“You’re cute when you smile,” Will told Samantha

You’re dangerous when you make me laugh, she thought. Samantha drew in a breath. “I hope you’re not hitting on me again.”

“Me? Wouldn’t think of it.” Will aimed a thumb at the center of his chest. “I know the rules.” He nudged her lightly. “Not that there are any rules about you hitting on me.”

“We’re not going to need any.”

His fingers stroked the inside of her wrist. “Want to bet?”

Figuring it would be a sign of weakness to pull away, she stated firmly, “I don’t gamble on love—er, sex. And you’re not going to change my mind,” she insisted.

“I know you think that.”

“Being in Laramie is not going to change my mind.”

Serious now, he said quietly, “I know you think that, too.”

Samantha swallowed around the parched feeling in her throat. “Yet you’re convinced otherwise.”

Will lightly took her chin between his fingers and kissed her mouth, confidence radiating from him. “Some things I just know.”

Dear Reader,

A while back, someone asked me if I had ever seen a bumper sticker that summed up my philosophy on life. I hadn’t, but if I were going to design one, I think it would read "Life is messy. Don't be afraid of the mess."

That advice is especially on point for Will McCabe and Samantha Holmes. Will suffered through a divorce that left him feeling he wasn’t cut out for marriage after all. Samantha had given up on ever living happily-ever-after when tragedy tore her family apart. Both figured as long as they kept all their defenses up, they wouldn’t ever be unhappy again. That was, until they met each other.

Will, Samantha and her brother Howard are three people working at cross-purposes. Three people who ended up loving—and helping—each other despite all the odds. Three people who just might become family in the end, along with Howard’s bride, Molly, and all of Will’s family, and the friends and neighbors from Laramie, Texas, they meet along the way.

I hope you enjoy this latest visit to the fictional town of Laramie, Texas, as much as I did. For information on this and other books, please visit me on the Web at www.cathygillenthacker.com.

Happy reading!

From Texas, With Love
Cathy Gillen Thacker

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy Gillen Thacker married her high school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why? you ask. Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of automobiles, several moves across the country, his and her careers and sundry other experiences (some of which were exciting and some of which weren’t). But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter, and lots of experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world.

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 One

Will McCabe had known retrieving Samantha Holmes by “whatever means necessary” was not going to be easy. He had been forewarned about the twenty-nine-year-old woman’s stubbornness and feisty nature. However, he hadn’t expected to have to pull her out of a war zone. But as he left the limo idling at the curb in one of New York City’s more questionable neighborhoods, and found his way up the steep wooden steps to apartment 5E, a pitched battle was exactly what it sounded like.

“Okay, that’s it!” a female voice shrieked from the other side of the door. The words were followed by heavy footsteps and a karate-style yell. “You ugly looking son of a rodent! I’ve had it with you making my life so darn miserable!” she shouted over a loud crash and resounding whack that even had Will jumping. “If you won’t get out on your own volition, then I’m just going to have to kill you myself!”

Will’s eyes widened at the blatant threat.

Howard Holmes had said his baby sister had bad taste in men, but letting a domestic dispute deteriorate to this level of violence was downright foolish. Determined to get her out of there before any more harm was done, Will pounded on the door with his fist. “Samantha! Open up!”

“I can’t,” she shouted back over the sound of glass shattering.

“Seriously…” He tried the door handle and to his frustration found the latch locked. “We need to talk!” He pounded on the door again.

“I don’t think so,” she retorted.

Will winced when he heard another loud crash. A neighbor from down below quickly opened his door, peered out, then slammed it shut.

“Samantha!” Will ordered. “Open up now!”

The woman inside muttered something he couldn’t quite catch. Then she screamed in terror. To heck with waiting, Will thought, as he muttered an oath and kicked the door in. It swung open to reveal a studio apartment that had definitely seen better days.

Samantha Holmes whirled, looking every bit as beautiful in person as in the photos Will had seen. Her delicate face was dominated by long-lashed, dark brown eyes, a straight nose and luscious lips. Thick glossy hair, the color of dark cherrywood, tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders. She came nearly to his chin—which made her about five foot eight—and every inch of her was feminine, from her silky skin to her full breasts, trim hips and long, sexy legs. Eyes flashing, she brandished a broom, while the biggest mouse Will had ever seen raced across the floor.

“Don’t just stand there gawking,” she commanded, stepping over a pile of broken glass as the skinny gray tail disappeared beneath the sofa. “Shut the darn door and help me catch him!”

Relieved that it hadn’t been a man Samantha Holmes was fighting with, Will complied. “You know, they have exterminators for jobs like this,” he drawled, trying not to notice how great she looked in the cotton sleep jersey that fell halfway to her knees.

Another resentful glare came his way. “An exterminator would kill him,” Samantha protested.

“Not necessarily.” Will spied a flashlight on the coffee table. Glad this was one problem he could easily solve, he picked the light up and got down on his knees. He turned it on, illuminating the area beneath the sofa, and quickly located the quivering creature. Figuring “Mickey” wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon now that it had found a place to hide, Will sat back on his haunches and looked up at Samantha. He was close enough to inhale the alluring fragrance of lavender clinging to her skin. “Besides,” he teased, “you just threatened to do that yourself.”

Flashing an apologetic smile, Samantha gestured to a metal cage on the floor of the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it.” She brought the contraption over to Will and set it down between him and the sofa. Hunkering down beside him, she bent to get a look at the frightened mouse, then gave a little shiver. “I just want him out.” She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Preferably right now.” Climbing to her feet once again, she added, “I was hoping if I scared him sufficiently he would take off and never return.”

Aware he was at eye level with her thighs, Will stood up, too. Then he realized her arms weren’t the only part of her that was cold. Resolutely, he pushed away the enticing vision and turned back to the task at hand—capturing the mouse that was currently making Samantha Holmes’s life miserable.

Will glanced around, sizing up the threadbare furniture, several wardrobe racks of clothing, well-organized, and an equally impressive tier of shoes and handbags. Obviously, when it came to work attire, Samantha Holmes spared no expense. “How long has your rodent buddy been here?” he asked.

“A week.” She gnawed on her lower lip as she looked up at Will. “I’ve tried everything to capture him so I could take him to the park and set him free.” She shrugged. “Cheese. Peanut butter.”

Will eyed her kitchen and found it sparsely equipped. “Maybe that trap you set up doesn’t look quite so humane to him. Besides—” he nodded at the cereal boxes on the counter, their bottoms eaten out “—why should he settle for a one-course meal when your kitchen cabinets provide a buffet?”

Samantha huffed, the action lifting the luscious curves of her breasts. “You sound like you know a lot about pests,” she remarked.

Wishing he hadn’t noticed what a great body she had beneath the lavender sleep shirt, and that she wasn’t wearing a bra, Will met her eyes. “True, although I try not to live with any.”

She made a face. “Very funny,” she retorted dryly. Then she narrowed her dark eyes, as if suddenly realizing she shouldn’t be trusting him. She tightened her grip on the broom. “Who the heck are you, anyway?”

“Will McCabe,” he told her, bracing himself for the worst.

She paused to process that information. “As in the McCabes—of Texas?” she asked finally.

Proud of his family’s stellar reputation throughout the Lone Star State and beyond, he nodded. “You got it.”

Samantha, however, seemed unimpressed by his lineage. Her scowl deepened. “Owner of McCabe Charter Jet Service in Laramie, Texas?”

Will accepted the credit for all he had accomplished. He angled a thumb at his chest. “That would be me, all right.”

“Then I know why you’re here and what you want.” Samantha glowered at him. “And my answer is no.”

“I HAVEN’T ASKED YOU anything yet,” Will McCabe stated lazily, his appreciative gaze drifting over her.

Samantha angled her head to study the ruggedly handsome man standing in front of her. She had guessed from the moment she heard his commanding Texas accent on the other side of her door just who had sent him. One look at the leather aviator jacket, Western-cut cotton shirt, worn jeans and boots had told the rest of the story. Her brother, Howard, had tired of her ignoring his phone messages, letters and e-mails, and had sent this good-looking stud to get her. Too bad said stud didn’t yet know he was on a fool’s errand.

“Let me guess,” she murmured, looking him up and down while trying not to be taken in by his broad shoulders, taut abs and six-foot-three frame. The mussed sable hair, smoky blue eyes and intractable jaw were a little harder to disregard. This was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, and what he intended to retrieve now was her. Not that she planned to cooperate, she reminded herself.

“You’re a bodyguard.”

“Close.”

She studied the short hair and rigid posture. “Cop?”

“Ex-military.” Will cast another look at the mouse. Satisfied all was status quo—at least for the moment—he looked back at her. “The law enforcement officer in my family is my brother Kevin, who’s a sheriff’s deputy.”

She really didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to get involved with anyone connected with her brother. Still, curious as ever, she had to ask, “What was your MOS in the service?”

“Pilot.”

Of course. “Branch?”

“United States Navy.”

She sighed. Another link to Howard and the sea and a lot of things she didn’t want to think about. She lifted a hand. “I see.”

He eyed her skeptically. “You were supposed to know I was coming.”

Shrugging, she tightened her hands on the broom. “My brother left a message on my answering machine that he was going to provide transportation to Texas for me.”

Will flashed her a sexy smile. “And I’m the pilot of that private jet.”

Samantha tore her gaze from the sensual shape of his lower lip and concentrated on the straight line of his nose. “Too bad you wasted a trip.”

He didn’t seem to think so. “We can talk about that later,” he assured her, clamping a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Right now I suggest we work on capturing Mickey Mouse before he makes a run for it again.”

Ignoring the warmth transmitting to her skin, Samantha studied the strong column of his throat and the soft hair visible in the open collar of his shirt. She stepped back, breaking their connection. “You’ve got an idea, I suppose?”

Will took his time surveying their surroundings. “That’s right. But first we’re going to need a deep container—like that trash can—to put him in.”

Samantha walked over to the tall plastic container that had been with her since her college days. “It doesn’t have a lid.”

Will inspected the makeshift detention center. “We don’t need a lid if it’s empty. Mice can’t jump more than a foot or so.”

Will McCabe had an air of authority—Samantha gave him that. With effort, she suppressed a shudder at her next supposition. “You’re sure he can’t just run up the sides?”

Sheer male confidence radiated from the Texan. “No more than you or me.”

Samantha wanted to trust Will McCabe. She couldn’t. Not when just the idea of that mouse on the loose again had her contemplating a leap into his strong arms. “How do you know?” she challenged, looking deep into his blue eyes.

His lips took on a rueful tilt and he gestured vaguely. “Let’s just say I, too, haven’t always lived in the best places.”

Good to know.

Preferring Will in the line of fire rather than herself, Samantha took out the plastic sack lining the trash can, and tied it shut. Her anxiety building once again, she carried the empty can to him.

Will took off his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his cotton shirt. “You need to step back.”

Samantha didn’t know whether to laugh or run for cover, given how wily and agile the mouse had been thus far. “You’re going to do this all by yourself, I suppose,” she stated dryly.

He shifted his stance. “Yep.”

Samantha positioned herself a safe distance away and folded her arms. “This I have to see.”

Without missing a beat, Will swiftly moved the sofa from the wall, reached down and grabbed the exposed mouse by the tail, then dropped it into the garbage can. That quickly, the problem was resolved; the mouse that had terrorized her for a week was in rodent jail.

Feeling more than a little foolish for all her antics with the broom, Samantha stared at Will.

“Mind if I wash my hands?” he asked.

“Go right ahead,” she murmured, peering into the trash can. The mouse was scampering about in a panic, but every time it tried to get up the sides, it fell back to the bottom. About three inches long, with its tail another four inches, it looked harmless enough.

Her heart still racing, Samantha glanced at Will. She sensed they weren’t out of the woods yet. “Now what?” she demanded.

He sauntered to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet. “You need to take the mouse at least a half mile away if you don’t want him visiting you again. And you need to plug up any openings larger than a quarter inch if you want to avoid any more ‘company.’”

After glancing again at the little critter, Samantha edged closer to Will. “Plug the holes with what?” She watched him pump a generous amount of antibacterial soap in his palm, then start scrubbing his large, square hands.

“A mixture of steel wool and caulking compound works best,” he said with a grin. “Got either here?”

Flushing from the close quarters, Samantha knelt beside him to check beneath the sink. Too late, she remembered how scantily dressed she was. “Actually, both.” She wondered if it would be too obvious if she went and put on a robe. Then again, he had already seen her in her nightshirt and hard-soled hiking boots.

He stepped slightly to one side and looked down at her, clearly oblivious to the reason behind her indecision. “Get ‘em out,” he told her gently. “And I’ll do it for you.”

Trying not to think about his denim-covered thighs, Samantha stood. There was no reason solid male muscle should be such a turn-on. She swallowed to ease the parched feeling in her throat. “You’re awfully nice.” She handed over the items he requested.

He lifted a brow, bemused. “And that’s a surprise because?” His voice dropped another notch.

Feeling her cheeks heat all the more, she pulled a spackling tool from a drawer. Their fingers collided as she handed it over, his warm hand brushing hers. “You’re an associate of my brother’s.”

Will looked at her but made no comment. Inexplicably, Samantha was flooded with guilt. She pushed it away, prepared to stand her ground. “But just because I appreciate your assistance,” she continued frankly, “does not mean I’m going to Laramie with you. Because I’m not.”

He gazed at her another long moment.

She could have sworn he was disappointed.

“Suit yourself,” he said finally.

Samantha sighed, hating the guilt flowing through her once again. She had no reason to feel beholden to her brother after the way Howard had treated her. And yet… “You think I’m being unreasonable, don’t you?” she asked.

Will’s broad shoulders lifted and fell. Holding her eyes deliberately, he replied, “Let’s just say I know when a lady is doing herself in—repeatedly.”

Anger knotted her gut. “You don’t know our history.”

He scanned the baseboard until he found a place that needed patching. “Sure I do.” He knelt down in front of it and pried open the can of spackle. “You and Howard were both orphaned when you were kids.” Will removed the lid, set it aside, then stuck the putty knife in the compound. “He couldn’t take care of you and you ended up in foster care. You’ve never forgiven him.”

Samantha sighed. So many people thought that. So many people were wrong. “Howard could have taken care of me,” she fumed, as the old bitterness came back to haunt her. Deciding she needed more cover, anyway, she walked into the bathroom and snatched her plaid flannel robe off the hook on the door. Struggling into it, she walked back out. “He was eighteen.”

Will cast her a censoring look before he pressed steel wool into the small hole, then covered it with caulking compound. “And you were eight, Samantha.”

His calmness in the face of her pain sent her temper soaring. Samantha stomped nearer, her heavy boots slapping against the scarred wood floor. “So? He could have gotten a job!” She pushed the words through clenched teeth. “Found us an apartment or something.” Had Howard wanted to do so, she amended silently. To her heartbreak, her brother hadn’t.

Will sat back on his haunches and looked at her with sympathy. “Howard was little more than a kid himself,” he pointed out.

“And that gave him the right to join the navy? To go off for months and months and months at a time?” Her voice choked at the memory. “I cried my eyes out, missing him.”

Will rose to his feet, every inch of him lithe and masculine. “And you still are, from the looks of it,” he noted softly. Finding another mousehole, he began patching that, too.

Agitated to even be having this conversation, never mind with someone as handsome and commanding as Will McCabe, Samantha paced back and forth. She pressed her lips together mutinously. “I gave up crying over my big brother years ago.”

“Then why is the idea of going back to Texas to see him so threatening?” Will challenged.

She clenched her fists, watching as he located and filled yet another gap in the baseboard. “It’s not,” she declared, telling herself it was her tension causing her heart to pound and her mouth to go dry, and not his nearness.

Will looked at her as if she had either lost her mind or was a disaster waiting to happen. He smirked. “Then prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“True.” He rose slowly and squared off with her. “But you’ve got a heck of a lot to prove to yourself.”

She lifted her chin. “I do not.”

He flashed a goading half smile, then headed back to the kitchen to put the patching compound and steel wool in the cupboard beneath the sink. As he bent over, she was treated to the sight of his denim-covered backside. Then he straightened and pivoted toward her. “You’re just afraid that if you give yourself a chance, you’re going to end up loving your brother as much as everybody else who knows him.”

Samantha wished Will McCabe didn’t look so darn sexy, with the faint shadow of an evening beard covering his face. She told him smugly, “Not very likely.”

“If you say so.”

Their eyes met. A sizzling attraction flowed between them. “Are you about done?” Samantha asked hotly.

“With sealing up the place?” He deliberately misunderstood the question—just to annoy her, she was fairly sure. “Yep, but not,” he qualified, his gaze trailing over her hair, face and lips with disturbing thoroughness before returning to her eyes, “with talking sense into you.”

SAMANTHA ARCHED A BROW. “You are not going to get me to change my mind.”

Determined to have his way on this whether she liked it or not, Will suggested, “How about we make a deal then? I’ll take Mickey Mouse here out of this apartment and set him free in a park on the way to the airport if you come to Texas with me.”

“That’s not a bargain,” she declared with a tight smile, getting another trash bag out from under the sink.

“Could have fooled me,” Will quipped.

She opened the bag up and began throwing away cereal boxes with the bottoms eaten out of them. “That’s blackmail.”

Will had never failed to complete a mission. He wasn’t going to do it now, even if she had forgotten how to trust. Seeing a pretzel bag that had been munched on, too, he added it to the trash. “So you admit you’re afraid of mice.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “I like to keep my distance from anything that skulks around where it has no business being.”

Meaning him, Will thought with a smile. He shrugged. “Okay. See ya.” He picked up his jacket and headed for the door.

She rushed after him. “Wait.” Her fingertips brushed his arm.

He turned, inhaling the faint scent of lavender again.

As he had hoped, practicality overrode pride. “I’m not going to be able to talk a cab driver into letting me into his vehicle with a live mouse in a trash can. It’s just not going to happen. Not in New York City. Not tonight.”

Will draped his jacket over his shoulder, then stroked the corner of his mouth with his thumb, prepared to make this either as difficult or as easy as she wanted it to be. “Not a problem for me,” he told her carelessly. “I’ve got a limo idling at the curb.”

Her lips pursed in a pretty scowl. “I hope Howard is paying for that.”

No doubt about it, she wanted retribution. “He is. And,” Will added, “he’s prepared to do a lot more by way of penance. All you have to do is come to Texas with me and see him.”

She shook her head. “Like I said, not an option.”

“Then we’re at a standstill, aren’t we?”

She paused as if to consider her options, then finally laid on the charm. “Are you sure you can’t just…take care of this for me?” she asked sweetly, flipping back her lustrous hair.

Figuring she didn’t try the femme fatale routine very often, Will remained steadfast. He shook his head. “You know the terms.”

Samantha folded her arms and leaned toward him, far from oblivious to the way her stance was lifting the soft curves of her breasts. “And you know I can’t agree to those terms, on principle.”

“Then you’re just flat out of luck, aren’t you?”

She released a long-suffering sigh and pursed her lips again. “Look.” She moved one hand in a graceful gesture, not about to give up. “You seem like a nice man.”

Who was about to be played by one hell of a Texas beauty. “So you said,” Will drawled.

The smile she gave him was infinitely seductive. “Can’t you just convince my brother that I don’t want anything to do with him and let that be that?”

Wishing he could act on instinct, forget his mission and make a move on her, Will shook his head. There would be no hauling her into his arms and kissing her, now or any other time, he warned himself sternly. No blurring of boundaries. No action on his part that would give her an excuse to run the other way from the only family she had left.

“Surely if you told Howard how opposed I am to any reunion, he’d believe you. And let this ridiculous notion of his go.”

Will once again shook his head. “That’s something you need to tell Howard yourself, face-to-face.”

Her lower lip took on a kissable pout. “I can’t go to Texas because I don’t have the money to come back.”

Will had already suspected that she was short of cash. “Howard said something about you being let go from your job last September.”

Her cheeks turned pink with humiliation. Looking more miserable than ever, she dropped the temptress act and shoved a hand through her thick, glossy brown hair. “My brother knows I was laid off by the advertising agency?” she probed.

Will edged closer. “Yep, which is part of why Howard wants to see you so badly. He wants to make sure you’re all right.”

Samantha scowled. “He wants me to settle in Texas.”

Will could see her there, too. In jeans, boots, a snap-front Western shirt and a hat that was all attitude. With family nearby. He closed the distance between them, not stopping until they were nose to nose. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes.” The look in her eyes grew turbulent. “All the best advertising jobs are here.”

Will leaned toward her ear and whispered conspiratorially, “So don’t move back there.” Ready to play peacemaker if it would end the decade-long feud between Howard and Samantha, he advised, “Just go see him. Tell him you’re no longer family and never will be again, if that’s what you want. When you’ve said your piece, I’ll fly you back here from Texas.”

Samantha scoffed. “I can guarantee you he won’t pay for that.”

Will gave a careless shrug. “Doesn’t need to—I can fly one of my jets here whenever I want.”

“You have more than one?” she asked in an interested tone.

“Six,” he confirmed, happy to see that she appeared as impressed as he was by his hard-won success. “And ten pilots,” he continued, “although a couple of them only work part-time.”

He could see she was on the brink.

“You should do this, Samantha,” he urged, using every bit of persuasion in his arsenal. He cupped her shoulders lightly. “Family is important.”

She exhaled deeply, unbearable sadness coming into her pretty eyes. Then she stepped away, undeterred. “I just wish I had one.”

Chapter Two

“Second thoughts?” Will asked, emerging from the cockpit several hours later.

Samantha did not know how the sexy pilot had read her mind—she’d spent years perfecting her poker face. To the point that most people hadn’t a clue what she was thinking or feeling. Will McCabe not only spotted her vulnerabilities, he seemed determined to get around them. She unclasped her seat belt and stood. “About succumbing to your persuasive ways?”

He opened the hatch that also served as the staircase, then watched as she squared her shoulders and slung her purse over her shoulder.

“It’s not going to be that bad,” he told her with a wry smile.

Unsure whether it was resentment or nerves twisting her stomach into knots, Samantha countered, “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do.” He carried her small suitcase down the steps, then waited for her at the bottom.

Together, they walked across the tarmac toward the hangar.

He reached over and gave her elbow a companionable squeeze. “’Cause I know Howard.”

Another reason why not to develop any kind of friendship or camaraderie with this man, she thought, since his primary allegiance was clearly to her estranged older brother. Not to her, no matter how chivalrous he was acting. Trying not to think about the way her skin was tingling from just that brief, casual contact, Samantha drew a stabilizing breath. “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, spotting the silhouette of a man coming out of the brightly lit building in front of them.

Samantha hadn’t seen Howard in close to ten years, but she would have known her brother anywhere. He had the same tall, lithe build, dark hair and eyes that she did.

Howard closed the distance between them quickly. He started to hug her, but read her reserve and changed his mind. He moved back awkwardly, then looked her in the eye with a sincerity and warmth she found disquieting. “I’m glad you could come,” he told her, as Will looked on, clearly uncomfortable being put in the middle of this family drama.

Feeling unaccountably glad that Will was with her, so she didn’t have to face this alone, Samantha turned her attention back to Howard. She studied the gray at his temples. That and the crow’s-feet around his eyes were the only signs that her brother had just turned forty. She forced herself not to see the similarities to both their parents. Or the regret on his face. He’d hurt her badly. She wasn’t going to let him do it again. “What’s this about?” she asked wearily.

Howard’s mouth took on a determined slant. “I think it’s time we ended this cold war between us.”

That, they could have said on the phone. Had she picked up, which she wouldn’t have.

Ignoring the wordless entreaty from Will to cooperate, Samantha shrugged. “Well, I don’t.”

Will set her suitcase down beside her. “If you need me, I’ll be in the office,” he said.

Samantha latched on to his arm before he could depart, and reeled him back to her side. “I need you now.”

Will lifted a brow at her and gave Howard a glance. Her brother shrugged. “I don’t mind if you hear everything we say, as long as I get to say it.”

She added, “And I don’t want to be alone with him.”

Will gave Howard a look that let his friend know he was doing this against his better judgment, and Samantha one that told her she was being childish. She didn’t care. Hardening her heart against further devastation was the only way she had survived the years of abandonment and crushing disappointment.

Annoyed that Will wasn’t giving her the emotional backup she needed, Samantha removed her fingers from his taut biceps. She turned back to Howard, enunciating firmly, “The only reason I came was to give you the closure you seem to need, so you’ll leave me alone.” Forever.

Howard held his arms wide. “I don’t want closure. I want a new beginning.”

Samantha shook her head, her customary stubbornness rising up to give her strength. She pushed the words between clenched teeth. “Not going to happen, bro.”

“At least meet my fiancée,” Howard insisted, with a combination of firmness and hope.

Fiancée? The news that her brother was engaged hit Samantha like a sucker punch to the gut. Though why it should… She stared at him in shock, even as unexpected moisture gathered behind her eyes. “You—the guy who has run from every familial obligation for years—is getting married?” She couldn’t believe he was up for such a heavy-duty, lifelong commitment. Didn’t want to believe it.

Howard nodded, suddenly looking as emotional as she felt. “To Molly Weatherby,” he admitted in a low, choked voice. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat. “She’s a wonderful woman. I think you’ll like her, and she’s very anxious to meet you.”

Aware that Will was gauging her reaction every bit as carefully as her brother was, Samantha regained her composure with effort. “Clearly, Molly doesn’t understand our dynamic,” she said sweetly.

Will lifted his brow again. Samantha ignored the powerful censure radiating from him.

As did Howard. “Have dinner with us tomorrow,” he pressed.

And open the door to further demands she had no desire to meet? Samantha thought bitterly. She wasn’t that much of a fool. It had been a mistake coming here in the first place. She shook her head and stepped back, away from both men. “I’m leaving in the morning, come hell or high water.”

“Then we’ll make it breakfast,” Howard insisted, with the same polite do-or-die attitude that had made him such a success as an investment banker. “Please, Samantha,” he continued in a quiet tone that tugged on her heartstrings. “Do this for me.”

Samantha supposed this could provide much needed closure for both of them. “Fine. Whatever.” Her voice was as cool as she could make it. “Just so you know this is the last time you and I are going to be seeing each other.” She regarded her brother steadily. “There’ll be no more messages on my machine, no more letters, no more hunky pilots kicking down my front door to save me.”

Now Howard looked at Will with silent reproach.

He held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Long story,” he muttered.

To her surprise, Howard simply nodded.

Pulse pounding, Samantha looked around, desperate for escape. “Is there a ladies’ room handy?”

Will pointed toward a corner of the brightly lit hangar. “To the left there’s a unisex.”

“Thanks.” Head down against the warm Texas wind, Samantha hurried off.

She barely made it through the door of the concrete-floored building before bursting into tears she didn’t want and couldn’t explain.

“I’M STILL AMAZED YOU GOT her here,” Howard told Will as the two of them walked across the tarmac, following the path Samantha had taken.

So was he, if truth be told. Will thought about the sentimental tears Samantha had blinked back. He had learned a long time ago to pay more attention to what people did than what they said. It was actions, not speeches, that told the tale. He looked at the bathroom door, which was still closed, and led the way to his glass-walled office. “I don’t think there is any doubt that Samantha wants to reconcile with you,” he told his old friend kindly.

The confidence Howard had displayed in the presence of his sister faded. In its place were soul-deep regret and frustration. “Be honest, man. She hates my guts.”

“Yeah.” Will sank down in the battered chair behind his equally beat-up metal desk. “But she loves you, too, otherwise she wouldn’t have come this far.” She would have grabbed her mouse and told Will to take a flying leap back to Texas, instead of allowing him to coax her into coming.

Too wound up to sit, Howard paced across the small, square space. He paused in front of the window overlooking the runway. “My sister’s right about one thing.” He shoved his hands through his hair, then clasped the back of his neck. “I let her down.”

A veteran of all sorts of domestic difficulties, Will propped his boots on the edge of his desk. “It happens, even in the best families. It doesn’t mean you can’t make it up to her.”

Howard turned away from the view of the dark Texas sky, his expression bleak. “In the course of one reluctantly-consented-to breakfast?” he asked skeptically.

Will gestured for him to take a seat in one of the military-surplus chairs. “She’ll end up staying however long it takes.”

Howard sank down with a sigh. “She’ll never agree to that.”

Oh ye of little faith. “I’ll soften her up and keep her entertained while she’s in Laramie,” Will promised.

His friend perked up a bit. “You’d do that for me?”

“Even more.” Will grinned. “I owe you for helping me get my business off the ground.”

Feminine footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. Seconds later, Samantha strode in. She looked composed again, but her eyes were rimmed with red, as if she’d been crying. Will felt for her. He knew this had to be hard. He also knew it had to be done.

“It’s late,” she said, before either man could speak. “And I’m exhausted. If one of you could point me toward the closest hotel…”

Will and Howard exchanged uneasy looks.

“What?” she demanded.

Howard risked her wrath and informed her reluctantly, “The state agricultural extension service is holding their spring workshops here in Laramie for the next two weeks. People come from all over West Texas to attend them. All the hotel rooms for miles around are booked. But not to worry,” he assured her. “I’ve got the guest room made up.”

She should have been trapped, albeit nicely, into spending more time with the only family she had. Will had to hand it to Samantha; she didn’t miss a beat. “Thanks,” she said with a breezy smile, “but I’m staying the night with Will.”

He looked at her, making no effort to hide his surprise.

Howard frowned. “You can’t do that,” he argued.

She tilted her head to one side. “Want to bet?”

Doing his best to help his friend, Will murmured, “Your brother is right, Samantha. His place is so much nicer. You’ll be a lot more comfortable there.”

She dug in her heels. “I don’t require fancy digs. Your place is fine.”

Will decided to let her have her way—temporarily. It wouldn’t take her long to cry uncle, once she realized what she had done. “My place it is, then.”

The glint in Howard’s eyes said he had an idea what Will was up to.

Playing along, Howard turned back to his sister with a poker face. “I’ll see you in the morning at my house then,” he stated, cordial as ever.

Distracted, Samantha nodded her assent.

Once again, Howard started to hug his little sister, then decided against it and just walked out.

Will and Samantha were left facing each other.

“Let’s go, then,” she said. She slung the small carry-on bag over her arm. “Like I said, I’m exhausted.”

Curious as to what her reaction was going to be, Will gestured toward the metal stairs just outside his office door. “After you.”

Samantha blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He pointed to the closed door above them. “That’s where I live.”

SAMANTHA WOULD HAVE thought Will McCabe was joking, had it not been for the way too innocent, I’m-just-giving-you-what-you-asked-for expression on his face.

I can handle this. It’s just for one night. Then I’ll have met any last-ditch familial obligation. I can go back to New York City and get on with my life. Determined not to let Will McCabe’s shenanigans get to her, Samantha turned and headed up the stairs. He followed lazily behind, and his shoulder brushed hers when he unlocked the door and swung it open.

Samantha stared at the sparse decor.

“Not too late to change your mind,” Will told her. “I bet Howard is only a mile or so down the road by now. You can call him on his cell, ask him to double back and get you.”

Which was clearly what the two men had planned all along, Samantha thought. No wonder they had sent each other those indecipherable looks! They had to have known how shocked and dismayed she would be.

“This is fine,” she fibbed. So what if it was one large room with a cement floor and walls? Technically, it had everything she needed. A hot plate, small fridge, microwave. Television with satellite receiver. Stereo. Adjoining bath, with shower stall. She pivoted back to Will and tossed him a devil-may-care smile. “Just one question. Where are you going to sleep?”

Will locked eyes with her. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on either side of his fly. “Here.”

Right.

“I hate to break it to you,” Samantha replied dryly, “but that’s a metal army cot.”

He turned to look, as if he had never seen it before. “Uh-huh.”

Aware that he was being deliberately dense just to get under her skin, she elaborated, “For one.”

A sexy grin spread across his face. “Then I guess we’ll be real cozy, huh?”

Samantha gave him a look that let him know they would not be hooking up, tonight or at any other time. “Surely you can sleep on the plane,” she said.

His expression gave away nothing. “Surely you can sleep at your brother’s place.”

Beginning to lose patience despite herself, Samantha jabbed a thumb at her chest. “Then I’ll sleep on the jet.”

He vetoed her idea. “It’s either here—in that bed—with me,” he told her flatly, “or at Howard’s.”

It seemed Samantha had been searching her whole life for a man every bit as stubborn and strong-willed as she was. Finally, she’d found one. The only trouble was they had very different ideas about what should happen next.

She edged closer. “Even a car or pickup would do.” She’d learned to get comfortable anywhere and appreciate the roof over her head.

“You’re not sleeping in a vehicle, either.”

Samantha’s heartbeat quickened. “Says who?”

“Me,” he replied with exaggerated seriousness.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Samantha declared, ignoring the tingling sensation that started up inside her whenever he was near.

“I don’t have to provide you with the keys to my pickup truck, either.” He regarded her smugly. “So it looks like you’re back to plan A. Bunking with your brother.”

Samantha flushed. “Absolutely not!”

He looked at his watch. “Five seconds to change your mind.”

She glowered at him.

With a shrug, Will said, “All right, then.” He strolled over to the row of metal clothes lockers against the wall. Opening one, he pulled out boxers and a T-shirt fresh from the laundry. “I’m going to bed.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped. She knew Will was a no-rules kind of guy, but this was beyond ridiculous! “You can’t be serious.”

“Afraid I am.” He gave her a thorough once-over that had her insides fluttering.

Refusing to let him get to her, she merely lifted a brow in return.

The tension between them ratcheted up another notch.

She knew he was thinking about the sexual implications of the hours ahead, as was she.

“You’re not getting lucky.”

“I figured,” he replied.

“So maybe you’d better bunk elsewhere.”

“Don’t think so. I like my quarters and my bed just fine.”

Another stalemate.

She was definitely losing this battle.

Will made a great show of yawning. “If you want to brush your teeth or change into something more comfortable, better do it. Then it’s going to be lights out.”

Samantha knew he still expected her to give in and run to her brother. No way that was happening. He thought he could be difficult? So could she.

“First dibs on the bathroom,” she countered.

With amusement tugging at his lips, he lounged against the wall. “Have at it.”

All too aware of his gaze tracking her every step, Samantha rolled her carry-on suitcase into the bathroom. Ignoring the slight trembling of her fingers, she locked the door behind her and changed into the lavender sleep shirt she had been wearing when Will had kicked in her door. Then she washed her face and brushed her teeth in record time.

Truth to tell, she was exhausted. She didn’t care where she slept as long as she had a place to rest her head. And she was still hoping Will McCabe’s gentlemanly instincts would kick in—surely the aggravating man had some!—and he would go elsewhere to sleep.

Finished, she crammed everything back in her suitcase, sauntered out and looked at Will—then felt her mouth go dry.

He had stripped down to his jeans. Raw power radiated from his tall, extraordinarily fit frame.

So much for the hope he’d make a chivalrous exit, Samantha thought.

He really intended to spend the night with her on that tiny bed! Unless…he was calling her bluff?

Pretending she wasn’t turned on at the sight of all that hard muscle and abundant masculinity, Samantha inclined her head in the direction of the bath. “It’s all yours.”

He ambled past, T-shirt and shorts still clutched in one hand. The door shut and the shower went on.

Not sure whether to be grateful for the respite or worried about what would happen if he really decided to sleep in the single bed next to her, Samantha sighed and climbed beneath the covers—a starched white sheet and green wool blanket. She put her head down, just for a second, and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew the bathroom door opened and a wedge of light spilled into the room. Will strode out, clad in his boxers and T-shirt, then switched off the light. She caught a whiff of man and soap as he slid in beside her, rolled onto his back and locked his hands behind his head. Wedged between the wall and his body, Samantha had nowhere to go. Worse, she was lying on her side, facing him. A position that was far too…intimate.

She turned, bumping her knee against his rock-hard thigh and her elbow against his chest. Her sleep shirt rode up. She tugged it down, then tried easing onto her back so she, too, would be staring up at the ceiling. His shoulders were so wide the two of them didn’t quite fit. She took a deep breath. “Could you turn on your side?”

“Sure.” He rolled to face her.

Heavens, he was a handful. “I meant the other way.”

His broad chest rumbled with suppressed laughter. “I know what you meant.”

Samantha set her jaw. And tried not to think about kissing him. Passionately, and without restraint. “You’re not going to cooperate with me, are you?” she asked irritably.

He gave her an innocent look. “This is me, cooperating.”

And she thought she’d known trouble before. “Forget it.” Samantha bumped bodies with him again, shifting around until she was on her side, facing the wall. They had maybe an inch between them. She could still fell the heat emanating from his skin. Hear his deep, even breathing.

Knowing this had been a gigantic mistake on her part, but not about to admit it, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Unsuccessfully. Yet before long she could tell, from the sound of Will’s breathing, that he was asleep.

She was safe. There’d be no more verbal sparring, no more quietly searching looks, no more attempts to figure her out, for at least a few hours. Just blissful rest with a strong, capable man lying beside her.

She ought to feel relieved at the respite from all the emotional stuff.

So why didn’t she?

WILL AWOKE AT SHORTLY after six in the morning. Remaining perfectly still, he looked at the woman beside him. She was sleeping soundly, her body not touching his. It hadn’t been that way all night, he recalled, with a strange mix of feelings. At around 2:00 a.m. he had wakened to the sound of a soft gasp and a slight vibration of the bed. It had taken him a minute to realize the shaking was in her chest. Samantha hadn’t struck him as a woman who did a lot of crying—if any—so the sight of the hand pressed to her mouth and the tears running down her face, as she struggled to suppress any signs of weakness, even in sleep, had made his own gut tighten.

Howard had told Will that his kid sister had had one hell of a childhood after their parents died, and it was all Howard’s fault.

Will knew what it was like to lose a parent. Samantha had lost both, plus her only brother, all at once. She’d survived by becoming tough. But that toughness was cracking under the stress of all that had happened to her recently….

Samantha stirred and turned, elbowing him sharply in the chest. Will grunted, and the noise woke her. She looked startled, as if she didn’t know where she was or how the hell he happened to be there. Sure he couldn’t handle an assault on his ears before he’d had coffee, he cupped a hand lightly over her mouth, in case she screamed. “It’s okay.”

A pleat formed between her brows as reality slowed dawned. “Says you. I’m stiff all over.” She moaned. “I need to get up.”

So did he. All this shifting around had made him think of things he didn’t need to be thinking about. He threw back the covers, eased off the mattress, stood and offered her a hand up.

Too late, he noticed that her sleep shirt had twisted around her waist, revealing black French-cut panties and a perfect body. Flushing, she scrambled to cover herself, while he got a clean pair of jeans from the row of metal lockers that served as his closet, and pretended he hadn’t seen. “I’ve got to go talk to my mechanic.” Will grabbed a shirt and boots and headed out the door.

An hour later, he had finished touching base with everyone who worked for him when Samantha walked into his office, looking gorgeous in a sophisticated black turtleneck sweater and slacks that would have been right for a New York spring day, but were way too hot for April in Texas. “How do I get to this breakfast with my brother?”

Happy to see her looking like herself again, he rose. “I’ll escort you.”

She peered at him skeptically. “You will?”

He reached for his keys. “Sure. Got to eat. Molly’s a heck of a cook.”

“Fine,” she muttered, running a hand through her wavy brown hair. “Then we head back to New York?”

“I told you I’d take you,” Will confirmed.

I just didn’t say exactly when.

Chapter Three

“You ever been to Laramie before?” Will asked from behind the wheel of his extended-cab pickup truck.

Samantha turned her gaze to peaceful tree-lined streets, a beautiful downtown district with historic buildings and a mixture of quaint and modern businesses. This was the West Texas of travel brochures, complete with a movie production studio helmed by legendary actor-director Beau Chamberlain, and a garment factory that produced Jenna Lockhart clothing. They passed the Lone Star Dance Hall, the limestone county courthouse and the community hospital before turning onto Houston Street. Restored Victorian houses sat on elegantly manicured lawns. Spring was in full bloom, as attested by the colorful flower beds and leafy trees.

Aware that Will was waiting for an answer, Samantha replied, “No. I’ve never been in this part of the state.” Emerging from the vehicle, she spoke above the sounds of a lawn mower one block over. “I grew up in Beaumont. Left Texas the year I turned eighteen. Never to return, until now.” Now that she was back, soaking up the distinctive Lone Star ambience, she wondered if that might not have been a mistake. There was something about this part of the country that felt familiar and much more comforting than she could have imagined.

Will met up with her at the bumper. He slid a hand beneath her elbow as they moved up the walk toward the pine-green frame home with white shutters and trim. “You went to NYU on scholarship, right?”

Trying not to think how much this reminded her of the home she’d grown up in, albeit on a much grander scale, Samantha eased away from his touch. “How’d you know that?”

Will shoved his hands in his pockets. “Howard told me. He thought it was because you wanted to be near him, since he was working for an investment banking firm on Wall Street back then.”

If anything, that had been a major deterrent, Samantha recalled with the bitter resentment that had haunted her for years. “Not quite,” she clarified. “That just happened to be where I got the best scholarship.”

The front door opened. A petite woman with short, curly red hair and flushed cheeks emerged. She had a smudge of flour on her chin and a welcoming light in her eyes. In contrast to Samantha’s brother, who was dressed like the investment banker he was, Molly wore jeans, a turquoise Western shirt and boots. Samantha had been prepared not to like her any more than she liked her brother. That was impossible, she soon found.

“Howdy, y’all!” Molly beamed, enveloping her in the kind of fierce, familial hug Samantha hadn’t had since she was eight. “Welcome!”

Molly ushered them in, leading the way through the spacious country kitchen at the rear of the home, to the slate-floored, screened-in porch overlooking the backyard. “I’m so glad you agreed to be in our wedding!”

Shocked by the assumption, Samantha took a step back and bumped into Will’s chest. His hand came up to steady her.

Howard sent an apologetic look at his bride-to-be. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Molly looked back at Samantha with an expression of longing for acceptance that Samantha understood only too well.

“Then I will,” Molly told him softly, clearly not understanding why Howard had delayed on this. “Samantha, we both would like it very much if you would be my maid of honor. It would be wonderful to have you as part of our wedding party. You’ve already met Will here—he’s the best man.”

Yet another reason why she should decline the invitation, Samantha thought.

The four of them sat down at a beautifully set wicker-and-glass table. “That’s very sweet of you to ask,” she hedged as they passed the dishes around, family style.

“It would mean so much to us,” Molly stated, the yearning for family plain in her eyes. “To me, especially, since you’ll be my first—my only—sister.”

Samantha had always wanted a sister, too. But becoming close to Molly meant being near her brother, as well.

Determined not to bring Molly into their feud, she gestured apologetically. “It’s not really a good time.” She tried not to think how long it had been since she’d had sausage and biscuits with homemade cream gravy. She knew she’d never had any quite this delicious, and the same went for the fruit compote and freshly brewed coffee. “I’m looking for a job right now.”

Compassion radiated from Molly’s eyes. “Howard told me you’d been laid off.”

Samantha swore silently to herself. She hadn’t wanted her brother to know. Doing her best to disguise her wounded pride, she turned to Howard.

He shrugged. “When you didn’t return my calls, I telephoned you at Gallimore, Smith & Tomberlin, and found you hadn’t been employed there for six months.”

A flush of embarrassment heated Samantha’s cheeks. Great. One more humiliation, added to the heap.

She regarded the others at the table with a great deal more confidence than she felt. “I’ve been looking.” She’d gone door to door to every ad agency in the city, and even ventured into Jersey, passing out résumés and meeting with human resource directors. “I’m sure I’ll find something soon,” she stated, knowing darn well that the odds were stacked against her finding a position anywhere near as prestigious as the one she’d had prior to getting involved with Shawn.

“You could look in Texas,” Molly suggested. “Or start your own advertising agency in Laramie County. I mean, I know it’s not the New York City ad world, but there’s plenty of work locally to be had by an enterprising individual. There isn’t an advertising agency for a hundred miles, so people either have to travel several hours to meet with someone, or do it themselves. Neither option is ideal.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but with several irons in the fire, I have to go back to New York.”

Molly understood, even as she refused to take no for an answer. “The wedding is this weekend. You can stay until then, can’t you?” She clasped Samantha’s hand. “It’s only seven days, and it would mean so much to us. Howard even has a car for you to drive if you stay,” Molly added. “That white Lexus coupe parked next to the house.”

Will squinted at the vehicle, just visible from where they were seated. “It looks brand-new,” he remarked.

“It is.” Molly got up to pour more coffee for everyone. “Howard just picked it up in San Angelo a few weeks ago.”

Will glanced in Samantha’s direction. She knew what he was thinking. It was a question city folk often got. “Yes, I know how to drive,” she informed him. “I learned when I was in Texas. I took driver’s ed in school—a pilot program paid for my car insurance.” Otherwise, as a foster kid, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the liability and accident insurance needed to take driver’s training.

“Do you own a car now?” Molly asked, returning to her seat.

“No.” Samantha stirred sugar and cream into her coffee. She looked up and found Will’s eyes on her once again. “It’d be impractical. I rent one when I need one. Otherwise, I walk or take mass transit.”

Molly rested her chin on her hands. “It must be so exciting, living in New York.”

More like lonely, Samantha thought, since all she did was work. And now, look for a job and chase mice in her tiny apartment.

“Hey now.” Will sat back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, his knee nudging hers under the table in the process. “Don’t count Texas out.” He winked. “Laramie has its thrills.”

Samantha knew one. Will McCabe. Not that she intended to become emotionally involved with him.

“I know this is a lot to lay on you all at once,” Howard interjected quietly, “but I promise, if you’ll be part of our wedding, I won’t bug you to visit us again.”

Samantha studied him, for a moment seeing the loving older brother he had once been, instead of the emotionally distant man he’d become, after their parents’ death. “You swear?”

He nodded, his eyes holding hers. “I know this is my last chance,” he admitted with a sincerity that touched her heart. “I know I have a lot to make up to you. I know there is no reason on this earth you should let me try. But I’d still like that opportunity, Samantha. I’d still like to be the family we should have been to each other all along.”

“I WISH WE DIDN’T HAVE TO cut this short,” Molly said, an hour later. “But I’ve got to get over to my office. And Howard has to go into Dallas on business.”

“Molly’s the mayor of Laramie,” Howard explained, wrapping an arm around his fiancée’s waist.

She hugged him back and acknowledged with pride, “My biggest accomplishment thus far has been to convince new businesses—like Howard’s and Will’s—to base their operations here.”

“Howard has his own investment banking business now,” Will told Samantha.

How odd, she thought, that everyone knew more about her only remaining kin than she did.

“Before I forget!” Molly snatched a turquoise folder from the console in the foyer. “Here is your schedule of wedding events. The first thing is a fitting at Jenna Lockhart’s boutique. It’s on Main Street, between West Avenue and Bowie Lane. She’d like you to come over this morning, if you can. Meanwhile…” Molly paused. “Where are you going to stay this week?”

Samantha sensed yet another invitation coming. There was a limit to how much she was going to put herself out there. “With Will,” Samantha replied.

“But…” Molly and Howard exchanged concerned looks.

“You’d be more comfortable here,” Will pointed out, practical as ever.

Samantha knew that.

“I have a very nice guest room and private bath,” Molly added.

Howard held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Don’t worry about running into me. I’m bunking elsewhere until after the wedding,” he said.

Knowing the more she accepted from Howard and Molly, the more indebted she would be, Samantha rejected the invitation with a pleasant shake of her head. “Really. Will and I are fine.”

“At the airstrip?” Molly appeared unconvinced, as did Howard.

Obviously, Samantha thought ruefully, the two of them had seen Will’s Spartan accommodations.

Trying not to think about what it had been like to fall asleep next to Will and wake up in the middle of the night snuggled cozily against him—only to come to her senses and pull away from him once again—Samantha stiffened her spine.

“The accommodations at the airstrip provide absolutely everything I need.” Including an incredibly sexy and interesting man to spar with. “So you don’t have to worry about me,” she said, knowing that much was true, because there was no way she and Will were sharing a bed again. Being so close to each other, even if not so scantily clad, was a temptation neither she nor Will needed.

She might be leading a very celibate existence these days, but she was still human enough to miss the emotional and physical connection that came with making love. Being back in Texas, dealing with her brother, was leaving her vulnerable and overly emotional. Samantha sensed it wouldn’t take much more than a few really passionate kisses or a well-timed hug from Will to have her seeing him in a whole new light. And while she guessed hooking up with him would certainly be pleasurable, it wouldn’t be smart. When she made love with a man again, she wanted to be in love with him, and most important of all, she wanted him to love her back with all his heart.

“Listen, see y’all later. Thanks for breakfast.” Samantha hurried out the door, Will ambling along behind her. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he thought she was behaving foolishly in rejecting Howard and Molly’s invitation to stay. For some reason, Will’s disapproval bothered her. And that was strange, since she had stopped caring what other people thought about her a long time ago.

Samantha reached the white Lexus being loaned to her. She unlocked the door and was immediately assaulted with the new-car smell.

Aware of Will lingering next to her, Samantha tossed her wedding folder and handbag onto the leather seat. Feeling his eyes upon her, she turned back to him. He came closer still, looking her over from head to toe in a way that electrified her senses. He flashed her a smile.

“How did I just agree to any of this?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. She had promised herself she was returning to Texas only long enough to provide closure and move on. Instead, she had let herself be goaded into spending the night—and sharing a bed!—with a man who was temptation personified, had agreed to meet her brother’s fiancée and participate in their wedding, all in a little over thirteen hours. At this rate, who knew what might transpire before the end of the week? If Will McCabe had anything to do with it, quite a lot!

Still studying her, Will put a hand on the top of the coupe. Understanding glimmered in his blue eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he soothed. “Staying is the right thing to do.”

Maybe being part of the wedding, giving Howard one last chance to make amends, was the right thing to do, Samantha conceded reluctantly. However, continuing to bunk with Will McCabe…well, that was something else entirely. That was courting trouble. He seemed to know it, too.

With effort, Samantha directed her thoughts away from his tantalizing presence and back to the conversation at hand. Just because he had the broadest shoulders and buffest chest she had ever seen—not to mention an Olympic quality lower half—did not mean she had to succumb to temptation.

“The right thing for whom?” she demanded.

“All of you,” Will told her. “Like I mentioned earlier, family’s important.”

Samantha knew that; it was Howard who hadn’t. Until now, anyway. It ticked her off that her brother had turned the tables on her, and was now insisting on having what she had so desperately wanted—and given up on ever having.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the open car door. Her heart was beating too fast again, and it was Will’s fault. “I don’t trust that Howard’s not going to hurt me again as soon as this wedding of his is over.”

Will rested his hands on her shoulders. “I know him, and I have to tell you that is very unlikely. But even if he tried, Molly would never allow it.”

Samantha couldn’t disagree with that—Molly was genuine to the core.

Silence fell.

Samantha regarded Will cynically. As much as she would like to let him become her confidant, her protective instincts were warning her against it. Will had made no effort to hide his allegiance to her brother. As kind as he was being to her right now, he was every bit as intent on changing her attitude as Howard was. And for so many reasons, that couldn’t happen.

Her momentary desire to cooperate faded as fast as it had appeared. She forced herself to harden her heart. “You knew my brother was getting married this week when you came to get me yesterday.”

Will dropped his hands. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

“You knew he wanted me down here to participate in the ceremony,” she accused, feeling more deceived than ever.

She’d gotten used to tending only to her own needs. Will—and Howard and Molly—were trying to bring her out of her shell. She didn’t want to complicate her life that way, didn’t want to risk being hurt, deserted or betrayed.

He rubbed his jaw contemplatively. “So…?”

Heat rose into her face. “So why didn’t you tell me that at the outset?” Samantha demanded, even more upset.

“You wouldn’t have come if you’d known he and Molly were going to put you on the spot like that,” he stated simply.

“You’re darn right I wouldn’t have.” Samantha dragged the toe of her Italian leather shoe across the paved driveway, no more eager to leave the premises, and end their postbreakfast tête-à-tête, than he apparently was.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t forewarn you.” He gave her a wink. “Isn’t it?”

Samantha ignored his attempt to tease her back into good humor. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she groused, feeling all the more hot and uncomfortable in clothing that had been designed for an East Coast spring. “I don’t have clothes for a week of festivities.”

Will checked out her breasts, waist, hips and legs, as if trying to assess her measurements. Imagining what it would be like if he was actually touching instead of just looking, Samantha felt warmth radiate through her. Was it hot out here in the morning sun, or what?

He stepped close enough so she could feel his body heat and breathe in the brisk, masculine fragrance of his cologne. “You could borrow some,” he suggested in a low voice. “I’ve got some sisters-in-law that are about your size. I’m sure they’d be glad to lend you anything you need.”

Samantha stiffened. If everyone in Laramie, Texas, was this hospitable, it was going to be hard as heck to leave. Determined not to let him see how much his nearness was affecting her, she lifted a brow.

“I’d rather not be indebted to anyone else here,” she said stiffly. Especially since she’d have no way of returning the favor.

Will rocked back on his heels and sent her a flirtatious look that upended her equilibrium even further. “Well, then, buying is an option, too,” he drawled. “My brother Lewis’s wife, Lexie Remington, designs clothes for young women. Her clothing line is in department stores all over the country now, but she has lots of samples at her design studio that she sells cheaply to locals. All you have to do is make an appointment to go in and see what she has.”

Aware that Will was systematically chipping away at her resistance, Samantha wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s not the point.”

Although the chance to shop at up-and-coming Lexie Reminton’s design studio was not to be missed. Samantha already owned a few of her pieces—she’d bought them at Bloomingdale’s in Manhattan.

“Then what is the point?” he asked.

Not sure when she had felt so off-kilter and aroused all at once, Samantha finally confessed. “I’ll go stir-crazy, hanging out here until the wedding.” She was used to the hustle and bustle of the city, the anonymity.

“Hey.” Will assumed the boldly aggressive stance of a determined salesperson. “You’ve got plenty to do, besides fulfilling your duties as maid of honor.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He moved forward slightly, further invading her space. “For starters, figuring out how you’re going to pay me back for your room and board.”

She snorted in disbelief. Maybe if she kept the banter up, she wouldn’t think about what it was going to be like being in close proximity to Will McCabe for an entire week. “You’d really charge me for sharing a bunk with you?”

He flashed her a grin. “Not monetarily.”

Whoa! The images those two words conjured up had her tingling all over. She pushed past him, then remembered she was supposed to be driving away. Getting a grip, she whirled back and decided to take him on, anyway. “I hope you’re not suggesting…”

He settled his large frame in the open car door. The look he gave her was direct, uncompromising, confident. Just seeing him that way made her mouth go dry. “My, my, you’ve got a naughty mind.”

Now would have been the perfect time to slip behind the wheel and peel off. Unfortunately, he was blocking her entrance to the driver’s side. Furious, she sputtered, “There is no way—”

“Relax.” He held up a hand before she could finish her tirade. “I like my women enthusiastic, to say the least.”

Samantha imagined they all were, given his ruggedly handsome appearance and easygoing, upbeat attitude.

Feigning disinterest, she rolled her eyes. “Glad we have that clear.”

He tucked his hands beneath his armpits, and continued watching her in a leisurely fashion that made her think about naked bodies and mussed sheets. “The question remains,” he murmured, “how you’re going to pay me back for the room and board. In a nonmonetary way, of course.”

Samantha sighed, wishing she had never gotten entangled with him.

“Obviously,” she retorted, “you have an idea.”

“Actually,” he replied, “I do. You’re an advertising whiz. I have a charter jet service in need of a new ad campaign.” He paused to let those two facts sink in. “Think you could put something together for me in a week, between wedding activities?”

Samantha tamped down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. “You’re serious.” She pretended she wasn’t dying for some work.

“Damn right I am,” he said with an enticing smile.

She dragged her eyes away from the tempting corners of his mouth, affected her best bored tone. “I guess I could do that for you,” she responded, with the same lazy insouciance he was now displaying. “On one condition.” She looked deep into his McCabe-blue eyes and paused to let her words sink in. “I want my own bed to sleep in tonight.” When that demand looked as if it might be met, she added crisply, “And some sort of comfortable chair to sit in. Plus I’ll need access to a desk, your computer and office supplies.”

Will responded with a nod and another enigmatic smile. “I’ll take care of it right away.”

FOUR HOURS LATER, Will had finished making up the flight schedule for the rest of the week and e-mailed it to all his pilots. He kicked back in his desk chair and folded his hands behind his head.

Samantha strolled in, sunglasses on top of her head. To his surprise, she seemed to get more beautiful every time he laid eyes on her. Why that was so, he couldn’t figure out. She was wearing the same sophisticated black clothing that marked her as a city slicker and covered up way too much of her lovely curves. And it wasn’t as if she had done anything different to her hair. The thick glossy waves fell unencumbered to her shoulders. She had the same deft touch with makeup. Not that she seemed to use much, from what he had seen. Her eyes were exceptionally captivating in an already gorgeous face—maybe because they seemed wiser than her years. And those lips, Will noted with no small amount of desire, were so soft and luscious looking he was surprised he hadn’t figured out a way to kiss them yet.

Not that he couldn’t have put the moves on her, had he been so inclined.

He just hadn’t wanted to scare her away. Hadn’t wanted to risk staking a claim Samantha wasn’t ready for. But when she was, he decided, he was definitely going to give it his all. And hope she gave it everything she had, too.

In the meantime, he noticed that she had definitely taken his advice and treated herself. She carried several shopping bags bearing the logos of local boutiques.

Obviously unaware of how his libido amplified at just the sight of her, she dumped the bags in a corner of the room and dropped down in the chair in front of him. The pressure at the front of his jeans increased as she pulled a leather-bound notepad from the oversize leather carryall that passed as her purse.

“Let’s get down to business. Show me what you’ve got.”

Irked by her deliberate lack of pleasantries, Will gave her a leisurely once-over meant to get under her skin. Taking his bad behavior a step further, he touched his belt buckle and waggled his brows. “Good thing I know you don’t mean that the way it sounds,” he drawled.

Behaving as if he hadn’t spoken, she offered a tight, officious smile. “If you want me to design an ad campaign,” she told him, “I need to review the advertisements you’ve been running to date.”

Impressed by her composure in the wake of his goading, Will opened his center desk drawer and pulled out a thin file folder. He pushed it across his desk. “Here it is.”

She snapped it up, then tapped the end of her pen against her lower lip. “I also need current data on your business. Number of planes, pilots, safety record, locations where you fly.”

He struggled to keep his mind on business. He should not be thinking about kissing her. “It’s all in there, too,” he said. “Look on the last page.”

For the next few minutes she perused the file, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You are efficient,” she said at last.

Maybe it was ego, but he wanted her to appreciate his accomplishments. “Surprised?” he taunted.

She closed the file with a sigh and looked at him. “Only by the pedestrian nature of this newspaper ad you’ve been running for your company to date. Who designed it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

It was hard to be so cocky now. “Me.”

She winced slightly, then sat back and recrossed her legs at the knee.

“You don’t like it,” Will stated, disappointed yet aware she had a point. The latest advertisement hadn’t proved very effective in drumming up new business.

Samantha made a seesawing motion with her hand. “Let’s just say I think it could be a little more inspired. Not to worry. We’ll get there.”

Will was sure they would, if Samantha was in the driver’s seat. “I like the sound of that.” Liked even better the notion that before the day was over he was going to find a way to get her in his arms and kiss her, at least once.

As if noticing the way he was staring at her, Samantha frowned. Before she could ask about it, however, footsteps sounded on the concrete floor outside Will’s office.

Oscar Gentry, one of Will’s favorite high school teachers, walked in. At age sixty-five, the silver-haired retiree with the kind eyes remained physically fit and well-groomed. But there was an air of desolation about him that Will had never seen before.

Concerned at what could have happened since the last time they’d talked, and hoping he could help the older man the way he’d once helped him, Will pushed himself to his feet and Will came around the desk. “Hi, Mr. Gentry.”

“Hello, Will.” The man’s handshake lacked its usual vigor.

Will touched Samantha’s shoulder. “This is Samantha Holmes, Howard’s sister.”

The distressed look never completely leaving his eyes, Mr. Gentry took Samantha’s hand, too. “Here for the wedding?” he asked politely.

She nodded.

“She’s also going to devise a new ad campaign for my company,” Will added.

Mr. Gentry frowned. “I guess I should have called first. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” Will gestured for them all to sit down, then settled behind his desk. “What’s up?”

Mr. Gentry adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I took your advice, Will. It didn’t work.”

Samantha started to rise, sensing that this was a personal matter. “Perhaps I should go.”

“Actually—” Mr. Gentry waved his hand, indicating she should stay right where she was “—I could use a woman’s perspective.” He pressed his lips together ruefully. “Not that what’s going on in my life right now is a big secret, anyway.”

Figuring it would be easier for him to explain, Will stated, “Mr. Gentry’s wife kicked him out.”

The older man ran his hands over his knees. “Yvonne changed the locks on me and everything.”

Samantha blinked. “Why?” she asked.

“It’s the darnedest thing.” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I went fishing, just like I do every Saturday morning, and came home to find all the locks were changed, my suitcases packed and on the front porch.”

“Had you been fishing a lot?” she asked.

Mr. Gentry shook his head. “No more than usual. Once a week.”

“And she never minded before?”

He sighed again. “She said she liked having the time to herself.”

Will tapped his pen on the arm of his chair. He looked at Samantha, noting her compassionate expression. “Mr. and Mrs. Gentry’s fortieth wedding anniversary is next Sunday. They had a big party planned. Mr. Gentry wants to make up with his wife before then.”

The man nodded. “Will told me to get her an apology card from the stationery store and take it to her.”

“Along with flowers and candy and her favorite perfume,” Will added. When Samantha frowned at him, as if that had been the wrong thing to do, he said defensively, “I figured he should cover all the bases.”

“Only it didn’t work,” Mr. Gentry continued, looking even more miserable. “Yvonne got mad when she read the card, and refused to accept any of my gifts.”

Behavior that made no sense at all, Will thought.

Samantha, however, seemed to think it was more a puzzle to be figured out than an unreasonable response. “And you have no idea why she behaved that way?”

“Yvonne said she needed a specific apology,” the former physics teacher revealed in an exasperated tone. “And I told her I can’t give her one because I don’t know what I’ve done to tick her off. And then she said that if I didn’t know what I’d done, she wasn’t going to tell me!’”

Will put his pen down. “I feel for you, pardner.”

“The question is—” Mr. Gentry took off his silver-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in dismay “—what next?”

“You’ve got to convince her you still love her,” Will replied.

“How, when she won’t even let me in the door?” he muttered.

Both men turned their gazes to Samantha, in want of feminine perspective.

She lifted her hands. “If you want your wife back, you’re going to have to wage an effective campaign to win her heart.”

Spoken like a true advertising executive, Will thought. Aware of how flawed her suggestion was, he chided, “Surely you’re not suggesting Mr. Gentry advertise to get his wife back!”

Samantha gave Will a censoring look. “There is nothing wrong with that. Advertising is nothing more than communicating sentiments and feelings—as well as facts.”

“Which is exactly what I need,” Mr. Gentry exclaimed, ready to grab any lifeline thrown his way. “So, would you help me figure out how to do that where Mrs. Gentry is concerned?” the older gentleman asked Samantha.

She dipped her head. “Sure, in an informal kind of way. But I’m going to need a little time to think about the best approach.”

Mr. Gentry thanked Samantha, told her where she could get in touch with him—at his fishing cabin on Lake Laramie, which unfortunately did not have a telephone—and left.

Will had wanted Samantha to become part of the Laramie community. He didn’t want her doing anything that could conceivably cause bad feelings toward her later, should she decide to stay.

“Should you really have promised Mr. Gentry that?” Will asked mildly as soon as he and Samantha were alone.

She looked uneasy. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” He shifted in his chair, struggling not to hurt her feelings. “Ad campaigns are effective sales tools.”

“Yes,” Samantha replied, clearly not liking the direction the conversation was headed. “They are.”

Figuring this might go over better if the message was conveyed casually, Will moved around to sit on the front corner of his desk. “They are also often misleading in that they promise way more than can actually be delivered. I’d hate to see Mr. Gentry make his situation worse, which could happen if his wife thinks he is being the least bit superficial in his approach.” Will paused, then tried again. “If Mrs. Gentry didn’t like the card her husband got her…if that wasn’t personal or specific enough…I don’t see how any public campaign designed by a marketing professional could possibly provide a solution here.”

Samantha’s mouth quirked. “You don’t think I can get them back together?” she taunted, rising gracefully from her chair. “Is that it?”

Will ignored the dark wavy hair spilling across one breast and focused on her face. “I think you’re an amateur when it comes to decades-long marriages and relationships, yes. Just like I am,” he admitted.

Samantha scoffed. “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered. Lips pursed in irritation, she slipped her notepad and pen back in her carryall.

“Huh?”

“Just because I don’t have a boyfriend now doesn’t mean I don’t know what it would take for a guy to catch my eye.”

He lifted a challenging brow. “And all women are interested in the same things, I suppose?”

Her slender shoulders stiffened at his deliberate misinterpretation of her pronouncement. “I didn’t mean that and you know it, Will McCabe!”

Trying not to think how much he liked hearing her say his name, he slid off his desk to stand beside her. “Then what are you saying?” he asked, forcing himself not to think about what it would be like to hear her say his name—in ecstasy, not temper.

Oblivious to the lusty nature of his thoughts, she slid her carryall strap onto her shoulder and tucked the bag close to her side. “That I at least have some sensitivity in these matters.”

He caught the implied dig. “And I don’t—in your opinion?”

She merely smiled in a way that reminded him he had been the one who had given Mr. Gentry the poor advice.

“I know a lot about romance,” Will declared irritably.

“Yeah?” Samantha tipped her chin in challenge. “Prove it!”

Chapter Four

Samantha knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that she should never have thrown down the gauntlet.

Will gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Well, thank you, darlin’.” He drew her carryall down her arm and tossed it aside. “I think I will.”

She caught her breath and splayed her hands across the hard surface of his chest when he tugged her close. “I didn’t mean on me!”

Ignoring her protest, he slid his hands through her hair, cupping her head, then started dropping kisses at her temple, along the curve of her cheekbone, the shell of her ear. “Ah, but what better subject to pepper with my subtle expertise.”

He was enjoying this way too much—almost as much as she was. The air between them reverberated with excitement and escalating desire. Struggling to control her erratic breathing, Samantha decided that the only way to survive this would be by making light of the situation. Her cheeks burning, she retorted, “‘Pepper’ is right.”

“Lucky for you,” he whispered, holding her face steady when she tried to turn away. Then he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, sensually tracing its shape. Eyes glinting mischievously, he brought her mouth up to his. “I like everything spicy—including my women.”

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