# A Conard County Baby

Rachel Lee

MOTHER… NANNY… BRIDE?On the run from an overbearing family and a violent fiancé, Hope Conroy takes refuge in Conard County, Wyoming. But what can a pregnant ex- socialite do to keep a roof over her head?Divorced rancher Jim Cashford never expected to be raising an angry child alone – he needs a second pair of hands! Despite Hope’s secrets, something tells him that she’s just what his daughter needs. And the more he gets to know his beautiful, wounded nanny, the more he yearns to heal her heart… and form the family they all long for.

“I wasn’t afraid of you. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Maybe you should,” he said, his mouth twisting. “Not to worry. I’d never touch you without permission, but I still find myself wanting you.”

The bald admission stole her breath. All she could do was stare at him blankly, unable to even react.

“So, that’s part of what I was apologizing for. I’ll keep my distance, but you might as well know. Now that you do, if you get uneasy about staying here, just tell me. I’ll see that you leave here with enough in your pocket to go somewhere else you can feel safer.”

With that he rose, bade her good night and climbed the stairs.

Stunned, Hope sat on in solitude, her mind spinning, her heart filled with his blunt admission. Astonishingly, she didn’t at all feel like running

Conard County: The Next Generation!

A Conard County Baby

Rachel Lee


www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

To single parents, my admiration.

You have the toughest job in the world.

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Hope Conroy sat in the City Diner in Conard City, Wyoming, waiting for a man named Jim Cashford. She had rarely in her life been as nervous as she felt just then.

She needed the job. Her family had cut off her credit cards, she had the last hundred dollars from her bank account in her wallet and she didn’t know what in the world she would do if this guy didn’t hire her.

Clearly she had not planned her escape well, but her need to get away from Dallas had been urgent. She couldn’t take the pressure one more minute.

Instinctively, she lowered her hand to the gentle swell of her belly, a swelling so slight most wouldn’t notice it. But she did, just as she felt the little movements that seemed almost like bubbles popping. She would do anything for this baby, except marry the man who had raped her.

She wondered how much she would have to explain to this Cashford guy. His ad had said he wanted a nanny for a thirteen-year-old daughter. What if he thought a pregnant unwed mother would be a bad example? He’d surely notice soon. It wouldn’t be long before the whole world would be able to tell she carried a child.

So somehow she was going to have to explain this. Having a low-paying job for a month or two wasn’t going to help her much. A hundred dollars wouldn’t buy much gas. She doubted many people would be willing to hire a woman in her state.

When she’d first come in here to get a little something to eat, a newspaper had been sitting on the table. She had snatched it up before the rude woman had demanded to know what she wanted. Skipping immediately to the want ads, the words about the nanny had seemed to leap out at her, and for a few glorious minutes she thought life had delivered her an answer.

But brief as her conversation with Cashford had been, doubts had started to grow immediately. She’d hardly been able to swallow the roll she had ordered and most of it still sat on the plate in front of her. She wondered why he was so quick to come into town to meet with her. Did he have trouble keeping nannies? She feared she might be wasting nearly an hour waiting for him, and that tonight there would be no answer to her problem, merely another cold night sleeping in her car. Then what?

She’d been a fool in so many ways, but even reaching that conclusion didn’t show her any other way she could have handled it. She needed care for her child, for one thing, and while she could have gone on assistance in Texas, getting as far as she could from her family’s reach had seemed imperative. God, they were like hound dogs with a bone. They wouldn’t give up, they wouldn’t believe her and they wouldn’t let her shame the family. A triad she couldn’t escape except with distance.

A dusty pickup pulled up right out front. It must be Cashford. Her mouth turned immediately dry as sand, and her palms moistened. She wondered if her tongue would stick to the roof of her mouth until she sounded like an idiot who couldn’t even talk.

A tall, lean, but powerful man climbed out. Despite what Hope considered a chilly day, he didn’t wear a jacket. Instead, he had on the basic local uniform of old jeans, cowboy boots, a chambray shirt and a cowboy hat that looked as if it had been a lot of places besides on his head. A working cowboy. She’d seen them sometimes in Texas when she got away from the city. Very different from the dudes in Dallas who only wanted to look the part.

Sun and wind had weathered his face some, but she didn’t judge him to be terribly old. Maybe forty? A far cry from her twenty-four, but not that huge a leap. Under any other circumstances, she’d have considered him a hunk. Even in the midst of her overwhelming anxiety she felt a prickle of attraction, but quickly quashed it. Never again.

Attractive or not, right now, this guy might be a threat or a savior. She had no idea which.

He walked to the front door with that loose stride shared by people who spent a lot of time in a saddle. He opened it, waving to the grumpy woman who had served her. “Howdy, Maude. How’s it going?”

Maude frowned. “Barely getting by, as usual.”

“Well, that’s good I guess.”

Then he turned to scan the small diner with eyes so blue they almost seemed to cast their own light.

“Coffee?” Maude asked him.

“And a slice of your pie.” His gaze settled on Hope. “And bring one for the lady here.”

Taking off his hat to reveal dark hair that silvered a bit at the temples, he crossed the short distance and thrust his hand out to Hope. She reached up to shake it, finding it warm and work-hardened. “Jim Cashford,” he said. “Most folks call me Cash. You’re Hope Conroy?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. It was a dazzling smile that nearly took her breath away. “Good. I’d hate to be scaring off strange young ladies who weren’t looking for me.”

He slid into the booth across from her and didn’t say anything more until Maude had brought them both huge slices of apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream. Those plates hit the table with a sharp clatter, but Jim Cashford didn’t seem disturbed by it. A mug of coffee followed.

“Want some coffee?” Cashford asked Hope. “Maude makes the best.”

“No, thank you. Water is fine.”

He forked some pie into his mouth, his blue eyes scanning her. “I’ll be up-front,” he said when he had swallowed. “I’m not experienced at interviewing for a nanny. I usually interview ranch hands. But my ex died, I’ve got one unhappy thirteen-year-old, I can’t seem to connect with her and I’m working too much. So I want someone closer to her age to be a friend to her as much as anything, but someone old enough to have some sense. You said you studied psychology?”

“Yes, I have. It was my minor.”

“You got a driver’s license? A reference?”

She felt everything inside her start to crumble. A reference? She hadn’t counted on that. With shaking hands, she opened her purse and took out her license.

He studied it. “Dallas?” At that he looked up. “Suppose you tell me what you’re doing in the middle of nowhere this far from home?”

There it was. The impossible question. Part of her thought it was time to get up and walk out. But a more desperate part of her took charge. At least she managed to hold back the tears that were trying to make her eyes burn.

* * *

Cash waited, studying the young woman in front of him. Pretty enough to knock the wind from a guy. He might not get around much, but there was no mistaking that she was expensively dressed in a well-fitted green slacks suit, perfectly made up, and that her highlighted hair had been maintained by a better hairdresser than any around here. She smelled like money. Was this some kind of game for her?

But there was a pinching around her eyes that told a very different story. This woman had troubles. Aw hell. He was a sucker for a sad story. Maybe he should just finish his pie and head on home.

But then he remembered what would be coming home from school around four o’clock: Angie. His daughter from hell. A teen full of attitude and anger who refused to talk to him unless it was to say something nasty. A hellion. He was sure that somewhere inside he loved his daughter, but that was getting increasingly hard to remember.

So he waited on high alert for whatever tale of woe this woman was selling. What the hey, anyway. She was certainly eye candy, worth a few more minutes of his time with her ash-blond hair and moss-green eyes. Didn’t see many like her around here. They tended to get snatched up fast, turned old faster by hard work...or they left on the first bus out.

“You look desperate,” he finally said when she seemed unable to speak. Were those tears moistening her eyes? “Look, as long as you’re not wanted by the law, I probably won’t give a damn.”

“I’m not running from the police,” she said quietly.

He kind of liked the soft Texas twang in her voice. Just the hint of it, not overpowering. “So tell me what’s going on.”

She cast her eyes down. “It’s very personal.”

“Easiest person to tell something personal is a stranger.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to keep me around like a reminder if you don’t want. Get up, walk out, pretend we never talked.”

She lifted her gaze, and the faintest smile curved her lips. A little of her anxiety eased. “Are you really that easygoing?”

“I was. I got a daughter who’s making me less so. So let me start the truth or dare game. My daughter, Angie, is thirteen. Her mother died four months ago unexpectedly, so now she’s living with me. Thing is, she hates me. She can barely stand the sight of me.”

“But why?”

“Hell if I know. It’s always been that way. But now she’s living with me. I’m at wit’s end. I spend every minute of my working day worrying that when I get back to the house she’ll have run away. She’s always spoiling for a fight, too. I need someone to watch her. I hope this someone might get past her granite wall. At this point I don’t much care if she ever stops hating me, but I’d be a whole helluva lot happier if I knew someone was keeping her safe. So this isn’t going to be an easy job.”

She nodded, clearly listening and absorbing. At least she didn’t look quite so close to tears.

“So there you have it. An impossible job, an incorrigible kid and a desperate father. You get room and board and lousy pay for the package. Wanna run away now?”

She lifted her hands from her lap, pushed the pie with melting ice cream to the side and folded them together tightly. Slender, delicate fingers, well-manicured. Oh, yeah, he could smell the money. Whatever the outcome, his curiosity became overwhelming.

“Your turn,” he said.

She nodded. He tried to wait patiently and filled his mouth with more pie and ice cream to ensure he didn’t speak and push her into flight. Even if this came to naught, he wanted to hear the story. It wasn’t often anymore that he got to hear a new one. All the stories in these parts had been coming his way for years. An awful lot were reruns just to make conversation.

“I ran away from home,” she said finally.

He stiffened. This woman embodied the thing he most feared about Angie. Maybe he should stop right now. But no, she was twenty-four, she’d said, and running away from home at that age raised all kinds of questions.

“What happened?”

“Ugly story.” She kept her voice low, and every so often it would crack a little. He leaned in to hear better.

Another long pause, so he ate some more pie.

“Okay,” she said. “Short version. My family is prominent in Dallas. The kind of prominence where social connections are important and scandal isn’t welcome. I became a scandal.”

“You? How’s that?”

“Well, they wouldn’t believe me. You probably won’t, either. But I was engaged to be married. I thought I loved him. Everybody was thrilled. I’d picked a guy from the right family, if you get me. Everyone’s sure he’s going to be a senator one day. Except for one little problem.”

“You.”

“Me.”

“But what’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, I was raised right, taught all the correct things. You could say I was groomed like a show filly specifically to get to this place.”

“But?”

“He raped me.”

The words barely emerged from her throat. They sounded so tight that he was sure she almost choked on them.

“To hell with him, then.”

“You’d think.” She closed her eyes and her hands knotted into fists. “Nobody believed me, of course. Then I found out I was pregnant. I guess that rules me out as a nanny.”

For an instant it almost did, but then Cash had another thought. Here was a young woman, pregnant and alone, and a prime example of the dangers in life. She might be a good object lesson. So instead of shutting it all down, he decided to ask more.

“Why’d you have to run away?”

“Because they insisted we push the marriage up and make things all right for Scott. When I swore I’d never marry him, they told me I had to get an abortion. Because if there was one thing that must not happen, it was the kind of scandal that would ruin Scott’s future and hurt my family as a result.”

“That’s medieval!”

“So was the part where they kept me locked up. I didn’t get to go anywhere by myself, and then only rarely. It took me months to find a way to escape.”

“So you had to either marry your rapist or lose your child?”

“That was it. Oh, and I had to vow never to tell anyone Scott had raped me. Not that anyone believed Scott would do such a thing.”

He swore quietly. “Why didn’t they just send you to Europe for a year or two? Out of sight and all that?”

“Evidence. There’d always be evidence if I kept this baby. I could threaten him by demanding a paternity test.”

“They thought you’d do that?”

“I’d accused him of rape, hadn’t I? They were sure I was lying about that. Scott would never do such a thing.”

It sounded like a story from another age, or from one of those soap operas his mother had loved so much. Yet looking at Hope across the table, he could see very real pain. She’d have to be a pathological liar to make this up. In fact, a pathological liar probably could have come up with something more believable and inventive.

He sighed. He was going to do this. In his heart of hearts, he knew he couldn’t send this woman on her way at least until he knew the truth. He’d have the weekend to see how she interacted with Angie, and he’d make a point of being close by for a while after Angie got home from school.

“I guess,” he said, “that there’s no one I can call to ask about you?”

“Not even my best friend knows what happened. I’m sorry. I’m wasting your time.” Her lower lip quivered.

“I’ve got an idea. But before we go over to the sheriff’s office to check out your license, why don’t you eat some of that pie? Looks to me like you need the energy.”

He hated treating her suspiciously, but he had a daughter to consider, hellion though she was. The sheriff could find out if she had any warrants or past crimes. Then he was going to hit his computer and see what he could learn about Hope Conroy. If she came from the kind of family she claimed, he’d bet the Dallas newspapers would mention her more than once. And certainly they’d announced this engagement.

Satisfied he wasn’t being a total fool, he worked on finishing his pie.

* * *

Although Hope knew she had nothing in her background to worry about—as it was, she’d been allowed to do little enough in her life—she still felt nervous walking into the sheriff’s office. What if this somehow revealed her whereabouts to her family? And how could she ask about that without having to once again explain her situation?

To her surprise, she and Cash were immediately taken to the sheriff himself in his back office. She guessed that meant her would-be employer had some pull around here.

Cash made the introductions. The sheriff immediately aroused her interest. Gage Dalton moved stiffly as he rose from his chair, wincing faintly, and a burn scar covered one side of his face. She wondered what his story was, but not for long. She was too nervous about all of this to think of much besides herself.

“I’m thinking about hiring Ms. Conroy to help me with Angie,” Cash said. “I wondered if we could get a background check.”

Gage nodded as he resumed his seat. “Of course.” His dark gaze shifted to Hope. “You have ID?”

Here it was. Gathering her courage in her hands, she said, “This won’t allow anyone to find me, will it?”

For an instant she thought she’d completely blown it. Her stomach turned over and she felt almost sick enough to vomit.

“Depends,” Gage said. “If you have any wants or warrants from law enforcement it will.”

“But not my family or friends?”

“Not unless they have an inside line at the DMV or the national criminal database. Is there something I need to know?”

Cash stepped in, saving her. “Ms. Conroy is on the run from a shotgun marriage is all.”

“Well, this sure won’t help them find you. But you know they can trace you other ways?”

She nodded, her insides now feeling like a leaf shaking in the wind.

“Credit cards, things like that,” the sheriff continued. “A good private detective wouldn’t take long. Would they send one?”

Now her stomach quit doing somersaults and fell off a cliff. “They might,” she admitted.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Cash said. She darted a glance at him because his voice had turned steely. His jaw looked a bit tight. What had she said?

God, she just wanted to get up right now and run. But she needed this job so badly. She had a child to think of now, and that had to come first. With trembling hands, she once again pulled out her driver’s license and turned it over to Gage.

“I can check on this in about ten minutes,” Gage said to Cash. “If you want me to go in depth, that might take a couple of days, and Ms. Conroy will have to sign a release.”

“Let’s just start with this,” Cash said. “I can probably find out more of what I need to know online.”

Hope looked down at her hands, feeling like a bug under a microscope. But what had she expected? This man was talking about trusting her with his daughter. It wasn’t enough to meet over a piece of pie, with her telling a crazy story, and assume everything was copacetic. No way. She understood that.

But she also wasn’t used to this. She had come from a world where everyone who mattered knew who she was. She had never had to prove herself in this way. Or in most ways, she realized. Not for the first time in the past few weeks she faced how sheltered she had been. Now all the shelters were gone.

Time to grow up, she thought as they waited for the results of her record to come back. She had a child to think about now, and there was going to be no support from any direction as far as she could tell. Escape meant freedom. Freedom meant responsibility. Simply running wasn’t, and would never be, enough.

Ten minutes later, as Gage had promised, a deputy returned her license announcing she was clean, not so much as a parking ticket.

Gage and Cash had been talking generally about people they knew, the local economy and ranching. With a start she realized she hadn’t even remotely paid attention.

Not only was that rude, but they must be wondering what was wrong with her. All she knew was that she was tired, frightened, alone and embarking on a task she wasn’t sure she could handle.

But then she stiffened herself internally and told herself to stop being a wuss. She’d had three paths out of that situation, and two of them led directly to hell as far as she was concerned. Flight was all that was left to her...and to her child.

Cash rose and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Thanks, Gage.”

Remembering her manners, Hope summoned a smile and offered her own hand for a shake. “Thank you for your time.”

“Good luck to you,” Gage said. “Both of you.”

Cash laughed, but didn’t sound quite happy. “We shall see, I suppose.”

Hope guessed they would.

* * *

Hope’s sporty little silver car looked out of place on the street where she had parked it. It might have had a sign flashing Outsider on it. She couldn’t even sell it because it was in her father’s name. Entirely too dependent, she thought. Dependent on that man for everything, about to be handed off to a man who had a streak of cruelty she never would have imagined until that night when he took her virginity against her will. A bubble of anger burst in her, but she held it back. Not now. Maybe never. There were more important things than indulging fury about how she had been treated.

Cash had driven her to her car and he climbed out to help her. A gentleman’s manners in one who looked like anything but a gentleman. Of course, gentlemen weren’t always, were they.

“You won’t get to drive that much around here,” he said after she climbed in behind the wheel. “You probably won’t want to, anyway. It’ll take a beating on the roads, especially out toward my place. Speaking of which...”

She looked up, waiting, gripping her keys until they bit into her hand.

“My ranch is pretty isolated. I’m serious. You might go a week or longer without seeing a soul but me, my daughter, my housekeeper and my hired hands. Can you handle that?”

Tension suddenly let go. Isolated. “Right now that sounds wonderful.”

“Right now it probably does. Anyway, I’ve got an old pickup you can use so you won’t be stuck out there when Angie’s in school. You can run on into town if you need to. But most of the time—” he shrugged “—I hope you like horses and cows.”

“I love horses. I haven’t been close to too many cows.”

“Now’s your chance. Well, if you’re not changing your mind, follow me. We should get home a little before Angie gets off the bus, so you’ll have a chance to settle in and look around.”

“Thank you. Sincerely.”

His eyes crinkled in the corners. “Tell me that again after you’ve met my daughter.”

That almost sounded like a threat, Hope thought as she turned on her car and pulled out to follow his truck. Then her mood shifted abruptly. It had been doing that a lot lately, but all of a sudden she felt almost giddy. Relief for starters. She had a job.

A bubble of laughter escaped her, and a genuine smile softened her face for the first time in months. And for the first time, she actually noticed that it was a pretty September day.

* * *

Leading the way, Cash wondered if he’d lost his marbles. On the other hand, asking this woman to be a companion to Angie seemed better than having Angie racketing about all by herself too much of the time. All that seemed to do was heighten her hostility.

But if her anger with him had a dial to turn it down a notch or two, he hadn’t found it.

He was, he admitted, totally at a loss. When Sandy had left him, Angie had still been in diapers. In one fell swoop, he’d lost wife and daughter to distance. He couldn’t make as many visits as he might have liked because of the demands of work, and Sandy had moved all the way to Arizona. He still felt guilty about that, but over the years as Angie had distanced him, even during his visits, the guilt had become easier to live with. Now she was in his house and broken connections, or at least damaged ones, stared him in the face.

He quite simply didn’t know how to reach her.

Which brought him to this moment in time. Leading a strange woman, a pregnant runaway, home in the hopes that she might be able to at least keep the girl safer. That maybe she could reach Angie at least a bit.

That she could somehow find a way around all his screwups as a father. Because he really did hold himself responsible for this. Clearly he’d failed in some essential way, and blaming it on distance didn’t excuse him. He wondered if he was missing some basic instinct or knowledge. Wondered what he could have done differently, how he could have changed things. No answers arrived.

He reminded himself that his daughter was still grieving her mother. That was killer all by itself. But in the meantime, he had to do something. He couldn’t just leave her alone for long stretches of time to brood and hurt and fuel her anger. She needed someone, and he was working long hours. The ranch demanded almost all he had in these hard times and didn’t leave a whole lot of room for so-called bonding experiences. Not that Angie would let him get that close.

His life had turned into a snarled mess. He wasn’t blaming his daughter for it, but she was a problem he couldn’t evade. He had to help her somehow.

Hence a young woman from Dallas. He just hoped he hadn’t misjudged Hope Conroy, because she was the first person to answer his ad who wasn’t even older than he was. He felt he needed someone closer to Angie in age, someone who might actually be able to be her friend instead of her guard.

Although Angie probably wouldn’t note the difference. He could hear what was coming already.

* * *

The ranch was beautiful, Hope thought. As they at last turned into what she supposed must be his driveway, she took in the wide-open space with its backdrop of high mountains. They were turning purple as the afternoon sun sank toward them.

There weren’t a whole lot of cattle in sight but she still saw clusters of them scattered like a natural blessing in the open fields. They looked fat and happy.

The house itself rose two stories amid a stand of tall trees. White clapboard gleamed in the sunlight and a wide porch covered the entire front side. Wooden chairs dotted the porch and to one side hung a wooden bench swing.

Inviting. More inviting than the perfect showplace in which she had grown up with its manicured lawns and tall pillars, as if it were trying to imitate an antebellum plantation.

This house looked as if it belonged, and apart from it, the fences provided the only sign that man was here.

She pulled up on the gravel beside Cash’s truck and climbed out. No sound greeted her except the soft sigh of the breeze. It was chillier here than at home, but she found it invigorating.

Cash approached her. “Welcome,” he said. “Let’s go inside and get you settled. You have bags, I presume?”

“I’ll get them.”

“I’ll help.”

Hope opened her trunk, revealing her set of matched Louis Vuitton bags. She thought she saw his eyebrows lift, but it was hard to be sure under that battered cowboy hat.

She’d never thought about that luggage before, but she thought about it now. Those bags shrieked status and money as they were intended to do. She actually felt embarrassed by them. Boy, her worldview was undergoing some radical shifts.

She followed him willingly up the steps, across the porch and in through the front door. She tugged her rolling carry-on and hung her personal care bag over her shoulder. Cash hefted the two larger ones as if they weighed nothing at all.

Inside she was surprised by a large foyer with heavily polished wood floors and a wide wood staircase leading upstairs. Clearly this ranch had known some good times. Either that or someone was very much into carpentry. He led her up the stairs.

“My housekeeper comes three times a week so I’m not asking you to clean or cook.”

Hope was glad to hear it because she’d never seriously cleaned or cooked in her life. Yeah, she’d done bits of both, especially when she wanted to try out her baking skills in high school, but mostly all of that had been taken care of. Something else she was going to need to learn. She wondered if the housekeeper would help her.

At the top of the stairs, they turned right and he showed her into a spacious but simply furnished room. There was a bed, a rocking chair, a bureau with mirror. Small rugs scattered the floor with color, while everything else was fairly plain, even the curtains.

“This is yours,” he said, putting her bags down. “Take your time. The bathroom is that way down the hall, and Angie is right across from you. I’m at the other end.”

He glanced at his watch. “She’ll be home in an hour.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“She won’t be.” Then he flashed a crooked smile and vanished, closing the door behind him.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, looking around herself, thinking about how rapidly life could change. The rape, her escape and flight, and now her first real job. Until this moment, the majority of her thoughts had been focused on getting away and trying not to think about the horror Scott had inflicted on her. Now, in a strange room in a strange place, she realized her challenges had only just begun.

Relief at having this chance to prove herself gave way to determination to succeed. Somehow, some way, she was going to do this job right.

In the meantime, she decided to scrub the makeup from her face, put her hair in a ponytail and don one of her few pairs of jeans. The rest of her clothes would be useless here, utterly out of place. Regardless, pretty soon nothing would fit. It was getting hard to button her jeans. She’d have to do something about that.

It was time to make the rest of her transformation.

* * *

Downstairs, Cash went into his office and started his computer. He closed his financial files and began to search the internet for Hope. If any of her story was true, he’d find the important pieces here.

It didn’t take him long. Hope Conroy was a well-known name in the Dallas newspaper. Her engagement photo with a handsome man only a few years older than she was blazed across nearly the entire top of one page. Beneath was a detailed and saccharine description of her, her fiancé—definitely touted as a man with a bright future in politics—and their families. In one swoop he picked up enough information to get a pretty clear picture that she wasn’t exaggerating about scandal. These folks wouldn’t put up with it.

She was mentioned surprisingly often, appearing at charity balls, participating in various volunteer activities, none of which had much to do with the underside of life except for one large homeless charity where she sat on a board.

There was more, raising his eyebrows with each revelation. Money, more money than he could imagine, colored every word. He knew girls who wanted to be barrel riders, not girls who participated in dressage. But Hope had, for a while.

He nearly put his head in his hands when he finished reading.

He had hired a twenty-four-carat, hot damn, for real Texas princess.

Chapter Two

Just about the time the school bus would drop Angie at the end of the driveway, Cash emerged from his office. He discovered Hope standing nervously in the foyer, dressed in clothes that looked better in these parts even if the designer label on her jeans didn’t. No makeup, which to his way of thinking made her prettier, and the ponytail at least softened the too-perfect hair.

A damned Texas princess. The thought was still rolling around in his head, and he was wrestling with the possibility that he had just made a big mistake. He’d picked up that she’d come from money, he just hadn’t guessed what kind of money. If she started filling Angie’s head with stories of trips to ski in the Alps and parties on private yachts, he didn’t know what he was going to do. His daughter already owned enough discontent to fill half the Pacific Ocean.

Unfortunately for Angie, she was a rancher’s daughter, not the daughter of a billionaire. She had to make peace with that somehow, at least until she could leave for college. Of course, it would be a state college, not some place like Radcliffe or Vassar, but it would give her a leg up if she didn’t want to stay here. He suspected she wouldn’t, and that was okay. But he had to keep her expectations and dreams on enough of a leash to at least get through high school in one piece.

He seriously doubted that Hope would be the one to do it.

As she turned to him, he spoke without preamble. “Angie’s going to walk through that door any minute. So I want something clear.”

She questioned him with a look from moss-green eyes.

“I read up about you in the papers. Not many people enjoy the advantages you had, and my kid never will. I don’t want you filling her head with fairy-tale dreams she can never have.”

“Fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,” she said. “Trust me, the less I talk about my past, the better. All those advantages? They turned into a prison and they’re gone now. At this point in time, your daughter has a brighter future than I do.”

He liked the spark he saw in her then, a brief flash of anger, and a whole lot of clear-eyed determination. “Okay, then.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” Hope said after a moment. “Maybe Angie and I can learn together.”

He wondered what she meant by that, but before he could answer, the door flew open and Angie stormed in. A dark-haired girl, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of a band. She hadn’t even got inside and she was already looking for a fight. Fire filled her dark eyes, and she slung her book bag onto the floor. It slid until it hit the wall.

“That school sucks,” she announced before anyone could greet her. “Some of the boys smell like cows and manure. The teachers are stupid. The whole place is stupid.” Then her flashing eyes landed on Hope. “What’s this? Your girlfriend? Or my keeper? Either way, I don’t want her here.” She glared at Hope. “Get out of here. Now.”

Then she ran up the stairs, leaving her bag where it had fallen, punctuating her rant by slamming the door upstairs hard enough to make the windows rattle a bit.

The sound of the girl stomping around in her room overhead became all that filled the silence.

Hope cleared her throat. “She’s very pretty.”

“Pretty is as pretty does,” Cash remarked. “There you have it. If she has any other mode of communication, I haven’t seen it. Still want to take this on?”

“I want to try,” Hope answered without hesitation. She gave him a wan smile. “I understand anger. I’ve been living with enough of it for several months now. She just lost her mother, you said. Well, I lost my innocence, so maybe we’re not very different.”

“You’re handling it a lot better.”

“Only because I’m older and well trained. One mustn’t make a scene, you know. Not that I think Angie shouldn’t be permitted to express herself. God knows, bottling it up does no good.” She sighed. “Show me around? I need to know where things are and what your rules are.”

“I don’t have a whole lot of rules,” he said, waving her toward the kitchen. “I’d like some courtesy in communications, but basically, as long as it isn’t dangerous, no rules. There are always snacks for her, Hattie, my housekeeper makes sure there are fresh cookies in the jar. I’d like Angie to get her homework done every day, but trying to police that only results in another scene like the one you just saw.”

“Do you have any reason to think she isn’t getting it done?”

“I asked the teachers to let me know.”

“Then I guess it’s safe to assume she is. What else? Especially the dangerous part.”

“No taking a horse out alone. She’s welcome to ride, but not alone. That infuriates her because she has to wait for one of my hands or me, and she’d rather die than go with me.”

“Well, I can ride with her if she wants. More?”

“If she rides, she has to take care of her mount afterward. We’ve been having a problem with that.”

For the first time, Hope looked honestly astonished. “Really? I took care of my horses. Part of the drill. Okay, I’ll make it clear, if she’s willing to ride with me.”

He paused as they stood in the kitchen. “I’m not a hard man, Hope. But this is my first experience of raising a child and I’m sure I’m fumbling. I don’t want to saddle her with limitations and rules, but she needs to pick up after herself, leave the bathroom usable by another person, and do her own laundry. I don’t have maid service.”

He thought Hope flushed faintly. “Did she have it before?”

“No, and that’s what makes this so strange.”

“More of her resentment,” Hope suggested. “It’s got to be hard to lose your mother. What happened, if I’m not being too nosy?”

“Peritonitis. Fast and hard, from what I understand, but I don’t have all the details. By the time Sandy felt sick enough to go to the hospital, it was too late. A matter of hours.”

Hope nodded and looked down. “She must have been terrified. Angie, I mean. To have that happen so fast, and it’s not even like a car accident. Her mom was sick—they should have been able to help her.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Cash contemplated that for a minute, realizing that he probably hadn’t spent enough time thinking of what his daughter was dealing with. He’d been too busy dealing with her. Ah, damn, another failure on his part.

He looked at Hope. “I know I’m asking a lot, but try to be a friend to her. Before you, I had two very grandmotherly ladies apply for the job. This time I wanted someone closer to her age. Someone she could feel closer to, if that’s possible.”

Hope nodded slowly. “I’d guess that right now the last thing she would want would be someone trying to stand in for her mother.”

“Hell, she doesn’t even want a father. But I get what you’re saying. I’m not expecting miracles, though I’d like to see her a little happier and a little more comfortable here. I’m not totally oblivious. She didn’t just lose her mother—she lost her home, her friends, her school. The school counselor is trying to work with her, but so far she’s just not talking. Well, except to yell at me.”

“I’m sure this is hard on you.”

“I’m not looking for sympathy,” he said frankly. “I don’t need it. That girl needs something, and clearly I’m not giving it to her.”

“I’ll try,” Hope said. “That’s all I can do.”

“It’s all I can ask.”

* * *

Cash excused himself, saying he needed to get back to work. The stomping from upstairs had ceased, and Hope could only guess what Angie might be doing. Sleeping? Crying? Or just fuming? Anything was possible, especially since she didn’t know the girl at all.

She hesitated, then decided to make a cup of tea and settle in for a while, awaiting the next development. The tea bags sat on the counter next to an electric kettle and a coffeemaker brimming with what smelled like fresh brew. At least she knew how to make tea, from her years at college. Beyond that, a kitchen was mostly alien territory to her, although she supposed she could have managed coffee. As a child she’d spent some time with her family’s cook in the kitchen, watching and messing with dough, but cooking a whole meal? No way.

Nor would she ever have needed to learn if she had continued her directed path in life. Scott could have kept her in the same style she’d been raised to. She’d have spent her future on the boards of various charities, raising a child or two with the help of nannies, making public appearances for Scott when he wanted her to. A smooth and seamless transition from one life of privilege to the next.

But it hadn’t turned out that way. Part of her was still reeling from the rape, but she had managed to lock that away in a tight box because she had more important things to worry about, like escaping that man and saving her baby.

Perhaps the biggest shock of all, aside from the rape, had been her own family’s unwillingness to believe her. She was their daughter; surely they knew she wouldn’t invent such a lie? How could the change in her have been so invisible to them—one day the happy fiancée of a man who was going places, the next absolutely determined to ditch Scott? Didn’t that mean anything to them?

Could people be so willfully blind?

Apparently so. Sighing, she sat with her tea at the wooden kitchen table. She didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to explore the house on her own. One didn’t do that in someone else’s house, even if they were now an employee.

Or did being an employee make it even more out of line? How would she know? God, she had a lot to learn.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and tensed, wondering if she was about to be faced with another ragefest, or if Angie would simply slip out the door. If she left, was Hope supposed to follow her? Apart from the matters she didn’t know about caring for herself, there were a lot of big blanks in this job description. Try to be a friend to the girl? That would depend on Angie.

But the steps crossed the foyer, and Angie was entering the kitchen. Hope hesitated, then said, “Hi.”

The girl didn’t answer. She headed straight for the coffeepot and filled a mug, topping it with cream.

Hope waited, half expecting the girl to disappear again. But she didn’t. Instead, she came over to the big table, put her mug down with an audible bang and yanked out a chair to sit. Clearly she wasn’t over her anger.

“So who are you and what are you doing here?” Angie demanded.

“My name is Hope. Your dad hired me because he’s concerned about you being alone so much.”

“If he cared, he’d spend more time at home.”

Hope didn’t respond to that. Angie still wasn’t looking at her, and her long dark hair concealed most of her face.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Angie snapped.

“I don’t think you do.”

“Yeah?” The girl looked at her, her eyes snapping with anger. “Then what good are you?”

Good question, thought Hope. “I guess that’s for you to decide. Your dad said he didn’t have many rules so it seems it’s up to you and me to work out something.”

“That sounds like him. Let someone else figure it out. Well, you can go, because as far as I’m concerned, I don’t need you.”

“But I need this job, at least for a while,” Hope said honestly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d help me out.”

Some infinitesimal shift took place in Angie’s expression. She didn’t appear to soften, but something changed. Hope tensed, wondering if she’d just made a huge mistake. Basically she’d given this child power over her, and if there was one thing she had learned, it was how the strands of power flowed.

“Where are you from?” Angie asked after a few seconds. “Not from around here. Your accent.”

“Texas.”

“You came a long way for a crappy job.”

“So it appears.”

“But you didn’t come all this way for this job.”

Obviously not, Hope thought, but how much did she want to say. She’d already been through her personal wringer explaining to Cash, and besides, this girl was young. She didn’t need the ugly details. “No,” she finally answered cautiously.

“Something wrong at home?”

That put Hope squarely on the horns of a dilemma. If she said yes, she was running away, Angie might get her own ideas about running. She picked her words carefully. “There’s a guy. He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Not a nice guy?”

“Definitely not.”

Angie nodded slowly. “My mom had a problem with one of those. She got a restraining order, but she was still frightened. For a while she wouldn’t even allow me to walk to school by myself.”

“That must have been scary for you.”

“Sort of.” Angie guzzled some coffee with little finesse. “Did you grow up on a ranch?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s the most boring place on earth. Take it from me. In a couple of weeks you’ll be begging to get out of here. There’s nothing to do, everybody works all the time and I’m not even allowed to ride a horse unless someone comes with me. Since nobody has time, I just sit here and watch the clock.”

“No friends yet to talk with?”

“No.” Angie’s face darkened.

“Well, I can’t do anything about that. But I can take you riding.”

For the briefest instant, Angie’s face brightened. Then the dour look returned. “We’ll see,” she said darkly. Then she refilled her mug and left the kitchen, clomping her way up the stairs.

Angie had revealed a lot, yet very little. Hope had plenty to think about as she finished her tea then stepped outside to take a brief stroll.

The rapid cooling of the afternoon surprised her. It hadn’t been that long since she arrived, but the sun was sinking behind the mountains now, and the air held a definite nip. She ignored it instead of getting her jacket and just walked around the house, taking in the setting and the expanses.

She could understand why Hope was bored here. No friends to spend hours on the phone with, no place to go, unable to ride without an escort. Yet at the same time there were beauties here that cried out for exploration. Some of the cattle had come close to the fence out back, and she walked over to them, ignoring the chill that was beginning to make her shiver.

One with big, dark brown eyes paid attention to her. Clearly a female, she watched Hope’s approach placidly enough, yet alertly. Hope reached the fence and stood still, waiting to see what would happen.

The breeze stiffened and bit into her back and neck. She wasn’t going to be able to stand here for long, but the cow interested her. Step by step, the bovine came closer. Hope wondered if she was expecting some kind of treat or was just curious. She couldn’t imagine what a cow would want as a treat.

Horses liked apples and carrots and sugar cubes, but a cow? She could have laughed at her own ignorance. How many cattle barons did she know? Quite a few, actually. Men who had made it and could spend a lot of time in the city while others worked their ranches.

Not like Cash. Her thoughts drifted back to him and what he had said about working so much of the time. Not one of the lucky barons, evidently. But then nothing about him suggested the softness of wealth and being able to rely on others to do a job. She would have bet he could do any job on this ranch himself, and probably often did.

She heard the crunching of dried grass behind her and turned to see Cash walking toward her. In the almost eerie light of a world still bright with the sun in hiding behind the mountains, she thought he looked part and parcel of this ranch of his.

“How’s it going and where’s your jacket?” He’d donned a denim one with lining.

“I just stepped out for a minute.”

“Clearly Texas girls don’t know how fast it gets cold here in the afternoon. Are you communing with my cows?”

She looked back at the big black one that had been watching her. “I’m not sure. She’s been moving slowly closer, like she’s curious.”

“She probably is. Cattle have more brains than most folks credit them. Did you see Angie again?”

“We talked briefly.”

“And?”

“There might be a chance for rapport. It’s too soon to tell.”

He flashed a small smile. “I’ll take that as a good sign. Come on, you need to get inside. I can see you’re shivering.”

For the first time she realized she was. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked with him toward the back of the house. “So do you give cows treats like horses?”

“Some fresh alfalfa or corn makes ’em happy. But no sugar and stuff like that.” He gave a piercing whistle without warning and Hope’s ears winced.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Calling the dogs. It’s feeding time.”

For an instant, she was almost overwhelmed as six dogs came racing from every direction, tongues lolling, feet pounding the ground. From behind her, a cow mooed loudly. For just an instant, she felt a flash of fear. What if they bit her?

But then Cash gave another whistle and they fell in behind him like a troop of orderly soldiers.

“They’re well behaved,” she couldn’t help saying.

“They’re working dogs. No nonsense. But yes, you can pet them.”

At that a laugh escaped her. She felt so good right now that she wished this moment would never end. She was in a new place with so much to learn, with a challenging girl to deal with and a job.

And with Cash. Astonished, she almost missed a step. After Scott, she had thought she would never again feel attracted to any man. They couldn’t be trusted. But something about this man said differently.

She hoped she wasn’t developing delusions. And to save herself from that train of thought, she hopped to another track. “I think Angie would like me to take her riding.”

“Be my guest. I’ve got some good mounts in the barn, one gentle enough for her. One challenging enough for you, among others.”

“What makes you think I need a challenge?” She looked up at him and found him smiling beneath the brim of his hat.

“Background research. Dressage, huh?”

“Well, yes, but that was a while ago, and I’m pregnant now. How about you suggest a mare so old and gentle she wouldn’t think about bucking me off.”

He was still chuckling when they reached the house and he began filling a row of stainless-steel bowls with kibble for the dogs. Nearby was a huge tub of water.

“Can they come inside?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Generally I wait until they’re getting old and creaky before I make a habit of it. I figure they’re entitled to lie by a warm fire when they retire. Most of these guys are pretty young, though.”

“Don’t want to spoil them?”

“I don’t think I could. They love working. But they’re also dusty, dirty and full of grass and other things. Not exactly fit for the house.”

“Do you groom them?”

He laughed. “Of course. Much good it does, though. But yeah, I don’t leave them covered with burrs, ticks or fleas. I take good care of ’em, I just can’t keep them clean unless I keep them inside, and that’s not going to happen. Unless you’ve seen a dog flop on your couch and a cloud of dust arise from its coat, you can’t imagine.”

She supposed she couldn’t. The only dogs in her life had been her mother’s cherished Yorkies, who never went outside, and the dogs at the horse stables.

Inside, he announced that he was going up to shower. Before he vanished, however, he pulled three serving-size glass dishes from the freezer and popped them in the oven.

“Lasagna for dinner in about an hour,” he said, then headed upstairs.

Left at loose ends again, Hope helped herself to more tea. When she turned from the counter, mug in hand, she was startled to see Angie, who looked angry. The girl’s tone was sharp.

“You’re spying on me for him!”

Startled, all Hope could answer was, “No.”

“Yes, you are. I saw you out there talking to him. What did you do? Tell him everything I said to you?”

“The only thing I said about you was that you and I wanted to go riding.” Hope felt a spark of anger of her own. “He said he’d show me the horses in the morning so we could. Then we talked about the dogs. Am I going to have to report on every conversation we have to you? Because if so, life isn’t going to be pleasant for either of us. I don’t spy on anyone.”

With that, tea in hand, she marched past Angie and went to sit in the living room. Almost as soon as her bottom met the seat, she regretted her anger. This was not a good start.

But to her surprise, Angie followed her a minute later. “Those are designer jeans,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”

“We’ll see.”

“Are you some kind of rich bitch?”

The word shocked Hope and she hoped she managed to hide her reaction. This girl was trying to push her buttons, and she couldn’t allow it or she’d be done here in a few days. “Not anymore,” she said flatly.

“What happened?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday, when I learn I can trust you.”

Hope thought she glimpsed a tiny bit of uncertainty behind Angie’s angry expression, but it vanished quickly. She received another angry glare, then listened as the girl pounded back up the stairs to her bedroom.

This was not going well. She felt a wave of near despair along with drowning fatigue. She reminded herself not to expect much. After all, she’d only been here a few hours. And the fatigue itself was to be expected. Not Angie’s fault, but the fault of a long, stress-filled day.

Resting her hand over her stomach, she allowed her eyes to close. A little nap might help, she thought, letting her head fall backward against the sofa. She’d get through this somehow because she had to. There was absolutely no other option. Not yet.

Scott’s face swam before her eyes, filling her with a rush of adrenaline and fury. No. Not him. He was gone for good. Don’t think about him.

At last exhaustion released her.

* * *

When she awoke, she had a crick in her neck. She twisted it immediately, trying to ease it, then saw the room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Opening her eyes wider, she found Cash at the other end of the room in a green plaid-covered armchair, reading a magazine. He appeared absorbed. Several matching armchairs dotted the room, looking weary and worn. The sofa on which she had dozed was also green, but plain and a bit lumpy. No Angie in sight. She knew a moment’s shame at how much relief she felt. That girl was a handful, and she could only feel sympathy for her father. She understood that Angie had been through a terrible experience, but she seemed determined to push everyone away.

When she shifted some more, Cash looked up from his magazine. “Hungry? Your lasagna is still warm in the oven.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it.”

“Nah. It’s no problem. I’ll bring it out here and put it on a TV tray. You like salad? We’ve got tossed greens and some Caesar dressing.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Her mouth started watering before she even got all the sleep out of her eyes. For the first time she realized she had eaten very little that day. A hearty meal would probably make her feel a whole lot better about everything.

She felt marginally more awake by the time Cash returned with her meal and a beverage. “Thank you so much, but you really don’t need to wait on me.”

“You just woke up. It’s okay.”

Then he returned to his chair and resumed reading while she ate. As famished as she suddenly realized she was, she was glad he didn’t try to converse or keep her company. What looked like a large serving of lasagna disappeared rapidly, along with the salad. By the time she finished, she felt more than full, yet it wasn’t long before her spirits and energy began reviving.

“I needed that,” she remarked.

He looked up and smiled. “I saw how little you ate all day. You didn’t even finish Maude’s pie. I guess I’ll hear about that next time I’m in.”

“Did I insult her?”

“Probably, but it’s easy to insult Maude. She’ll get over it as long as you don’t make a practice of it.”

“I doubt I’ll go there very often.” She needed to save every penny from this job. She lifted the table, moving it back, and started to reach for her dishes.

“I’ll help.”

She glanced at Cash and caught her breath. She recognized a look of pure male appreciation when she saw it. She’d seen it often enough. Instead of feeling flattered, however, this time she felt as if little ice crystals grew inside her. Never again. No man would ever have his way with her again. As far as she was concerned, it was just fine if no man ever touched her again. Touches were lies and then they could be followed by demands that turned violent. As with Scott, who simply refused to accept her decision to wait for their marriage. The ugly names he had called her remained branded on her heart, and the memory of his greater strength, the way he had subdued her against her wishes and then violated her... No, never again.

“Did I say something wrong?”

She came back to the present with a start. Cash now stood only a few feet away, his hand extended as if about to lift her plate. “No...no. Just a...memory.”

“Not a good one.” But he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he helped with the dishes, showing her the dishwasher and then giving her a five-cent tour of the kitchen so she could find anything she was likely to need.

As soon as he finished, though, she pled fatigue. “I’m really tired. Do you mind if I go up now? Once I catch up on some sleep, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit. As she started to walk out toward the stairs, his voice stopped her. “Have you seen a doctor? About the baby, I mean?”

She froze, her back to him. “Not yet.”

“I think it’s high time. Don’t tell me you can’t afford it. I’ll see to it.”

She kept walking, unsure whether she felt annoyed by his presumption or simply glad that someone cared enough to help. She’d needed to see a doctor for months now, but it hadn’t been allowed. Her family didn’t want this baby unless she married Scott, and if she went to any doctor it would be for a discreet abortion. To see a local obstetrician might set tongues wagging.

She’d tried to escape long enough to see a doctor. She hadn’t managed, not with all the eyes ordered to watch her every minute. She couldn’t get out the door without a keeper.

Hand over her stomach, she mounted the stairs, still astonished by the rabbit hole one man had shoved her into. No proper prenatal care. No one to believe her story except a stranger in Wyoming. Her entire family had turned on her and had treated her worse than they would have treated a prized racehorse that might be off the circuit because she had come unexpectedly into foal.

Oh, she didn’t miss the parallels. From birth she had been groomed for one thing. Maybe the saddest thing of all was that she had been naive enough to believe they loved her. Instead, brutally, she had learned that she was simply a chip on the poker table of life.

Cash had been right. The whole thing had been medieval.

When she entered her room and closed the door, ready to sink onto a soft bed with a book, she froze. Even though she’d been in here only briefly today, she felt something had changed.

Looking around, she couldn’t imagine why she felt that way. Did the air smell different? How would she know, as little time as she’d spent in here?

She turned on all the lights, looking more closely, then saw that the closet door stood open just a tiny bit. At once she went over and opened it. One look told her everything. Her suitcases were not as she had left them. Someone had been looking through her luggage.

Angie.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the closet, wondering how to handle this. Most of the cases were locked, and unless the girl was a wizard who could guess combinations, she probably hadn’t been able to get into them.

An almost laugh escaped her when she thought of how that must have frustrated the girl. But the issue was bigger than that and she knew it. Angie had no business trying to get into her bags. It was an invasion of privacy, supremely rude and possibly indicated an intent to steal something. She decided, however, that unless there was some other action on Angie’s part, she should just ignore it. Making an accusation might only ruin any possibility of getting through to her.

Standing, she unfastened her jeans and sighed with relief as they loosened, but this time she didn’t think about how much she needed to get some maternity clothes. Her mind was firmly fixed on Angie, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, looking for any key to the lock around Angie’s heart.

She didn’t know the girl well yet, but she’d picked up on a few things. Maybe riding with her tomorrow would help loosen the steel bands Angie insisted on wrapping around herself. Or maybe not.

The truth was, Hope felt even more at sea now than she had this morning. More unanswered questions faced her than before.

But she made up her mind that she wasn’t going to give up on Angie, no matter how hard it was.

Because, frankly, she could see herself in that young woman. The self that was angry, bitter, hurting, betrayed and all the rest of it. She just didn’t make a show of it.

Angie was crying out for help in all the wrong ways.

Maybe.

* * *

Downstairs, Cash poured himself a bourbon and carried it into his office. He sat staring at the darkened computer screen, knowing he should take care of some business, but his mind was unwilling. He had too much else to think about.

There was Angie, of course. There was always Angie. His daughter was a puzzle within a puzzle, and he couldn’t see the first chink or move to make. His repertoire of fatherly actions was limited, no question. He had no real experience to guide him, and the years lost between them weren’t helping.

But he’d been struck by Hope’s comment about Angie being angry because her mother should have been saved. He hadn’t considered that before at all. To him, the loss of life for someone so young was the same, no matter the means. But Hope had cast it in a different light, and he would have bet that she was right. Sick people were supposed to get well unless it was something like cancer, and how much more true that must seem for someone Angie’s age. The idea that an infection could kill someone so swiftly must be beyond her ability to believe.

Then there was Hope herself, who had until recently led a charmed life it seemed. Now she was cast alone, friendless and penniless on the waters of a world she knew nothing about. When he thought about the fact that she hadn’t yet seen a doctor about her pregnancy, anger burned in the pit of his stomach. He simply couldn’t imagine people who thought the way her family evidently did. No care for the child, no real care for Hope, who was their daughter. More concern for a guy who might be a senator one day, a guy who wasn’t even family.

Twisted. Very twisted.

He rolled the glass slowly between his hands, warming the bourbon and thinking about his newest employee. Maybe she would work out, maybe she wouldn’t. He certainly wouldn’t hold her accountable if she couldn’t get through to Angie. Hell, he’d been trying for months now.

But he could ensure she had a place to stay until this baby came, and that she received decent care. That seemed the least he could do.

She was an awfully attractive woman. It was hard to look at her without noticing her appeal. Given her past, though, he put a big mental off-limits sign on her. No way could life on a ranch hold her long-term, and more importantly, she’d been raped. It’d be a long time before she’d be inclined to see men as anything but a threat. Couldn’t blame her for that.

Although he had to give her credit for the way she had handled this day. She’d accepted a job from a strange man and had come home with him. She must be desperate beyond belief to cross those hurdles as bravely as she had. “Single father” in that ad should have been enough to make her skip even calling.

The fact that she had gathered her courage to call him told him plenty. Hope Conroy was at the end of her rope to the point that she was willing to take a huge risk.

Desperate enough that maybe she hadn’t even evaluated the risks he might pose. More frightened for herself and her baby than anything else.

Understanding drove through him like a spike. He supposed that made her tougher than a lot of people. Surprising, given her life until recently. Or maybe he didn’t really understand that, either. Regardless, she had a lot of backbone. Or maybe she was past thinking clearly about some things.

Either way, a decent man owed her some protection. That much he could do.

Tomorrow was another day, he reminded himself, sipping his whiskey. He needed to wrap up a few things before they got out of hand, then head up to bed. It was the time of year when 5 a.m. seemed to come awfully early.

Chapter Three

In the morning Hope awoke with a considerably clearer head and a much calmer state of being. She’d managed to hold off the wolf at the door, at least temporarily. She had a roof and room and board for as long as she could manage to hang on to them.

It only struck her as she sat up and peeked out to see it was still dark what a huge risk she had taken yesterday. Not in applying for a job, but in coming home with a man she knew nothing about, except that he seemed to get along well with a sheriff she didn’t know, either. Given what Scott had done to her, given that she had known him for years and he’d still turned into a monster, she wondered where her brain had been.

But as she felt the very faint stirring of the child within her, she knew. She’d given up everything to save this child without entering into a marriage that could only be hell. One thing and only one thing drove her. She needed to keep that in mind now when she made decisions, because the one she had made yesterday could have turned out badly for both her and her baby.

At the time she had seen no other choice. Frankly, standing at the window staring into darkness, she admitted she had had no other choice except to push on as far as she could with her remaining cash and hope she didn’t wind up stranded in the middle of nowhere. She’d been heading toward mountains with no idea if she could make it across, if she would freeze to death sleeping in her car, if...

But enough. She stopped herself. She had been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, and she had chosen to jump. So far so good. So far she was lucky. Just lucky.

Perhaps, through sheer chance, she had managed to land on her feet. Hanging on to that hopeful thought, she dressed for the day in a simple sweater and the same snug jeans. Clothes were going to turn into a problem, she thought again. She’d packed everything she had thought she would need, but she hadn’t packed for this lifestyle. Of course, it wasn’t as if she had a closet full of clothes meant for a ranch. At least she had brought her riding boots, although she wasn’t sure why. A memento from a happier time? Maybe. She tugged them on and pulled the jeans down over them. Riding boots were not the same as cowboy boots, and she didn’t want to draw too much attention to them. Even if Cash said nothing, Angie would.

Angie. Her luggage. She wondered again if she should address that, then once again decided to wait and see. She was definitely sure that she shouldn’t tell Cash about it, though. That would create entirely the wrong impression with Angie, one that might never be corrected.

Downstairs she found Cash puttering around making eggs and bacon. Her mouth watered immediately. He glanced up from the stove with a smile. “I heard you moving so I made extra. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.”

“Good. Grab some coffee if you want, then grab a seat. You past the morning sickness?”

“I never had it really bad and it seems to be gone.”

“Or you’d be running from the smell of the bacon,” he said humorously.

“Too true.”

“So how far along are you?”

“Approaching four months.”

He paused in the process of turning bacon. “Four months? Good God, wouldn’t they let you have any care at all? Can they still force you to have an abortion this late?”

“They wouldn’t let me anywhere near a doctor unless I agreed to an abortion.” She hesitated, her heart sickening. “There’s still time. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Money buys nearly everything, even doctors who will discreetly ignore the law.”

He finished flipping the bacon, then leaned back to look at her, his arms folded. “I’m sorry. I realize it’s none of my business, but I just can’t get the thinking behind this. It’s like your ex-fiancé is more important than you. Than their own grandchild.”

“The baby was a problem unless we got married right away. Then I became a problem when I refused to marry Scott and threatened to pitch a public fit if they dragged me to a wedding in front of a judge or notary.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it, either. I certainly wasn’t expecting this. I thought when I told them what Scott had done, they’d be on my side.”

“This can’t all just be about scandal. Even a scandal that might keep Scott from the senate.”

“You wouldn’t think. But scandal was all I heard about, that and how I wasn’t going to ruin a young man’s promising future with my selfishness. It really got ugly. So here I am. The explanations are theirs not mine.”

“Do you have any?”

“Considering how all this blindsided me? No.”

He went back to making the bacon and started popping toast into a toaster. “Well, whatever is behind it, you know how you were treated. You said you were under house arrest. How the hell did you get away with more than the clothes on your back?”

“I said I was going to see my Great-Aunt Mary in Austin. I claimed I needed time to think, and they knew she agreed with them. They even made arrangements with her so I’d be properly watched. They thought I was flying and arranged for me to be escorted to my flight by the butler and met on the other end by one of my Aunt Mary’s people. But when they were gone, I loaded my car. Or rather the butler did. Poor man. I hope he still has a job. He thought I’d just decided to take a nice drive instead of flying. I doubt he knew much about what was really going on.”

“You might be surprised. Maybe he was rooting for you.”

Amazingly, Hope smiled. She rather liked the idea that the butler might have been her ally. He’d always been good to her.

Cash scrambled some eggs, and the next thing she knew she was facing a plate with a generous portion of eggs and bacon. A tall stack of buttered toast stood between them.

She sampled everything before talking again. “This is great. I need to learn how to cook.”

That brought his head up.

“I know,” she said, catching his surprise. “I don’t know how to do some of the most important things in life. I’m a babe in the woods and I need a teacher.”

“Hattie, my housekeeper, might be willing to help you out. I’ve found that people generally love to talk about what they do.”

“If it wouldn’t add to her burden. Maybe Angie and I could learn together.”

“Angie may already know something about it.”

Hope nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re probably right. I’ll ask her first.”

Angie might like being a teacher to her, Hope thought. It might be one of the first steps in the right direction. “There’s a lot Angie could probably teach me.”

“And maybe some she shouldn’t,” he said humorously.

“You could say the same about me,” she replied, without any humor at all. Unwed and pregnant. If she was here very long that would have to be explained to Angie. Given the dimensions of what had happened, she quailed at the very idea. It had been hard enough telling Cash, and he still couldn’t grasp it.

Come to that, neither could she. From time to time, in her battered heart and brain, a thought would rise up: something else was involved, something she didn’t know about. Something more than social standing, scandal and Scott’s bright future.

Because it was still very hard for her to believe that her parents thought more of Scott than of her. That they refused to accept that he could have raped her. That it was more important to bury something like that than to protect her. She hadn’t even asked to file charges against him. All she wanted was to end the engagement and keep her baby.

She almost put her head in her hands, but she had been doing that for too long. She had made good her escape, she was now employed, and while she still had a lot of wounds she was sure she was going to have to deal with, the important thing was to find a way to give this child a reasonably secure future. She could do that. After all, she wouldn’t be the first, or last, single mother in the world.

Cash spoke. “Frankly, my first thought was that an unwed mother was exactly the wrong person to look after my daughter.”

Her head snapped up. “Then I’ll leave.”

“Let me finish. I changed my mind. When the time is right, feel free to talk to Angie about it in whatever terms you prefer. It might be good for her to know that bad things can happen out there.”

Hope felt torn. Angie had confided to her about a restraining order, and as she heard those words it struck her that Cash hadn’t heard about it. Angie knew bad things could happen out there, although maybe not the depth and degree of some of them. But the girl wasn’t an innocent—certainly not the kind of innocent Hope had been at that age...or even more recently.

But she had virtually promised that she wasn’t going to pass along anything Angie said—with a mental reservation for anything that seemed truly important for Cash to know. She had to stick to that, and a restraining order from the past against someone who had harassed the girl’s mother didn’t fit that bill.

“It’s up to you, of course,” Cash said, apparently taking her silence as reluctance. Nor could she correct that impression because it was partly true.

“Well, something’s going to have to be explained to her before much longer,” Hope admitted. “My jeans are getting too tight. Before long I’ll be showing.”

“Well, I can take care of the jeans when we go see the doc.”

She shook her head. “That’s not right, Cash. I have about a hundred dollars, and some things can wait until you pay me.”

“Not the doc for sure.” He arched his brows at her. “Some things just aren’t right, Hope. Get used to it. I may not understand your family, but I know where my own values lie. Let it be, and let me do what’s right.”

A pretty remarkable man, she thought as she tried to help clean up after breakfast. Nearly everything was a new challenge to her, even filling a dishwasher.

That gave her some thinking to do. She had had no idea how much she had failed to learn simply by being raised in the lap of luxury. Her laundry list of ignorance was growing by leaps and bounds.

In fact, when she thought about it, she decided she had been raised worse than a prize filly and more like a hand-fed lap dog. How very humbling.

* * *

“I’ve got a few minutes before I have to get to work,” Cash announced when they’d cleaned up. “I’ll show you the barn, you can meet the horses and see where all the tack is. You can saddle your own horse?”

“I’m used to English saddles, but I can probably figure it out.”

He surprised her with a laugh. “English, huh? None of that around here. A pommel is too useful. I’ll show you. Plus, I guess I need to show you the right way to ride Western.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There are a couple of things. For example, we don’t use the horse’s mouth to guide it. No pulling on the reins.”

“Then how...”

He interrupted her. “I get the idea that I’m going to need to give you a lesson first. How about we saddle one up and I’ll show you? It’ll be easy enough once you’ve tried it.”

Hope grabbed her jacket and followed him to the barn. “I’m amazed. I lived in Texas but learned to ride English. I never rode Western. I never even thought about there being differences.”

He flashed her that devastating smile of his. “There are. But like I said, you’ll find this easy. We use neck reining instead of mouth reining, and we exert the rest of the control by shifting our weight in the saddle. In all, especially with the saddle spreading the weight out better, Western style is better for putting in a whole day. The horses don’t tire as fast. You’ll see.”

“But don’t you need to get to work?”

“This won’t take long. A couple of turns around the corral and you’ll have it. Angie got it pretty quickly. I just don’t want her riding alone for obvious reasons. If something went wrong and we didn’t know where she was, it could take a helluva long time to find her.”

“And she gets home from school today around four?”

“Yeah. Kinda late to take her on much of a ride. If you can persuade her, you guys could go out for a much longer time tomorrow.” He paused. “Are you sure you should be riding?”

“I had a friend who continued riding into her sixth month. The main concern was falls. Anyway, I promised Angie. I’ll be careful, just find me your laziest horse.”

Hope wondered how patient Angie would be since she’d sort of promised a ride. Well, she’d find out this afternoon. In the meantime, she still needed to learn where the tack was and how to do everything, from saddling the horses to caring for them after the ride.

And if there was one thing she was determined to make clear to Angie before they even started on this venture, it was that a rider took care of her mount. Period.

Hope might not know how to cook or clean or even do laundry, but she sure as heck knew how to take care of a horse. She’d have been off the equestrian team instantly if she had refused to do it.

Besides, she enjoyed it. Caring for a horse felt rewarding in a way trips to the gym and playing tennis never would.

The Western saddle was heavier than she was used to, and Cash expressed some concern about her lifting it.

“I’m pregnant, not sick.”

Another one of those smiles. Dang, the last thing she needed was for her heart to beat faster because a man smiled at her.

“I know,” he said. “But lifting... We’ll ask the doc. And about riding, too. In the meantime, just take it easy, okay? And do me a favor, don’t fall off. This mare is as gentle as they come, but...”

“Hey, don’t you want to thrill my family?” It was a poor joke, and she knew it instantly by the way his face darkened.

“No,” he said shortly, and became all business from that point. She guessed he’d become angry. She shrugged mentally. If she thought about it too much, she became furious. It was kind of touching that this man who had barely met her could already grow angry on her behalf.

Between her father and Scott, she had just about decided that all men were monsters. She might need to revise that a bit.

The differences in riding style were easy, as he had promised. She supposed sitting in the Western saddle acted as a reminder that she needed to change her habits. He was right, a few turns around the corral and she had mastered neck reining and shifting her weight in the saddle. Of course, he had selected a horse for her that probably was utterly patient and far smarter than any rider. That was okay, because she was pregnant and didn’t need a spirited mount that might get an urge to toss her.

A half hour later he left to take care of whatever his business was, and she walked back to the house looking ahead to a pretty empty day. Hours to fill before Angie came home, and unfortunately in her rush to escape, she hadn’t packed a lot of reading material. She had her ebook with her, but since her credit had been closed, she doubted she could buy anything else.

Simmering anger at her family made her stomach burn, but she was getting used to that. Shock had given way to acceptance, whether she liked it or not, but acceptance didn’t ease her anger. She felt like a soiled rag that had been tossed in a trash bin by the very people who should have stood beside her. It was not an easy thing to live with.

Then there was her reaction to Cash. She barely knew the guy, but she’d already raised him in her estimation to heights once reserved for Scott. That ought to be a warning to her. Even knowing someone for years didn’t mean you knew everything about them. Trust needed to be offered with great care.

Inside she found the housekeeper, Hattie, in the kitchen and introduced herself. “I’m Angie’s new companion, Hope.”

“Companion?” Hattie, who appeared to be in her early fifties, with graying hair and a motherly figure, scanned her from head to toe. “Good luck with that one.”

Hope hesitated. “Should I get out of your way?”

Hattie shook her head and returned to pulling items out of the cupboards and fridge. “I don’t mind company while I cook. Since you’re living here, got anything special you want for dinner?”

“I’m fine with anything.” Her mother had always made up the menus for the week with the cook, and while she was at college, she ate whatever was available in the cafeteria. The only time she had any say in her meals had been at a restaurant.

Hattie looked dubiously at her. “Even liver?”

At that, Hope’s internal anger gave way to a laugh. “Not liver,” she admitted.

“Knew there had to be something. There always is, if folks are honest. Cash don’t much like it, neither. Now my Don could eat it every night. Lucky for me he doesn’t insist on it. Pull up a chair. You look cold. Want some coffee or tea?”

A half hour later, she’d learned a lot about Hattie’s life, her grown daughter and son, and the grandchild that was on the way. She couldn’t help feeling envious about a life that hadn’t been easy but had brought so much warmth and closeness to a family.

All the while, Hattie’s hands were flying as she made casseroles for easy heating. Hope could barely keep up with what she was doing and finally asked, “Would you teach me how to cook?”

That brought Hattie to a standstill. “You don’t know how?”

“Not much. I’m okay with a microwave.”

Hattie tsk-tsked and went back to stirring the contents of a bowl. “Something everyone needs to know, man and woman alike. Sure I’ll teach you. Plain cooking, but good. We’ll start Monday.”

“Thank you.”

“Ain’t much to it, gal. Once you get the basics, you can do most anything you want.”

“Sounds like I’ll manage, then.”

“Don’t doubt it. Only met one woman in my life who couldn’t. I swear she could burn water when she boiled it.”

Hope giggled. “I probably could, too, right now.”

“You look smarter than that to me.”