “A short-timer here in Tempest?”

Cat nodded, slurping the chocolate milkshake Shinny had made. “Dad says this is too much of a backwater for you. He says that even if you do like Uncle Shaman, you won’t stay because there’s nothing here.” The teen shrugged. “I thought that once, too. Now I think there’s lots here.”

“It’s good that your father talks to you so much,” Tempest said, not really wanting to speak about the short-timer tag that had been hung on her.

“He didn’t talk to me about you and Uncle Shaman,” Cat said. “I heard him telling Chelsea that he doesn’t expect you to be around much longer, which is a good thing, because he doesn’t want Shaman to break your heart.”

Tempest blinked. “Really.”

“Mmm.” The girl nodded, her freshly bobbed black hair moving as she eagerly reached for the cookies Shinny’s wife, Blanche, placed in front of them before heading away from their booth. “Dad says Uncle Shaman is damaged goods, for one thing, now that he’s been in the military so long. He also says my uncle’s stubborn as hell, and he won’t do anything but hide out at Dark Diablo.”

“I’m a little reclusive at times myself,” Tempest said. “It’s not always a bad thing.”

“Yeah, but Dad says Aunt Kendall and Uncle Xav are bugging him to get Shaman home. They say he refuses to even discuss it while you’re in town.”

Tempest hesitated. “Where is Shaman’s home?”

“In Texas. Hell’s Colony.” Cat squinted, obviously thinking. “It’s kind of a palace.”

“A palace?” Tempest couldn’t envision Shaman in a palace. He seemed as one with the outdoors, fully connected to ranch life.

“Kind of.” She shrugged, fumbling for a description. “But anyway, Dad says the pressure’s on for Shaman to go home, though when he brings it up, Uncle Shaman tells him to get bent. I’m not supposed to say get bent.” Cat shrugged. “But it’s what Dad said.”

Tempest hated to be part of any discord in Shaman’s life. He was kind to her, and she enjoyed their time together. She didn’t want Cat upset, either. She was fond of the girl, and if it hadn’t been for her, Tempest knew she might not ever have returned to the small town where she’d grown up—and had such an unhappy childhood.

Yet it was best to face things one had ignored too long. “I feel badly that your father thinks I’m keeping your uncle from his family.”

“No,” Cat said. “Chelsea said Uncle Shaman wouldn’t go home anyway, and that Dad had been plenty hard to rope back into the fold himself, so he needed to butt out of Shaman’s life. And then I think Dad must have agreed, because I heard a lot of snacking going on after that.” She looked at Tempest wisely. “Snacking is what I call it when Daddy’s smooching on Chelsea. Lots of little snacking noises.”

Tempest smiled. “I’m glad they’re happy.”

“They are. We all are. I love Rancho Diablo!” Cat grinned, her pert little face shining with delight. “I like Dark Diablo, too, but there’s no kids. Dad says Uncle Shaman needs some ankle-biters to tie him to one place, and Chelsea said he’d better tend to his own ankles before he worried about his brothers’ and sister’s.”

“I heard you’re going to be a big sister,” Tempest said.

“I am. I can’t wait! Of course, I won’t be able to come visit as often, once I have my brother or sister.” She again looked at Tempest with those wise eyes. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be very busy taking care of the baby, you know.”

Tempest grinned, delighted with the changes in the once-angsty Cat. “I know. I understand completely. If I had a baby, I would want you to be my chief babysitter.”

“Maybe you’ll have a baby one day, Tempest,” Cat said. “There’s Dad, so I have to go. He said he’d drop me off for a visit only if I came right out when he was ready to leave. He said it wouldn’t take long for him to pound the stuffing out of Uncle Shaman, and then we had to hit the road. He doesn’t like to be away from Chelsea for long. Thank you again for the cool headband you gave me. I really love it.” She hugged her, a good, strong hug that warmed Tempest, then ran to say goodbye to Shinny and Blanche. “Goodbye! Thank you for the delicious ice cream!”

They waved at the thin teen as she ran out the door. From the window, Tempest watched as Cat jumped into her father’s truck.

“She never fails to brighten our day,” Shinny said, coming over to take Cat’s seat. “That is one happy little girl.”

Tempest nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“Funny, but I think you had a part in that,” he added.

Tempest looked at the older gentleman regarding her with smiling eyes. “Cat made all her changes on her own.”

“Yeah, but you believed in her enough to come back to town. It means a lot to kids when people they admire notice them.”

Tempest remembered when Cat had been a sadder version of herself. “She has good parents now.”

Shinny nodded. “She reminds me of you, in a way.”

“I don’t know.” Tempest swirled the straw in her milkshake, not really feeling like thinking about her own childhood. “Is there anything I can do to help you, before I go?”

“Nope.” Shinny patted her hand. “You go rest. Blanche and I’ll see you at dinner.”

Nodding, she got up and gave him a kiss on his almost-bald head, then left the shop. She wondered why Gage would want to pound the stuffing out of his brother, then decided it didn’t have anything to do with her.

* * *

IT WAS NOT SHAMAN’S BEST day.

First, Gage had run by with a full head of steam to rag all over him about the barn contractor—who Gage had fired. Jonas Callahan didn’t like the contractor’s vision—and now it was up to Shaman to figure out what was in Jonas’s head. In spite of that, this job was a great one to oversee, so he had no quibbles. He just wanted it to go more smoothly than it was, given that his boss had just changed his mind about everything.

Bosses tended to do that, and he’d suffered enough annoyed superior officers to take an occasional ear-bending in stride.

Still, he could have used a break in the action before the land mine that was his sister drove onto the ranch. From the roof of the farmhouse, Shaman could see Kendall’s car edging up the drive. He knew it was her because she was driving a black Land Rover. It seemed the whole family fleet had been replaced with matching black Land Rovers, if Gage had the information right. Gil Phillips, Inc., was all about uniformity.

He sat on the roof, watching Kendall as she got out of her car. She wore a ladylike cream-colored skirt and jacket, and turquoise-blue sky-high heels. Some things never changed.

“Hi,” she called up to him.

“Howdy.”

“Get the hell off the roof, please. It’s dangerous.”

He laughed. “This isn’t dangerous. I know dangerous, and I’ll tell you when I see it.”

She was annoyed, he could tell. “We need to talk.”

Obviously, since she’d driven over from Hell’s Colony. “You have a cell phone. Doesn’t it work?” He climbed down the ladder, deciding it was best to obey his little sister when she was in her bossy element.

“Mom wants you to come home,” Kendall said, following him inside.

Shaman washed his hands at the sink, his mind on the condition of the farmhouse roof. It had occurred to him that if Jonas was going to hire a contractor who would subcontract out the roofs for the outbuildings, maybe getting this one replaced at the same time would be financially expedient. In his opinion, it was badly needed.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” He looked at his sister.

Kendall sat on the old leather-topped stool in front of the counter. “Mom wants you to come home.”

“Because?”

“Because you can do this kind of work there. She says you spent enough years away in the military.” His sister’s face softened as she looked at him. “We miss you.”

“I miss you, too, but this is my job.”

“You have a job. It’s called Gil Phillips, Inc.,” she reminded him.

“This is a paying job, something not all of my friends have been able to find once they got back to the States. Besides, haven’t you heard you can never go home?”

Kendall gave him a look of disgust. “That’s for other people. Our home represents our livelihood.”

Shaman smiled at her. “Not mine.”

“You’re being difficult, Shaman. What is it about this place that has you and Gage so obsessed?” She glanced around the airy kitchen. “Really, it’s kind of a dump.”

“It’s actually pretty nice.” He thought the farmhouse was quiet and cheerful. Mostly it was quiet, and that he needed.

“I do not understand.” Kendall shrugged delicately. “This place could use a decorator.”

“I’ll put your name into the hat for Jonas Callahan.”

“Don’t you dare.” She slid off the stool, walking around the kitchen. “You need to come home. Xav’s decided to get married.”

Shaman blinked. “To whom?”

“To some gold digger. Mom is up in arms.”

“What does that have to do with me?” He tossed the dish towel he’d used onto the counter. “Xav’s life is his own.”

“Mom wants you to talk sense into him.”

Shaman shook his head. “Not me. I leave all the gold digger talks in your capable hands.” If Xav’s sweetie wasn’t appropriate in some way, he figured Kendall would have her wrapped up in so much legal tape she’d barely be able to move.

“Mom thinks it would be better coming from you. Older, wiser brother.”

“No, what might have helped is if Xav had ever been able to get out from under your and Mom’s hands. And purse strings. Seeing the world doesn’t hurt a man.” Although sometimes it had hurt him, Shaman amended silently. Sometimes it had hurt a lot. But he was tougher for it, too.

Kendall gave him a look that was distinctly displeased. “Shaman, Xav looks up to you—”

A knocking at the door stopped her words, for which Shaman was glad. The last thing he was going to do was get involved in a family issue. He opened the door, his whole day brightening at the sight of Tempest on his porch. “Hi, Cupertino.”

“Hi.”

He didn’t open the door wider, but noted that she had her picnic basket, so dinner was about to be served. And maybe dessert as well. This was good. Lately, he had a sense of unease that everything in their relationship was about to change. She’d seemed a bit distant somehow, and he’d been bracing himself.

It felt great just to look at her, and know she’d come back one more time.

“Your niece came by to see me,” Tempest said.

“Oh?” Shaman didn’t open the door any farther, trying to keep Tempest and his sister apart as long as possible, reluctant for his two worlds to collide.

“Yeah. She thinks I should have a baby,” Tempest said, clearly teasing. From behind him, Shaman heard, “Oh, great, just great,” from Kendall.

“Do you have company?” Tempest tried to look around him. “I saw the car, but I thought it was—”

“It’s mine.” Kendall glanced around Shaman’s shoulder, then gave him a little shove to get him out of her way. She was nothing if not determined. “Is there a baby in that basket? Or are you just looking for a husband?”

“Kendall,” Shaman said, “back off, sister, dear. Come in, Tempest. Join the dysfunctional family.”

Kendall sniffed, checking her out as Tempest entered. Both women were blonde and gorgeous, but there was no doubt that Tempest was taller and more statuesque. Still, neither of them would look bad on a magazine cover.

“Girls, girls, there’s no need to fight. Kendall wants me to go home, and you want to have a baby. Can’t we work things out?”

Tempest put her basket on the counter and began pulling things from it. “Doesn’t sound like it. However, I just happened to bring enough for three.” She looked at Kendall, who was still bristling. “You can join us. That is, if you eat.”

“I eat.” She came over to check out Tempest’s menu. “Is that Brie?”

“It is. And this is a light, crisp white wine, if you drink that. Also, this is sliced avocado on wheat, if you eat avocado. Some caviar, if you know what that is.”

“I do,” Kendall snapped. She took a plate from Tempest and helped herself to the repast. “I guess if you’re stalking a man for a baby, at least you bring decent bait.”

Shaman laughed. “Kendall, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh?” Tempest looked up from making a plate for him. “She doesn’t get out of her cage often?”

He couldn’t help laughing harder. The outraged look on Kendall’s face was too perfect. “Be sweet to my overprotective sister, Tempest. She means well.” He kissed Kendall’s cheek, then Tempest’s. “Now you girls make up, because I say so. And I appear to be the rooster in the henhouse today.”

“Whatever,” Kendall said. “She just has unusual opening lines.”

“You have a big mouth,” Tempest said pleasantly. “I could probably recommend a voice coach for you.”

Shaman happily ate the grub Tempest had brought him. “So, we’re going to have to work some things out. One, I’m not going home, Kendall, no matter what’s happening at the old haunt. And two, I’m not interested in having a baby, Cupertino.” He gazed at both of them, deciding he was a lucky guy to have two ladies that cared about him, sort of. “So what else did our niece have on her mind?”

Tempest shook her head. “Cat is happy as can be.”

“Come on,” Kendall said, munching on the avocado-laden toast. “Don’t hold back just because of me.”

“She said Gage had come over to pound the stuffing out of you,” Tempest admitted to Shaman. “I thought I better check on you and make sure you weren’t incapacitated.”

Both siblings laughed.

“Gage wishes he could pound the stuffing out of you?” Kendall looked at her brother. “What’s got him out of sorts, anyway?”

“I don’t know. This job, I guess.” Shaman didn’t care right now. “Are you staying, Kendall?”

She glanced at Tempest. “No.”

“Don’t go because of me,” Tempest said.

Kendall gave her a sour look. “I’m off to Rancho Diablo to check on my other brother, the one who isn’t in hiding out here in the middle of nowhere, and my darling niece.”

Shaman grinned. “You know, Kendall, if you ever got out of those power suits and let your hair down—”

“I’d find myself propositioning men for babies? I don’t think so.” His sister slid off the stool. “I’m only staying at Rancho Diablo for the night. I have to get back to Hell’s Colony. Mom’s not feeling well, and—”

“You didn’t say anything about that,” Shaman said.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Kendall retorted. “She’s old. She wants her son at home. No big shock, right?”

He recognized guilt as one of Kendall’s weapons, and pulled her to him so that he could rub her hair and muss it up, the way he had when they were children. And later, when they were teens. She shrieked predictably, making him grin. “That felt great,” Shaman said.

Kendall grabbed her purse. “I’m glad it was good for you. If Gage does come to pound your stuffings, I hope he succeeds. Goodbye, Tempest. Was that your name?” Kendall frowned. “It fits.”

Tempest smiled at her and reached out to shake hands. “Tempest Thornbury. It’s nice to meet you, Kendall.”

“Tempest...Thornbury?” She frowned again. “Not the Tempest Thornbury from New York, who used to sing and act on—”

“One and the same,” Shaman said cheerfully, loving the shocked expression on his sister’s face.

Kendall glanced at the picnic basket, then back at her. “No wonder you don’t want to come home, Shaman.”

He laughed. “And you thought I just spent all my time on the roof.”

“I think you’re crazy. But at least if she wants to have a baby, she won’t be after your money, too. I guess.” Kendall shook her head. “Be nice to my big brother, or I’ll send mean critics after you. Love you, Shaman. Please come home soon and give Xav a man-to-man chat. This well-planted daisy is on the level of Gage’s first wife, if you know what I mean. Bad all the way around.”

Kendall left, a smooth slide of silk and high heels moving out the door. Shaman followed, walking her to the car, then making sure she was safely belted inside. “I love you,” he told her. “I’ll come home at some point. I just don’t know when. And no family chats with Xav. It’s his life.”

“Make it soon.” She drove away, and Shaman went back inside.

Tempest was pouring two glasses of wine.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her, ignoring the wine and pulling her close.

“Really?” She snuggled against his chest, and Shaman closed his eyes, loving the feel of her in his arms.

“Yes. I miss you.” He kissed her hair, breathing the scent of her in. “You know, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Tempest ground his foot under hers, which didn’t do any damage because of the steel-toed work boots he wore, but he got the message. “So back to this baby talk you and Cat had.”

“It was Cat’s idea,” Tempest said, and he said, “Oh, come now, Cupertino, teenagers don’t think that kind of stuff up. Don’t blame my precocious niece.” He scooped her into his arms. “You carry the wine, and we’ll go talk some more about how babies are made. I want to see where you’re going with this.”

“Soldier, I think you know just fine.” Tempest grabbed the glasses and let him carry her down the hall.

Chapter Three

The funny thing was that once Tempest had mentioned “baby” to him, Shaman found himself actually thinking about it. A lot. Wasn’t a man supposed to run at the thought of a woman who wanted to get pregnant with his child?

He didn’t.

It had been a week since she’d been by with her picnic basket, and he was still mulling over her offhand comment. Maybe she’d been playing around. Maybe the baby suggestion had been her opening line, like sex talk. Sure, that was probably it.

It had worked. He’d made love to her all night.

A spray of water caught him in the face as he wandered around the barn, making him blink with surprise. “Cat! You little devil!”

He ran after his niece, dedicated to the idea of tossing her in the creek for her just deserts. She eluded him, jumping into the creek herself, fully dressed, and just as he began tugging off his boots to land the cannonball of all cannonballs on his niece, he realized they weren’t alone.

Fiona Callahan stood a hundred yards off, grinning at Cat’s square hit on her uncle. He’d bet Fiona had bought the water blaster for Cat. Seemed like something a woman who’d raised six Callahan boys would think was a necessary ingredient to childhood.

“Hi, Fiona,” Shaman said. “Good to see you again.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” she called. “I distinctly thought you were about to cannonball your niece.”

The thought was so tempting. “Best to do that when she doesn’t suspect,” he said, wiping his face, smiling at Cat splashing gleefully in the creek. “I’m sorry she’s not a happy kid.”

Fiona smiled. “Yeah. Miserable.”

“So, are you out here doing Jonas’s bidding?”

“Pretty much.” Fiona seated herself in one of the wrought-iron chairs permanently ensconced in the mushy dirt surrounding the creek. “Actually, Cat pleaded with her dad to let her come out here and see her uncle, and Tempest. I said I’d run her over here. Gage wanted to take Chelsea to the ob-gyn.” Fiona pulled out a wad of knitting from the bright pink plastic bag she carried. “Don’t let us keep you.”

Cat had grabbed a raft and was floating on her back, gazing up at the sky, a kid with no worry that winter was on its way.

“So what does Jonas want you to tell me?” Shaman asked.

Fiona didn’t look up from her knitting, studying it with a furrowed brow. One thing Shaman knew was how to knit, and he could tell she’d dropped a whole ton of stitches from her looped needles. Beginner’s mistake.

“He wants the barn up before the snows come. Probably late October. He wants to bring out more horses by then.” Fiona gave Shaman a kindly smile. “I thought I’d let you know, since you’re probably not aware of the weather in New Mexico.”

“Jonas hasn’t even chosen an architect or a plan.”

“You and Gage are responsible for that.” She shook her head at her knitting, perplexed.

“Jonas didn’t like the first set of plans. He wanted a different architect.”

“You’ll get it figured out.” Fiona sighed at the hot-pink ball of wool. It was a good quality yarn, but if she didn’t quit ratting at it, it wasn’t going to be fit for anything except lining bird nests.

“Here,” Shaman said, “let me see if I can help this along for you.” He sat in the wrought-iron chair next to hers and began unraveling stitches until he got to the place where she’d dropped a few. Then he reknit it. “Is this your first project?”

“It is, and I don’t think I’m much of a knitter.” Fiona looked depressed about that. “I was going to make my friends scarves this year, but it’s not quite as easy as I hoped it would be. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“From my mother. And believe it or not, there are times when knitting soothes the savage beast.” Knowing she was carefully studying his method, Shaman knitted a few more rows for good measure, then handed it back to her. “Okay, Fiona, you know as well as I do that a state-of-the-art barn can’t be ready in a couple of months. Jonas needs to select the architect and the plan. I only oversee the project. Why is he handing this off to me?”

“Because your brother Gage owns a small part of the property now. It was in their agreement. Gage would work here, and in lieu of a paycheck, he’d get some acreage. So Jonas knows Gage has skin in the game. And,” Fiona continued, “Jonas is busy. He’s a father, you know, and we’ve stuck the mayor’s hat on him, too, in Diablo.” She proceeded with the knitting, moving the needles more confidently now that she’d had some tutoring. “Once it starts snowing around here, it can snow for days. Jonas wants everything ready.”

“All right. I’ll talk it over with Gage.” Shaman would do whatever he needed to do to keep the boss man happy. “Have you already been by to see Tempest?”

Fiona nodded. “Cat says you’re thinking about marrying her.”

Shaman blinked. “Uh, that’s news to me.” He wondered if Cat had said the same to Tempest. If she had, he figured he’d never see Tempest again.

“Well, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. That’s what we say around here,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Thanks for saving the scarf. If I get good at this, I’ll make you one for Christmas. Come on, Cat, honey. We’ve got to drive back to Rancho Diablo. I still have to whip up dinner.”

His niece slogged out of the creek joyfully. “This is the most beautiful place on earth,” she said, “besides Rancho Diablo. I guess you float in the creek all the time, Uncle Shaman.”

He hadn’t, not once. “Maybe I should.”

She nodded at him solemnly. “You should.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m glad you came by to see me, honey.” He kissed her on the head. “Don’t forget your water cannon. I’m going to go grab you a towel.”

“It’s okay. I brought extra clothes. Nana Fiona knew I wanted to take a swim.”

“Bring a swimsuit next time, okay?” he said, walking them back to Fiona’s truck.

“Not as much fun that way. ’Bye, Uncle Shaman!”

He waved as the ladies drove off. The sun was hanging low in the sky, a fireball harbinger of fall, and Shaman felt a tickle of unease. It was the dinner hour, long past the time when Tempest usually showed up, and the drive was empty of gorgeous blonde. And she’d been chatting with Cat, his darling niece, who dropped hints about babies and marriage like they were gumdrops in a fairy tale.

Maybe it was time he broke his self-appointed exile and did picnic basket duty.

* * *

SHINNY SMILED AT SHAMAN when he made his first stop at the ice cream shop. “Howdy, cowboy!” the older man said. “We don’t see you in town much. Almost never. What brings you out from Dark Diablo?”

“I’m looking for Tempest. Have you seen her?” He had no idea where she lived. In fact, he knew nothing—or very little—about her, beyond the fact that she was crazy-sexy and cooked like a dream. He didn’t even have her cell phone number.

Shinny flung a hand over his shoulder, pointing to the back of the shop, Shaman guessed. “She’s probably in the B and B.”

“B and B?” He didn’t want to admit how little he knew about Tempest, but Shinny appeared to be happy to fill in the blanks.

“What we sometimes call the guesthouse. It’s really her home, when she’s in town, which isn’t often. You can go around back and see if she’s in. She’d said she was going to be practicing, but I don’t think she’d mind a break.”

“Thanks, Shinny,” Shaman told the shop owner. He went out the front door and headed around back, seeing Tempest’s car in front of the small adobe house. He knocked on the rustic wooden door, waiting, feeling like a guy on his first date.

It would be a first date, he realized—if he could get her to go out with him.

She opened the door, clearly surprised to see him. His heart hammered as it hadn’t in months, not since he’d known he was coming back to the States, and had landed at the military base almost a civilian.

“Shaman!”

He nodded. “In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t smile, but he didn’t think she was totally annoyed that he’d surprised her, either. Clearly, she had been practicing whatever it was she practiced, because she was slightly glowing. Black leggings and a white top clung to her body so tightly he nearly had a rise just looking at her.

Heck. He did. Shaman shifted, forcing his mind back to his mission. “I figured it was my turn to bring the picnic basket.” He felt sort of silly saying it, but she looked at him with curiosity in her big eyes.

“So where is it?”

Where was it, indeed. “Actually, it’s a picnic basket in theory. I was hoping you’d let me drag you out to Cactus Max’s for a date. I hear that’s the place in town to get great food.”

She blinked. “You’ve never been there?”

He shook his head. “Pretty much I survive on what you bring out to the ranch, gorgeous.”

She studied him for a long moment, which gave him a chance to drink her in. Her blond hair was pulled up in a shining ponytail high on her head, and she wore long, dangling silver earring strands. She looked like heaven, and Shaman began to realize that this woman was much more to him than just an occasional bedmate.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “I’ve probably got something in here I could whip up for you to eat.”

He certainly did. But he knew where that would lead—right into bed. And suddenly Shaman realized that Cupertino—Tempest—had no intention of ever moving their relationship beyond the bedroom. If he succumbed to the red-hot desire fogging him right now, their relationship would never be anything but casual.

And suddenly, that wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

“Look, Cupertino,” Shaman said, “let’s eat out. It’s date night.”

She pursed her lips. “We could have date night here.”

“No. We want to do this right.” He wasn’t going to skulk around with her anymore. If she didn’t dig him the way he dug her, he could deal with that. But it was time to take whatever it was they were doing to the next level.

“What is it that we want to do right?”

He leaned over, kissing her on the lips. “I’m trying to date you, Cupertino, if you’d quit trying to be on top all the time.”

Then he kissed her again, deeply, fully. She tasted like peppermint, and his brain was screaming at him to go through the door into the golden known, finding the pleasure with her that he craved so much. But he was pretty sure she was avoiding him, and he wanted more from her than she wanted to give.

“You make it hard to say no,” Tempest said breathlessly.

“I’m trying to.” Shaman leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. “I’ll wait while you get dressed up real pretty for me.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t think I’m pretty now?”

“I think you’re gorgeous.” He grinned at her bruised femininity. “I’ll wait outside while you do whatever it is girls do before their first date.”

Tempest studied him, seeming to come to a decision. “It may take me a while. You could wait the better part of an hour.”

“Spoken like a true diva. I’ve kind of heard that about you showbiz types.”

She made a face. “Hope you like waiting.”

He grinned as she closed the door. It was a beautiful night, and he had nothing to do but feel smug about the fact that he was taking out the hottest woman in town. Even if she showered, powdered and sprayed for an hour, he was willing to wait for their first date night together.

She opened the door not five minutes later, dressed in blue jeans with a huge shredded hole in one knee, beat-up brown flats and a T-shirt that had New Mexico Lobos plastered across it. She wore a white cap with a blue Ralph Lauren polo horse on it, her ponytail pulled through the hole in the back. “I’m ready.”

“Absolutely stunning.” He kissed her on the nose. “I can’t wait to take you to dinner, angel cake.”

She took the arm he offered. “Not Cactus Max’s, though.”

“Somewhere fancier?” He helped her into his truck.

“Someplace different,” Tempest said.

“Whatever you want, beautiful. The picnic basket is on your terms tonight.”

Maybe there was an outdoor burger joint in town she favored. In Tempest, he figured just about any place was probably delicious—as long as he was with her.

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER, Shaman had followed Tempest’s directions to a falling-in, run-down shack off the main road. “Here?”

“This is it.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything to eat here.” He got out of his truck, walking up the overgrown path to the ramshackle house, careful to keep an eye on Cupertino. There was no telling what might be hiding in the dense foliage and cactus surrounding the property. It was a mess.

“There never was much to eat here,” Tempest said, pushing open the front door.

Shaman wasn’t surprised to see that it was practically falling off its hinges. “This is a firetrap. Wonder why it hasn’t been condemned?”

Tempest didn’t answer, and he moved a few fallen clumps of plaster out of her way as she moved through the dark foyer. It was as if she was mesmerized. Shaman’s heart beat hard, and for some reason he wished he had one of his guns on him. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling, as it always did before danger hit in the war zone.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, reaching out to grab Tempest’s hand. “Trust me, I can afford to take you to a decent hamburger joint.”

She walked into the kitchen, compelling him to go with her. He was sure he saw something skitter under one of the counters, and wondered why she wasn’t frightened out of her wits.

“Someone’s been here,” she murmured. “Someone’s living here.”

Now he was truly creeped out. “I’m all for excitement, but trespassing’s usually frowned on.”

She turned to look at him. “This is my house.”

He hesitated, glancing around him, trying to square the beautiful woman with the rattrap she claimed was hers. “I don’t get it.”

“This is where I grew up.” Tempest shrugged. “So now you know.”

He pulled her to him. “It was probably a great home in its day.”

“It wasn’t.” She leaned against his chest. “They don’t condemn this house because it’s mine.”

“I don’t think you’ll be living here,” Shaman said. “Although you might consider renting it to the Munsters or the Addams Family. A Morticia type would probably really dig it.”

“You don’t like it? This isn’t your dream home?” Tempest looked up at him. He could see her bright eyes in the darkness, and he wondered why she had brought him here.

“I like you,” he said, “and I think you’re hot wearing spiderwebs.” He brushed one off her cap and kissed her on the nose. “You know, I bet you could convince me to—”

“What are you doing in my house?”

A man’s voice erupted behind them, and Tempest shrieked, clinging to Shaman for just an instant.

Then she moved away, though he tried to shield her. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”

A flashlight shone on her, cutting the darkness. “Zola?”

She stepped closer, though Shaman tried to hold her back. “Bobby Taylor?”

“Yeah.” He shone the beam at Shaman. “Who’s he?”

“Never mind.” Tempest snatched the flashlight from the man, nearly giving Shaman a heart attack. She shone it in the guy’s face. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m staying here. And it’s not like you need this joint, sister.”

Chapter Four

Tempest put the flashlight on the counter so the beam pointed to the ceiling, illuminating the room with a small circle of light. “I’m not your sister, Bobby.”

She felt Shaman move closer to her, and was warmed by the protection she knew he offered. But she could handle this.

“Don’t want him to know?” Bobby jerked his head toward Shaman. “Zola’s mom had a special relationship with my father, Bud. She’s the love child. So yes, Zola, you are my half sister.” Bobby smiled, which annoyed Tempest. “Even if you don’t want anyone to know, everybody does. There’s no need to deny it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care what anybody thinks.”

“Now that you’re a big star, you could help me get the family place back. It’s mine and my siblings’,” Bobby said. “Jonas Callahan stiffed our father out of Dark Diablo. Dad was not in his right mind when he sold it. That land was worth a lot more than what Callahan paid for it.”

“Yet he left you none of his money,” Tempest said. “I would think that speaks pretty loudly. Anyway, it doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my house.” She glared at Bobby.

Shaman stood stiffly next to her, coiled, ready to strike. She doubted Bobby knew how much danger he was in.

“I didn’t figure my sister would mind.” The man shrugged. “You know, if you’d care to speak on our behalf in the lawsuit, testify to the fact that Dad wasn’t in his right mind when he sold the land or when he wrote his will, we’d cut you in on the deal.”

She crossed her arms. “Just so you know, this is Shaman Phillips. He’s working at Dark Diablo.”

Bobby turned his full attention to Shaman. “You work for Callahan?”

Shaman didn’t reply. Tempest had a feeling silence was deadly, and put her hand in his, trying to let him know he didn’t have to worry about protecting her. “Yes, he works for Jonas.”

Bobby looked at her with loathing. “So you’re in bed with the Callahans.”

“Not so much.” She heard what sounded like a growl come from Shaman, and squeezed his fingers.

It didn’t seem to help. He was like a crouching panther, his tight muscles bunching.

“It never occurred to me before,” Bobby said, “but Dad left his money to someone. The will was sealed, so we never knew, but now that I think about it...” He stared at Tempest. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Why would Bud Taylor leave me a dime?”

“Because he loved your mother, though he would never have married her. She was trash, of course, from the wrong side of town—”

“Then he wouldn’t have left her daughter anything.” Tempest tried to squeeze Shaman closer, so he’d know he didn’t have her permission to go ape-wild on Bobby. He wanted to, badly—she could feel it. “Bobby, I want you out of my house.”

“I’ve got no place to go,” he said.

“Go back to wherever you came from.” She glanced around the dark house. “How are you surviving here, anyway?”

“I don’t need much. There’s some broken furniture, so it’s like camping. Besides I’ll have plenty of money once the judge forces Callahan to give us what’s ours.”

“Go,” Shaman said. “Go and don’t come back. Or you’ll deal with me.”

“And you’re a tough guy, right?” Bobby retorted.

“Something like that,” Shaman said, his tone deceptively easy.

Bobby considered him for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “I’ll go. But one day, you won’t have a job at Dark Diablo. You’ll be the first person I fire,” he told Shaman. “Hope you don’t need your job too bad. And I’ll own this house,” he told Tempest. “You could have been nice, could have shared with your brother who’s down on his luck.”

“I could, but I’m not going to,” Tempest said. “Get out before I call Sheriff Nance.”

Bobby snatched his flashlight off the counter, then sauntered out the door. The kitchen went dark again.

“That was pretty crazy,” Shaman said.

Tempest finally shivered. It was nerves, but not good nerves, not like she had before she went on stage. This was more of a bone-deep trembling, from the past smacking her right in the face. “Yeah. It was.”

“You trying to scare me off, Cupertino?” Shaman asked, putting his arm around her and walking her to the front door. She could still feel the tension in his body; it radiated from him.

“Maybe,” she said. “Is it working?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he answered, helping her into his truck. “I don’t know that you can scare me off.”

He went around to get in the driver’s seat, and she suppressed another shiver until he’d climbed in. She quickly locked the doors, and he acted as if he hadn’t noticed. “I wanted you to know where I came from, Shaman. I knew you’d understand.”

He pulled away from the small, decrepit pile of wooden misery where Tempest had grown up. “I don’t know that there’s anything to understand. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I haven’t been back here since I left,” she said softly. “And I’ve never told anybody I dated about my family.”

“So this is like a real first date,” Shaman said, trying to unload some of the tension.

Yet the tension wouldn’t leave her. “I just knew I could tell you, because you’re not some rich guy who’s never worked a day in your life. You haven’t had everything handed to you. I mean, I feel like you could understand.”

“Oh, I get it. Because I’m a working stiff.” He laughed. “Cupertino, you got a bad-girl fantasy going on? Rich girl meets bad boy?”

“No,” she said, annoyed. “I just feel like you and I are a lot alike somehow. That maybe we’re from the same place.”

“It’s okay,” Shaman said. “I get what you’re saying. And I don’t care about your skeletons, beautiful. Now tell me where you want me to take you for our date. A beer is sounding real good to me right now.”

“I do not have a bad-girl fantasy, or whatever you said,” Tempest said, still inwardly writhing over the skeletons that had popped out unexpectedly from her closet. “I don’t have any fantasy at all concerning you,” she fibbed.

“We’ll have to work on that. I’ve got plenty of fantasies that have your name on them.”

She sniffed. “Really?”

He reached for her hand, kissing her fingers. “Feed me, and maybe I’ll show you.”

“Turn right at the stoplight. You can get a beer at Shiloh Bill’s.”

“That’s my girl,” Shaman said, and Tempest decided maybe the night was looking up. As long as she didn’t think about the past, everything was fine.

* * *

SHILOH BILL’S WAS A cozy mom-and-pop shop with lots of plants sprucing up the place, and a piano player in the background. Shaman felt himself slowly starting to relax. The whole incident with the vagrant had really teed him off—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to remove a guy’s head more.

It was Cupertino. She was driving him mad.

“What are you going to eat?” she asked, looking at him with big, inquiring eyes. He figured most girls wouldn’t have wanted to go out in a cap and wearing no makeup, but she hadn’t mentioned it. Shaman wondered if she knew how sexy she was, and decided Cupertino was too secure to care, whether she was wearing holey jeans or a ball gown.

“I’m going to have a salad and veggie quesadillas,” Shaman said. “Maybe some Oreo pie for dessert.”

“Didn’t you eat today?” she asked, obviously teasing him.

“Bodyguarding makes me hungry.” He reached for the chips in the center of the small table between them in the booth.

“Bodyguarding?” she said, one brow arching.

“Yeah. Do I get extra points for it?”

She laughed. “I can take care of myself, Shaman. And you just like to eat. It has nothing to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” He sipped his beer, drinking in Cupertino, feeling relaxation stealing over him like a welcoming hug. “So, I have to ask you something.”

She leaned back. “I can’t promise to answer.”

“This is an easy question. My curious, naturally suspicious mind thinks Bobby’s right. Bud Taylor left his money to you.”

She looked at him without blinking. “They teach you puzzle solving in the military, or is it a natural talent?”

“Both. I’m right, aren’t I?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have the money.”

He heard the hedge in her answer. “But you did have it.”

Her mouth twisted, and he wanted to kiss her soft, sweet lips. “If I did, Phillips, I would have donated it all to charity.”

“Would you now?” he said, knowing she’d just answered the question without answering it. A tall, thin waitress with gray hair and penciled eyebrows came over to take their orders, and when she’d left, Shaman looked at Tempest with a grin. “So which charity is your favorite?”

“You might notice that the library has had a major face-lift,” she said, her tone airy. “The structure was sound, but the outside needed work and the inside needed cosmetic renovation. Also, the book selections required serious updating. I think the money must have been appreciated, because your niece spent her summer devouring several shelves of books, and still likes coming here for reading material. Her nana Moira—Chelsea’s mother—apparently spent the summer dragging Cat to the library, helping her find her footing among the classics. I deem the project a success, if Cat and Moira think that highly of it.”

Shaman whistled. “You’re amazing.”

“Not really. It wasn’t my money, and I didn’t need it. The town of Tempest did. I figure no good civilization grows without excellent resources.”

He dragged a chip through the salsa. “I guess Bobby would have a fit if he knew.”

She shrugged. “That’s his personal problem. Anyway, the way the story went, at least the way I heard it from Shinny and Blanche, is that Bud Taylor couldn’t stand his kids. Said they were like vultures waiting for him to die, and he didn’t understand why they couldn’t just go out and make successes of themselves as he had. He didn’t believe in leaving them money.”

Shaman sighed with appreciation as their orders were placed in front of them. “It’s probably true. Everyone should make their own mark in life. Waiting for a handout is a sign of weakness.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Tempest said. “I admire you for being a self-made man.”

He wasn’t certain how admirable he really was. “So I take it no one knows your deep, dark secret.”

“Not a soul. Well, Bud’s lawyer does. But no one else, not even Shinny and Blanche.” She dug into the fajitas she’d ordered. “There was no point in telling anyone. Bud wouldn’t have wanted anything named after him. I didn’t know him very well, but I figure he wasn’t that kind of man. And anyway, I don’t necessarily believe the rumors are true about him being my dad. I had a father.” She stopped, looking faraway for a moment. “I didn’t really know him, either. Mom didn’t talk about him much.”

The salad was delicious, as were the quesadillas, but Shaman suddenly had another topic on his mind. “So, I heard Cat was hinting around about me marrying you.”

Tempest blinked and put her fajita down. “She didn’t say anything like that to me.”

“Oh, boy.” Shaman shook his head, realizing his niece had pulled yet another fast one on him. “That little devil.”

“Why?” Tempest gazed at him. “Did she tell you she’d talked to me about getting married?”

He nodded, suddenly wishing he’d kept his yap shut. “Cat strikes again.”

Tempest laughed and patted his hand, then took a bite of her fajita, unbothered. “I’m leaving tomorrow for New York,” she said, stunning him. “Cat’s a great girl and I love her, but she isn’t the wily meddler she fancies herself to be.”

Shaman put his fork down, studying the beautiful blonde across from him. “Were you going to tell me?”

“I...” She looked at him. “I think so.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Cupertino. You make me crazy.”

Her big eyes were round in her face. “I’m not your kind of girl.”

He felt as if his fork was lodged in his throat. “No. You’re really not.”

“You see?” Relief crossed her face. “I was planning to call from New York.”

He knew she wouldn’t have. “Okay,” he said, determined not to make her feel awkward. She had a different life, one that would never include Tempest, New Mexico. “Eat up, since it’s your last hometown meal.”

He ate as if his stomach wasn’t in knots, just to keep the twisting emotions at bay. But the food suddenly tasted like dry crackers and the beer plain water, and he knew he’d fallen a little bit further than he’d meant to.

But he’d always known that in her world, she was the beauty. He was the beast. There really was no bridge between them.

He’d just gotten too caught up in the fantasy.

He was so busy feeling miserable that even though he saw the man exit the booth behind Tempest, his cap tugged low on his face, his gray wool coat pulled up to his neck, Shaman didn’t register that Bobby Taylor had been sitting there. Shaman didn’t think about it until that night, long after he’d dropped Tempest off at home and he lay sleepless in bed. When he did, his eyes snapped open.

That had been Bobby Taylor. And Bobby might have overheard her story.

He might not have.

Chills ran up Shaman’s arms.

He should tell her. Then he realized he still didn’t have Tempest’s cell number. “This is ridiculous,” he said, and got up, pulling on his jeans and shoving his feet into his boots. “He probably didn’t hear anything. He’s a thickheaded moose,” Shaman muttered, “and dumb as a rock.”

He was trying to comfort himself. Yet worry stabbed at him. He jumped in his truck, driving over to Tempest’s almost breaking the speed limit. Her house was dark and her car was gone. Fear snaked through him.

“Looking for Tempest?” a voice asked, and Shaman whirled around.

“Hi, Blanche.” He took in a deep, relieved breath, his heartbeat jumping madly. “Yeah, I was.”

“She decided to take a flight out to New York tonight.” The older woman pulled her shawl more tightly around her. “She said she’d probably stayed here too long.”

“Oh.” The revelation was painful, more painful than he could have ever imagined. “Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. See you around, Shaman.” Blanche unlocked the door to the B and B, going inside.

Shaman drove back to Dark Diablo, his mind whirling with a mad kaleidoscope of images of Cupertino. He replayed their last conversation over and over, trying to make sense of it. Clearly, she’d left because of him. Yet he wondered why. He hadn’t even kissed her good-night, preferring to keep everything on a casual basis, the way he knew she wanted it.

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