Priscilla quietly followed Pete inside, reassured by his warmth and strength.

They rode the elevator to the second floor, then walked to the nursery window.

“There they are,” Pete said. “One, two, three and four.”

“Oh,” she said, “they’re cherubs.”

No one could resist such sweet and tiny babies. Their tiny fannies wore small diapers. Impossibly small arms each had a hospital-issued bracelet identifying them. Adorable caps of different colors adorned their heads. They each wore a small T-shirt and had a blanket, though one of the girls had kicked her blanket off.

All of them slept peacefully, unaware of the two adults staring at them through the nursery window.

Pete was a tempting man—tempting enough to marry. And who wouldn’t want to help four helpless children?

Dear Reader,

February is one of my favorite months of the year—the month of sweethearts and romantic love! It's cold outside in many parts of the world—certainly in my neck of the woods—which makes it a wonderful month for reading.

In Union Junction, it’s not just the weather outside that’s cold. In The Secret Agent's Surprises, life on the home front is going to be a little chilly until Pete Morgan makes amends with his father and develops mature relationships with his three brothers. He must also deal with his attraction to Priscilla Perkins, a manners coach and tea-shop owner. Pete's got a lot to learn if he wants to make any headway with a woman who, as he notes, is prim and proper! Used to life as a secret operative, Pete now must learn to balance family relationships, romance and—the big shocker for him—adoptive fatherhood. Pete's father, Josiah, believes Pete is just the man to go from living dangerously to changing diapers, and he encourages Pete to adopt four orphaned infants. Pete has seen his brothers Gabe and Dane fall into their father's matchmaking traps in Texas Lullaby and The Texas Ranger's Twins, so Pete knows full well he's now in a dangerous dilemma where the result may be a wedding ring and a ready-made family.

I hope you're enjoying THE MORGAN MEN miniseries. As February brings us our chilliest weather yet, I hope you'll settle in with the Morgans and their struggles to become the men their father always knew they could be.

Best wishes and much love,

Tina Leonard

Tina Leonard
The Secret Agent’s Surprises

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard is the bestselling author of over forty projects, including a popular thirteen-book miniseries for Harlequin American Romance. Her books have made the Waldenbooks, Ingram’s and Nielsen Book-scan 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.

Many thanks to my editor, Kathleen Scheibling, for steering me straight, and to Lisa, Dean and Tim, who understand that time with family is my personal dream

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

He who loves his son chastises him often —Sirach 30:1, quoted often by Josiah Morgan when his four boys rebelled against his discipline

Pete Morgan sat in a bar in Riga, Latvia, tired, cold, and annoyed as he thought about the letter he’d received from his father, Josiah, in January. The missive was a parting shot, designed to make him feel guilty. Wasn’t the pen supposedly mightier than the sword?

Josiah’s words hadn’t had the desired effect—they had simply reignited old feelings of resentment. Pete wouldn’t admit to a saint that he’d been steaming since the two letters had been found in a kitchen drawer at the Morgan ranch, one addressed to him and one to his oldest brother, Jack. Pete had left the letter for Jack with a rodeo manager, knowing it would reach him eventually.

Now it was February, and the very memory of his father’s words still set Pete’s teeth on edge. He knew every word by heart.

Dear Pete,

Of all my sons, you were the most difficult. I saw in you an unfulfilled version of myself, a man who would never be able to settle. I write this letter knowing that you will never live at the Morgan ranch attempting to be part of the family. Like Jack, you hold long grudges. If by the time I pass on, you have not lived at the ranch for the full year, your million dollars will be split among the brothers who have fulfilled their family obligation.

Pop

It was a kick in the teeth, not because of the money but because his father lacked trust in him, basic faith that Pete cared about his own family. Wasn’t it Pop’s own fault no one cared to be at the ranch or have any contact with him? It had been many years since he and his father had spoken more than ten words to each other. To receive the letter out of the blue in January had sent Pete packing to the other side of the world, even though he’d been seriously considering retirement from espionage. The life was tough, the hours and the constant danger not conducive to trust, or building friendships, or anything remotely resembling comfort. Pete used to love his job, used to enjoy the unpredictability, until recently. His last assignment had chilled him, made him search his soul.

He’d always thought of himself as a savior, rescuing people from war-torn situations. It was important, critical even, to be able to go into foreign countries and extract those who needed help. This was his way of helping keep his country safe, and he got a lot of satisfaction out of it.

The best part was knowing he’d returned a father, a mother, children, to families desperate to be reunited.

Pete had an excellent record of success, but his last mission had been beyond his control. He tried not think about it, but the shadows lurked, ever ready to assail him. He had been meant to recover fifteen children from the basement of an abandoned orphanage. But he hadn’t been able to save them. There’d been bombing after bombing; the screams still cursed his sleep. He’d done what he could, but then…

Much as he might change the channel on a television set, he turned his mind from the memory of the parents who would never see their children again, shutting out the ghosts. He was haunted by his own family, and tonight he wondered if it was time to face his demons. Life was short, and it could be dark and lonely. His lips thinning, he thought about Josiah.

Jack’s letter—which he’d read—had been worse:

Jack, I tried to be a good father. I tried to save you from yourself. In the end, I realized you are too different from me. But I’ve always been proud of my firstborn son.

Pop

That was Pop, always playing the Morgan brothers off one another, which was how the trouble had begun so many years ago, driving a wedge between Jack and himself that still existed today.

His other two brothers, Gabriel and Dane, had made up with the old man. They’d married, had children. Collected their million dollars.

But now the stakes were higher. Pop no longer resided in France in the knight’s templary he’d purchased. Pop had come home to live at the Morgan ranch to enjoy the new additions to his family, especially his grandchildren, which he’d netted with all his matchmaking and millions.

If Pop thought Pete had any intention of living under the same roof with him, he was mistaken. Pete would rather sit burning in the darkest corner of hell before that happened.

No woman, no family, no million dollars, would ever tie him to the ornery son of a gun who was his father. Pop had foretold the future ominously—Pete would never settle down. He did indeed hold long grudges—he’d learned it from the master. His father, Josiah.

There was nothing more satisfying than being the blackest sheep in the family.

P RISCILLA P ERKINS looked at the older gentleman who’d seated himself in her tea-shop-and-etiquette studio in Fort Wylie, Texas. Long of limb, strong as an ox though showing some signs of aging, Josiah Morgan was a commanding presence. He wore a black felt cowboy hat. His hair streamed long and gray to his shoulders. The jeans and shirt he wore were clean and nice enough for a meal in the city.

“I’m glad to finally meet you in person,” Priscilla said. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Mr. Morgan.” She noticed that Mr. Morgan didn’t seem to feel at all out of place in the dainty surroundings. He took the tiny, floral-decorated china cup she handed him and drank the tea, his sharp gaze considering her.

“You were at my son Dane’s wedding,” Mr. Morgan said, “and I asked his bride, Suzy, who you were. I like to know everyone who is a friend of the family.”

Josiah hadn’t met many of the people at Suzy Winterstone’s and Dane Morgan’s wedding. They hadn’t expected him to return from France for the wedding. He’d ridden in at the last second, a flamboyant mirage on the horizon, to witness his son’s nuptials. His sudden appearance had given everyone in Union Junction quite a shock, not the least of all his son Pete.

Pete Morgan had disappeared before his brother’s wedding, and Suzy had told Priscilla they’d probably never see Pete again. Which will teach me, Priscilla thought , to keep myself crush-free in the future when it comes to handsome, devil-may-care types. “I’m sure you’re not here for etiquette lessons, Mr. Morgan, and I suspect you have no need of my party-planning services nor any of my specialty teas and cookies. So what can I do for you?”

His grin sent a tingle down her back. It was amazing how much Pete resembled his father—maybe it was his confidence, maybe it was the rascal shining through. Priscilla suspected it would be a good idea to stay on her guard.

“You may have heard that I’m a meddler,” Josiah said with a wink.

“No,” Priscilla said firmly. “What I’ve heard is that you are very generous to the town of Union Junction, and that you don’t necessarily get along with your four sons.”

He gave a bark of laughter, amused by her boldness. “True enough, all of it. They say the more money you give away, the more comes back to you. Certainly that’s held true for me. Of course, I also suspect that you’re fibbing just a little in the interest of good manners, girl. Even I’ve heard that I’m a selfish ol’ pain in the patoot. The town grapevine doesn’t discriminate in who hears what, you know.” He glanced around the room, then back at her. “You’re just too well mannered to hurt an old man’s feelings.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Her business had definitely been growing from love and not abundant financial backing. “You’re keeping me in suspense. My guess is that you haven’t come here to talk about money.”

“My sons, actually,” he said. “Or at least one of the four.”

“I’m not good with schemes that involve other people.”

“And yet I understand you were staying at the ranch with Suzy Winterstone and Cricket Jasper last month. Somehow during that time, my son Dane found himself in love.”

“No one can explain the human heart,” Priscilla said.

He smiled. “Sometimes a man needs a little help in falling for the woman of his dreams.”

“I don’t know what I contributed to the situation,” Priscilla said. “Otherwise I’d be running a matchmaking service instead of what I do.”

“So Dane fell in love with Suzy with no help at all from you ladies.”

“No help except the million dollars you promised him and your little shove in the right direction.” She looked at him innocently.

He grinned. “You’re not going to help me, are you.”

“Not if you’re asking me to somehow finagle any of your sons into something they don’t want to do.”

Setting his cup down, he nodded. “You know, Miss Perkins, men don’t always know what they want.”

She didn’t say anything because she sensed a note of regret in his voice.

After a moment he sighed. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

“Certainly.”

“I’m not a well man and—” he began, but she interrupted him immediately.

“Mr. Morgan—”

“Please, call me Josiah.”

“Josiah, then,” she said. “I will not be a party to whatever you’re cooking up. As you said, you’re something of a meddler, and I do not meddle.”

“It worked out for Gabriel and Laura. And Dane and Suzy. They’re all happy as clams, with kids and houses and living the fairy-tale dream.” His eyes twinkled and a smile played on his lips. Josiah looked pleased about his sons’ new family situations.

“What exactly do you want from me? Specifically, please.” Priscilla had to admit to some admiration for the man’s tenacity.

“I want all my boys to be happy,” Josiah said. “And happiness is finding the right woman. I had the right woman once upon a time.” He stared off for a moment, then returned his gaze to her. “She’s living in France now, and I’m satisfied with that. Not every man is made for marriage, and my bride was always more concerned with money than anything else, I’m honest enough to say. But I’d like my sons to have better.”

“Shouldn’t they figure that out on their own?”

“Maybe, but what father wants his child to stumble?” Josiah asked, his face wreathed with quizzical thoughtfulness.

“According to gossip I’ve heard, you let your boys stumble plenty,” Priscilla responded. “People say your boys practically raised themselves and you liked it that way.”

“Sometimes a man regrets his actions,” Josiah said.

“Sometimes a man never stops trying to earn forgiveness,” Priscilla told him gently. “You know, you really are a nice man in your own way, but I have a life here. I have commitments, things I love. I don’t have any business doing whatever it is you want from me. And you really have no right to ask anything of me, you know.”

“Drat,” he said. “I’d heard you might have had a tiny hankering for Pete. Scuttlebutt must have had it wrong.”

“Now, Mr. Morgan—”

“Josiah,” he repeated.

“Josiah, it isn’t good to listen to idle gossip. You of all people should know that.”

He smiled again, searching her face with keen eyes, showing no remorse at all for putting her on the spot. The wily old rancher was everything people said he was, and yet, she somehow found him endearing.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “it was worth a try.”

“What was worth a try?”

He stood and put out a hand so that he could gently take her hand in his. “I was hoping it was you, but there are other women who might be interested in my renegade son, Pete. He’s a good-looking man—strong, tall, tough. Ladies like that sort, don’t they? The strong, silent type? And yet sophisticated and endearing, like Cary Grant. Yes, I’d say the best of John Wayne and Cary Grant.” He grinned at her. “I’m just the proud pop, though. Maybe women aren’t looking for good-looking, strong, independent rascals anymore.”

She really didn’t know what to say to such audacity. There was no doubt Pete was a sexy man. She’d been wildly attracted to him when she’d met him in January. He was indeed very handsome, and his devil-may-care attitude drew her in. Tall, long-haired, with eyes of glacial blue—his very face spelled danger. She shivered, remembering. He’d come across like a tough guy, but when he wanted to be charming—and he’d definitely been charming—a woman knew she’d take off her dress pretty fast for him. He’d not made any moves on her, not really. In fact, he’d seemed bent on making Dane jealous over Suzy, and so Priscilla had felt safe.

But it was the gleam in Pete’s eye when he looked at her sometimes that let her know his charms could be dangerous—if he hadn’t been treating her like a sister, for Suzy’s sake. In other words, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

There was no way this would work. Josiah couldn’t possibly understand. Families had their share of matchmaking enthusiasts, busybodies and downright meddlesome fussbudgets bent on having their own way. At least Josiah didn’t hide his intentions. Wouldn’t his scheming make Pete mad? Priscilla studied Josiah and wondered.

Was the old man really looking for forgiveness—or was Josiah angling for more grandchildren?

Chapter Two

Two days later Priscilla wasn’t feeling very forgiving. Under new rules—and a revised estimation of the value of her real estate, thanks to new bank software—Priscilla learned the value of her home and business had sunk by forty thousand dollars. In the blink of an eye, she’d lost the foothold she thought she’d been gaining. Real estate was supposed to keep its value, if not go up, but with current economic conditions, banks were tightening lending standards and the way they evaluated properties.

Her situation wouldn’t have been so devastating except that she’d been counting on her home to provide equity for her tea shop. The loss of forty thousand would put her out of business.

“Fine,” she told her friend Deacon Cricket Jasper, who’d come over for tea and a visit. “I’ll go back to doing what I was doing before I became a small businesswoman. I’ll work for the government crunching numbers in some dreary office. At least I’ll have some retirement funds put away.”

“I don’t know,” Cricket said, looking around the wing of the home that served as the shop. “You’ve done pretty well, and this place is popular. Get an outside appraisal and ask for a home equity line of credit at a different bank.”

Priscilla considered that. “No one’s lending money these days, certainly not to take a chance on a tiny tea shop and etiquette lessons.” The thought depressed her. Her heart was in her business. “I’d be in trouble if people were to suddenly cut back on parties and etiquette lessons for their children. Maybe it’s better this way.”

Cricket nodded. “One of my favorite sayings is that when God closes a door, he opens a window.”

Priscilla smiled. “You’re a good friend to remind me.” She glanced around her pretty little shop. The walls were painted a light, cheery pink. White tables sat here and there, inviting conversation; two pink-and-white-striped antique sofas lined the walls for intimate groupings. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminated by tiny purple bulbs hidden around the ceiling tray so that soft amethyst light bathed the crystals of the chandelier and reflected the hue on the ceiling. It was a comforting place. At night, when the shop was closed, she liked to sit in here with a good book, a side-table lamp lighting the pages. “It was just such a shock when I talked to the man at the bank. He was so sympathetic, but I felt bad. I’m not the only person this has happened to, so I don’t intend to feel sorry for myself, but it wasn’t welcome news.” Priscilla took a deep breath. “However, I also liked my friends in the government office. I’ll be fine.”

Cricket stood and hugged her. “It will all work out. In the meantime you can always go see what Mr. Morgan had up his sleeve. There’s usually money involved when he wants to pawn off one of his sons.”

Priscilla laughed, surprised, and shook her head. “As much as I liked him, I fear Josiah is a one-man con game. Truthfully, the games he’s up to are beyond my scope.”

“Yet he has such amazing success, especially with those hardheaded boys of his. Wouldn’t it be an old movie plot if he was behind this loan problem?” Cricket went out on the porch, opening her polka-dot umbrella. “This is the coldest and dreariest February I think I’ve ever seen in Fort Wylie.”

“Mr. Morgan might be a busybody, but he wouldn’t deliberately sabotage my business,” Priscilla said, laughing.

“I know. I was being dramatic. I think it’s the weather.” Water puddled at the base of the porch as the rain came down harder.

“Drive carefully,” Priscilla said. “The roads can be slick.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll be praying for you.” Cricket cast a glance back through the door longingly. “It’s so comfortable in your shop that I hate to leave. I can’t stand the thought that it might not be here much longer.”

Priscilla waved goodbye, not sure what to say about that. She’d heard of several people in Fort Wylie having money woes—her situation was better than most.

She went inside to examine some financial statements and see what she could come up with.

P ETE M ORGAN sat on a military plane mulling over his prospects. The last thing he wanted was to return home to the Morgan ranch, but he’d been offered a million dollars to do so, as had his brothers. Gabe and Dane had fallen under the spell of money and lovely women, but Pete was harder, more stubborn. He wouldn’t have been a secret agent if he weren’t tough as steel, a trait he’d inherited from the old man. Maybe that was the only good thing he’d ever gotten from Pop. The old goat had wanted his boys tough, and that was how they’d turned out.

The oldest son, Jack, wasn’t in touch with anyone in the family. He called the rodeo circuit home. Pete had no home at the moment. After he’d finished his assignment and been debriefed, he’d had time to ponder his life. He was glad he was retiring, not sorry it was all over. He was happy enough, if any of the Morgans knew what happiness was. Gabe and Dane were certainly new men since their marriages.

Maybe that was what he was missing.

Pete pushed the thought from his mind. That was Pop talking, getting in his head with his desire for more grandchildren, somehow wanting the past to be overlooked.

Pete had no intention of caving. He decided he’d find Jack, pay him a visit. Maybe he’d become a rancher like his brothers, throw in a little real-estate venturing like Pop. Surely Jack had to be getting tired, too. Pete felt his own thirty years sitting on him like a weight, or perhaps it was the traveling that had worn him down. When he was younger, his job had made him feel very important. Now he just felt exhausted. Maybe it was the absence of light in his life—and why that miserable thought made him think of Miss Manners, the wonderfully elusive and prissy Priscilla Perkins, he wasn’t sure.

“W ONDERED IF YOU’D ever get around to visiting me,” Josiah Morgan said to Priscilla two days later, his eyes gleaming. “You’re wanting to hear my plan, I expect.”

“Mr. Morgan, I might just be paying a call on you to be kind. I could have a business proposition for you myself.” She seated herself in the massive den of the Morgan house, located just outside Union Junction. It was different here now that Josiah had taken up residence—the house felt more like a home. Last month, he’d been living in France. He said he’d sold his knight’s templary for a handsome profit and moved back home to spend time with his new grandchildren. But while he’d been in France, Priscilla, Cricket and Suzy had spent lovely days vacationing in this house, helping Suzy keep distance between herself and Dane.

Instead of keeping their distance, Suzy and Dane had gotten married, and the women’s friendships had grown stronger. Priscilla hadn’t known Suzy and Cricket as well then as she did now, and the time spent together was a memory she treasured. They’d baked cookies, played with Suzy’s kids, teased the Morgan brothers. “We never did get the new curtains done for this house,” Priscilla said. “We meant to. We were on the way to the fabric store when we saw Jack—”

She stopped, remembering the bad blood between Josiah and his oldest son. Josiah’s gaze sharpened.

“You saw my son?”

“Well, it wasn’t an intentional meeting,” she said hurriedly. “Now, back to your plan—”

“How did you see him? Where was he?” Josiah demanded.

“He was hitchhiking. We only saw him for a moment, truly. However, I didn’t come all the way out to Union Junction to discuss Jack,” she said, injecting impatience into her tone to try to move him off the personal topic she knew was painful. “Shall we get back to the purpose of your earlier visit to me?”

“How did he look?” Josiah asked, ignoring her pointed request.

“Handsome,” she said simply. “Ornery. Full of life. Not interested in talking to us once he found out we were living here. He wasn’t in the car long enough for us to learn much.”

Josiah sighed. “So much like me.”

“Handsome? Or ornery?”

He winked at her. “You’re a bit of a minx, aren’t you?”

“Flattery won’t hurt if it gets you away from worrying about your sons. And I may as well hear your proposal. I admit to some curiosity.”

“Which killed the cat, but in this case, there happen to be extra lives.” Chuckling, he waved a hand to indicate that she pour the brandy sitting on a crystal tray between them. “Miss Perkins, there are four children in the county who are going into foster care. Their parents died last week in an auto accident. Very sad.” He looked distressed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She met his gaze. “Did you know them?”

“I only met the parents once when Ralph Wright came out to buy a steer from me. They lived on a neighboring ranch, you know, more homesteaders than ranchers. Young couple, big dreams. Wanted a country life for their children. They’d been trying for a child for years, it seemed. Ralph mentioned that his wife Nancy, had surgery that helped. He beamed just talking about her pregnancy. They were very much looking forward to their new family, as you might imagine.” He swallowed thickly.

“That is very sad,” Priscilla said, her heart breaking for the children who had lost their parents. “It’s going to be very hard on the poor babies.”

Josiah’s expression turned crafty. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Miss Perkins. I would be interested in helping you adopt the babies.”

“Me!” Priscilla’s mouth dropped open. “What would I do with four children, Mr. Morgan?”

“Give them the home they need. As sad as their lives are now, I think it would be sadder to be split up in different homes, and so on and so forth.” He shook his head. “Life is going to be hard enough for them.”

“I don’t see,” Priscilla said, trying to breathe through her shock, “how you ever came to think that I would be a suitable person to adopt four children.”

“As I said before,” Josiah said, “I’d heard by way of a little birdie that you might have a soft spot for my son, Pete.”

She blinked. “Oh, I see. You’re going to do to Pete what you did to Gabe and Dane. Tie them to women with children to increase your family name.” She stared at him. “Don’t you think you’re presuming a lot? First, that Pete would want to marry me, second, that he’d want four kids and, third, that the child-welfare agency would consider me suitable parenting material?”

“You and Pete,” Josiah said. “Whether or not Pete would want to marry you wouldn’t be the issue. Second, four kids will be a shock to his system, but talking care of that many babies would be no harder than being a secret agent. You did know that’s what he does for a living, didn’t you?” He watched her carefully.

“No,” Priscilla said, “and I’m not sure that child-welfare services will find that comforting, either. But go on. I’m riveted by how you not only move your sons like pawns, but anyone else you decide you need.”

“You’re amazed that I would play God to this extent,” Josiah said equitably, “and I don’t blame you. But when a man has nothing left to lose, he may as well shoot for the stars. At least I do.” He took a healthy swig of the amber liquid she’d poured in his glass. “Have some. It helps sometimes.”

“I need clear, focused wits around you, thank you,” she shot back. “You’ve stunned me.”

“It’s simple enough,” Josiah said. “Pete needs to get married. I doubt you would be able to sleep knowing that four little newborns are going to be without parents when you could do something about it.”

“Newborns?” Priscilla straightened. “How young are the children?”

“Sadly, only a month old.”

“They’re quadruplets?”

Josiah beamed. “I did mention Nancy’s surgery, didn’t I? Worked like a charm.”

“Are they still in the hospital?”

He nodded. “That’s how I learned about them. I was visiting the hospital, and the nurses were talking about the accident. So, so sad.”

“Not to be rude, but do you just troll the hospital nursery looking for children and unwed mothers?” Priscilla asked.

“No,” he said, laughing, not offended at all. “It’s just that this time, I thought of you.”

“You know nothing about me at all. I could be a horrible person.”

“It’s not hard to find things out in small towns.” Josiah raised a glass to her. “Your parents raised you well, educated you, loved you a lot. You’re very close to them, which would mean extra grandparents for these little ones. You’ll need a lot of help, you know.”

Astonishment held Priscilla nearly numb. “Did you have my tea shop and home business reevaluated?”

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I got a notice that my home is worth less now.”

“That’s happening a lot in this economy. Banks don’t have as much money to lend, so they’re weaseling a bit.” He shook his head. “No, I would never have anything to do with devaluing a property. I’ve made my money in commercial and private real estate around the world. I’d be the last one who would ever want to see property values depreciate.” He looked at her. “Is that the real reason you came to see me?”

“I knew you were a meddler,” Priscilla said, lifting her chin, “and I suppose the thought came to mind. I apologize if it was incorrect.”

“Young lady, you’re entitled to think anything you want of me, but it hurts that you’d jump to such a negative conclusion.” He sniffed. “Contrary to what my sons think of me, nowadays most people think I’m a pretty nice old fellow.”

She held his gaze. “Josiah, you’ve been called a jackass by many people, pardon the term. I’m sorry if I had my doubts, but the bad news came right after your visit. I simply wondered how badly you wanted to pull your son’s strings.”

“You’re a shrewd one, I’ll give you that.” He eyed her sternly. “The folks who call me a jackass are jealous, and I don’t let that bother me. Some folks needed to get to know me better, and some I’ve had to ask for forgiveness. I can be shortsighted. But one thing I’m not is a chiseler. Anybody who’s done anything I’ve asked has benefited enormously in the financial sense and, I’d like to think, in the emotional sense.” He shifted in his armchair. “I’m hoping people will remember me fondly when I’m gone.”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon,” Priscilla said.

“Don’t be so certain, missy. This deal I’m trying to work with you has a definite expiration date.”

She sighed. “You know this is an impossible situation. Even if I wanted to be a mother to four babies, I’m not confident I could manage it. I have no experience. I wouldn’t know a pacifier from a—” She stopped speaking as the front door opened. Josiah turned, his brow wrinkling.

Pete Morgan walked through the door and dropped a black duffel bag on the floor. He closed the door behind him, looking down the hallway to where he could see his father and Priscilla sitting in the den. His face was grim, an expression Priscilla hadn’t seen last month. Tall and dark and beautiful, the man who’d been so playful with her and Cricket and Suzy last month was gone. In his place was a lean, well-muscled warrior with a wary expression that hinted at something dark in his soul. Priscilla shivered. She didn’t think she’d feel as comfortable around him now as she had when he’d been teasing and carefree.

“Pop,” Pete said. “Hello, Priscilla.”

“Well, the prodigal returns,” Josiah said.

Pete shook his head. “You’re the prodigal. I heard you were in residence.”

“I’ve moved back for good,” Josiah said.

“Good for you,” Pete said. “I won’t plan on staying long, then.”

Priscilla shifted, feeling awkward. “Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should stay,” Pete said. “The old man needs companionship.”

“I have plenty, thank you. Gabe and Dane and their wives and children visit frequently.” Josiah’s expression turned cantankerous. “I suppose you only came home for your million.”

Pete hesitated, glanced at Priscilla. “Darn right.”

“Well. You’ll have to live here with me to get it.”

“That’s a persuasive argument.” Pete looked at Priscilla. “What would you do for a million dollars?”

Chapter Three

Priscilla stood. “I’m going to let you two go over old times. I’ve overstayed my welcome, anyway.”

Pete looked at his father. “Don’t you love the way she talks? So ladylike and proper.”

Josiah grinned. “She’s not hard to listen to at all.”

Priscilla shook her head. “You two are cut from the same cloth. I hope you enjoy your visit together.”

“Walk her to the door, Pete, will you?” Josiah shifted. “I’d get up, Miss Priscilla, but I’ve been tired lately.”

“There he goes with his poor-pitiful-me routine,” Pete said. “I hope you haven’t fallen for his game.”

She hesitated, glancing at his father, which made Pete wonder what they’d been discussing before his arrival. Suddenly suspicious, he whipped around to glare at Josiah. “You weren’t, by chance, discussing anything to do with me, were you?”

Josiah laughed. “Ah, my son knows me too well.”

“That’s not funny,” Pete said, feeling a slight sense of panic. “I know what happens when you get wrapped up in our lives. Two of my brothers are married with children.” He looked at Priscilla. “You don’t have any children, do you?”

She blinked. He admired her long blond hair, pretty blue eyes and angelic expression—before reminding himself that the faces of angels had been known to bring good men down. He’d seen it happen often in his line of work. “You don’t have children, do you, Miss Perkins?” he repeated more sternly.

“No,” she said, her tone cool. “You know I don’t.”

“Well, then, stay and have dinner with us. It’s sure to be an awkward affair.” Pete gave her his most affable grin. “And you didn’t answer my question, which I guess means you wish to take the high road and stay out of our affairs.”

“What question was that?” she demanded. “You two are full of hooks and angles and thorny emotional issues.”

“About whether you’d live with the old man for a year for a million dollars if you were me.”

She shook her head. “You’re right. I don’t wish to be drawn in to your squabble. Josiah, I don’t like the way you play kingmaker. Pete, I don’t think you’re being very courteous to your father. Bygones are sometimes best left as bygones.”

Josiah sat up in his chair. “You mean, you don’t think Pete should have a million dollars?”

“I don’t care whether he does or not. I’m a tea connoisseur, not a family therapist.”

“Well,” Josiah said. “I thought she was the right woman for you, but she’s not, Pete.”

Pete turned to face his father, then looked back at Priscilla. “Was he trying to get you to entice me into marriage? I know it’s not a polite question, but he did it to both my brothers.”

“Yes.” Priscilla lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “He has every intention of interfering in your life.”

“And what did you tell him?” Pete asked quietly, feeling his entire body tense.

“I told him I didn’t think you’d marry me, and that I didn’t think you wanted to be a father to four newborns.”

Pete blinked, recoiling for an instant before looking at his father. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Josiah watched the two of them carefully, his eyes hooded with interest. Then he grinned, delighted to be, Pete thought, playing the role of munificent fairy godfather. “Just hate to see four little babies without parents,” Pop said, his voice all innocence. “At least you four boys had each other growing up. These Wright children will be split up.” He shrugged. “I can’t save the world, I know that. It was just a thought, nothing to get a brave spy like yourself in a lather over.” Picking up the daily newspaper, he shook it out with exaggerated importance. “Just four little babies, counting on someone to save them,” he muttered.

“I’ll be going now,” Priscilla said. “Welcome home, Pete. Mr. Morgan—”

“Josiah,” he reminded her.

“Yes,” she said. “Josiah, it was interesting to see you again.”

“Again?” Pete looked at her. “When did he see you before?”

“He visited me at my tea shop.”

Pete studied her before looking at his father. “You went all the way to Fort Wylie to hatch this plan?”

Josiah shrugged. “Couldn’t very well do it by phone, could I? Would have been rude.” He chuckled.

Pete told himself the front door was open. He could leave his father and his shenanigans behind just as easily as stand here. But he had to admit he was hooked by the game. He had a funny feeling Josiah hadn’t shown all of his cards—yet. “So what did you think of my father’s well-intentioned angling?”

“I think it’s presumptuous.”

Josiah cleared his throat, looking at Priscilla meaningfully. After a second Priscilla’s face colored slightly.

“What?” Pete demanded. “Let me in on the private secret you two are sharing.”

“There’s nothing,” Priscilla said airily, not wanting Josiah to blurt his information about her “little crush” on Pete. “Goodbye, and good luck with your mission, Josiah. Pete, good to see you again. I’ll show myself out. I remember where the front door is.” She hurried down the foyer hall, but Pete wasn’t letting her go that easily.

“Excuse me, Pop. You and I aren’t finished discussing your plot, but right now, I want to talk to her.” He hurried after Priscilla, catching her in the yard. “Let me apologize for my father,” he said.

“Why? He’s his own man.”

Pete nodded. “And everyone else’s. Did he offer you money?”

“No!” Priscilla frowned at him.

“Then he was only getting warmed up. He will offer you money.”

“It doesn’t matter, Pete,” she said firmly. “I’m not interested in getting married, I don’t want to live in Union Junction, and you’re not a man I’d consider. So it doesn’t bother me how many webs he spins. I know I’m safe.”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “It’s only my neck in the noose.”

“That’s true,” Priscilla agreed. “I’d be willing to bet you’ll be married in a month to some poor, un-suspecting girl who has no idea what she’ll be getting herself into.”

“Hey!” He tried not to laugh at Priscilla’s forthright teasing. “Any woman would be lucky to have me.”

“You forget, I’ve shared a roof with you. You’re fun, but you’re not exactly husband material.”

Pete took that barb with a pang. “I know. I wish I was. But it’s just not me. So, about these babies, these prize lures he’s thrown out to you—”

“Don’t ask me about them. You’ll have to get that story from your father. All he mentioned was that he met Ralph Wright and his wife when they came to buy a steer or something. There was a car accident after the quadruplets were born. That’s all I know.”

He frowned. “Having quadruplets born in Union Junction would be quite an event.”

“Yes. But I live in Fort Wylie, so I never heard about it. I’m sure your father is itching to tell you everything,” she reminded him. She turned toward her car to open the door. “Josiah is a cute old thing in his over-eager way.”

“He’s a pain in the butt.”

“How long are you off?” Priscilla asked.

“Off?”

“Off duty? Or whatever your break is called.”

“I’ve served my country for many years. It’s time to chart a new course in life. And there are things here I need to do.” Pete caught himself staring at Priscilla’s long legs, toyed with some anger with his father, felt sadness for the four babies who had no parents and realized he felt a jumble of conflicting emotions. “Maybe I shouldn’t have retired so soon,” he said. “I didn’t factor in that with two boys down and Jack nowhere to be seen, I’ll now be the sole focus of Pop’s chicanery. I was hoping for some peace and quiet, to collect my million, to not think much about the old man. Now he’s got me thinking about him, and you, and the kids, and his latest scheme.”

“Don’t think about me, ” Priscilla said, sliding into the car. “You have no idea how unavailable I am.”

He leaned on her window. “Good. Keep reminding me of that.”

“You bet your boots I will.” Priscilla started the engine. “Take care of your father, okay? He’s not as bad as you boys paint him.”

“Sure he is,” Pete said. “He’s just got you buffaloed. He does it to everyone.”

She shook her head with a smile, not believing him, and drove away.

But it was true. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered to himself, and went inside to have it out with the one person who had the power to drive him completely nuts.

His father sat in his chair dozing, or pretending to. “Pop,” Pete said, “I haven’t had a real conversation with you in what, ten years?”

“Your choice, not mine.”

Pete took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm. “You’ve got to quit this obsession with family. You’ll have to be satisfied that Dane and Gabe succumbed to your feudal approach to matchmaking. You’re going to have to mind your own business where I’m concerned. It’ll be hard for you to quit being so manipulative, but all you’re going to do is make me mad as hell.”

“I wasn’t thinking about you, actually,” Josiah said, opening his eyes. “I was thinking about the welfare of those children. I never even considered matching you and Priscilla until I heard those babies were going into foster care. They have no family, and no one around here is prepared to take on the care of four preemie newborns.”

“Nor am I.” Pete couldn’t imagine what his father had been thinking. “I hope you noticed Priscilla wasn’t exactly on board with your plan. In fact, she acted like a woman who was being offered a bad deal.”

“Yeah, she didn’t seem to like you as much as I’d heard she did.” Josiah reached for his brandy.

His father’s words caught Pete’s attention. “What do you mean, you heard Priscilla liked me?” He wondered why his heart rate sped up; his whole body seemed to go on alert.

Josiah shrugged. “I heard she had a hankering for you. Usually my sources are pretty good, but this time, they clearly weren’t. As far as I could tell, the lady’s not interested in you one bit.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was, in fact, surprisingly disappointed. “I don’t know,” Pete said, “we had some good times last month. There might have been something there.”

“Well, it’s gone now,” Josiah said. “A single woman who doesn’t jump at a man, a ring and four children isn’t in the presence of her Prince Charming.”

“You might have overplayed your hand,” Pete suggested. “Maybe she’s not the kind of woman who wants children.”

“Every woman wants children.”

“Four is a lot to start off a marriage with, don’t you think?” Pete thought he couldn’t handle that many; taking care of one child would probably blow his mind. “Pop, these are little people with special needs. They need to go to a family who are prepared to deal with that.”

“Do you know how likely it is they’ll be sent to one home?” Josiah asked. “They’ll likely be separated. I hate that.” He sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter. As you said, Priscilla doesn’t seem to like you, so this is all moot.”

“I never said Priscilla doesn’t like me,” Pete said. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“She was here with you for several days last month. Clearly that was enough for her. No, I’ll have to look elsewhere to figure out how to help those babies.”

“Jack?” Pete snorted. “Pop, you are never going to see Jack in this house. In fact, you’ll be lucky if you ever see him anywhere.”

Josiah’s brow furrowed. “Every father wants to see his children before he dies, so don’t dash my hopes. Someone in this county surely wants four wonderful babies, although I never said Jack was the answer.”

“Well, you’re not dying, so I’m not dashing anything. I’m merely stating what you know to be true about Jack.”

Josiah gave him a long, considering look. “The truth is, I am dying.”

Pete’s insides turned to stone. “You’ll have to be dragged off this earth kicking and screaming, Pop. You’re going to harass us forever. Anyway, you’d never let go with two of us unwed.”

Josiah shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to settle for a fifty percent success rate in this one thing, because the old clock of life is winding down on me.”

Pete slowly realized his father was totally serious. The silence in the den felt heavy and somber; Pete could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he recognized that his father wasn’t trying to manipulate him. He swallowed. “What’s wrong, Pop?”

“I’ve had a spot of trouble with some kidney issues.” Josiah shrugged. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I think Suzy guessed, but she knew I’d talk about it in my own good time.”

The anger that Pete had held close to him for so many years, the very burst of vengeful words he’d come home to loose, receded behind an emotional compartment marked To Deal with Later. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Loads of them. There’s nothing really to be done, short of a kidney transplant, and I would never ask anyone to give up a kidney for an old geezer like me. Plus, I opted to forgo the usual treatments. Basically, I came home to die.”

Pete stared at his father, still looking for any sign of manipulation. For once, Josiah’s face was serene and forthright. “Why are you telling me this?”

Josiah shrugged. “The times I share with my sons and their families are the times that keep me hanging on. Otherwise, I might as well be a hopeless old wrench in life’s party.”

“So what’s the prognosis for your situation?” Pete asked, dreading the answer.

“Same outcome we’ll all get eventually. Only mine will come sooner than later. Maybe a year, probably less.” Josiah shifted and raised the glass of brandy. “I self-medicate. I’m not supposed to, of course. Have real medicine I’m supposed to take.” He smacked his lips after he sipped his drink. “ This is tasty medicine.”

“I’ll join you for a dose, then.” Pete needed a stiff drink. He needed more than a drink. Pop had managed to underpin Pete’s most deeply held emotions. After traveling thousands of dangerous miles and living for years nursing deep, black-edged anger, brandy wasn’t going to help him much. He’d have preferred to come home and spit in the old man’s eye. Now, not only did he not want to confront his father, he felt an overwhelming urge to know the real Josiah Morgan, the man whose guard was finally down and whose true heart was finally bared for all to see.

Chapter Four

So then he wanted me to adopt four newborns,” Priscilla told Cricket as they scrubbed out teapots and closed the shop for the day. It had been two days since she’d heard from Pete or Josiah—and yet she still needed time to think about what had happened. So much of what had been said was playing on her mind, drawing her thoughts over and over again to the children.

And Pete.

“Four!” Cricket exclaimed. “How can that be possible?”

“Quadruplets are rare, but not unheard of. There was a car accident and the parents were killed. It’s heartbreaking.” Priscilla poured fresh water over the pots and set them to dry in the rack. “I can’t take on four infants, of course, but there has to be something I can do to help.”

“What was Pete’s reaction?”

Priscilla shook her head. “I left in a hurry. I have no idea what was said after I was gone. With the ill will between them, I’m sure Pete wasn’t thrilled to come home to discover his father was trying to serve up a wife and full family to him on a silver platter.”

“Josiah is a determined man.”

“He is. I’m sure he has his reasons for what he does, but I can’t be a participant in his plans.”

“Is Pete as hot as he was last month?” Cricket asked with a sneaky glance her friend’s way.

Priscilla began wiping down tables. It had been a full day in the shop with plenty of customers who sat and lingered. She loved it when her tea room was busy. It meant a lot that her customers—many of whom were regulars and becoming her dear friends—loved her place as much as she did. Too bad the bank saw it differently. “‘Hot’ is an understatement,” she said. “He’s so hot I don’t dare touch him.”

“Really?” Cricket followed Priscilla, drying the tables with a soft, white towel. “Would you, under different circumstances?”

“No. There is such a thing as too much man. I, for one, am looking for a more down-to-earth, heart-hand-home type.”

“That doesn’t sound like any fun,” Cricket teased.

“Not fun. Safe.” Priscilla glanced around the room, holding her plan to her for one more moment before sharing. “I’m going to go visit the babies in the hospital.”

Cricket nodded. “I figured you would. I’d like to see them, too.”

“Would you?”

“Sure. Who can resist quadruplets?” Cricket shrugged. “Maybe my mommy timer is going off.”

“You’ve never mentioned before that you had one. I thought your work as a pastor kept you too busy,” Priscilla said with a smile, but Cricket shook her head.

“No one is too busy for a baby. My problem is finding Mr. Right. So for now, I wouldn’t mind seeing someone else’s angels.” Cricket began removing the wilted roses from the bud vases, replacing them with fresh ones. “I keep wondering if there’s something our church can do for them. Their care has to be outrageously expensive.”

“True. Maybe we could hold a bake sale or something to raise funds.” Priscilla finished wiping tables and picked up a broom. “That was another thing that surprised me about Josiah’s suggestion. How in the world would I take care of four babies, when I know nothing about babies, much less preemies?”

“I think Mr. Morgan’s intent was for you and Pete to split the duties and learn together.” Cricket smiled. “I’m sure he sees himself in a benevolent role, helping people to do good work.”

Priscilla thought caring for infants was probably best done by people who had some experience. “So when should we go take a peek at them?”

“Soon,” Cricket said. “My baby meter says we should do it soon.”

Priscilla laughed. “You could always sign up for Josiah’s wedding game.”

“With Pete? Nope.” Cricket shook her head. “I’m afraid my eyes are elsewhere.”

“You’ve never mentioned you had a sweetie.” Priscilla stopped sweeping to stare at her friend. “Tell me!”

“It’s not a sweetie, more of an unrequited longing. And I can’t reveal who it is,” Cricket said, “because you’d laugh.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“You would,” Cricket assured her. “Even I know it’s so crazy it could only happen by divine intervention. In the meantime I plan on sewing some little onesies for some tiny friends of ours.”

The bell over the door chimed, and both women looked up. “Oh,” Priscilla said, “is it that time already?”

“What time?” Cricket asked, then straightened as a tall cowboy walked in.

The man looked guarded and suspicious, a trapped animal. He glanced at the two women, then seeing the shop was empty, seemed to relax slightly.

“Hello, Jack Morgan,” Priscilla said. Cricket said nothing at all.

He leaned against a wall, put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve met you two before.”

“We picked you up a month ago when we were out shopping in Union Junction,” Priscilla said.

He nodded, his gaze sliding over Cricket. “You were at the Lonely Hearts Station rodeo, too.”

Cricket nodded. “Yes. I was.”

The tension in the air was like snapping power lines, Priscilla thought; if this man was Deacon Cricket’s secret crush, her friend must have taken leave of her steady senses.

The door swung open again, the bell tinkling to announce Pete’s arrival. “Hey, everybody. It’s starting to rain again, and it’s colder than a witch’s broom out there. I thought February in Texas would be a little warmer.”

His words lightened the tension in the room slightly. “Hello, Pete,” Priscilla said, wondering how a man in jeans, a basic black jacket and boots could be so mouthwateringly handsome. Line up a hundred men dressed just like that, and only Pete would make her knees weak.

He nodded at her. Her heart sank when she realized she wanted so much more than a general acknowledgment from him. This was not a man to nurse a hidden crush for.

“Hi, Cricket. Has my brother Jack introduced himself to you yet?”

“We were getting around to it,” Cricket said, her eyes huge as she looked at the cowboy.

The niceties completed, the two men stared at each other for a long time. There was no hug, no handshake, Priscilla noted, just a steady eyeing.

“Nice choice for neutral territory,” Jack said.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me here,” Pete replied.

“I’ll just get some tea for you gentlemen, and some cookies,” Priscilla said, and Cricket quickly followed her.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Cricket demanded in a rushed whisper.

“You’ve never cared who my customers were before,” she said, gently teasing her friend. “That handsome man wearing old boots and worn-out jeans isn’t anybody you’d be interested in.” She put two delicate white cups on the counter for Cricket to fill. “I have no mugs to serve men with,” Priscilla lamented, and then realized her friend had gone to the mirrored wall in the back of the store and was busily putting on lipstick. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Cricket said.

Priscilla blinked. “You’ve never primped for customers before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I see,” Priscilla said, and went back to the cups to fill them herself. Glancing up, she caught Cricket patting her hair. She shook her head. “I vote we declare a moratorium on Morgan men.”

“I agree.” Cricket glanced out the pass-through window. “They’ve at least sat down at a table now, instead of circling each other like wrestlers.”

“That’s a happy thought.” Priscilla put some cookies on a plate. “Maybe we should just stay in here and not break the flow.”

“I’ll serve them,” Cricket said, taking the plate and swiftly leaving the room.

Priscilla smiled and put the cups and pitcher on another tray. A sweet-natured deacon and a restless cowboy—it was never going to happen.

IT WAS NEVER going to happen, Pete realized as he watched his brother walk away from Priscilla’s tea shop, then climb into a brand-new black truck and speed away. Jack had heard “Pop’s sick” and he’d taken off faster than wildfire. Pete couldn’t blame his brother, but he’d so wanted to handle the situation better than he apparently had.

“Where’d your brother go?” Cricket asked as she approached the table.

“Back to wherever circuit-rodeo cowboys go when they’re…” He was about to say pissed , then elected to soften his words. “When they’re not interested in the topic of the day.”

She set the tray down. “Oh.”

The deacon sounded so disappointed that Pete glanced up. “Why?”

“I barely got to meet him, unlike the rest of your family.” Cricket smiled at him. “Priscilla, you can come out of hiding.”

Pete’s brow furrowed. “Hiding?”

“I was trying to give you and your brother some privacy,” Priscilla said, coming in and setting another tray on the table. She sat across from him, as did Cricket. “But we can eat his cookies.”

“Guess we’ll have to,” Pete said, taking one.

“Things didn’t go well?” Priscilla asked, and he shook his head.

“Not a bit. But thanks for letting us meet here.”

“No problem. Wish it had helped.”

“He wouldn’t have come to the ranch, and he avoids me when I try to meet him at a rodeo.” Pete shrugged. “We’re hardheaded in my family.”

“No kidding.” Priscilla poured everyone some tea and put the tray on a nearby table so they’d have elbow room. “So I’ve been thinking about the babies. I’m going to go by and see them.”

“Oddly enough,” Pete said, “I, too, have been thinking about them. I’ve already been by for a visit.”

“You have?” Priscilla said.

Cricket asked, “Are they darling?”

“They’re small,” Pete said. “Tiny. I’ve seen, I don’t know, chickens that were bigger.”

“Oh, boy,” Priscilla said. “Is your father still talking about them?”

“Nonstop. And you, I might add.”

Priscilla blinked. “Outside of a bake sale or donating some clothes, I can’t be party to any plans your father may cook up.”

“Yeah, I know. I told him that. And he said he understood. Then he wanted me to tell you that he respects that a woman like you isn’t interested in money.”

Cricket stared at her friend. “You never said anything about money. What money?”

Priscilla shook her head. “I have no idea. We never discussed money.”

Pete frowned. “Money’s always first on the table with Pop when he wants something.”

“Not this time,” Priscilla said. “He was only offering you, I guess.”

“Hey,” Pete said, “don’t make it sound like you drew the short straw.”

Cricket helped herself to a cookie. “I have to head back to the church. It was good to see you, Pete. I’m so sorry things didn’t work out better for you.”

“Me, too.” He got up as Cricket stood. The two women hugged goodbye, then Cricket left. Priscilla turned the shop sign to Closed and suddenly Pete found himself alone for the first time with the woman his father had proposed to on his behalf.

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