Praise for Ann Major:

“Want it all? Read Ann Major.”

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“No one provides hotter emotional fireworks than the fiery Ann Major.”

—Romantic Times

Praise for Christine Rimmer:

“Gifted storyteller Christine Rimmer weaves an emotionally intense romance with top-notch characters, easy tempo and a touch of intrigue….”

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“A talented storyteller, Ms. Rimmer makes the most of multi-faceted characters, solid conflicts, smooth pacing and unbridled passion.”

—Romantic Times

Praise for Karen Rose Smith:

“…powerful characterization, balanced emotional moments, and a tense, compelling story line.

—Romantic Times

“Dynamic, skillful and refreshing, Karen Rose Smith’s writing keeps the reader turning pages and begging for more. Ms. Smith’s near flawless style, realistic characters and tension-filled plots make for a satisfying experience every time you read one of her books.”

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Signature Select’s exciting series:

The Fortunes of Texas: Reunion

get swept up in twelve new stories from your favorite family!

COWBOY AT MIDNIGHT by Ann Major

A BABY CHANGES EVERYTHING by Marie Ferrarella

IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW by Peggy Moreland

LONE STAR RANCHER by Laurie Paige

THE GOOD DOCTOR by Karen Rose Smith

THE DEBUTANTE by Elizabeth Bevarly

KEEPING HER SAFE by Myrna Mackenzie

THE LAW OF ATTRACTION by Kristi Gold

ONCE A REBEL by Sheri WhiteFeather

MILITARY MAN by Marie Ferrarella

FORTUNE’S LEGACY by Maureen Child

THE RECKONING by Christie Ridgway

Secret Admirer
Secret Kisses
Ann Major
Hidden Hearts
Christine Rimmer
Dream Marriage
Karen Rose Smith

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Contents

Secret Kisses Ann Major

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Hidden Hearts Christine Rimmer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dream Marriage Karen Rose Smith

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dear Reader,

I feel very lucky to have been asked to write Secret Kisses. The idea of an anonymous love letter being published by a mischievous, elderly editor in a small-town newspaper and that letter wreaking havoc among the gossipy denizens appealed to my imagination. There are all sorts of brokenhearted people in the world, as well as meddlers, who are looking for just such a declaration of undying love from the person who “did them or theirs wrong.”

I grew up in Texas and spent a lot of summers in just such a small town. I could easily identify with my hero and heroine when they are swept into a romance because of this letter and some busybody friends and relatives.

Enjoy,

Secret Kisses

To Patience Smith

Dear Reader,

What’s a self-motivated, big-hearted and independent young woman to do when she finds herself in love with her best friend? How can she make him see that there’s more going on between them than friendship? How can she get him to realize that she’s through playing “little sister” to his overprotective “big brother”?

It’s a tough one. Especially if the best friend and substitute “big brother” in question has painful and deep-seated reasons of his own for not letting himself love his “little sister” as the woman she is.

Luckily, Annie Grant is no quitter. One way or another, she will find the true love she yearns for—whether Greg Flynn will finally open his eyes and see her as a grown woman ready for real love, or not.

And getting Greg to see her as a woman isn’t Annie’s only problem. There’s also her secret admirer, crazed video-store clerk, Dirk Jenkins.

Annie loves Greg and Greg can’t deal with it—and in the meantime, Dirk, gone seriously postal, is determined to save Annie from her own “nowhere” life—if he has to shoot someone to do it!

Buckle up, folks—and I do hope you enjoy Hidden Hearts.

Best always,

Prologue

Saturday

“It’s time for drastic measures,” Ol’ Bill muttered to himself as he drove down Main Street. He glanced toward the sun that was just peeping over one of the distant red hills that gave the village its name.

The trouble with a town the size of Red Rock, Texas, was everybody thought he was something on a stick. All those Texas-size egos buttin’ heads used to make for lots of interestin’ doings.

Used to. Lately the town had gotten downright boring.

Six in the morning was too early for most of the town’s strong-minded citizens to be up meddling. Ol’ Bill Sinclair was the exception to that rule. Seventy-two and feeling it a little more than usual, he drove with care. Despite his caution, Ol’ Bill’s “Spring Fling juices” were flowing like a riptide rushing up to a placid summer beach to wreak havoc on kids building sand castles. He felt bright and chipper and damnably mischievous on this particular May morning.

This was ’sposed to be Spring Fling season, but there wasn’t a speck of trouble brewin’. If a concerned citizen didn’t think up some devilment fast, there was the very real danger the town that prided itself on its Wild West heritage would bore itself to death.

Bill was a cowboy at heart. Not that he was spry enough to ride out and seek adventure. These days he got most of his kicks by organizing the town archives at the library and by working at the Red Rock Gazette. Sometimes after one of his features on politics or religion appeared, folks stormed the Gazette and told him he should do the town a favor and retire. Helen Geary had even gifted him with a colorful ceramic tile that read, “Silence is the best substitute for brains.”

Fans like Helen were a rare and treasured thing to any writer. It was thrilling to know that people were out there, reading him, appreciating him. He was so proud of his tile, he’d hung it above his toilet, so he could pay it a visit on a regular basis.

The big sky was turning all colors of pink when Bill stomped on the brakes and his battered blue pickup skidded to a halt at the last blinking red traffic light on Main Street. Just in the nick of time to miss an eighteen-wheeler whizzing past on the San Antone Highway.

Whew! His old heart raced a little faster.

Good thing he’d rolled to a stop when he had, or he’d have been roadkill for sure. For a second or two he wondered what tasty potluck dish Helen Geary would have brought to his wake to celebrate his permanent retirement.

Slowly, carefully, he made it through the light onto the highway. A few blocks farther down, he turned into the parking lot of his favorite breakfast nook, the Dairy Café.

He bumped across the familiar potholes of the empty parking lot with gleeful pride. Yes sirree, bobcat, just like always good Ol’ Bill was the first customer at Red Rock’s favorite dairy café. Just like always he was wearing the favorite overalls his wife kept trying to throw away. Just like always he had a briefcase full of letters to the editor to mull over while he sat in a plastic booth and swigged black coffee out of one of those tiny white foam cups he detested. Ah, what he wouldn’t give for an old-fashioned, thick ceramic cup and saucer.

If he hit pay dirt, one or two of the letters would be provocative as all get out. If he hit a dry hole, he’d have to pen his own…maybe throw in a little political advice to excite his fans. One way or the other, he intended to stir up a hornet’s nest to get folks in the proper mood for Red Rock’s annual Spring Fling.

The Spring Fling, which was always held on the town square on May 15, was usually a time of mischief and mayhem. If he didn’t act fast, this year’s Spring Fling would take place without even a hint of disaster or scandal.

Dwelling on that dismal thought again, Bill ordered his coffee and sat down. One sip of the strong black liquid set him to reminiscing. Why, only last year sweet Megan Holston had made two dates for the dance. Who would have thought she had it in her? For weeks leading up to the Fling neither date had known about the other. Then at the Spring Fling, when the two beaus discovered each other and people had started laughing, there had been one helluva shoot-out.

Beau #1 had shot off the tip of his big toe, and Beau #2 had been knocked out cold from the kickback of his gun. Meanwhile, as that pair of love-struck fools had wrestled each other through the night, sweet Megan had eloped with her one true love, Johnny Ambush, and lived happily and boringly ever after.

The year before, somebody had spiked the punch at the Fling with something so powerful the entire town had ended up skinny-dipping in Lake Mondo—even the big-haired and blue-haired old biddies, much to the joy of a tabloid reporter who’d shown up. The reporter had taken pictures of the old biddies’ boobs hanging to their navels and had made Red Rock the laughingstock of Texas.

Not that that was the first time lewd photographs had caused a stir during Spring Fling season.

Years ago, whew, now this had been a spell, brash young Matt Harper had set the town on its edge with a few amateur masterpieces. People had begun to think Matt, who’d been a mere senior in high school at the time, had finally settled down. Then he’d gone and pulled that low-down stunt.

Ol’ Bill rubbed his forehead, trying to remember. First, Matt had asked shy Jane Snow, who’d had a crush on him for years, to the Fling. Of course, she’d said yes, and the romantics in town had been pleased as punch for Jane. Then Jane had broken their date and nobody had known why until the night before the Fling when young Matt plastered the football locker room with poster-size pictures of her in a revealing wet T-shirt.

The poor, beautiful child had always been embarrassed by her voluptuous figure and had always done everything she could to hide it! She’d fled Red Rock the next day. The Snows enrolled her in a prim, all-girls’ school in San Antonio, and she’d stayed out of town for years. Matt had been expelled and had had to repeat that semester.

Yes sirree, the first weeks of May leading up to the Spring Fling should bring out the crazy in all true Red Rockians.

Something was definitely wrong this year.

Hell, maybe somebody had put something in the water.

Maybe it was too many tame city people moving to town.

Funny thing, after years of both of ’em being gone, Matt Harper and Jane Snow had both moved back to town. Rumor had it, they’d even kissed under the mistletoe last Christmas. What was going on?

The hard plastic seat cut into Bill’s skinny rump and spine as he forced himself to begin reading the letters. Much as he wanted to pan gold, the first twelve letters he read were dryer and duller than dirt. He was about to give up, when the thirteenth letter fell on the floor just as an eighteen-wheeler pulling a load of cattle rumbled by so fast the entire building shuddered.

Bill felt a premonition in his bones. He even shivered as he picked up that thirteenth letter from the floor. Was the paper rumpled from tears that had fallen when the writer had drafted it? Yes, the ink was definitely blurry.

Hell, maybe he was desperate, but the first corny sentence stirred the mischief in his old soul. As he read on, the words that followed fanned the flames of his troublemaking instincts.

My Only One,

From the moment I saw you, I fell in love with you, and my feelings grow with each passing day. I know we belong together, and I’m sorry I haven’t told you what’s in my heart.

My behavior may not have always been perfect. Please believe me, I would give anything to turn back time before the moment I hurt you. I’ve been a complete idiot. Nothing is as you imagined, and I’ve always been too proud to explain or say I was sorry. And because I didn’t, I lost you.

No matter how bad things seem between us right now, there has never been anyone in my heart except you. I may not have shown you or told you the true depths of my love. But that’s going to change—because I want to spend my life with you and only you.

So, here I am—confessing my love in the Gazette—publicly. If you give us a chance, I know we can find happily-ever-after.

I love you always.

Perfect!

Not that it couldn’t do with a little editing. Rare is the written masterpiece that can’t be improved by judicious cutting.

In this case all that was required was scissors to snip off the signature.

The nosey citizens of Red Rock would storm the Gazette to find out who wrote it. Folks would see secret admirers behind every cactus, red rock and mesquite bush, in every smile, wave or handshake.

He’d run it Monday!

He read the letter again and thought of any number of star-crossed couples the letter could apply to. Most of all he thought of shy Jane Snow and Matt Harper, who were all grown up—and still single.

Yes sirree. This’ll light a fire under the town, sure as a shootin’ match.

Chapter 1

Jane Snow’s long, slim fingers flew over her keyboard as she typed in the finishing touches to the in-depth report she was scheduled to make this afternoon on corporate branding. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she read over her statistics and beamed proudly.

Am I good? Or am I good?

Good enough to be the director of market research, a little voice in her head chirped smugly.

Better than hunky Matt Harper. Way better.

She rubbed her hands together and blew on her fingertips. Then she stabbed her red pencil through the tight knot of platinum-blond hair at her nape.

Smugness and pride were failings of hers. But she’d worked hard for those failings. Too hard. Nothing had ever come easily for her the way it had for Harper, who’d been born smart, popular and sure of himself.

“Top that, Harper, Mr. Most Handsome. Mr. Most Likely to Succeed,” she said aloud as she punched the print button. She was a little shocked by the sound of her normally soft voice ringing with vengeance throughout her silent house.

She shivered. All that anger. And repressed passion. Not to mention plain old fear…about a man who didn’t deserve the time of day. Even so, her teeth began to chatter as she thought about what was at stake and what Matt might do to best her.

The promotion to director of market research meant everything to her. Here was her chance to be respected in this town—for what she could do. She wanted to be known for more than her big breasts and the bizarre circumstances of her birth.

She felt as if her whole life depended on this promotion—which was ridiculous. Deep down she was still that needy, shy, insecure little girl. The girl who’d been laughed at as much because she’d been born on a pool table in a pool hall and ogled ever since she’d developed in the fourth grade when all the other girls had still been skinny sticks.

She had too much to live down in this town. So, much as she loved her family, after college she’d moved to Atlanta, Georgia. She hadn’t returned except for brief holiday visits until her mother had gotten sick. Then her mother and her sister, Mindy, had said things that had made her rethink her priorities.

So, here she was living in Red Rock, working for Fortune TX, Ltd. in San Antonio and competing for the same job as Matt Harper.

Matt would kill to be director of market research.

Not literally. Winning simply meant everything to him. It always had. Beating a woman at her game, beating her, especially her, whom he probably considered so far beneath him, he’d take it as his due.

Her lips trembled. He’d been nice lately, ever since Christmas. But she didn’t trust him. She of all people should know he was full of dirty tricks. There was no telling what surprise punch he might pull at the meeting this afternoon. He was good. But she was better.

His sweet attentiveness is getting to you. You’re a bundle of nerves.

You knew he worked for Fortune TX when Ryan talked you into applying for the job there, now, didn’t you?

But I didn’t know we’d end up butting heads—for the same position.

The man’s ruthless. Smooth. And good.

But handsome.

Jane hated these conversations with herself. Since elementary school, she’d never talked to herself about anything other than Matthew Harper. Because he’d been three years older and male, he’d had huge advantages over her back at Red Rock Public Elementary. For one thing he’d easily been the best-looking and the most popular kid in school. He’d been brash and fearless and recklessly full of himself, always besting the teachers and getting away with it. Just the kind of smart-mouthed boy to make an impression on a shy tongue-tied girl.

Back then his family had been richer than hers. In high school he’d been a football star and had dated the prettiest cheerleaders. Jane had been poor and shy and a bookish, straight-A student. When she was mentioned, people only seemed to talk about her birth and her breasts, so naturally she hadn’t wanted to call attention to herself.

He’d been a natural-born show-off. He still was. Then there was that incredible smile and that deep laugh that could melt her insides.

Was the arrogant, macho, Neanderthal going to be her nemesis all her life? Why couldn’t she just forget him? Why did the thought of him sneaking up on her, and taking those sexy pictures of her when she’d been fifteen and then exhibiting them in the locker room to humiliate her still torment her dreams?

That was back in high school, for Pete’s sake. He’d thought it was a joke.

A cruel joke that had crushed her.

She’d deliberately gone out of state to college. To Colorado, even though she’d hated the mountains and cold weather. He’d moved to L.A. for a while, so she’d gone East. Then her daddy had hit the gusher that made the Snows rich. There was nothing like oil money to improve one’s status—at least in Texas.

Then last year her mother had become ill, and Jane had decided to move home. Ryan Fortune, the owner of Fortune TX, Ltd., had wooed Matt back to Red Rock to work for him.

Suddenly when she least wanted it to, Matt’s image sprang full-blown in her mind, causing her to shudder. At thirty-five, he was lethally tall, dark and cliché gorgeous. He had a hard jaw and a permanent tan. He was powerful and sexy, his body hard and lean. Except for his loud ties, he knew how to dress. He had heavy black hair and compelling, green eyes. Lately those eyes seemed to stare deep inside her and make her too conscious of him. He laughed a lot, too.

She licked her lips as she remembered his beautifully sculpted mouth. His mouth was to die for.

Don’t ever, ever think about his mouth.

She’d thought about his mouth more than she should’ve—ever since he’d pulled her against his muscular body and kissed her under the mistletoe at a family gathering last Christmas. Every time she thought about those gentle kisses and how she’d instantly melted and become breathless in the sweet fire, a little lightning bolt would slither through her and make her feel as if all the air had gone out of her tummy.

Other people had thought about the kiss, too—mainly her mother, who wasn’t about to forget it. As a result, the townspeople gave Jane sly glances anytime Matt’s name was mentioned, just as they had after the discovery of those sexy pictures in the locker room.

Matt’s parents and hers, who ran in the same circles now, thought bygones should be bygones. Her mother kept telling her that the pictures were nothing more than a boyhood prank.

“He was a photographer. He had a natural interest in the opposite sex. You shouldn’t have gone braless in that T-shirt and let your sister spray you with the hose.”

Right. Blame the victim. “We were on our own property tanning our legs, Mom! It got hot.”

“Your father pulled a few pranks to get my attention in our younger days. Matt’s different now, and so are you. I think he likes you…or he would…if you’d let him.”

Jane wished her mother would mind her own business.

One might as well wish for rattlesnakes to become extinct in the Texas hill country.

When the printer stopped spitting out pages, Jane arose and did a few stretches and told herself she simply had to quit thinking about him. Willing herself to concentrate on her presentation, she opened the curtains and stared out at her backyard just in time to see a brand-new Texas sun peeping over the cedar fence. A lone mourning dove cooed as the live oak trees turned red.

Pretending not to hear the taunting coos of the dove, Dennis, her cat, ambled lazily up to the glass door and gave Jane the look. Thank goodness he didn’t have a mouse or a lizard this morning. Jane hated it when he killed things. She let him in. After a brief appreciative swish of her legs with the tip of his tail, Dennis headed straight to his bowl in the kitchen.

She gave the backyard a final wistful glance. Difficult as it was facing her past here, not for anything would she live in the city. Yes, she had to drive twenty miles from Red Rock into San Antonio on a daily basis, and yes, the traffic on the interstate seemed to get worse every day, and especially since the NAFTA treaty.

When she sat back down at her desk again, she lifted a folder concerning the fund-raiser she’d volunteered to chair that would raise money to benefit after-school day care for needy children. She checked over her to-do list and was pleased to find everything in order.

At least Harper had not volunteered for the project as she’d feared, so she didn’t have to deal with him at the booth she was setting up for the silent auction Wednesday night at the local high school’s baseball game. Although fund-raisers weren’t his thing usually, she’d thought he might volunteer just to tip the scales in his favor about the upcoming promotion. He was the last person she wanted at the event when she auctioned her cooking services.

Jane glanced at her watch. Her Honda was in the shop for routine maintenance, and her mother, who had errands in the city, had talked her out of renting a car and had promised to drive her to work today. Since her mother, who was an artist and a fortune-teller, could be forgetful, she was about to call her and remind her, when the phone suddenly rang.

“Happy birthday,” her younger sister, Mindy, chirped the instant she answered. Mindy was the wild sister, the loud sister.

Jane pulled the pencil out of her hair. “I forgot. I can’t believe I forgot my own birthday.”

“You work too hard.”

“Thirty-two,” Jane said a little sadly. “I’m old. Maybe I wanted to forget.”

“Age is a state of mind.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not thirty yet. You know, I can’t remember when I last went out on a date.”

“Because you turn everybody down.”

“Maybe because the right man doesn’t ask.”

Mindy hesitated. “Hey, Mom just called.”

“Did she remember she’s picking me up?”

“Yes. But that’s not why…I mean…I thought I’d better warn you. She’s on one of her tears.”

“Oh, dear. What’s she up to now?”

“Have you seen the paper yet?”

“Mindy, I have a very important presentation this afternoon. I’d—”

“Helen Geary called Mom first thing as soon as she saw it. She was very upset about it.”

Not good. Helen had been Mom’s best friend since first grade—and they were very bad influences on each other. Helen had the biggest beehive hairdo in all of Texas and that was saying something. She was also Red Rock’s most opinionated gossip and a prime meddler, if you didn’t count Ol’ Bill Sinclair.

“So what did Ol’ Bill do to get Helen’s tail in a knot? More politics?”

“Ol’ Bill ran a love letter.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He snipped the signature off the letter, and he won’t tell Helen who wrote it. Our mom had ideas of her own about the author, and she’s been talking to Matt’s mom.”

“Already?”

“Mrs. Harper thinks he’s definitely interested in you. Mom wants me to read you the love letter to see if it rings any bells.”

“Don’t tell me Mom thinks Matt wrote it.”

“Duh-h-h.”

“Well, she can just forget it. He’s not the literary type.”

“You shouldn’t have kissed him last Christmas at the Harpers’ party. And kept kissing him.”

Jane felt her face redden as it always did when she thought about those kisses. “He’s the one who kissed me under the mistletoe.”

“How well we remember the cherished moment.”

“He would have kissed anybody if she’d been standing under the mistletoe.”

“Not like that. You both looked plenty smitten. And once you two started, you couldn’t seem to stop.”

“I—I was too flabbergasted and outraged.”

“All anybody remembers is how you both looked pie-eyed the rest of the night. You couldn’t look at each other without turning red. He is so cute. And hot. I don’t get why you still hate him. Those wet T-shirt photos were flattering. I’m still jealous because he didn’t take a single one of me.”

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t shut up about this.”

“Okay already.”

“Besides, he’s been going out with Carol Frey.”

“I rest my case. Look who’s keeping up with his love life. But for the record, you’ll be glad to know, Mom says that’s off. As of last night.”

Jane’s racing heart leaped into her throat. For a long minute she was unable to swallow, much less answer. Finally, she managed to say, “Look, I really do have to go.”

“Not before I read you his love letter.”

Against her will, Jane listened. Of course, after the first word, when she got to thinking it really might be Matt, she was spellbound. Certain phrases like I would give anything to turn back time before the moment I hurt you, made her go hot all over and catch her breath as she dreamily remembered Matt’s lips clinging to hers.

“So, what do you think?” Mindy asked when she’d finished.

Jane’s heart was racing at an even more frightening pace as she pondered the phrase there has never been anyone in my heart except you. Soon it became difficult to breathe.

She remembered the warmth and eagerness in his eyes after their Christmas kiss. The next day when she’d refused to wave or speak to him on the town square after he’d waved, he’d looked so strange and hurt. Since then he’d been awfully nice. Not that she’d responded.

“I—I think I’d better get dressed now,” Jane said quickly.

“Okay, be that way. But don’t forget, I’m taking you to lunch on the river—for your birthday.”

“I’ve been starving all week so I can eat three crepes and a chocolate dessert. It’s not often that you pick up the check, little sister.”

“Can I help it if I have issues about growing up? Unlike you, I never sprouted big boobs to console me.”

Jane sighed. She hated her figure. “You’re sure Mom won’t forget about picking me up?”

“As sure as one can ever be about a mom who paints her fingernails and toenails with shiny blue paint and consults astrology charts before making the simplest decision.”

“She’ll probably talk about that ol’ letter the whole way into town,” Jane said.

“One way or the other, she’ll get her licks in.”

“How’s she feeling?” Jane asked, her voice softening.

“Stronger every day since she stopped the chemo.”

“I’m glad I came home…even if she reads our fortunes and meddles to make them come true.”

“I know. Mom may be trouble but she’s fun.”

For no reason at all, at the thought of trouble and fun, Jane thought of Matt, and smiled.

Chapter 2

Matthew Harper’s alarm blared at him from the kitchen counter of his ancient blue trailer. God, he had the hangover from hell. He’d slept with the cat from hell on the mattress from hell in a trailer that was hotter than hell. The air-conditioning had bummed out months ago, which shouldn’t have mattered since Jerry Keith should have had his new house built way before May. Hell, J.K. had sworn he’d be finished way before March. But little brothers weren’t so hot at keeping their promises.

Sweat rolled off Matt’s forehead. Hell and damnation, but the heat was fierce! The sun was barely up, and the sheets were plastered to his damp body. So was his crazy cat. Tonight after work he was definitely installing his new window unit.

He’d have time since Carol had broken their date for tonight—broken all their dates for that matter, even their date to the Spring Fling. When he’d said he wasn’t ready for marriage, she’d broken up with him—period.

The phone began to ring, but he fought to ignore it. Nobody in Red Rock but a lunatic or a bothersome woman who wanted an engagement ring would call a man before he had his coffee. He let the phone ring and tried not to listen when his machine picked up.

“Matt, this is Lula Snow. I need a big favor. It’s about Jane. Pick up.”

Jane? Lula? Carol he could handle. But it was way too early for a man with a hangover to wrap his mind around the Snow women.

Beads of perspiration rolled off his forehead. For the first time he realized his baby brother, Jerry Keith, who was also his unreliable building contractor, had been right on when he’d advised him they should finish the house first and build the garage last instead of vice versa.

What about a freak hailstorm? A man had to house his car, not a car really, a Porsche Carrera GT.

“An air-conditioned garage for a toy?” J.K. had taunted.

“For my baby. For my wheels. She’s a real racing machine.”

Hell, maybe if he’d listened to his brother, he wouldn’t be sleeping on this lousy couch in his lousy, ovenlike, hunting trailer, suffering phone calls about Jane from Lula.

Maybe he should have said yes when Carol had demanded marriage. She was perfect for him. Beautiful, complacent, smart, and smart enough to hide it. Other men envied him when he took her out. Jane, on the other hand, wore glasses, hid her figure and flaunted her intelligence. She had a bad habit of holding on to grudges, too.

As he thought about Jane, which he’d been doing a lot lately, a vision of her lovely mouth, not Carol’s, arose in his mind’s eye to taunt him. The mouth, a familiar demon, was huge and red and absolutely luscious.

Next, that male organ he normally took such immense pride in arose underneath the sheets and said, Hi, here I am, darlin’, to the giant mouth. It didn’t take much guessin’ to know what that excitement was all about.

“Damn!”

Never drink too much when you’ve got to go to work the next morning.

He’d been so happy last night when he’d gotten home and seen Jerry Keith along with a full crew at the house actually hammering and nailing, he’d invited the guys to dinner. No sooner had he started grilling thick slabs of beef when Carol had called to ask if he’d forgotten their date. He’d apologized and asked her over to have dinner with the guys. She hadn’t liked that. Somehow she’d launched into the subject of marriage. The rest was history. Or rather they were history.

Which was why he’d sat out on the big flat rocks on his land with the guys until all hours watching his pet armadillo, Dillard, dig for grubs in the moonlight. They’d all gotten to bragging about women, telling dirty jokes and drinking—mostly drinking. Everybody had wanted to hear the old story about how he and Jerry Keith had snuck up on the Snow girls right when they’d been tanning their legs behind their house that fateful afternoon the year he’d asked Jane to the Spring Fling. Too bad for him the girls had started spraying each other with hoses and Jerry Keith had grabbed his camera and started snapping pictures. But if Matt lived to be a hundred, he wasn’t likely to forget how good Jane had looked with that wet cotton plastered against her breasts.

He rubbed his head where it hurt. The trouble with being a bachelor was the time gap when there wasn’t a good woman to nag you into living sensibly. Carol would have stopped him on beer number three.

All of a sudden the damn alarm clock had his brain throbbing so hard he could have sworn it hopped off the counter straight into his skull. Jane’s red mouth dissolved into the mists of his mind. Groaning, he jammed pillow number three over his head, rolled over onto Julie Baby, who stuck several claws in his chest. When he screamed, she jumped from the bed to the lamp, knocking it over and shattering the bulb.

“Damn your hide, cat!”

Although he wasn’t much on rules, a man should know better than to sleep naked with an untrustworthy female whose nails were too long.

Matt sat bolt upright and glared at Julie Baby, who stared back at him serenely. Did cats ever blink? Growling, Matt threw a pillow at the clock, which hit the floor and mercifully died beside the jagged bits of lightbulb.

The phone rang again.

Lula again.

Later.

The trailer, what he could see of it from the tattered couch, would’ve made a pig oink with pride. The sink overflowed with last night’s dishes. The garbage can brimmed with several days’ stinky leavings.

Later. After he got the window unit installed and washed his Porsche tonight, maybe he’d vacuum. Even he could see it was time.

The phone stopped ringing. Lula didn’t leave a second message.

If and when Jerry Keith ever got his ranch house finished, Matt intended to be neater. The trashed trailer, which was supposed to have been temporary lodging, would go back where it belonged—to his hunting lease.

The trouble was Jerry Keith was bad about working for other people instead of for him.

“Have to build clientele. Marketing. That’s your game, ain’t it, Big Bubba? You’re up for director of market research, am I right? Same as Jane Snow? Afraid she’ll beat you?”

Matt knew he’d been way too patient with the brat, but his kid brother did have a few things on his plate—a pregnant wife, for one thing.

At least with no AC and open windows, Matt could hear doves cooing outside and a whippoorwill. The faint breeze that smelled of cedar and grass nearly lured him outside, only the phone rang again, and he picked up.

“Lula, darlin’, you aren’t gonna quit, now, are you?”

“How’d you guess it was me?” She sounded pleased.

“I’m psychic.”

“Like me? Then you probably know why I called.”

“Let me guess. You want a favor.”

“Jane’s car’s in the shop. Could you drive her to work?” Jane. She’d barely spoken to him since she’d gotten him expelled his senior year. He’d been forced to resign as president of his high-school class, and several honors he’d earned had been stricken from his transcripts. He’d been in the doghouse with his folks, too.

“If she calls and asks me herself, I’ll consider it.” Silence.

“Lula, are you still there?”

When Lula still didn’t answer, he began to think about the promotion Jane and he were competing for. If Jane needed a ride, why not scope out the competition? She was a tight-ass if ever there was one. Surprises, especially from him, unnerved her.

“Do you take the Gazette?” There was a note in Lula’s voice he knew better than to trust.

“Am I a red-blooded Red Rockian or what?”

“There’s an anonymous love letter to the editor you might find very interesting. A little birdie told me it was written to you.”

Jane’s mother wouldn’t be talking about Carol. “Are you saying Jane wrote it?”

“Why don’t you drive her to work and ask her yourself.”

The luscious, enormous mouth came back to taunt him. The red lips puckered. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the mouth, Jane’s mouth, stayed right where it was—tempting him.

He’d kissed that mouth.

The lips puckered seductively. Hell, he could almost taste her. He remembered exactly how satiny and slick those lips had felt on the outside and how wet and hot and honey sweet they’d been on the inside. He still couldn’t quite believe she’d let his tongue through the pearly gates without chomping it to bits.

He thought about her hot body, and his number-two brain got so excited it tented the sheets beneath his waist. Good thing the cat wasn’t watching or she would pounce for sure.

“Oh, and one more thing, Matty.” He gritted his teeth at his kindergarten nickname. “My Janie doesn’t have a date to the Spring Fling.”

“Because she’s so damn picky, she’s turned everybody down who’s gotten up the nerve to ask her. Who’s she waiting for—Prince Charming?”

“Could be, handsome,” her mother said slyly. “So, you keep up with my Janie’s love life?”

“With our nonstop gossip grapevine buzzing day and night, I’d have to be brain dead not to know everybody’s business, including hers. How’d you find out Carol broke up with me last night because she’s moving to Houston a week earlier than she thought?”

“She broke up with you because you wouldn’t propose.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

Lula laughed.

“It was pretty late when she called me,” he muttered.

“To be exact, it was 8:30 p.m. ’Cause you stood her up.”

“Next time I want to know what’s going on in my life I’ll call you.”

“If you’re driving Janie, she’s expecting me at 7:30 a.m.—sharp! You know how grumpy she gets if she has to wait even one second.”

“I know how grumpy she is—period—any time I come around.”

“That’s just because she’s afraid to let you know how much she likes you.”

“Right!”

“Trust me. Her mother knows. Remember, I was the one who had to put her back together after you kissed her under the mistletoe.”

“Goodbye, Lula.”

“Just read her letter. It made me weep.”

Chapter 3

A devil bit him in the tail when Matt saw her street sign and realized he was almost to her house. He finger-combed his inky hair. He adjusted his red tie with the pink flamingos. Hell. Maybe the thing was too loud. He ripped it out of his collar and tossed it behind him as he yanked his collar open.

What was it? Every time he got around Jane, he got like this.

Maybe the big sexy mouth that had haunted him ever since he’d gotten up this morning had him a little crazed. Maybe it was the thought of her perfect yellow house with its perfect white shutters and a picket fence, yes, a real picket fence, damn it, the kind that made a man think of kids and a future and a sweet, alluring woman waiting for him at night, that unnerved him. Or maybe it was just her.

Not to mention the letter.

Had she written it?

Whoa! He wished that phrase that kept replaying like a broken record while the big, neon-red lips puckered would stop. His head hurt just thinking about it. He’d popped two aspirin, but they weren’t cutting the pain.

…there has never been anyone in my heart except you.

How could this be when she ran from him instead of to him that night. People who kissed like that and couldn’t stop belonged in bed together. He’d been a coward not to go after her. But after some of the hurtful things she’d said, Matt knew he’d done damage and should leave well enough alone.

As if this helped his current predicament, he thought gloomily. Without having a why for the childish insanity that getting anywhere near her brought out in him, he stomped on the gas pedal so hard the powerful engine roared. It was 7:30 a.m. sharp when Matt skidded into her driveway, leaving a trail of black marks just to prove he was the big grown-up brat she thought he was. Next he honked. Just a couple of light taps just to make her mad.

She had ears like a lynx. She’d hear him.

Her front door opened immediately. The second he caught the merest glimpse of her slim, curvy body in the shadowy doorway, a hot bolt zapped him. As always, she hid that perfect figure under one of her dull conservative black suits and high-collared blouses. As always, every pearl button was securely fastened. As usual, her long, platinum-blond hair was tied back in that odious little knot in an attempt to downplay her looks.

Oddly, the severe hairdo served to accentuate the high cheekbones and the classic lines of her exquisite face. And it was exquisite—a perfect oval. Everything she did just made her more attractive, at least to him, which was probably why she did it—to annoy him. She’d been annoying the hell out of him since she’d been a first-grader, so she was an expert at it by now.

Her blue eyes swept over her perfectly manicured lawn, the row of potted geraniums and the well-tended ivies hanging in her oak trees before zeroing in on him. Pushing her stylish, if thick, metal-framed glasses up the slender bridge of her nose, she stepped onto her porch. Her blue eyes, which were fringed by long, inky lashes, widened before they narrowed—on him. Her beautiful mouth, the mouth of his wet dreams, opened and closed with distaste.

“Your mom said you needed a ride,” he yelled. She pivoted on a single high heel and slammed the door in his face.

“Good morning to you too, darlin’!”

Okay, so he shouldn’t have honked.

Gripping the steering wheel, he waited a minute. When she didn’t come out, he got out, finger-combed his hair again, and then climbed her steps two at a time. Before he could knock, she opened the door.

She was on her cell phone now. “Mom! Mother! I know you’re there.” Abruptly Jane snapped her phone shut. With her eyes glued on his pink shirt, she said, “She hung up.”

“Happy birthday, darlin’.” He bowed low.

She didn’t smile.

“We’d better go,” he said.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said icily, and true to her word, she was back in seconds with her briefcase and purse. He helped her into the Porsche, and in no time, they were zooming out of her driveway.

“Sorry about this,” she said. “My mother—”

“Mothers like ours are forces of nature.”

“She should have called me first, not you.”

“It’s a done deal now, darlin’.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It would be, if you’d let it,” he said. “You always complicate everything.”

She inhaled deeply. As he sped down the familiar, oak-lined streets, she turned her back to him and stared out her window gloomily. “It’s just that I hate to owe a man like—”

“Me? A man like me? What do you think a man like me will exact as repayment—a pound or two of your delectable flesh?” He grinned at the back of her head. “You can relax. No hidden camera today.”

She whirled around, her face red. “See—this is why I always dread being anywhere near you. You make light of things that matter a great deal to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he said softly.

“I don’t like it.”

“Sorry. I grew up with brothers.” He paused. “You smell good. Like jasmine.”

“Would you stop?”

“I can’t tease. I can’t compliment you. What does that leave?”

“Nothing. I want absolutely nothing to do with you other than a civil relationship at work.”

“Why?”

“Why? We have this awful history, for starters—your stupid camera.”

“Before that you had a crush on me in grade school.”

“I did not!”

“Did too. Okay, I know I should have ripped the negatives of those pictures to bits.”

“You shouldn’t have plastered them all over the locker room!”

He scowled at the bitter memory. “I paid for it.”

She lapsed into silence. His temples were throbbing when she finally spoke to him again. “I don’t want to talk about it any more than you do. I just think we would both be happier if we never had to see each other—except at work.”

“I wouldn’t be,” he muttered.

“Don’t start.”

“What?”

“Doing what you probably do with every woman.”

“Is that it? You’re jealous?”

“Hell, no. But we’re competing for the same job, for one thing. We have to work together. But on a personal level we can’t…”

“We can’t what?”

“I—I don’t know.” But she did know. As always, ever since she’d come back to town, there was a hot spark of electricity between them. She hated it and hated him because of it.

She continued to stare out the window. Her hands that were folded tightly in her lap shook.

“Your mother told me to read the letters to the editor this morning,” he said. “Did you happen to see that anonymous love letter?”

She blushed furiously, guiltily, and then shyly.

His heart leaped. Had she written it? Did she feel that way about him but was so repressed she couldn’t face herself or him? This possibility was incredibly exciting.

“That…er…anonymous person…is living with a lot of regret,” he said smoothly.

She flashed him an odd look that seemed both vulnerable and desperate. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because. Just because. I…I can’t believe it’s taking this long to get out of Red Rock.”

Frankly, he’d been too absorbed with her to notice where they were. He’d never been this close to her for this long. She always ran. In his eagerness, he spoke before he thought. “Your mother said you don’t have a date to the Spring Fling. Well, it so happens that I don’t either.”

“My mother should mind her own business!” she snapped.

“A lot of people in Red Rock should do that.” He hesitated, grinding his teeth. “I was trying to ask you to go with me to the Spring Fling.”

“What? Us? You and me?”

“Why not us? Maybe we could get past the past if we did that—show the town we’ve buried what happened in high school.”

She turned and her eyes narrowed on his face. “Did you ask me because you and I are both up for director of market research?”

“Hell no.” He felt himself getting mad, too.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “You asked me before when we were kids deliberately to humiliate me.”

“I did not.”

“You snuck up on us and took those pictures. Then you—”

“Like I told you then—I didn’t.”

Like always when he defended himself, she glared at him.

Damn it. He hadn’t. He clenched the steering wheel, remembering the stupid misadventure that had caused both of them so much pain when they were kids.

J.K. had lured him into the cedar-brush country right behind the Snows’ place with the promise of some exciting wildlife. J.K. had been toting his .22-caliber rifle and Matt had his camera.

“I don’t see anything worth wasting good film on,” Matt said when J.K. grabbed his arm and pulled him down behind a huge red rock.

“Just you wait.”

Sure enough, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before they heard the Snows’ back door close. Next, leaves crackled in the direction of the Snows’ property. They heard giggles and a dog barking. Then the branches parted and Jane and Mindy Snow and their chocolate Lab, Grizzly, stepped out into the sun. The girls wore white T-shirts, and maybe, hell maybe—nothing else! A guy could hope, couldn’t he? Mindy was dragging a gushing hose, which she tossed into a bed of roses.

Matt liked the way the wind blew the girls’ hair, especially Jane’s. When they opened their backpacks and pulled out two towels, the wind caught hold of the towels so that they flapped like orange and purple flags. Slowly, the threesome ambled over to some flat rocks sheltered by a high limestone cliff. The girls positioned their towels and then lay down on them with their legs in the sun and their heads in the shade. They began to read. Meanwhile, Grizzly ran about, sniffing rocks and chasing rabbits. Once when the Lab raised his leg on a rock not far from the boys, they were sure the dog would catch them. Fortunately, they were downwind from the beast, and the Lab trotted back to the girls, who petted him.

Jane looked so beautiful and peaceful as she read and petted the Lab that Matt started snapping pictures of her. Her legs were long and slim and curvy. When she raised her T-shirt a little, he saw she was wearing a pink polka-dot bikini bottom.

Her butt was tight and round, just great. He took a few more pictures and then stopped when she slowly got up and went over to where the hose was. She lifted it. Splashing her face first, she then began to sip.

Then Mindy got up and snuck up behind her. Playfully grabbing the hose, Mindy sprayed her. Jane yelled and the girls began fighting over the hose, drenching each other.

The wet T-shirt revealed Jane’s huge breasts, which she always took such pains to hide at school.

“Hot damn,” Jerry Keith said. “Her nipples are as big as chocolate Oreos. Zoom in on ’em.”

Matt was cold and hot and hard at the same time. When Jerry Keith grabbed his camera, he got so mad he nearly yelled.

Grizzly was the next to get sprayed.

“I’ll be damned,” Jerry Keith said, taking more pictures as Matt lunged for the camera. When the girls dropped the hose and looked over, Matt had it in his hand. Her cheeks reddening, Jane tried to cover herself with her hands. Grizzly started barking. Teeth bared, the animal lived up to its name and raced toward them.

The boys scrambled up the nearest oak tree.

Matt wasn’t concentrating on driving, when Jane screamed.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Instantly he came back to the present.

“Red light!” she cried. “Stop! Or you’ll kill us in this thing!”

He slammed on his brakes and the Porsche skidded to a halt as they hit the last red light before leaving town.

She drew a deep, relieved breath but said nothing. He did the same.

His feelings were overpowering him the way they always did when she was too close. Maybe it was her perfume that had him so crazy. What was it—roses? Or jasmine?

Craving fresh air, while she continued her pout or whatever it was, he lowered his window. But the warm cedar-scented breeze just made him hotter.

He’d tried to be nice. He’d paid for his sins in high school. Boy had he paid. He’d even asked her on a date. He hated rejection and he always had to win. Hell, he was out on a limb here. Nobody but Jane Snow ever made him feel this crazy.

And then it happened.

She’d glanced out her window again, so she didn’t see it coming. Thus, she didn’t flinch or pull away when he leaned closer, cupped her chin and crushed her lips to his.

The second his mouth claimed hers, the same magic that had knocked him senseless under the mistletoe zapped him again, only harder. Must’ve zapped her, too, because her fingers came around his neck and threaded themselves into his hair. As she began kissing him back, he felt her breasts quiver and go soft against his chest. He pressed her closer into his hard body.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, pulling back a little. Her blue eyes were soft and crushed and vulnerable.

“This is what you’re so scared of, isn’t it?” he murmured. “You want me, too.”

“This can’t be happening.”

His big hands worked through her hair. Before she could cry out, pins showered onto her seat. Next came tangles of platinum-blond hair falling onto her shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the light changed but he was afraid to drive for fear he’d lose her.

“Fire and ice. That’s what you are,” he whispered as he began kissing her again.

He didn’t want to stop kissing her. Not ever. This was better than last Christmas. He’d never felt such mindless lust or need for anyone. Whatever it was, it lit an unquenchable fire in his being.

The guy behind him sat on his horn.

Somehow Matt managed to let her go. Breathing hard, he stepped on the gas and drove carefully, but the first chance he got, he pulled off onto the shoulder—to resume kissing or whatever it was they were doing.

“Work,” she said. “We’ve got to get to work.”

“Later,” he muttered, grabbing her again. “Kissing the enemy is way more fun.”

“This is downright embarrassing,” she whispered on a raspy shudder.

“Yeah, it damn sure is. You’re a witch, and I’m helpless in your spell.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“Can’t help myself, darlin’. Do you have a better explanation?”

“I’m the one girl in town you haven’t slept with yet. You want to add another notch onto your gun belt, so you’re pouring on the sexual charm mighty strong.”

“If you really think that, my reputation as a lover damn sure exceeds the reality. But don’t tell anybody.”

He smiled down at her and for the first time, maybe ever, she smiled back. He caught his breath. His heart beat wildly. He wanted her to like him. He wanted it more than anything.

He kissed her neck, and then the hollow of her throat. Barely conscious of what he was doing, he began un-buttoning her blouse, kissing the tops of her huge breasts until his mouth came to a lacy pink-and-black bra.

“I never figured you for the sexy-underwear type,” he murmured. “Nice.”

“Type. I’m not a type.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, his mouth nuzzling a nipple. He’d spent years dreaming about her breasts. Years. “I’ve been waiting for somebody like you all my life.”

“Somebody like me?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

For once she obeyed him. Their mouths came together again, her tongue mating with his.

“Let’s call in sick and go to bed,” he whispered.

Before he could stop her, she slipped out from under him faster than if she’d slicked herself with butter. Opening her door, she flung herself out of his car just as Ol’ Bill Sinclair drove by on his way to the Gazette. When she began buttoning her blouse, the old coot tooted.

“God, now everybody in town will know,” she wailed, turning red.

“Get back in the car before anybody else sees you.”

“Only…only if you promise not to touch me.”

“Hell.” When he jumped out of the car too, she started to run back to town. “Okay. Okay.” He held up his hands. “I promise. No touching.”

She turned and ran toward him just as he recognized Helen Geary’s giant beehive hairdo as she whizzed by in her brand-new red Caddy, her eyes out on stems. Helen, being Helen, honked at them too, of course.

“I can’t believe this,” Jane moaned. “She’ll tell everybody.”

“What the hell was that all about?” Matt asked once they were both in his Porsche again. He stared at her while she groped on the floor for her hairpins.

“You tell me. You started it, Harper.”

He turned the key in the ignition. “That takes me back to Red Rock Public School. That’s what you said after you tossed my cowboy hat back at me after you’d sat on it and squashed it flatter than a Frisbee.”

“You started that one too, Harper. You shouldn’t have pulled the ribbons out of my pigtails.”

“Did you know I still have one of those red ribbons?”

“Just like you probably still have the negatives of those pictures.”

He growled. “I don’t have them. I told you that already.”

“Liar.”

“There’s no use talking to some people,” he grumbled.

Aware that she was warier than ever of him, he drove the rest of the way to Fortune TX in a tense, electric silence. He did nothing more to try to break the wall of ice between them. The traffic on the interstate was thick and fast, so he shifted and downshifted, paying attention to his driving instead of her.

When he pulled into his space at the parking garage, she said in the frosty voice he was all too accustomed to, “Let’s not go in together.”

“Right,” he said, his tone as clipped as hers. “Business as usual.”

She’d disappeared by the time he had his shirt buttoned, his tie with the flamingos back on and his hair combed. He was about to get out himself when he noticed the corner of a manila folder under her seat. It must’ve fallen out of her briefcase. After picking it up, he couldn’t resist thumbing through it.

It was mainly boring lists that had to do with that after-school care fund-raiser she was chairing.

He read through it and laughed out loud.

She was good, but so was he.

Bake sale. Down-home cooking.

Silent auction at the baseball game in Red Rock.

Then he came to the last item.

She was planning to auction her “down-home” cooking services to the highest bidder.

In a flash he saw a way to turn the tables on her both in work and play.

She wouldn’t like it.

Or would she? She’d damn sure kissed him back. Still, it was risky. No matter what, he intended to play his hand for all it was worth. Unlike her, he was a gambler.

Happy birthday, darlin’.

He was whistling “The Yellow Rose of Texas” when he got out of the car.

Chapter 4

How could she have been so stupid? What had she done?

Jane stood in front of the glass doors of Fortune TX and slapped her forehead with her open hand. Harper wanted to be director of market research. He didn’t want her. His little seduction routine was just his own perverse version of a game of hardball!

Last week he’d impressed Andrea, Jane’s supervisor, and all their bosses in that meeting when he’d demonstrated how the company could best use the Internet to defend brand assets. He’d been creative. She couldn’t let herself ever forget that he’d do anything to win. Anything.

Harper was part of the good-old-boy network. That was one of the reasons he was so successful. He didn’t work as hard as she did because he didn’t have to. He schmoozed. He drove a jazzed-up car to impress people. He was into image rather than substance.

He would probably tell every man at the water-cooler first thing how easy and hot for him she was. He’d get a few laughs, and the male executives would start snickering behind her back. They might even ask her out to get more of the same. If any of them even winked at her, she’d never be able to face anybody again.

Fool that she was, she still felt turned on by the darkly handsome jerk with the talented mouth and hands. She’d even liked the way he’d touched her breasts.

The sun was getting hotter, or was it just thinking about him that made her feel the heat? There was nothing for it but to go inside and face the music.

When she reached her floor, Jane still felt hot and wet and trembly as she skittered past the receptionists, mumbling her hellos so fast neither woman could start a real conversation. Not that they didn’t try.

“You look great,” Stephanie said.

“Different,” Melanie agreed. “What’s with the looser hairstyle and those top buttons undone? New look?”

“New man,” Stephanie whispered.

“Gotta go,” Jane said, not meeting their eyes. She couldn’t even manage a smile in her mad desire to escape to her own office where she could close her door, be alone and try to regroup.

“Have you seen that cute green dress in the shop downstairs? It’d be perfect for the new you,” Melanie said.

“There is no new me,” Jane muttered, horrified that she felt faintly tempted to take a look at the dress.

Even before she got to her office and saw the huge bouquet of daisies, roses, irises and lilies, she didn’t have an inkling about how to proceed with her day. She hated teasing or sexual innuendo, even talks about sex and boyfriends between women. She hated sex on television. Love scenes in books made her skim pages until she got past them. That’s why Matt’s sexy pictures of her had undone her.

Just why sex scared her so deeply was a mystery. Maybe her mother had been too open and flamboyant. Maybe it had to do with the whole town laughing because she’d been born in the pool hall. To Jane, sex was not something to be viewed through keyholes or to be flaunted the way Matt had flaunted those pictures of her.

Jane was at her file cabinet, with her back to the huge vase of lilies and roses and daisies on her desk, when Stephanie popped her head inside the door.

“We’re all dying to know. What’s the special occasion?”

Jane turned and gasped when she saw the flowers Stephanie was looking at. Moving toward them, Jane said, “Oh, I didn’t realize you followed me.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“I guess…It’s my birthday,” Jane mumbled.

“Looks like somebody remembered big-time. Who?”

“I—I haven’t a clue. My mom maybe.”

“So, read the card.”

With trembling fingers Jane plucked the small envelope from the flowers. Leaning over them, she couldn’t help but inhale their sweet fragrance. “Mmmmmmmm.”

Oh my, she did love flowers.

“Name withheld upon request,” she read aloud. Then she flipped the card over. “That’s all.”

When she looked up, Stephanie was still hovering expectantly. “Well?”

“I’m sure you’ve got work to do,” Jane said hastily.

Ducking her head, Stephanie scurried away.

Jane set her briefcase down and began to search for her folder with the information on the fund-raiser. She needed to get approval from her boss, Andrea, for the booth at the baseball game Wednesday night.

But the fund-raiser folder wasn’t there.

“Damn.”

Frowning, she was shaking the contents of her briefcase out onto her desk when Matt ambled into her office. A mischievous smile lit his dark face, and his hands were behind his back.

“Hi,” he said in a low tone.

She glanced down at the contents of her briefcase, hoping he’d go, but he stayed, lounging in the doorway, his long legs planted widely apart.

“You’re the last man on earth I really want to see,” she said.

“At least I’m in a class by myself.”

Something electric in his deep voice made her look up.

His smile widened, and she felt herself soften. She was mush when she sank in a heap into her chair. How could he do this to her with just a smile? He looked male and arrogant and yet charmingly boyish all at the same time and friendlier than a puppy wagging his tail too fast. He appeared to genuinely like her.

He’s not to be trusted.

“Aren’t you thirsty? Shouldn’t you be hanging out at the watercooler or something?” she snapped. “Saying impressive things about that car.”

“Later.” He smiled again. “Flowers.” He strode closer and put his dark, handsome face into the blossoms and inhaled deeply. “Mmmmmmmmmm. Secret admirer?”

For no reason at all she thought of Ol’ Bill’s anonymous letter in the Gazette.

I know we belong together and I’m sorry I haven’t told you what’s in my heart.

“You tell me,” she whispered, teasing him, in spite of herself.

Oh, why couldn’t she stop looking at his lips? Or his sparkling green eyes? His eyes were wooing her, sucking her into their depths again, stealing her soul, so she cast her gaze down quickly.

“Read the card,” he said softly.

“Been there. Done that. He didn’t sign his name.”

Matt was so close she could smell his tangy after-shave. For a long delicious moment she even forgot to breathe.

“So you think it’s a man?”

The intimacy in his gorgeous eyes made her shiver.

“Any guesses as to who?” he persisted.

The warm flush running through her body was terrifyingly pleasurable. He was leading her, teasing her. Why?

Suddenly a lightbulb went on in her brain.

Had he sent them? Just like he’d written that letter? Was he as shy about intimacy as she was about sex? Was it possible he was afraid to tell her? Was it possible that he couldn’t put himself out like that, not when she’d rejected him for so many years? What if he really felt bad about those wet T-shirt pictures? If so, the whole thing, the letter, the flowers, was sweet in a way.

Don’t be a fool. He’s the enemy. He’s after your job.

“Are you here to take credit for the flowers?” she whispered, challenging him.

“I’ll take any credit I can get,” he said smoothly. “Lord knows where you’re concerned I damn sure need it.”

“You’re not afraid,” she said shyly.

“Why the hell should I be?”

“What does the card say then?” she asked, testing him.

“Ah, a test.”

She stared at him in shock, realizing that she was enjoying this exchange way too much.

“Love, Matt.” He blushed when he said it. He actually blushed. His quick smile was unpretentious and sweet.

She felt her own face growing hot beneath his steady gaze. “P-please—don’t tease me about this.” With fingers that trembled, she placed the card in his. “You know what you wrote…and it wasn’t Love, Matt.”

“Name withheld upon request,” he read aloud in his deep baritone, watching her. “This guy is good. As good as me.”

“I wonder why?” Those green eyes of his were still on her. She felt him reading her mind, her heart. Strangely she didn’t mind as much as she usually did. “If you really sent them, write the words you didn’t say,” she said, stealing the sentiment from his anonymous love letter in the Gazette.

He took the card and laid it on her desk. With a flourish of black ink, he wrote, “Love, Matt,” and then placed the card in her palm. “There. Satisfied?”

Their fingertips touched and again she sizzled.

At her gasp when she pulled her hand free, he gave her another startled look. “Happy Birthday then, darlin’.”

“It’s been quite a birthday,” she said. “Full of surprises.”

“For me, too. It’s not even 9:00 a.m. yet. Your smiles are getting friendlier. Does this mean you’ll go to the Spring Fling with me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t say no yet. I’ll forgive you for high school if you’ll forgive me.”

“What?”

“After your father talked to the superintendent, I got expelled, remember?”

“It’s just too sudden,” she said.

“Okay,” he murmured. “I guess we’d both better get to work. Happy birthday, beautiful.”

“I’m not beautiful. My sister, Mindy, is beautiful. Your Carol is beautiful.”

“You’ve always been way too hard on yourself.”

“I can’t believe you know that about me.”

“I pay attention—when I’m interested. And you are beautiful,” he repeated. “Furthermore, just to set the record straight, she’s not my Carol anymore. In fact, she never was. We went out a few times. People in Red Rock thought it meant more than it did.”

“Carol thought so, too.”

“So you’re tuned into the twenty-four-hour grapevine.”

“Isn’t everybody?”

“I’m a free man, darlin’, unless some pretty lady takes pity on me and decides to love and reform me.”

“You could definitely use some reforming.”

“I’d prefer the lovin’ part, but more on that later.” He was grinning as he strode out of her office, pulling the door shut behind him.

Alone with his sweet-smelling flowers, she plucked a daisy out of the bunch, went to the window and twirled it against her nose. She was so wrapped up in her conflicting thoughts and feelings about Matt that she had no idea how long she’d stood there when voices outside in the hall snapped her out of her reverie. Quickly she jabbed the daisy back into the vase and went back to her desk to search for the fund-raiser folder.

Much to her surprise, it lay on her desk on top of the clutter she’d shaken out of her briefcase.

Crossing her arms, she shook her head in confusion. Then she opened the file to make sure all the papers were inside it, and even though they were, she felt vague little prickles of alarm.

She could have sworn it hadn’t been there before Matthew Harper had come in to see her.

The River Walk was idyllic. The brown serpentine river sparkled, and sunlight shone through the cypress trees. Jane and Mindy were sitting in a shady spot under a red-and-white umbrella beside the water. There were enough tourists on the old limestone walkways so that Jane and Mindy had people to watch, but their riverside French restaurant wasn’t too crowded. Not like a happening Saturday night when all the restaurants, shops and clubs were jammed.

“I hate to cut this short, but I really do have to get back to the office,” Jane said. “I have an important presentation.”

“First we have to light your candles on your chocolate birthday cake so you can make a wish.”

For a birthday that had started off all wrong and had been filled with unsettling surprises, Jane couldn’t remember when she’d had more fun. Why was that? she wondered.

As Mindy struck a match to light her candles, Jane closed her eyes.

“Think of something you truly truly want, and your wish will come true,” Mindy said softly.

Jane tried to concentrate on the position of director of market research but drew a blank. Instead she conjured a broad-shouldered hunky giant with a sculpted mouth and black-lashed, green eyes, who was wearing a red tie with even hotter pink flamingos flapping all over it.

She squeezed her eyes tighter and tried to focus on the job she wanted. Matt’s image was as stubborn as the man himself and refused to budge.

“Are you thinking of something you really want yet?” Mindy quizzed hopefully.

“No!” she snapped and mentally stuck out her tongue at the vision of Matt.

“Mind if I sit down?” murmured a deep, familiar baritone.

Her eyes flew open, and there he was—as if she’d truly conjured him. Mom would love this.

“I certainly do mind. I was trying to make a wish before my candles go out.”

He sat down anyway and closed his eyes. A look of fiendish bliss transformed his dark, rugged features. His eyes opened. He leaned forward and blew out her candles.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I made a wish for you on your birthday.” He began plucking candles out of the cake and licking chocolate icing off their bottoms.

“You can’t do that.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a done deal, darlin’.” He licked another candle. “Besides, you were blocked and I was feeling creative. When are you going to realize we’re a team?”

“No, we’re not.”

“We could be—if you’d let it happen.”

“What did you wish for?” she asked him, to change the subject.

“I can’t say, or it won’t come true.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t make my wish.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Mindy said, watching them both far too intently.

“How did you find us?” Jane asked. “No—don’t tell me. Mother?”

He grinned. “She called me again.”

“What if I don’t want your wish to come true?”

“Then it won’t.” He signaled the waiter and ordered a piece of cake just like hers.

The cake was thick rich chocolate and sinfully delicious. Being a cook, she was wondering about the exact ingredients as she ate it, while he simply savored his. He began taking a bite of his cake every time she took a nibble from hers. He watched her, and she watched him. Soon she forgot all about cooking. When she ran her tongue across her upper lip, he did the same. There was a rhythm to it. The river flowed by, tourists laughed and chattered, and the chocolate melted on her tongue just as his ripe kisses had.

“Dark, oozy chocolate’s my favorite flavor,” he said.

“Mine too,” she whispered.

“At least there’s something we enjoy together.” He moved his face nearer hers so that he could whisper. “Besides kissing.”

When she felt his warm breath against her cheek, she jumped away from him. Still, it had been a long time since she’d enjoyed anything more than eating chocolate cake while staring into his sparkling green eyes.

“You’re dangerous,” she said, patting her mouth with her napkin.

“I certainly hope so,” he replied.

Chapter 5

“Mother—please!”

The fragrance of Matt’s flowers were cloyingly sweet. Jane wished she could ignore them. If only she had windows she could open.

If only her mother hadn’t called.

“Mother, I can’t deal with this!” Jane closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I’ve got a meeting with my boss in two minutes, so listen to me! Please, quit calling him!”

“If she offers you the job, refuse it. Tell her Matt would be better.”

“This kind of help I don’t need.”

“A smart woman is smart enough to let her man win—at least until she’s got him hooked.”

“Do you ever read anything that’s been written this century? Your ideas are medieval.”

“No, your generation is impossible. There aren’t going to be any grandbabies. We’re going to be extinct.”

“Mother!”

“But the cards explicitly recommended—”

“Mother!”

“I really do see him in your future!”

“Mother!” Each Mother was louder than the last.

“Stop shouting. It’s not good for me, you know.”

Her mother took a breath. Jane glanced at her watch.

“Okay. All right. But, Jane, if you were half as smart as you think you are, you’d wear those contact lenses I bought you and play more. But go ahead and keep messing up your own life. Just don’t come crying to me when he gets himself snapped up by some floozy, and you realize you’re in love with him when it’s too late.”

“What?”

“You’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I remember the way you trailed around after him on the playground, always pestering him until he pulled your ponytail or something. Remember the time you sat on his cowboy hat?”

“What I remember is having to leave home and go to a private, big city high school because he humiliated me. I didn’t get to graduate with my friends.”

“Lighten up. Not in this lifetime will I forget that kiss last Christmas. You could barely stand.”

“He probably spiked the punch.”

“Nobody else was reeling. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to your mother. Do you need me to pick you up this afternoon or not?”

“No,” she replied wearily, glad her mother had finally changed the subject. “Mindy said she’d do it.”

“You could get off your stubborn high horse and ride home with him in that dream machine.”

“He nearly killed me in it this morning.”

“Helen Geary’s version is way different than yours.”

When they hung up, Jane got up and ran, shaking, down the hall to Andrea’s office.

Jane had left her report and fund-raiser material with Andrea earlier, but now she didn’t feel up to the meeting. She felt like yelling and tearing her hair. Talking to her mother frequently did that to her. When she finally reached Andrea’s door, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then she counted to ten again before knocking.

“Come in,” Andrea called from inside.

When Jane opened the door, Andrea, who was tall, black-haired and slim, rose to greet her. The woman looked stunning in a navy suit with gold at her throat.

“I can’t wait to talk to you,” she said. “I have some very exciting news.”

Jane’s heart was already thumping madly as she sank into the chair opposite Andrea’s desk and crossed her long legs.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. Management loves your ideas.”

Jane nodded. Then she bit her lips, hoping against hope that she’d been chosen as director of market research. At least then she could quit worrying about Matt’s motives.

Andrea lifted a folder from her desk. When Jane recognized her own handwriting on the manila cover, she began to tremble.

“Your ideas for the fund-raiser are fabulous.”

“The fund-raiser?”

“They’re both passionate and personal. I want to hear more about your plans for the bake-sale auction Wednesday at the game.”

“I have some friends who are cooking for free, to raise money for the event. And then—”

The door behind them opened.

“Sorry I’m late,” Matt said as he strode inside and sat down beside Jane.

Andrea picked up another folder with lots of messy inky-black swirls and leafed through it. “I hope you don’t mind taking on a partner in your fund-raiser project this late.”

“I—prefer—”

“A very talented partner,” Andrea said quickly, glancing at Harper. “Matt approached me on this…this morning.”

“Oh, really?”

He was smiling with boyish mischief. Only, the charming smile that could make her heart do flips caused a very different reaction under these circumstances. If he’d been wearing his favorite Stetson, she would have snatched it and sat on it.

“I don’t need a partner.” Jane’s voice was calm, but she knotted her hands in her lap so she wouldn’t be tempted to lean forward and pound Andrea’s desk, or better, his head.

“His ideas for the fund-raiser are almost exactly like yours.”

“How absolutely amazing,” Jane said, smiling tightly as she remembered her folder that had gone missing.

“You and he both live in the same town. I’ve decided to put you on the same committee to raise this money. Matt says he’s totally free the night before and the night of the fund-raiser.”

Why am I not surprised?

“So, he’ll be helping you Wednesday night.”

Suddenly the temperature in the room plummeted to sub-zero.

“Nice view,” Matt said far too pleasantly.

“Isn’t it?” Andrea shot him her most dazzling smile, and Jane remembered what her mother had said about some floozy nailing him. Andrea wasn’t exactly the kind of woman her mother had warned her about, but maybe good ol’ Mom had a slight, annoying point. Not that it mattered. Jane didn’t want him. She wanted to kick him or flatten one of his fancy tires. Or maybe strangle him with his loud tie.

It was all she could do to keep her face blank. Somehow she forced a smile, but she couldn’t quite control her eyes. No doubt, they were shooting sparks.

Not that Andrea, who was beaming at Matt, seemed to notice. Not that Jane blamed her boss for smiling at the handsome rat. Despite the chill in the room, the man radiated sex appeal.

“This is great,” Andrea said. “The two of you on top of this—together.”

“Teammates,” Matt supplied silkily, winking at Jane. “Hey, I don’t know if now’s the time, but I’ve come up with several new ideas. What about a chicken flying contest and maybe some armadillo races?”

Jane began to cough.

“Why, that’s brilliant,” Andrea said. “The male viewpoint is so refreshingly original. This is so…so Texas. Don’t you agree, Jane?”

Jane swallowed. “My thoughts exactly,” she said, clasping her knotted hands even more tightly because she itched to strangle them both.

Chicken flying contests—my you know what!

Jane’s reaction to being blindsided and put on the spot while in Andrea’s office was predictable. What she did about it wasn’t. Normally she would have kept her cool and worked behind closed doors to resolve the problem. Today she stormed down the hall, threw open the door to Matt’s office and went inside without even knocking.

He was at his desk, on the phone.

Making a date with some floozy, no doubt. At the thought she saw green.

His playful, sparkling green eyes rose to hers innocently when she hurled herself inside his office. Instantly he said a polite goodbye in his low, husky voice, and was off the phone before Jane could blink. He got up and shut the door.

Carefully she stepped across papers, reports, corporate manuals and stacks of files.

“Your office is a mess!”

“I’m phobic about file cabinets,” he said.

“You should be ashamed.”

He grinned. “Something from my dysfunctional childhood. Haven’t told the shrink about it yet.”

She didn’t laugh as she removed several files from a chair and slapped them on his desk before sitting down.

“Coffee?” he offered as he sank into his leather chair on the other side of his massive desk, which was also overflowing with clutter.

She shook her head so hard several pins flew out of her hair toward him. “This won’t take long.”

Smiling amiably, he picked up a pin and began to play with it.

She cleared her throat. “You stole my folder on the fund-raiser out of my briefcase.”

“Wrong. You left it. I returned it.”

“And you stole my ideas!”

“I think our working together could be fun.”

“You have absolutely no interest in the children’s after-school day-care education fund.”

“Maybe I want to become…passionate about the same things you are.”

“All you want is to be director of market research.”

“Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black to me, darlin’?”

“I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve ever gotten. But you…you just get by on your contacts, money, your fancy car, good looks and good-old-boy network. Schmoozing around the ol’ watercooler. Telling dirty jokes.”

“Last time I looked, Andrea isn’t a good old boy. She seems to think highly of me.”

“Because she’s got a crush on you.”

“If she does, is that my fault?”

“You’re using it.”

“Relax. Spending more time together on this project could be fun…if you’d let it be.”

“This is my career. I work hard. All you do is joke.”

“I appreciate all you do. I admire you. That’s why I’m so interested in getting to know you better,” he insisted.

“Sorry, I don’t trust your motives. And if you dare joke about me or what happened in your car this morning to your watercooler pals…If they start coming on to me…” She choked at the awful thought and was unable to go on. His handsome face blurred. Oh, God, in another second she would be crying.

She got up to run, but he was faster. He grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall. She twisted her face away from his.

His grip eased. “Hey, I don’t want to hurt you.” His deep voice was soft. So soft, her knees went weak. “And I damn sure don’t want other men coming on to you.”

Very gently he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him just as she felt a single mortifying tear slide down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her fist and took a deep breath and glared at him.

A muscle tightened in his jawline. Then he drew a deep breath of his own, and he swallowed.

“Let me go,” she said.

“All right. But it’s not going to be that easy.”

When his hands fell away, she opened the door and ran. The day got worse. During her PowerPoint presentation about corporate branding, the computer she was using went down. When she couldn’t get it to work, she grew flustered. Naturally, Matt seized the day. After he jimmied a couple of wires, the computer hummed to life. By the time she was able to start over, she felt shy and unsure because she was running out of time. She talked too fast, lost her focus and forgot to make her most important points. If only Matt hadn’t been there, leaning forward, listening to her every word as if he was spellbound. The jerk even complimented her speech and asked several intelligent questions that made her look great afterward.

Then it was his turn. A natural when it came to sports or performances of any kind, he got up and blew everybody away with his smooth presentation. He stared at her the whole time, smiling after every point he made. When everybody clapped and congratulated him, Jane sat in her corner and chewed moodily on her pencil until the lead snapped and she tossed it down.

When their colleagues filed out of the conference room, Matt came over to her. No doubt to gloat because he was sure she’d lost and he’d landed the director of market research position.

“You didn’t say anything. Well?”

“Well what?”

“What’d you think of my presentation?”

She jabbed her pencil into the knot of hair at her nape. “You’ve been a natural-born ham ever since elementary school.”

“Surely you don’t still hold my clumsy efforts in the school talent shows against me.”

“You blew everybody away even back then, and you know it.”

“Even you?” he asked.

She felt her face heat. She was sure she was blushing, which was even better for his ego than actually telling him he’d been terrific.

“Did anybody ever tell you, you’re way too conceited, Harper?”

“Just you.”

She got up and began gathering her books and reports noisily.

“Darlin’, are you going to hate me forever?”

“I—I don’t hate you.”

“Well, that’s a start.”

“Just leave me alone. Okay?”

“What if it’s not okay?”

“Don’t be too sure you’ve got the promotion, Harper. Not until it’s announced.”

When she walked toward the door, he stepped in front of her. “Is that all you care about? This morning I thought that maybe…” When he swallowed, she thought he looked human, too human; hurt even, and it bothered her. A lot.

She swallowed, too. “Don’t think about this morning. And don’t brag to anybody about that kiss either.”

“Kisses. Plural. And I think we need a repeat.”

“Don’t even think about it, Harper.”

He grabbed her. “What if I can’t stop thinking about it, darlin’, any more than you can?”

Slowly he removed her glasses. When his mouth touched hers, she melted into his big body. Then it was all over but the kissing—long passionate, drowning kisses, which didn’t stop until she was wet and feverish, and he was shaking violently.

When he finally let her come up for air, her legs were wobbly, and she was reeling. Somehow she managed to say in a chilly tone, “This has got to stop, Harper.”

“You could have fooled me.”

He calmly picked up her glasses and handed them to her.

She shoved them onto the bridge of her nose. Then she grabbed her purse and briefcase and walked toward the door. She didn’t look back.

She didn’t dare look back.

Chapter 6

Wednesday evening

Jane seethed as she swallowed a nervous breath against the panic that threatened to overpower her. She tilted her chin upward, fighting not to glance at Matt, who was surrounded by kids and their mothers, all wanting to buy tickets to his armadillo races and chicken-flying contests.

Harper was good. What was the use of even trying to compete with him? He could beat her with both his hands tied behind his back. Once again he’d proved that her hard work and discipline and careful planning were nothing against his gut instinct, common touch and savvy charisma. While he was too busy to believe manning his armadillo races and chicken-flying contests, she’d hardly sold a pie. Anytime he had a free second, he strode up and down among the throng hawking his wares.

She clicked her nails against the counter and tried not to feel bored or depressed at her failures or resent the excellent job Matt and his brother, Jerry Keith, had done building booths for her under the bleachers of the baseball stadium. They’d worked cheerfully until nearly 2:00 a.m. last night. Even though Matt had been exhausted, he’d insisted on following her home, which was out of his way.

“Just to make sure you get there safely,” he’d said.

“Like you really think there might be a criminal lurking behind every mesquite tree and cactus bush,” she’d replied.

“Is it a major crime I want to protect you?” His handsome face had been touchingly earnest as she’d slid behind the wheel.

She was fighting to be a good sport about his popularity. After all, he was outdoing himself for a good cause. Her cause. The nagging question was—why? To help her? For the cause? Or to improve his position as contender for director of market research?

She was afraid she knew the answer.

While stragglers trickled by her booth to buy cakes or pies or bicker about her prices, Matt patiently answered his young fans’ nonstop questions in between armadillo races. For the most part, Jerry Keith was manning the chicken-flying booth, which was almost as popular. Feathers were flying, chickens were squawking and kids were running wildly about inside the screened booth, screaming in delight.

Upon the rare occasions when Jane sold a cake or pie, she couldn’t help glancing at Matt, hoping he’d see she wasn’t a total loser. He always smiled back at her.

“Are armadillos really really fast, Mr. Harper?” squealed cute little ten-year-old Susanna Hays, who was jumping back and forth, causing her red pigtails to bounce.

Matt knelt so that he was at eye level with the excited little girl. “When they think you’re tracking ’em down to carve out their insides so you can sell ’em on the side of the road as baskets, they can skitter away over the rocks mighty dern fast.”

Susanna stilled. “Do bad people really do that?”

“Mostly they’re slow though,” said Beaver Jackson, pushing his rumpled black Stetson back. His tone was authoritative because he was in the sixth grade. “I got one. Wumpus I call him. He’s my pet.”

“I’ve got one too,” Matt said, looking up and winking at Jane.

Oh, why didn’t somebody, anybody, come up and buy a pie?

“I got a scorpion for a pet,” another little boy said. “In a bottle with holes in the cap.”

“Well, don’t let him out in the house,” Matt warned, patting him on the head.

Pretty Annie Grant, the bank teller, and Greg Flynn, a local cop, were ambling among the tables side by side, pretending not to be too interested in each other as they eyed the items to be sold in the silent auction. Annie wrote her name down beneath several items, including the card to buy Jane’s cooking services.

Matt watched Annie and then nodded at Jane.

Good. She was glad he’d noticed that at least somebody appreciated her cooking skills. She said a quick prayer that somebody would buy more of her pies so she could sell out and leave. Just being around Matt made her hot and edgy.

“Got any ideas about who wrote that love letter?” cracked a voice to her right as he slapped a ten-dollar bill down. “Two strawberry pies, please.”

Jane turned. Ol’ Bill Sinclair’s weather-beaten face looked like a human road map, but his bright blue eyes twinkled at her with more mischief than most youngsters. Obviously he knew Matt wrote it.

“I have an idea or two,” she said, not looking at him as she rung up the sale.

“A lot of people do,” he said, glancing toward Matt. “You two did a mighty good job together on these booths.”

“Matt and his brother did most of it.”

“Matt damn sure has a way with kids.”

No sooner had Ol’ Bill Sinclair paid for his stacks of pies than Matt left his own booth and fans. He stalked straight to the display that described her cooking services, which were to be auctioned.

Feelings of triumph turned to horror when he leaned over and studied the paper with an air of intense interest. A lock of inky hair fell across his dark eyebrow when he lifted the paper and took out a pen.

No! No! Don’t you dare!

Bending lower, he scribbled something on the paper, glanced her way and smiled wickedly before returning to his cheering horde. Soon afterward a crowd began to gather around her display. She sucked in air.

What had he done?

Soon, she was so curious and terrified to know, she was wringing her hands when Ol’ Bill patted her shoulder and said, “Don’t you fret. I’ll go check it out.”

Was she so obvious?

Ol’ Bill was back at her booth before she could blink twice. Not that she much liked the mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“Looks like your Harper’s done gone and bought himself the prettiest little cook in town.”

“He’s not my Harper.”

“Well, maybe you’re his then. He bid five thousand dollars for your cooking services.”

Her cheeks flamed. Her heart raced. She’d kill Harper for this. She would!

“With conditions,” Ol’ Bill amended softly.

“With conditions?” she parroted.

“Girl, I knew you was a cook, but he must want your services mighty bad. Ain’t nobody but a fool with money to burn gonna top that bid. You and he go back a long way, don’t cha?”

She could feel her cheeks heating now. “We don’t go back at all. And don’t you dare print a word about this in the Gazette. And don’t you dare tell my mother about this either.”

Ol’Bill chuckled. “She’s psychic, remember. She predicted you’d be born in a special way, just didn’t see how.”

“Don’t you dare go into the particulars of that event either.”

“What I’m trying to say is everybody in town already knows about you and Matt.”

“Did he write that love letter?”

Ol’ Bill winked at her. “He’s never been one to declare himself. But don’t you worry none. It’ll all come out in the wash, sweetheart.”

He had written it.

Well, that didn’t give him rights over her!

“It certainly will come out in the wash,” she said as she lifted the wooden door to her booth, slammed it down so hard the whole booth shook and strode over to the display that offered her cooking services. Sure enough, Matt’s name was a sloppy swirling scrawl of livid black ink ten times bigger than the other neatly written names. In addition, he’d penned, “Five thousand dollars. With conditions.”

As she read the enormous black letters and reread that incredible figure, the home team struck a home run, and the crowd in the bleachers began to stomp and roar again. The sound was so deafening, she covered her ears.

Suddenly Matt was beside her. When he put his arms protectively around her, she began to quiver even as she pushed him away.

“How could you bid five thousand dollars for a few meals? Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Going after what I want.” He slid his checkbook out of his hip pocket and uncapped his pen. “After all, it’s for a cause we both believe in.” His bold gaze drifted from her mouth to her neck.

She gasped, afraid they’d drift lower to her breasts. They didn’t. Instead he leaned over the table and wrote her a check for five thousand dollars.

After a moment or two she caught her breath.

He handed her the crisp blue check, which was indeed made out for five thousand dollars.

“Don’t play games, Harper. What do you mean by…er…conditions?”

“I want breakfast in bed every morning up until the Spring Fling. I’m not picky when it comes to food. Just geography, which is you serving me breakfast in my bed.”

“What?”

“Don’t look so shocked. Villains like me always prefer to lure the damsels they want to their den to seduce them.”

She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “I will not sleep with you! Or kiss you! Or…or…”

“Oh, and wear your hair down, darlin’, and lose the glasses. You’re much prettier without them—as I’m sure you know.”

“I’m blind as a bat without my glasses.”

“Your mother bought you contacts years ago.”

“You have no right to know that.”

“Everybody in Red Rock knows everything, darlin’. It’s part of the town’s charm. Lose the glasses.”

She was wondering what to do when her friend Annie, who happened to work at the bank Matt’s check had been drawn on, walked by again.

“Oh, Annie!” she cried, afraid to be alone with Matt for another second.

Annie turned and smiled. She was pretty and tall. Her lush red hair was down tonight, and her brown eyes were warm and friendly as she made her way toward them.

“I heard you two were working together on this,” she said, looking pleased. “You did a great job. Everybody’s so happy you finally made up.”

“We have not made up,” Jane said.

“Oh. I thought—”

“Yes, we have,” Matt said.

Jane handed her the check. “Is this good or not?”

Annie looked up at Matt, her sweet face uncertain now.

He nodded.

“As good as gold,” Annie replied sweetly.

“I guess that settles it then,” Matt said. With the swiftness of a swooping hawk, he grabbed her hand. “You’re mine, darlin’.” His green eyes darkened possessively as he pulled her closer.

Usually she applauded people who were clear about their goals, but he was too much, and she was drowning.

“Starting tomorrow,” he persisted, “I want breakfast in bed every day until the Spring Fling.”

She yanked her hand free. Speechless and quivering from too many overwrought emotions, she turned to walk away.

“And, oh, Jane—”

She whirled. “What else?” she demanded in a contemptuous breath.

His fathomless eyes were boring holes into her. “I can’t wait,” he purred, “until tomorrow morning.”

Her nerves leaped. Her heart beat faster. She was slow to answer, but when she did, her mouth curved seductively and she could see she’d surprised him.

“Neither can I,” she whispered. “You’re in for quite a surprise.”

“Good. It’s about time you decided you have a right to have some fun. We’d be good together.”

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