Juliana looked up, her eyes wide, her lips parted. “She moved.”

“The baby?” Jason eased closer.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was. The doctor said I might feel something soon—like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. And I just did.”

His hand lifted. “Can I…?”

“Yes, of course. But I’m not sure if it’s strong enough for you to feel anything yet.”

He placed his hand on her tummy, felt the swell of her womb, the warmth of her body, the softness of her breath. And although he couldn’t feel any movement whatsoever, he didn’t draw away. He just stood there, caught up in her floral scent and in the intimacy of the moment.

* * *

Brighton Valley Cowboys This Texas family is looking for love in all the right places!

The Boss, the Bride & the Baby

Judy Duarte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Since 2002, USA TODAY bestselling author JUDY DUARTE has written over forty books for Mills & Boon® Cherish™, earned two RITA® Award finals, won two Maggies and received a National Readers’ Choice Award. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she enjoys traveling with her husband and spending quality time with her grandchildren. You can learn more about Judy and her books at her website, www.judyduarte.com, or at facebook.com/judyduartenovelist.

To Betsy Bramblett, a dear friend and fellow author.

I enjoy our times together.

Let’s have coffee again soon!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Jason Rayburn had never considered himself an early bird, but as the morning sun began to rise over the Leaning R Ranch, he found himself pouring his second cup of coffee.

If his father hadn’t died, he’d be in Houston today—still in bed, most likely, but with thoughts of hitting the gym instead of repairing the barn door. After a good workout, he’d take a shower, then head to the downtown high-rise he owned and take the elevator to the top-floor office of Rayburn Energy Transport, where he was the founder and CEO.

With the recent death of his father, he now controlled Rayburn Enterprises as well, not to mention his new role as the sole trustee of the Charles Darren Rayburn Family Trust.

What a mess dividing that was going to be. And that’s what had led him back to Brighton Valley.

The Leaning R had been part of his great-grandmother’s estate, rest her soul. And Rosabelle Rayburn had left it to Charles with a stipulation—that it be divided equally to his issue upon his death. She’d wanted his children to be in complete and wholehearted agreement about its daily operation and/or division.

Yeah. Right. Jason and his half siblings had never been in agreement on anything. Granny, of all people, knew that. And he suspected it was her last-ditch effort to draw them together in a way she’d never been able to do while she was alive.

But there’d been a reason for that. Jason, Braden and Carly had so very little in common they might as well be strangers.

So that’s why he had to get the Leaning R up and running again and ready for sale. Because there was no way his brother and sister would make good business partners. He just hoped he could get them to agree on a real estate agent and a price.

When Jason was a kid, spending summers and the occasional holiday at the ranch, he’d dreamed of being a cattle rancher. But those days were long gone. He was a busy CEO now.

On rare occasions those old dreams might come back to haunt him, but there was a reason for that. He’d spent enough time on the Leaning R with Granny Rayburn growing up that he’d actually felt more at home here than he had anywhere else. Of course, that wasn’t the case anymore. He was a city boy now—and eager to get back to his life in Houston.

He didn’t have time for reminiscing, especially when some thoughts were so bittersweet they could make a grown man actually choke up like a little boy. Yet as he walked through the house, assessing the work that needed to be done, the still-lingering scents of lemon oil and Granny’s trademark lavender hand lotion assailed him in every room. So it was nearly impossible to escape the memories.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to lollygag in the past. He had too much to do, and he was determined to get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak, as quickly as he could. In the meantime, he’d set up a home office to work remotely. The corporate world didn’t stop spinning just because he had to handle some family business.

He would have to hire a couple of extra ranch hands to help Ian, the foreman, get things done. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to work along with them. He didn’t mind the physical labor. It actually drew him back to the time when his great-grandma was still alive, when he was a boy who loved to ride the fence line with the cowboys who’d worked on the Leaning R.

Too bad Granny wasn’t here to fix him silver-dollar pancakes for breakfast or to tell him about more of Grandpa Dave’s escapades.

He glanced at the faded blue wallpaper with pictures of straw baskets holding wildflowers. Now yellowed with age, the colors had once brightened Granny’s kitchen.

Damn, but he missed that sweet old woman. She’d been the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had.

The coffeepot gurgled, and he took one last sip of his morning brew before dumping the remainder in the sink. It wasn’t Starbucks, but at least it was caffeine.

He glanced at the cat-shaped clock on wall, its drooping black tail swishing back and forth with each tick-tock. Time to get moving. He had a lot to accomplish today.

Headlights flashed through the kitchen window, and tires crunched on the gravel drive as a vehicle pulled into the yard and parked. He wasn’t expecting anyone this early, but it wasn’t as if this was the Wild West and he needed to protect his homestead.

Looking out the kitchen window, he watched a woman climb from the small pickup, her hair pulled into a topknot. Instead of heading for the front door, she went straight for the back entrance—just as though she owned the place.

Carly?

His half sister had said she’d come out and help him inventory the household furnishings for an estate sale—the most difficult part of the job, which he had yet to face. But he hadn’t been expecting her until tomorrow. What was she doing here now—and at the crack of dawn? She’d never been an early riser, at least not that he could recall.

Jason was already in the mudroom when the door swung open and Carly stepped inside.

“This is a surprise,” he said. “You’re a day early. Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I can’t stay.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I just got offered a singing gig—an important one—and I have to leave town for a few weeks. But I wanted to let you know that there are some boxes in the attic that Granny was keeping for me. I don’t want you to throw them out or sell them. That’s why I agreed to help you inventory things, especially since I think you’re being way too hasty in selling the ranch.”

He knew how she felt. But it made no sense to keep the Leaning R going when there was no way the three of them could work together. And he had enough on his plate already.

“You could let Braden run things,” she added.

Hell, he and Braden rarely spoke. How in the world were they supposed to be business partners? That was one reason he was in a hurry to get the estate settled—so the three half siblings could each go their own ways. Not that he wouldn’t keep in touch with Carly. But with her heart set on singing and acting, that just went to show that they had nothing in common except the DNA they’d inherited from their old man.

“I also have some things to drop off for Braden,” Carly added, “but since he’s not home, I’m going to leave them here for him to pick up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Braden asked a friend to drop off some stuff with me. I’ve had it a week, but I’m leaving and already gave notice at my place. So I don’t want him to worry about where it is if he needs it.”

Jason kept in closer contact with Carly than he did their half brother. When they’d been kids, Jason had blamed Braden for the divorce that had sent his mom into an emotional tailspin. Of course, as he grew older, he realized Braden had been as much a victim as he’d been. But you couldn’t fix a relationship that had never really developed.

“Slow down,” Jason said. “Where is Braden?”

“I’m not sure. I think he’s in Mexico. It was all pretty cryptic. His friend pretty much just dropped the painting off, along with a couple of boxes. He said it was important that I keep it for him.”

“Why can’t you leave it at Braden’s ranch?”

“There must be a reason why he wanted me to hang on to it. Braden’s supposed to explain more when he comes to pick it up. He said he’d owe me one—but now he’ll owe you.”

Jason was about to object, but it wouldn’t hurt to have his half brother indebted to him, even if none of this made any sense. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“As soon as he can, apparently. A few weeks at the most.”

“What the hell? I want to get this property listed for sale. I can’t be away from my office while you and Braden are out traipsing around and going on with your lives. It’s not fair. And who’s going to help me pack up all this stuff?”

She blew out a ragged breath. “Talking to you is just like talking to Dad. I knew you’d never understand.”

Her words struck like the flat of a hand against his cheek. For as long as Jason could remember, he’d been trying to win his dad’s approval, by following in his footsteps, by attending the same college, becoming a business major, starting his own company. Yet he’d never meant to become a carbon copy of the man.

“Try me,” he said.

She merely rolled her eyes—big and blue, just like her mother’s.

Jason didn’t blame her for being skeptical. He and Carly had never been particularly close. For one reason, at twenty-four, she was six years younger than he was. She’d also been into music and the arts, while he’d been more interested in sports and, later, getting his MBA.

But since the three half siblings would have to compromise during the division of the estate, a task that seemed nearly impossible considering they couldn’t figure out a way to be in town at the same time, it was imperative that they learn to find some kind of common ground.

“Tell me about your singing gig,” he said.

She unfolded her arms and cocked her head slightly to the side, studying him as though she’d never met him before. Then she slipped her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans, rocked forward and smiled. “I’m starring in a nightclub near the Riverwalk. It’s a six-week run, but it could work into something bigger—better.”

She made it sound as if she’d been asked to star on Broadway.

So what would it hurt for him to pretend that she had?

“That’s great, Carly. I hope things work out for you.”

She paused a beat, then tucked a loose blond curl behind her ear. “So you’re not going to fight me about storing Braden’s stuff while he’s gone?”

He hoped that didn’t mean holding off the sale longer than he’d planned, but if he really thought about it, his relationship with his half brother was in far more need of repair than his and Carly’s. And if that meant doing Braden this favor now, then how could he refuse?

“Can you stick around until I find someone else to help me go through the household items?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. I start tonight, and I have to get back to San Antonio for a wardrobe check this afternoon. It’s a long drive.”

Crap. How was he supposed to go through the house on his own, plus supervise the ranch work—and hold down the fort at Rayburn Energy, as well as Rayburn Enterprises, without help?

Besides, he’d been hoping Carly would agree to go through the household items. It was hard for him to do it. Everything he saw, everything he touched, reminded him of Granny, and...well, it was hard. Damn hard. And Carly would know better than he would what should be kept and what should be tossed or sold.

“I’m going to have to find someone to help,” he said. “And quickly. If they can live in, then all the better.”

A slow grin stretched across Carly’s face, and he was struck by how pretty she was, even without any makeup. She’d always favored her mother, a popular country-and-western music star and who’d retired recently to marry a state politician. But he hadn’t realized how much until now.

“I know someone who’d be perfect—and she’s looking for work.”

“Who?”

“Remember my friend Juliana Bailey?”

Red hair, pigtails. Big brown eyes and a scatter of freckles across her nose. “The one I used to call Bird Legs? What about her?”

“She’s been working in Wexler at an art gallery since graduating from the junior college, but she was laid off recently. Now she’s back in town and waiting tables part-time at Caroline’s Diner. But she needs to find something that pays better. I’m sure she’d do a great job. And maybe, if you were happy with her, it might work into something more permanent—and in the city. I know she’d love to find something outside of Brighton Valley.”

“I wouldn’t want to give her any false hope about working at either Rayburn Energy or Enterprises. I leave the hiring up to the HR department. It makes my life a lot easier if I don’t get involved with the personnel. But I definitely need some temporary help here on the ranch, and I’d be willing to make it well worth her time.”

“You won’t be sorry. Juliana is bright, professional and...well, whatever it is HR departments are looking for in new hires. I’m not sure why that company in Wexler let her go. They’d have to be crazy or going out of business, because she had to be their best employee ever.”

“You don’t have to sing her praises. I’m a little desperate right now.”

“Good. I think she’s working this morning. I don’t have her new number, but you could stop by Caroline’s and talk to her. I know she’s been staying with her mom and grandmother in a small apartment near Town Square, so she’d probably work for room and board and a fair salary.”

Seriously? “You think she’d be interested in a simple offer like that? Even if it’s only temporary?”

“Well, that and the opportunity to at least have a chance at an interview with the HR department at one of your businesses. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Thanks, Jason. You won’t be sorry.”

For some reason, he was sorry already. But he set his mug on the counter and followed Carly out to the yard, catching up to her about six feet from the pickup. “How many boxes are there?”

“Two—one containing some ceramic stuff and another with paperwork. There is also a painting.” She opened the tailgate, then reached for a box. “Here. Can you carry this one into the house?”

Jason took the carton she handed him, although he had half a notion to drop the damn thing on the ground—or take it and dump it off at Braden’s ranch, which was ten miles down the road.

“Have you tried calling him?” Jason asked as he and Carly carried the boxes back into the house.

“Several times, but apparently he doesn’t have cell reception wherever he is.”

“Didn’t you think to ask what he was doing down there?”

“Braden’s not much of a talker.”

That was the truth. And he certainly wasn’t likely to confide in Jason. Hell, they kept each other at arm’s distance as it was. And as much as Jason would like to change that—as much as he now needed to change that—he couldn’t very well build or repair their relationship all by himself.

They deposited the boxes on the kitchen table, then returned for the paintings. He was supposed to be documenting all the stuff in the house so they could get rid of it—not adding more clutter. If he wasn’t so determined to mend his relationships with his siblings, he’d...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

But damn his father for dying and leaving him with a dysfunctional family and a messed-up estate to complicate his life when he had his own business issues to deal with.

And damn Braden for being so secretive and only making things worse by going MIA when his family needed him most.

Before he could voice any further objections, Carly was behind the wheel of her red Toyota pickup and heading down the road just as dawn broke over the Leaning R.

Now what?

He might as well head into town and get breakfast at Caroline’s. He needed some help, and it appeared that he was going to have to snag Caroline’s newest employee away with a better offer—room, board, a small salary and the hope that something better might be in the cards for her.

He didn’t want to even consider what he’d do if she didn’t accept his offer.

* * *

For a woman who’d once thought she’d left small-town life behind, Juliana Bailey seemed to have returned to Brighton Valley with her tail between her legs. Not that anyone knew that yet.

As far as the small-town rumor mill went, she’d been laid off at her job at an art gallery in nearby Wexler and had moved home to the two-bedroom apartment her mom and grandma shared above the drugstore. She currently slept on the sofa bed and made the short, one-block walk to Caroline’s Diner, where she’d picked up part-time work at a job destined to only last a few more days—at best.

She had a game plan, though. And that was to get out of town before her secret came out. In the meantime, she held her head high and bustled about the diner with her order pad in hand and wearing an oversize apron that matched the yellow gingham café-style curtains in the windows facing the street. She’d always been fashion conscious, but not as of late.

Loose blouses and an apron tied above the waist hid a multitude of sins, namely a growing baby bump, a secret that would be impossible to keep much longer.

Thankfully, no one other than her obstetrician, Dr. Selena Ramirez-Connor, knew that she’d been deceived by a man who’d neglected to tell her he was married. But if she wanted to protect her mom, who happened to be a church secretary, and her grandma, who worked at city hall, from her scandal, she’d have to get out of Brighton Valley quickly.

Trouble was, Juliana had just moved into a nicer place near La Galleria in Wexler, and when she’d decided to leave town, she’d had to use her savings to get out of her lease. So she didn’t have enough left to move to the city, especially since she didn’t have another job lined up yet. And with a baby due in five months...well, she was strapped right now.

As she refilled the coffee of the lone diner at table three, an elderly gentleman with thinning hair, she caught a whiff of greasy sausage swimming in the runny egg yolks on his plate. Her tummy swirled like a mop in a slop bucket, and for a moment she thought she’d have to have to run to the restroom.

She blinked her eyes and swallowed as the brief bout of nausea passed.

For the most part, the morning sickness that had plagued her for nearly six weeks straight had ended. But there were still a few random moments, like this one, when she wasn’t so sure...

“Thanks, hon,” the diner said. “I don’t s’pose you have any of those caramel cinnamon rolls left, do you? Margie said they were made special yesterday, and I was hopin’ to have me another today.”

“I’ll check and see. If they’re gone, I can get you one of the oatmeal spice muffins.”

“Sure, that’ll do.”

Juliana had no more than turned from the table when the bell on the front door jangled, alerting her to a customer’s entrance. She didn’t normally give the arrivals much notice because Margie, the other waitress, was quick to greet the many diners who flocked to Caroline’s for the food as well as the local gossip.

And the news that passed quickly from one person to the next, helped along by Margie, was another reason this was a bad place for Juliana to work if she didn’t want to bring any undue embarrassment upon Mom and Grandma.

But for some reason, Juliana glanced at the doorway now, only to note a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, but a face she hadn’t seen in years.

Jason Rayburn—who else could it be?—had grown up and filled out in the manliest way.

He was tall—six foot or more—with dark hair that was stylishly mussed. Even though she’d heard the wealthy exec was staying in Brighton Valley, she hadn’t expected to see him dressed in faded denim and a chambray shirt. It almost made him appear to fit right in, when he was as far from one of the locals as a man could be.

She’d followed his success and found him somewhat intriguing. Actually, the entire Rayburn family was pretty newsworthy around here—including both Carly and Braden. Maybe that’s why folks found them interesting. They had the same father, but they couldn’t be any more different.

She knew Carly and Braden well. Jason, though, was more of a lone wolf. A wealthy and successful one, from what she’d heard.

He’d gone into business with his father right after college. And he’d rarely come back, except for Granny Rayburn’s funeral. But he’d left town nearly as quickly as he’d come in.

He scanned the small diner. When his eyes zeroed in on her, a smile stretched across his handsome face, creating a pair of dimples and sparking a glimmer in his green eyes.

As he sauntered toward her, as lean as a cowboy and as cocky as a man used to staking his claim on just about anything he had a mind to, she nearly dropped the coffee carafe.

“Well,” he said, flashing a boyish grin and sending her heart rate topsy-turvy, “if it isn’t Bird Legs.”

She couldn’t help but return his smile. “If I remember correctly, I threw a rock at you the last time you called me that.”

“Yes, you did. I’d been bad-mouthing my brother, Braden, and you felt the need to stick up for him. And if I recall, you missed me by a mile.”

“That’s true, but I scared your horse.”

“Thankfully, I’m a good rider.”

That he was, although the mare had gotten skittish and Juliana had been sure he was going to get thrown. But she hadn’t liked him picking on Braden, who’d been her friend and sometime riding buddy.

She lifted the glass carafe, which bore more brown stain than coffee. “I’m brewing a new pot. If you’d like to grab a seat, I can pour you a fresh cup.”

“Sounds good. Thanks. Which tables are yours?”

He wanted her to be his waitress? Okay. Why not? She nodded toward the yellow-gingham curtains. “Any of those by the window.”

“All right.”

She retrieved a menu, as well as a fresh pot of coffee, and took them to him. “Here you go.” After upturning the white mug on the table in front of him, she filled it. “Cream or sugar?”

“Just black.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a minute to decide what you’d like, then I’ll come back.”

“Thanks. It won’t take me long.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she returned the carafe to where it belonged. Yet she feared there was more heat radiating from his stare than the coffee warmer.

Margie, who’d worked at the diner for as long as Juliana could remember, sidled up next to her and snatched the carafe labeled decaf. “Isn’t that Jason Rayburn?”

“Yes, it is. I talked to Carly not long ago, and she said he’s staying out at the Leaning R while he’s getting it ready to sell.”

“That’s what I heard.” Margie was up on all the local gossip, whether it was accurate or not. “But he’s grown up since I last seen him, so I hardly recognized him. He doesn’t favor Braden much, does he? But he does have the look of a womanizer.”

“Why do you say that?” Juliana asked.

“Looks too much like his daddy to not be. And you know what they say. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Charles Rayburn had grown up on the Leaning R with his paternal grandparents, but it had been his maternal grandfather who’d paid for his college and who’d set him up in business. At that point, he’d pretty much left Brighton Valley in the dust. Or so they said.

“I’d better get his order.” Juliana stepped away from Margie and made her way back to where Jason sat near the window.

The morning sun cast a glare on the dull brown Formica tabletop, but it had nothing on the sunny smile Jason tossed her way when she asked, “What’ll it be?”

“Huevos rancheros. I haven’t had that in ages.”

“You got it.” But instead of turning and walking away, she took a moment to bask in the glimmer of those meadow-green eyes. What color would a city girl call them?

Enough of that now. She had to get over her fixation on a palette of colors ready to spring to life on a blank canvas. She’d have to postpone her dream of becoming an artist.

And a romance gone bad made any other fantasies out of the question, too. So she returned to the kitchen and placed Jason’s order. As much as she ought to keep her distance, she had a job to do.

“Can I refill your coffee?” she asked when she passed his table a few minutes later.

“Yes, thanks.” He eyed her for a moment, as though assessing her.

Was he considering how much she’d changed? Did he like what he saw? Again, she chastised herself for letting her thoughts veer in that direction, even though it seemed only natural to wonder as his gaze caressed her face, her hair, her eyes.

“Carly told me you were working here,” he said.

“Just a couple days a week. I was laid off at the art gallery in Wexler and plan to find work in Houston. This is just a temporary position to help tide me over until I find something permanent in the city.”

“Well, I’m glad you were working today.”

The way he continued to study her made her wonder if he’d come in just to see her—and not to order breakfast. But she quickly dismissed the idea. “I’m glad I was here, too, Jason. It’s nice to see you, again. How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Something like that.”

She smiled and nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll check on your breakfast.”

Fortunately, Caroline was just placing his plate on the counter. So Juliana picked it up, along with a couple of warm flour tortillas and a small dish of butter. Then she placed his meal in front of him.

“Did my sister tell you I was staying out at the Leaning R?” he asked.

“She mentioned it.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“She said you plan to sell the place.” And that she wasn’t any happier about the decision than Braden was. But Juliana knew enough to keep that to herself.

“I also need to inventory everything and get it ready to sell. It’s a huge job, and I need to hire someone to help me. Carly mentioned that you might be interested in the position.”

“That depends.” Juliana definitely needed the extra money.

“If you’re talking about the pay, I’d make it worth your time.”

She placed a hand on her tummy, a movement that was becoming a habit, then let it drop. In truth, she was thinking more about the time it would take for her to get the job done. She only dared spend a few more weeks to a month in the area before her baby grew too big to hide. “What do you have in mind?”

“Can you take a leave of absence from here? I’d need you full-time for about three weeks.”

She wasn’t even working four hours a day as it was, and she suspected Caroline had only offered her the position as a favor to her grandma.

“I’d be willing to pay you a thousand dollars a week,” Jason said.

Her pulse rate shot through the roof, and she struggled to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor. That was more money than she could expect to make anywhere. And it would certainly help her relocate to Houston and give her time to find another position.

“There’s a guest room at the ranch,” he added. “You can either commute each day or stay there, if you’d like. Whatever you’re comfortable doing. But it’s going to take a lot of work and time. Granny was sweet as can be, but she wasn’t very organized.”

Not that Juliana wanted to stay out at the ranch with Jason, but the sooner she got out of her mom’s house and away from downtown Brighton Valley, the better her chances were of keeping her pregnancy secret.

Still, she was torn about accepting the offer. After all, the man’s father had had a reputation for loving and leaving the ladies, which meant Jason might not be honorable, upright or honest. And she’d just gotten out of a relationship with a man like that.

Besides, what would the townspeople say if they thought she was shacking up with Jason out at the Leaning R?

But the generous salary he was offering her was too tempting to ignore.

Besides, if things worked out and she proved herself handy and competent, he might recommend her for an office position at Rayburn Energy in Houston, which would be her ticket out of Brighton Valley for good—and before word of her fall from grace got out into the rumor mill.

All the reasons she ought to turn him down ping-ponged in her brain. She’d fallen for a womanizer’s lies and didn’t want to cross paths with another one. And as Margie had said, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

But the money he was offering her would allow her to leave town sooner and give her time to find another position in Houston.

“So what do you say?” he asked.

“When do you want me to start?”

Chapter Two

Jason had barely returned to the Leaning R and gone though a couple of cupboards when his office called with a list of several critical issues he needed to handle. He dealt with each one, which took no less than an hour.

When a pause sounded on the line, he realized that the last crisis had been averted—for the time being, anyway—so he adjusted the cell phone pressed against his ear, sat back in his desk chair and blew out a sigh. This was why he needed extra help on the ranch. He couldn’t run a company and get the place ready to sell, even if he could get his siblings to agree. Not by himself.

“By the way, Mr. Rayburn,” Marianne, his executive assistant, said, “we received a billing from a company called DII, which stands for Discreet International Investigations. They’re charging over three thousand dollars in services, plus fifteen hundred in expenses.”

Jason stiffened. “What in the hell was that for?”

“From what I understand, it’s a private investigation firm that did some research for your father in Mexico about four months ago. Braden had them send the bill to the office and told me that it was a legitimate expense.”

“Who gave Braden the right to authorize a payment like that?” And even more importantly, why had his father hired a PI? Did that have anything to do with his reason for being in Mexico when he died?

“I’m not sure, sir. That’s why I didn’t want to forward it to the accounting department without running it by you first.”

“Thanks, Marianne. Put a hold on it for now. I need to check into this.” After the line disconnected, Jason called his brother’s cell phone. The unusual ringtone indicated Braden was still in Mexico, but he didn’t answer.

For the next couple of hours, Jason continued to sort through cupboards while stopping every so often to try his brother’s number with no success. By the time a car drove up and parked near the front of the house, he was madder than hell and ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

Funny how just being in this house had him lapsing into the Western vernacular. He’d be saying “Howdy” and “y’all” if he didn’t get back to the city soon. He glanced out the window, only to spot an attractive redhead climbing from a white Honda Civic.

Juliana.

His frustration dissipated as he left his work in the kitchen, as well as the mess he’d strewn about the living room, and met her on the front porch.

An attitude change wasn’t so difficult once he saw her face-to-face, though. How did a woman become prettier in a matter of hours?

She’d shed her apron, for one thing. And she looked a lot less frazzled, for another. Maybe that’s because he was seeing her in the light of day instead of the diner.

The afternoon sun glistened off the gold strands in her copper-colored hair, which hung loose about her shoulders. Her eyes, a caramel shade of brown, glimmered under a fringe of long, dark lashes. She still bore a light scatter of freckles across a turned-up nose. But in a most attractive way that made a man want to memorize each one.

She wore a cream-colored gauzy top, and while it wasn’t the least bit formfitting, he found it sexy in a feminine way.

Rounding off her ensemble was a pair of shorts and sandals that revealed neatly manicured toenails.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his gaze traveling up—taking in her pretty face, then tempted to travel back down again.

Damn, get a grip. He was glad to have her here. He needed the help. But he didn’t need her to realize that she’d also brought in a ray of sunlight to what had started out as a dreary day.

“Here,” he said, “let me take your bag.”

“It’s not heavy.”

“Maybe not, but for some reason, I’ve been doing quite a bit of reminiscing these past few days. I think it’s a side effect of being here at the ranch. And I can’t help but hear Granny’s voice urging me to remember my manners.”

“Then by all means,” she said, handing over her suitcase while hanging on to her purse and a small canvas tote bag. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

His movements stalled for a moment, long enough for Granny’s voice to hover in his memory. You’re a good boy. You know right from wrong, Jay-Ray. Don’t disappoint me like your daddy did.

But he shook it off as quickly as it came. He’d done his best to make both his great-grandmother and his father proud. Trouble was, he wasn’t so sure he’d pleased either one.

He led Juliana through the living room, winding through the mess he’d made, and into the hall. He’d thought about giving her one of several guest rooms, but decided upon Granny’s bedroom, which was bigger and had a private bathroom.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in here.” He placed her suitcase on the lavender floral quilt that draped the queen-size bed.

“Thank you. This will be fine.” She set her purse and the tote alongside her bag. Then she glanced around the room, which he hadn’t entered in years—until he’d come in last night to change the sheets, dust and air things out.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t come into Granny’s room before then. Too many memories, he supposed. Even the furnishings, the white eyelet curtains, the embroidered throw pillows, still held a whiff of Granny’s powdery lavender scent. It was enough to draw a boy farther inside—and to make a man withdraw.

Juliana walked toward the south wall, which displayed a gold-framed portrait of Granny that appeared to be fairly recent. She’d only been gone for three years, and it couldn’t have been painted too long before that.

“That’s a perfect likeness,” Juliana said. “She looks just as I remember her—the eyes, the nose, the smile.”

Jason followed her, taking note of the expression that had been caught on canvas and thinking the same thing. “It’s like looking at a photograph, yet it’s softer. And almost real.”

“Did she have it commissioned?”

“I assume she did. I don’t remember seeing it before last night.” But then again, he hadn’t been home for any notable visit in years.

“The artist is quite talented.” Juliana stepped closer and read the signature in the corner. “I used to work in a gallery, but I’ve never heard of Camilla Cruz. I don’t believe she’s local.”

That was odd. Then where had Granny met her? Jason supposed it didn’t matter, so he shrugged it off. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you unpack and freshen up. Afterward, you can meet me in the den—I’ve set up a temporary home office in there. It’s two doors down on the left. As soon as you’re settled, we can go over your job assignment.”

“Sounds great. I won’t be long.”

* * *

True to her word, Juliana only took a few minutes to put away the clothing and toiletries she’d brought with her. Then she met Jason in the oak-paneled room with a bay window that provided a view of the front yard and the big red barn.

He had an all-in-one laser printer, fax and scanner that took up a table near a built-in bookshelf on the far wall, as well as a laptop computer that sat next to an old-style PC with a big, bulky monitor that had been outdated years ago.

“I see you brought your own office setup.”

He glanced up from his work and smiled. “I tried to talk Granny into updating her computer system a couple of years ago, but she refused. My dad bought it for her about fifteen years ago and installed it. She’d gotten so used to that dinosaur that she couldn’t see parting with it. But I need something a lot more high-tech for what I do.”

She nodded then moved into the den. “So where would you like me to start?”

He glanced at the laptop screen and clicked the mouse, just as the printer roared to life. “I created a spreadsheet to inventory the items inside the house. If you make a note of them on paper first, we can input the data into the computer afterward. Some of the items are antiques, so we may need to research their value.”

“What about the sentimental value?”

He looked at her as if she’d uttered words in a foreign language. “Carly mentioned that. I suppose some people are more prone to form emotional attachments to things like furniture, but I don’t. And I doubt my brother does, either.”

“You’re wrong.” She bit her lip, wishing she could take it back. She hadn’t meant to be so judgmental, even if she had wanted to defend Braden. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t think you know your brother very well.”

Again he paused for a beat. “You’re right about that—Braden and I haven’t been close. And if you grew up here in Brighton Valley and heard the local gossip, then you probably know why.”

Not for a fact, but she was aware of the rumors. And Braden had said enough to allow her to come to a few conclusions of her own. Their father, Charles Rayburn, had been married to Jason’s mother when he’d had an affair with Braden’s mom, during which Braden had been conceived. Jason’s mom had sued for divorce, but for some reason, Charles had never married Braden’s mother.

“Your family connection may not be one of your own choosing,” she said, “but you’re brothers just the same. I’d think that would account for something, especially after having that relationship for more than twenty-five years.”

“Believe it or not,” Jason said, “I’d like things to be different between us.”

“Have you told Braden that?”

“If we could find time to spend an hour or two together, I probably would.” He got up from his seat, crossed the den, pulled the empty spreadsheet from the printer and handed it to her. “This is pretty self-explanatory.”

Okay, so he was done discussing his feelings about his brother. That was fine. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. So she scanned the document and nodded. “When do you want me to get started on this?”

“Now, I suppose.”

“Do you plan to break for dinner?”

He glanced at the clock on the desk. “I guess we’ll have to. Sometimes I forget the time and work until my stomach growls, but that’s not fair to you.”

“Would you like me to cook something?” she asked.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, but sure. If you don’t mind. You may have to hunt and peck to find something decent to fix, though. I have some lunch meat and sandwich fixings, but I haven’t done any real grocery shopping.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“We can trade off kitchen duties,” he added. “But on my nights, we’ll probably call out for pizza. I’m not much of a cook.”

“That sounds fair to me.” She tossed him a smile, then headed for the kitchen.

Before she stepped foot into the hall, he stopped her. “I have a question for you.”

She turned and waited in the doorway.

“How do you know Braden so well?”

“We were neighbors before my grandma’s ranch went into foreclosure. He and I used to be riding buddies back then. I guess you could say we were friends and confidants.”

He merely studied her for a moment, as though he found that difficult to believe. Or maybe as if he might be a bit envious.

But of whom? Her or Braden?

From the way those meadow-green eyes were boring into her, she couldn’t be sure.

* * *

Juliana set out a delicious, mouthwatering spread of tuna rice casserole, sliced tomatoes, homemade biscuits and Granny’s canned peaches. Jason sat in awe at her domestic capabilities, especially when she didn’t look the least bit like a homebody.

She’d probably meant to keep her long, wavy red hair out of the way while she’d cooked, because now she wore it in a sexy topknot, with wisps of escaped curls dangling along her neck and cheeks. He would have guessed that she might have done it on purpose to tempt him—if she’d also changed out of that attractive gauzy blouse and put on a slinky tank top instead.

But she hadn’t. She’d also kept on that pair of knee-length shorts that revealed shapely calves. While they were modest and a far cry from a revealing pair of Daisy Dukes, there’s no way he’d ever call her Bird Legs again.

Now they stood at the sink, washing the last of the dishes, a chore he’d always done while staying on the Leaning R and seemed especially fitting this evening.

“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed dinner?” he asked.

“Yes, several times. And you’re welcome—again.” She tossed him a dazzling smile. “But I’m going to have to go shopping tomorrow to pick up something from the meat market. There wasn’t much to choose from, other than the sandwich fixings you had in the crisper, tuna, biscuit mix and your great-grandmother’s canned goods.”

“Those peaches were a real treat. And I can’t remember the last time I had tuna. To be completely honest, I might have passed if it was offered on a menu. But it was actually really good. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“My mom taught me. She’s a whiz at making a meal out of whatever she can find in the pantry.”

Jason rarely talked about his past, but for some crazy reason, he found himself saying, “You’re lucky. I lost my mom when I was just a kid.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“I’m sorry. At least you were old enough to have some memories of her.”

Not too many good ones. The years he’d spent living only with his mom hadn’t been all that happy. She’d been emotionally broken and damaged by his father’s cheating.

When he’d eventually gotten a stepmom and was able to move in with her and his dad, Carly’s mother had been too busy with her singing career to stay home with her own baby, let alone with a boy who wasn’t hers. So Jason had been sent off to an elite boarding school.

But that was okay. It had been good for him. Everyone had said so. Everyone except Granny, anyway. He’d once overheard her tell his father what a mistake he was making. But when that summer was over, he was sent right back to Thorndike Prep as always.

Still, he did have those vacations...

Thankfully, Juliana didn’t ask a lot of questions, and Jason was glad. He’d never been comfortable with anyone expressing their touchy-feely emotions or expecting him to talk about his own, especially when it came to his mother.

Granny had tried to step in and take on a maternal role, but it wasn’t the same. Hell, his mother hadn’t even been a real mom. He supposed he was one of those kids who’d pretty much grown up on his own in a lot of ways. He just hadn’t been without any of the essentials or all the shiny extras—houses all over the place, private school, fancy cars...

But he didn’t want to think about any of those lonely days and crappy memories, not when he had a beautiful woman at his side. So he said, “I have a bottle of merlot in the pantry. How about a glass of wine?”

“I’d rather have a glass of juice, if you don’t mind. And under the circumstances, let’s call it a debriefing. We can also create a game plan for tomorrow—or set up a calendar for trading off meal duties. But to tell you the truth, I don’t mind cooking. I’m not fond of cleaning up, though.”

If he was being honest with himself, as well as with her, he’d rather create a game plan for tonight, complete with romantic music, maybe a slow dance under the stars. But Juliana had put a stop to that by setting them both back on track. And he ought to thank his lucky stars that she had. Sexual harassment training was a priority for everyone in upper management at Rayburn Energy, and he’d best keep that in mind.

He offered her a platonic smile—his best attempt at one, anyway. “You’re right. That’s what I meant. Grab two goblets, then make yourself comfortable on one of those chairs on the porch. I’ll get the wine and juice.”

Moments later, he took the uncorked bottle of wine and a quart of orange juice outside. After filling their glasses, he took a seat, joining her under the soft yellow glow of the porch light.

He took a sip of his merlot and glanced at the barn door with the chipped paint and broken hinge that dusk couldn’t hide. He’d have to ask Ian McAllister, the foreman, to fix that next. Then they’d have to paint it, along with the corral nearest the house.

Juliana glanced out onto the ranch, which still needed so much work to be the kind of place Granny had called home, a ranch she’d be proud of if she were still alive.

He tried to look at the family homestead through Juliana’s eyes. He was going to have to hire more hands than Ian to help out around here. It was going to take an army to get it back into shape, even though they had only a handful of cattle left in the south forty.

So why hadn’t he recruited those extra men yet? Why was he dragging his feet?

“What are you going to do with the Leaning R?” Juliana asked.

“Granny wanted me, Braden and Carly to run it as three equal partners, but I can’t see how we can do that.” Jason reached for the bottle of juice and replenished her glass. “Unlike most siblings, Braden, Carly and I never agree on anything—the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the books we read.”

Even their memories of childhood and Daddy Dearest were as different as the three women who’d given birth to them.

Since Jason was the only one who didn’t have a mother, he’d been closer to their father. Not that he and his dad had done any of the usual father-son activities, like playing catch or going camping. His father had been way too busy with his corporate obligations.

Interestingly enough, they both attended charity functions benefiting the Boys Club and other youth programs, to which Charles and Jason both contributed financially. It was, he supposed, the closest they came to having a typical relationship. But Jason wouldn’t complain. He shared more with his dad than either Carly or Braden did. And while he hadn’t cried when he’d gotten word that his father had died in a car accident in Mexico a few months back, he’d still grieved.

Jason and Juliana sat quietly for a while, lost in the night sounds on a ranch that had seemed like a ghost town when Jason had arrived last week.

When he’d driven up that first day, there hadn’t been any cattle grazing in the pastures along the road, no Australian heeler named Mick to greet him. The barn, once painted a bright red, had weathered over the years and was in such disrepair that instead of asking Ian to take care of it, he’d thought he probably ought to hire a carpenter or two.

But it wasn’t until he’d noted the boarded-up windows on the house, unlocked the front door and entered the living room that the old adage struck him and he had to agree.

You really couldn’t go home again.

Whenever he’d visited the Leaning R before, he’d always expected to catch the aroma of fried chicken or roast beef or maybe apple spice cake—whatever Granny had been cooking or baking that day. But this time he’d been accosted by the musty smell of dust and neglect.

The first thing he’d done was to pry the boards off the first-floor windows and let in the morning sun. Then he’d called a cleaning service out of Wexler to put the place back to rights—or at least, as close to it as possible.

Jason had only spent school breaks and summer vacations on the Leaning R, but it had been his one constant. And the one place that held his warmest childhood memories.

Still, his plan was to put it on the market before summer was out—if he could get both Carly and Braden to sign the listing agreement. He hadn’t expected an argument from Carly, but he’d gotten one. And he expected one from Braden—whenever the erstwhile rancher finally showed up. Then again, he’d never been sure about anything when it came to his half brother. The two of them were only three years apart, but they’d kept each other at arm’s length for as long as Jason could remember.

Granny had tried to encourage a friendship whenever Braden came to visit, which was usually on Christmas or holidays. But Braden had a mother and family of his own. Maybe that was why Jason sometimes resented him coming around.

Either way, Granny couldn’t create a closeness between the brothers that wasn’t meant to be.

But why stress about any of that when he had pretty Juliana seated beside him?

He took another sip of merlot, savoring the taste.

“So what’re your plans after this?” he asked. “What’s next for you?”

“I’m going to get a job in the city—Houston, maybe.”

“Not Wexler?”

“No.” The word came out crisp, cool. Decisive.

Hmm. Bad memories?

She’d been laid off, Carly had said, and was only back in Brighton Valley temporarily.

Financial problems? Bad investments? Taken advantage of by a con man? Or maybe a lover?

It was too soon to ask. Still, he couldn’t help wondering.

Either way, Wexler’s loss was his gain. Or so it seemed, especially when he was sitting outside with a beautiful woman and finding even more solace under the stars.

There was also a lovers’ moon out tonight, casting a romantic glow over the Leaning R. His hormones and libido were pumped and taunting him to make more out of their time on the porch than a quiet chat, but common sense wouldn’t let him.

Juliana had made it clear that she didn’t want to cross any professional boundaries. What if she quit and left him alone to deal with the mess by himself?

He stole a glance at her, and when he caught her looking his way, she quickly averted her gaze. But as his attraction and interest continued to build, he realized it wouldn’t take much for him to reach out and touch her.

Or, at the very least, to ask her why she was adamant about not returning to Wexler.

* * *

Juliana hadn’t meant to stare at her employer, but he’d been so deep in thought that she couldn’t help it.

Okay, so she hadn’t just noted the intensity in his furrowed brow. She’d also been checking out his profile and the way his hair appeared to have an expensive cut, yet was stylishly mussed. In that Western wear—the worn jeans and chambray shirt rolled at the forearms—he looked like a Texas rancher. And a handsome one at that.

She tried to imagine him in a designer suit, seated at a board meeting in a high-rise building that looked out at the city skyline. He surely had to be quite impressive. Either way, Jason Rayburn was the kind of man who could turn a woman’s head.

He’d certainly turned hers. But she didn’t dare let her attraction get out of hand.

“Would you like some more OJ?” he asked.

“No, thank you. I’ve had plenty already.” In her condition, she had to use the bathroom a lot more than usual. And after all the orange juice she’d had already, she’d be lucky if she could make it through the night without waking at least once.

“This probably isn’t any of my business,” he said, “but do you mind if I ask you something?”

She’d always been fairly open and up-front, although she’d learned to be a lot more cautious recently. “It depends on what you want to know.”

“I get the idea you’d like to relocate. I can see why you might want to live in a bigger city. But I also sense that you couldn’t leave Wexler fast enough. And that it might be due to bad memories.”

She stiffened and leaned back in her chair. Her hand slipped protectively to her tummy. Instead of removing it, which she did whenever she’d found herself doing so in public, she opted to let it linger in the yellow glow of the porch light, allowing her baby the loving caress it deserved. “You’re right.”

“About the bad memories?”

“That the reasons aren’t ones I want to share.”

Silence stretched between them like a balloon she’d blown too full. Just before the tension popped in her face, she added, “But yes, there are some bad memories, too.”

“Related to your employment?”

The man didn’t quit, did he? She turned to him, caught his eyes drilling into hers. Why the sudden inquisition? Shouldn’t his questions about her background and previous employment have come up earlier?

Did she owe her new employer, albeit a temporary one, an answer to that line of questioning?

Maybe and maybe not. But a brief yet truthful response might help to quell his curiosity and put this awkward discussion to rest.

“Yes and no,” she said. “But if it eases your mind, I didn’t lie or steal. And when I left on my last day at work, my personnel file was unblemished. I wasn’t fired or laid off, though. I actually quit. If they have any complaints about me as an employee, it’s that I didn’t give a proper notice.”

He nodded, and before he could quiz her any further, she added, “Just so you’ll feel better about hiring me and trusting me with your family business, I had a romance that went south rather suddenly, and I wanted to put as much distance between the two of us as I could. Brighton Valley is just a pit stop before I take off for good.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“About my breakup?”

“About quizzing you and making you feel uncomfortable. But for the record, I’m actually glad you left the guy and his memory behind.”

A slight smile tugged at her lips, but she tried to tamp it down. All she needed was to lower her guard to the point of doing or saying something she’d regret. And if she’d learned anything out here in the moonlight, she was going to have to stay on her toes around a man like Jason Rayburn.

If he were like his brother, it wouldn’t be an issue. She knew Braden as well as she knew anyone in Brighton Valley. His mother’s family had been ranching in these parts for years. His grandfather was on the town council for a while. And his mom was involved in the women’s auxiliary at the Wexler Community Church. He came from decent people. In fact, she often wondered what his mom had ever seen in his father—especially if what she’d heard about Charles Rayburn was true.

In spite of herself, Juliana risked another glance at Jason, watched him take a drink of his wine, then stare out into the night sky, where a full moon and a splatter of stars glistened overhead.

But the stars weren’t the only things sparking. Her pregnancy hormones were surely coming into play and had to be triggering unwelcome romantic thoughts, which were totally inappropriate. She blamed it on her recent betrayal, the stillness of the evening and, yes, maybe a growing attraction.

For all those reasons, she couldn’t continue to sit outside with him tonight. It could only lead to trouble—or at the very least, temptation.

She had a job to do—one that paid better than could be expected. And she intended to make the best of it.

Even if she didn’t land an interview or a possible position with Rayburn Energy or Rayburn Enterprises, she could use a good recommendation, because she wasn’t likely to get a very good one from the gallery.

In fact, after the details of her romance and breakup became known within local art circles—and they certainly could have by now—she knew better than to ask for any kind of reference at all.

Chapter Three

Juliana had lost track of how many sheep had jumped over her bed that night—surely a flock that would make a Basque sheepherder rich.

Blaming the two goblets of orange juice she’d drunk while on the porch with Jason for her need to get up every couple of hours, she gave up the struggle for sleep just after midnight. She remembered reading somewhere that warm milk might help, but there wasn’t any in the refrigerator. Chamomile tea was another option, although she didn’t recall seeing anything like that in the pantry.

A trip to the market was definitely in order, especially if she was going to do any more cooking while she was on the Rayburn ranch. Since she was wide-awake, she figured she might as well head to the kitchen and start a grocery list.

With that in mind, she rolled out of bed and pulled her robe from the closet. She didn’t bother with slippers. As she took a moment to stroke the slight bulge of her womb, she pondered the phrase barefoot and pregnant.

How fitting was that?

As she opened the door, she noticed the light on in the den. Had Jason forgotten to turn it off when he went to bed?

She padded down the hall. When she turned into the doorway, she spotted him seated at the desk, glaring into the screen of his laptop. She studied him for a moment.

He’d run his fingers through his hair numerous times this evening. Yet even mussed, it didn’t appear the least bit scruffy. Compliments of a highly paid stylist, no doubt.

He frowned as he stared at his laptop, his brow furrowed. Yet even the intensity of his expression didn’t take away from his appeal.

She had no idea how long she stood there gazing at him, admiring his handsome profile, as well as his work ethic. A couple of minutes, she supposed.

Finally, he looked up and noticed her watching him in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

She smiled. “I never really went to sleep. What are you doing?”

“Problem solving. At least, that’s what I’m trying to do. We’re working on a marketing strategy that hasn’t been coming together for us, and I’ve been racking my brain to figure out what’s missing.”

“I wish I could help.”

“So do I, but the best brains at Rayburn Energy, including the head of the marketing department, haven’t been able to agree on the best layout.” He pushed away from the desk. “I’m not sure if I should put on a pot of coffee or call it a night.”

“I’d think caffeine is the last thing you need right now.”

He tossed her a boyish grin. “You’re probably right. Too bad we don’t have any ice cream or cookies.”

“I’ll put dessert on my grocery list. That is, if you want me to do any shopping for meals tomorrow.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but now that you mention it, I suppose we’ll have to find time to eat during the day. I don’t mind calling out for food, but if you want to pick up groceries, that’s fine with me.”

“We can play it by ear. But I’ll whip up something for dinner tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock and smiled. “Make that tonight. So what’ll it be? Chocolate or vanilla?”

“If you’re talking ice cream, let’s go with rocky road. I like nuts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind as I start that list.” She reached for the black leather cup on top of the desk that held pencils and pens. “Do you have any paper?”

He took a pad that rested near the laptop and handed it to her. “Here you go.” Then he returned his gaze to the screen that had him so perplexed.

“Can I take a look at it?” she asked. “Maybe I can help.”

Jason bit back a smile, which had been better than the chuckle that almost slipped out. The problem had stymied experienced execs with MBAs. Juliana had no experience in the business world.

Okay, so she’d worked as a sales clerk at an art gallery in Wexler. But still, she didn’t have the background that would provide her with the experience or the expertise she needed to actually know what she’d be looking for.

But what the hell.

He rolled back his chair, making room for her to see the screen. Then, using the mouse, he showed her the latest artwork and the graphics the marketing department had sent him earlier this evening.

“I see what you mean,” she said. “Something’s definitely missing. It doesn’t have any spark.”

She had that right. And while everyone knew something was missing, no one seemed to know quite what that something was.

“I think,” she said, “if you merged the wording of number three with the graphics of number four, then used the background of number one, it would be a lot closer to what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe so,” he said. “I’ll give that some thought. Thanks.”

As she stood beside him, he caught a whiff of her scent—something soft and exotic. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to be wearing. Something down-home and country, he supposed. Something more suited to Brighton Valley. But then again, she was city bound. Why wouldn’t she have a more sophisticated air? But did her scent come from her perfume or lotion? Or perhaps from her shampoo?

He glanced at her wild, bed-tousled curls, which gave her a sexy look that the frumpy cotton robe couldn’t hide.

What a contradiction she seemed—country vs. city. Lady vs. vixen.

Once again, his attraction built to the point he found it impossible to downplay or ignore, especially at this late hour, with several bedrooms down the hall to choose from.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and twined a loose red curl around his finger. “Has anyone ever asked you if your hair color is real?”

She sucked in a breath, yet she didn’t pull away. “Yes, they have. And it is.”

“I know it’s real. I remember you when you were a girl. It’s just that the shade is so...remarkable. Most people might question whether it was possible for something that pretty to be natural.”

Their gazes met and locked. For a moment, he could have sworn their breathing stopped.

Then she took a step back, and as her hair tightened against his finger, he let it uncoil.

While he might have released their physical connection, something else held them taut. Something he could almost reach out and touch.

She bit down on her bottom lip, then placed her hand over her stomach. He’d seen her make that nervous gesture before, which seemed to be unique to her. Other women nibbled a nail or twisted a strand of hair around a finger seductively. But he’d never seen another stroke her belly.

He found it kind of cute—the gesture, as well as the fact that he made her nervous.

She took another step back, clearly uncomfortable with the heat sparking between them, and nodded toward the doorway. “I’m going to start that grocery list now. And then I’ll try to get some sleep. Otherwise I won’t be worth a thing tomorrow.”

He sensed that she was the kind of woman who’d be worth her weight in gold—either as an employee or a lover. But he damn well couldn’t have her as both. So he let her go.

As he heard her bare feet pad down the hardwood floor, he glanced back at the screen, which displayed the artwork the head of marketing had sent him. He tried to imagine the changes Juliana had mentioned, realizing they did have some merit.

The woman might not have a business background, but she did have some experience with art—if you could give her points for working at what had to be a two-bit gallery in a town that wasn’t much bigger than Brighton Valley.

After giving her suggestion some thought, he shrank the screen and signed into his email account.

Doug,

Do me a favor. Try using the background on number 1. Then merge the text of sample 3 with the graphics on 4. Let me see what that looks like.

Jason

Then he hit Send. He wasn’t an artist, so he’d have to see the sample to know if it would work the way Juliana seemed to think it would. But it certainly sounded as though it might be a lot closer to what they were looking for.

If that was true, Juliana would have more than paid for her keep already. Of course, it was early yet. They still had a ranch full of memories to pore through.

And less than three weeks to do it.

* * *

In spite of getting very little sleep last night, Jason woke early and started breakfast. By the time Juliana walked in, freshly showered and ready to start the day, the coffee had finished brewing and the bacon sizzled in Granny’s favorite cast-iron skillet.

“Something sure smells good,” she said. “I thought you weren’t a cook.”

“I’m not, but I was a Boy Scout. So some things are easy. But I’m usually better frying bacon on a campfire.” He tossed her a smile. “I’m also good at making s’mores.”

She laughed, which lent a flush of pink to her cheeks and lit a glimmer in her caramel-colored eyes.

Damn, she was pretty—even casually dressed in blue jeans and a blouse she hadn’t taken the time to tuck in, the bottom button still undone.

“Besides,” he added, “I didn’t want you to think that you were going to starve while living out in the boondocks. And the truth is, I’m pretty good at fixing breakfast.”

“That reminds me,” she said, “I’ll need to make a grocery run sometime today. That is, unless you want to do it.”

He reached into his pocket, withdrew his wallet and peeled out several hundred dollars. “Will this cover whatever you have on the list you made?”

“That’ll be more than enough.” She folded the bills in half, then tucked them into the front pocket of her jeans. “My plan is to get started with the inventory and packing. Then I’ll take a break and go to the market sometime this afternoon.”

“That sounds good to me.” He nodded toward the coffeepot. “It just finished brewing. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thanks. I’ll finish the orange juice instead.”

He pulled the OJ from the fridge. Then he emptied the carton into a glass he withdrew from the cupboard and handed it to her. “You’ll have to add juice to that list.”

“Will do.” She turned and moved about the kitchen, taking time to check out the scarred oak table and chairs, as well as the various plaques, pictures and cross-stitch hangings with upbeat sayings Granny had used to adorn the walls.

Jason hadn’t wanted to spend any more time in this room than he had to. If he wasn’t careful, it would be too easy to become nostalgic and reflective here, mostly because he could almost feel Granny, could still hear her speaking to him, especially with so many of her favorite sayings nearby.

He glanced over his shoulder at Juliana. She was looking closely at a decoupage plaque. He couldn’t actually read the words, but he knew what that one said. It was a Bible verse.

He hadn’t meant to memorize it, but for some reason, it had stuck with him for years and he’d never forgotten it. He probably never would.

Granny had pointed it out to him the day before he’d left for prep school in California. She’d said she had claimed that particular proverb as God’s promise to her. For that reason, she said that she knew Jason, unlike his father, would grow up to be his own man. And that he’d always choose to do what was right and true.

For a moment, Jason thought Juliana might read it out loud. She didn’t, though. Yet she didn’t have to. He could almost hear Granny saying it to him again. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6.

Still, Juliana continued to study it, as if pondering the wisdom of it.

“Did you know my great-grandmother?” he asked.

Juliana turned to him and smiled. “Just about everyone in Brighton Valley did. She was a warm and caring woman. I think she was a lifetime member of the PTA, even though she hadn’t had a child in school for ages. She was also very involved in the Brighton Valley Community Church. When my mom was recovering from surgery, she and a couple other ladies brought meals to the house on a regular basis.”

“What about when Granny was sick? Before she died. Did anyone from the church bring meals to her?”

“I’m not sure. As far as I know, she kept her illness to herself.”

Jason certainly hadn’t heard a peep from her about any ailments. But then again, she’d never been one to complain. Her doctor must have known something, though. “You don’t think she told anyone how sick she was?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Still, her family should have been aware of it. And they should have done something—visited more. At the very least, one of them should have been with her at the end so she didn’t have to die alone.

A stab of guilt shot through him. Had she thought that her family hadn’t come through for her like they should have?

More importantly, had she thought Jason hadn’t?

Sure, he’d called regularly and sent money. He also had made a point to come to visit on Christmas and her birthday. Not always on the actual day, but close enough to count.

At least, he’d always thought so. But now, standing in her kitchen, surrounded by her furnishings, by her memory, he wasn’t so sure.

Juliana moved on to the far corner of the kitchen, where Jason and Carly had set the boxes and the painting that belonged to Braden.

“What’s this?” she asked. “Did you get sidetracked and leave this stuff here?”

“Actually, that can stay where it is. It belongs to my brother. He’s supposed to come for it when he gets back from Mexico.”

She reached for the painting, a Southwestern style of an old church at night, with a crescent moon and bright stars overhead.

“This is very good,” she said.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But I’ve never been a huge fan of that particular style. I do like the bright colors, though. It would look good in a ranch-style home.”

That’s probably why Braden had bought it. Jason returned his focus to the bacon, removing the last strip from the pan and turning off the flame.

“Wow,” Juliana said. “That’s weird.”

Jason turned and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, the tongs still in his hand. “What is?”

“It was painted by Camilla Cruz.”

At that, he set the utensil down, turned away from the stove and made his way across the kitchen to the oak table, where Juliana had placed the painting to get a better look.

“The same artist who did Granny’s portrait?” Jason asked.

“Yes. The signature is the same. See?”

He leaned in closer to take a better look at the script. “That’s really strange.”

“I wonder who she is.”

So did Jason. Obviously, Granny and Braden both knew her. Or at least one of them did. “Maybe you were wrong about her not being a local artist.”

“I suppose she could be,” Juliana said.

She seemed to think that she was an art expert, but Jason wasn’t convinced. After all, she’d only worked at a gallery in a relatively small town—and for just a couple of years at most. She was lovely, though.

As she leaned closer, her head angled next to his, her exotic scent snaking around him, he was willing to concede any credentials she wanted to claim.

She glanced closer at the delicate script of the signature. “It’s a Hispanic surname. Do you think it has anything to do with why Braden went to Mexico?”

“No, I doubt it. This is Texas. A lot of people have Hispanic surnames. I’m sure Braden is in Mexico because he’s following my dad’s trail.”

Juliana straightened, taking her scent with her.

“Are you sure my brother never mentioned anything to you about where he was going or why?” Jason asked.

“Sorry. I haven’t talked to him lately.”

Jason glanced at the box of pottery, as well as the other box that had been sealed shut with packing tape. If his brother had been missing in Mexico, with foul play suspected, he would have had every right to tear into the cardboard lid and try to solve the mystery of Braden’s whereabouts. But as far as he knew, his brother was alive and on some international escapade, the details of which he’d either neglected or flat-out refused to share with Jason.

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