“It’s me, all right!”

He must have been staring, because Sherry flashed him an embarrassed grin. At least, he thought it was Sherry. He couldn’t get any words past his lips. She looked nice, he supposed, but she didn’t look like Sherry anymore. Gone was the cascade of curls that had reached the middle of her back. Now her hair fell in gentle waves down to her shoulders—and it was brown.

But the changes didn’t stop there. What had happened to those glossy red lips? Her clothes could only be described as sedate, and her shoes had no heel whatsoever. Even her voice seemed more subdued.

With an inward groan, he realized this metamorphosis was his doing. She’d changed for him….

Dear Reader,

Things get off to a great start this month with another wonderful installment in Cathy Gillen Thacker’s series THE DEVERAUX LEGACY. In Their Instant Baby, a couple comes together to take care of an adorable infant—and must fight their instant attraction. Be sure to look for a brand-new Deveraux story from Cathy when The Heiress, a Harlequin single title, is released next March.

Judy Christenberry is also up this month with a story readers have been anxiously awaiting. Yes, Russ Randall does finally get his happy ending in Randall Wedding, part of the BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series. We also have Sassy Cinderella from Kara Lennox, the concluding story in her memorable series HOW TO MARRY A HARDISON. And rounding out things is Montana Miracle, a stranded story with a twist from perennial favorite Mary Anne Wilson.

Enjoy all we have to offer and come back next month to help us celebrate twenty years of home, heart and happiness!

Sincerely,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Sassy Cinderella

Kara Lennox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copy writer, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels.

When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel.

Books by Kara Lennox

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

840—VIRGIN PROMISE

856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS

871—TAME AN OLDER MAN

893—BABY BY THE BOOK

917—THE UNLAWFULLY WEDDED PRINCESS

934—VIXEN IN DISGUISE*

942—PLAIN JANE’S PLAN*

951—SASSY CINDERELLA*

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

He had no idea how it had happened. One minute he was herding a bunch of cows to their winter pasture. The next, Jonathan Hardison was flying through the air, landing on his head with a thud hard enough to knock the air out of him, then being stomped on by the same stupid horse that had just bucked him off.

Damn, being stomped on hurt. A white-hot pain stabbed through his leg, but he was no stranger to pain. Ranching wasn’t an occupation for any guy who couldn’t stand the sight of blood or who got the vapors if he cut his hand on barbed wire.

As he lay there on the ground, struggling to get a breath, his right-hand man got off his horse and came over to check out the damages. Cal Chandler was a new man at the Hardison Ranch, but he was the local veterinarian’s grandson, and he seemed competent enough.

Until now.

Cal just stared at Jonathan, gaping.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Jonathan said when he could finally catch enough breath to speak. “Help me up.”

“I don’t think so, boss,” Cal said in a shaky voice. He waved away Jon’s horse, which had come over to investigate why his master was on the ground, having apparently forgotten that moments ago he was in a blind, bucking panic. “I think you better just stay right there till an ambulance gets here.”

“What? Have you gone loco? I might be a little banged up…” Jonathan leaned up on one elbow, then wished he hadn’t because he got a good look at his leg. It was bent in a place no leg should be bent.

“You got a cell phone on you?” Cal asked.

“In the saddlebag,” Jon said, just before he passed out.

“IT ISN’T AS BAD as it could have been,” said Jeff, Jonathan’s brother, the next day at Mother Frances Hospital in Tyler, Texas. Tyler was the closest big town to the Hardison Ranch. “It was an ugly break, but at least the swelling’s down.”

“So let me go home,” Jon grumbled. Lying in bed doing nothing was not his favorite way to spend time.

“Tomorrow. Maybe,” Jeff said. “I’m more worried about the concussion than the leg, to tell you the truth.” Jeff also happened to be Jonathan’s doctor, and he seemed to love bossing his older brother around.

“Like hell, ‘maybe,”’ Jonathan said. “I’ll check my own damn self out.”

“Ohh, surly, are we?” Jeff’s fiancée, Allison, had also dropped in for a visit, as if this was some kind of social event. Allison’s presence was the only thing that kept Jonathan from cussing Jeff out.

“You’d be surly, too, if you had to wear one of these stupid gowns with your butt hanging out.”

“Seriously, Jon,” Allison said, “you shouldn’t go home until you’re sure you can handle it. You’ll be on crutches—”

“No way. Put one of those rubber tips on this thing,” Jonathan said, knocking his knuckles against his cast. “I can walk.”

“You cannot walk,” Jeff said. “You put weight on this leg at this stage, it’ll never heal.”

“Then give me the crutches and let me get out of here.”

“Maybe,” Jeff said again. That word was starting to tick Jonathan off.

“Even with crutches, you’re going to need some help when you go home,” Allison said. “You’ve got two lively kids to care for.”

“Pete can handle the kids,” Jonathan said, referring to their eighty-one-year-old grandfather. Pete had built the Hardison Ranch from nothing, but he’d long ago deeded the property to his three grandsons and retired. He still lived in the house, though, and he helped take care of Jonathan’s children: eight-year-old Sam and seven-year-old Kristin. He said it made him feel useful, which was just fine with Jonathan, since he’d been long divorced and needed help at home.

“You’re forgetting,” Jeff said. “Pete and Sally are getting married this Saturday.”

“Ah, hell, that’s right,” Jonathan said. After the wedding, Pete and his long-time sweetheart, Sally Enderlin, were going on a weeklong cruise. “I don’t care. I’ll manage somehow.” But he really didn’t know how. His youngest brother, Wade, who ran a horse-breeding operation on his portion of the ranch, had offered to pitch in with the cattle-ranching work during Jonathan’s recuperation. But how in the world would Jon cook, clean and supervise his superactive kids?

“I’ll hire someone to come in,” Jonathan said decisively.

But Jeff was shaking his head. “You’ll need someone there all the time, at least for the first week or so.”

Jonathan looked to Allison, half hoping she’d volunteer. But realistically he knew she couldn’t. She was the dentist in Cottonwood, the small town where they all lived, and she had a thriving practice to manage. She couldn’t just take off a week.

Allison had a peculiar look on her face that Jonathan had come to associate with an impending brainstorm.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her point-blank.

“I have this friend in Dallas who’s a nurse,” Allison said, casting worried glances at Jeff. “She’s starting a new job in December, but for now she’s at loose ends. I’ve been trying to get her to come visit me in Cottonwood. If she knew someone here needed her nursing skills, she’d be here in a flash.”

“I do not need a nursemaid,” Jonathan protested, picturing some horse-faced pain queen with a hypodermic.

“But that’s precisely what you do need,” Jeff said. “I’d feel much better about releasing you if I knew a registered nurse was keeping an eye on you. Why don’t you call her, Allie?”

Allison looked at Jonathan. “It’s up to you.”

He saw no other alternative. Once this nurse saw he could take care of himself, she would leave him alone and focus on caring for the children. He nodded his assent.

Allison smiled and opened her purse. “I’ll call Sherry right now.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped. “Sherry? You mean Sherry McCormick, the she shark?”

“Oh, Jeff, you’re way too harsh. So, she had a crush on you. So what?” Allison scrolled through the phone numbers on her cell phone.

“A crush? She wanted to eat me alive at that convention.”

This was getting interesting, Jonathan thought. A she shark? Didn’t sound like a horse face, at least.

“She happens to be an excellent nurse,” Allison said. “At least, she just landed a job working for one of Dallas’s top cosmetic surgeons.”

“You can’t bring Sherry McCormick to Cottonwood,” Jeff said flatly. “A city girl like her won’t fit in here.”

“What’s the matter? You afraid she’ll come after you again? Well, don’t. She’s over you.”

“And you want to inflict her on Jonathan instead?”

Allison waved away Jeff’s concern. “Jonathan isn’t her type. Anyway, she told me she never gets involved with a patient. It isn’t professional.”

“Why am I not her type?” Jonathan wanted to know. Unfortunately, this Sherry sounded like his type—flashy and aggressive. His ex-wife, Rita, had been exactly that, all spike heels and expensive perfume. It had not been a match made in heaven. Rita had about died of boredom in tiny Cottonwood, Texas, and not even her two children had been enough to make her stick around. She’d fled to New Orleans, where she’d grown up, and saw the kids maybe twice a year.

“She goes for doctors and lawyers,” Jeff answered. “Guys in suits with expensive cars who will keep her on a steady diet of four-star restaurants and adorn her with diamonds.”

That certainly didn’t describe Jonathan.

“I’m not interested in romantic potential,” Jonathan said. “If she’s willing to come and can do the job, bring her on.”

Allison flashed a satisfied smile and dialed a number on her cell phone. Jeff groaned.

SHERRY MCCORMICK drove slowly around the town square of Cottonwood, hardly believing her eyes. It could have been a set from a Hollywood back lot—for a period piece from the 1920s. Quaint hardly began to describe this town.

Fortunately, Sherry was a sucker for quaint. The picturesque shops and restaurants charmed her silly. Did people really live like that? Even as she tried to tell herself the idea of residing in the sticks repulsed her, she felt an insistent pull toward this place.

Cottonwood was a town a person could call home.

Sherry had never lived in a place that felt like home. Certainly the double-wide in which she’d grown up hadn’t qualified. Her parents had been a lot more interested in drinking and smoking dope than raising their only child—except to sporadically hurl criticism and occasional pieces of furniture her way. That was their idea of parenting.

She was okay with her current home, a condo in Dallas she’d bought last year. She’d taken great care in decorating it, choosing each picture and accent piece one at a time. But no matter how many homey touches she added, it still felt cold to her. She supposed no place could feel really like a home when only one person lived there.

But maybe that was her lot in life. She sighed as she turned her car away from town and followed the directions Allison had given her to the Hardison Ranch. She’d tried really hard to find a companion, a man she was compatible with, one who would love her, one who wanted to commit and eventually grow old with her. But it seemed the harder she tried, the worse things turned out. She’d found plenty of men who would love her—for one night. Maybe she just wasn’t the kind of woman a man wanted hanging around for the rest of his life.

As sobering as that thought was, Sherry knew she could live without a husband. Growing old without children, though—she wasn’t going to settle for that. Still, at thirty-one, she had a little time. And until she figured out the rest of her life, she had her nursing career, which was a real blessing. She’d been let go from her last position, an event that seemed grossly unfair to Sherry. She was a good nurse, a conscientious one, and it was only a personality conflict that had gotten her fired. But then she’d landed a plum position with the best plastic surgeon in Dallas, along with a big hike in pay, so it had all worked out.

Even this chance to come to Cottonwood and take care of an injured rancher had come at the right time, convincing her that nursing was where she needed to focus her energies. Her new job didn’t start until next month and her finances were getting a little tight. The money she would earn as a live-in caregiver would help with some of those credit card bills she was using as a stopgap measure.

The Hardison Ranch was easy to find. She just had to follow what seemed like miles of white rail fences until she reached the main gate, which featured a hand-painted sign and a metal sculpture of a bucking longhorn cow. Or was it a bull? A steer? Whatever. Sherry knew nothing about cattle, and she didn’t want to.

She turned her Firebird right and through the gate, rumbling over a cattle guard, then down a long, red dirt drive. She noticed a picturesque red barn off to her right. It looked like the model for countless amateur oil paintings.

“What a trip,” she murmured aloud.

When the ranch house came into view, Sherry was impressed. It was a huge, rambling one-story building done in a pseudo log-cabin style. Pastures surrounded it on all sides, but a few trees had been spared to give the house shade from the hot Texas sun. Someone had planted chrysanthemums in front, which were covered in orange blossoms.

The house and grounds looked well maintained, and the few cows she saw in the distance grazed contentedly. She hoped the inside was as nice, but she had her doubts since from what Allison had told her, the Hardison Ranch was a bastion of male bachelorhood. She didn’t relish the thought of devoting all her time to scrubbing floors and toilets, but that was what she would do if she had to. When she’d left the trailer park, she’d sworn she would never live anyplace dirty again, not even temporarily.

Sherry pulled her Firebird next to a pickup truck. Several other vehicles were parked in the drive, all of them trucks or SUVs. Her little red sports car looked out of place, she thought with a grin, wondering what her new employer would think of it.

She hadn’t given much thought to her boss and patient, Jonathan Hardison. When she’d asked Allison if Jonathan was as cute as his younger brother, her friend had been cagey with her answer, saying, “He’s handsome enough when he smiles, which isn’t very often.” Sherry figured that was fair warning that Jonathan wouldn’t be an easy customer.

Well, soon she’d know exactly what the situation was. She couldn’t sit here in the car all day. She applied a fresh coat of lipstick, powdered her nose, fluffed her blond hair, grabbed her overnight case from the passenger seat, and got out of the car.

“SHE’S HERE!” announced Sam, Jonathan’s eight-year-old son, who peered excitedly out the living room window.

“I wanna see!” Jon’s seven-year-old, Kristin, raced to the window to join her brother.

If Jonathan could have done the same, he would have. But he was stuck in a recliner, his leg elevated on pillows. He could move, even walk with the aid of crutches when he had to, but Jeff had ordered him to stay put unless absolutely necessary.

For once, Jonathan had listened to his brother. Now that he was off those nice painkilling drugs they’d given him at the hospital, the leg hurt—a lot. He would do whatever it took to heal the fracture as quickly as he could so he could get back to work. If that meant acting like an invalid for a few days, he’d do it.

His whole family had come to the hospital this morning to take him home, like it was some kind of party. Now they were crawling all over the house. Jeff and their father, Edward Hardison, who was also a doctor, were here to instruct Jonathan’s new nurse on his care. Wade was here ostensibly because he was running the ranch for the next couple of weeks, but Jonathan suspected Wade and his wife, Anne, were hanging around because they were curious about the new nurse.

Allison was also there to greet Sherry because she’d arranged the whole thing. Gregarious Sally, Pete’s fiancée, didn’t really have an excuse for being here, except that she and Pete were seldom apart these days. They’d all been fussing around him like old women, fixing up a guest room, doing laundry, stocking the pantry. Much as he loved his family, Jonathan wished they would all just go away and leave him in peace. He could work things out with the nursemaid himself.

Wade joined the kids at the window and let out a low whistle. “Allison, are you nuts? She doesn’t even look like a nurse. She looks like a—”

“Don’t say it.” Allison held up her hand to halt her future-brother-in-law’s tirade. “You can’t judge a book by its cover. Haven’t you ever heard that?”

Like a what? Jonathan wanted to know.

“Let’s have a look at her,” said Pete, Jonathan’s wiry grandfather, toddling over to the living room window and peeking around the edge of the curtain. “She can’t be that—holy moly, that’s some hunk of woman.”

“Pete, really,” Allison admonished. “Sherry is…an individual. She has her own unique sense of style.”

“Yeah, kind of trashy chic,” added Anne, who was peeking through the shades from a different window. “My gosh, get a load of that car!”

“Get a load of those spike heels,” Wade added.

“She’s wearing leopard-skin pants!” Sam observed.

“For pity’s sake,” Jonathan said, “the woman’s going to think we’re a bunch of weirdos, peering at people through cracks in the curtains.” But his mind was focused on the comment—some hunk of woman…trashy chic…spike heels…leopard-skin pants. He was undoubtedly intrigued. Did that mean big hair and tight clothes? His heart beat a little faster at the thought even as he told himself to knock it off. The last thing he needed was to develop a crush on some fast-talking city girl.

The doorbell rang, and Allison gave an exasperated sigh. “Anyone else want to take a verbal shot at poor Sherry before I let her in? ’Cause I promise you, first person who says anything mean to her face, I’ll kick ’em clean to the Gulf of Mexico.”

As Allison opened the door, Jonathan pretended to find great interest in the TV Guide. Everyone else could make a big to-do over Sherry. He intended for her to know she’d been allowed here under protest. Agreeing to the nurse was the only way he could get Jeff to discharge him from the hospital.

“Allie, honey, you look fabulous!” The newcomer stepped through the door and enveloped Allison in a hug. “Being engaged must agree with you. Jeff, you rascal, it’s about time someone made an honest man out of you.” She kissed Jeff on the cheek.

Jonathan watched all this from the corner of his eye, getting only an impression of a slender body topped with a huge cloud of blond hair. He was dying to get a good look at her, but he didn’t want to be caught staring. And he had this niggling suspicion that he would want to stare.

Allison introduced Sherry to the rest of the crowd, including the children, who had suddenly gone mute.

Finally Jonathan couldn’t put it off. Allison was leading Sherry to his corner of the room. He looked up from the TV Guide and assumed a smile, which immediately froze on his face. Standing before him was the most fantastic creature he’d ever laid eyes on, a cross between Florence Nightingale and Madonna.

“Jonathan, this is Sherry McCormick,” Allison was saying. Jonathan was only vaguely aware of what anyone said, however, as a buzz had started in his head, drowning out everything else.

Sherry held out her hand. Her fingers were tipped with inch-long, peach nails that exactly matched her lipstick. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan. I hope I can be a big help to you.”

Her voice was high-pitched and breathy, kind of like Marilyn Monroe’s. Jonathan took her hand, which felt cool and soft against his. He squeezed it briefly and murmured some pleasantry.

This was his nurse? He could more easily picture her sashaying down a runway than pushing a wheelchair down a hospital corridor. But she was a friend of Allison’s, and she had a sincere-looking smile, so he supposed he had to trust that she had some idea of how to take care of people.

“So how did you manage to do this to yourself?” Sherry asked, indicating the full-leg fiberglass cast.

Jonathan didn’t want to talk about his accident. He hadn’t been bucked from a horse for a good many years, and it was an embarrassment that he’d let his normally placid gelding get the best of him.

“Sheer stupidity,” he finally answered, hoping it would quell her curiosity.

“Let me show you to your room,” Allison said. She looked at the small case Sherry held in her left hand. “You brought more luggage than that, right?”

“Oh, lots more,” Sherry replied. “I don’t travel light.”

“If you’ll give me your keys,” Jeff said, “I’ll bring your stuff in from the car.”

Sherry obliged him, then allowed Allison to lead her down a hallway to the bedrooms. The children, who’d been staring at Sherry as if she were some exotic animal at the zoo, trailed after the two women. “You’re right across the hall from Jonathan,” Allison was saying as their voices faded away.

“Holy cow,” Pete said, stifling a laugh.

“She’s…different,” said Edward, who made a show of mopping his round face with his handkerchief.

“Jeff warned us Sherry was flamboyant,” Wade said, grinning ear to ear. “But nothing could have prepared me for the reality. She’s kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Anne asked in a teasing voice as she joined Wade on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Last I checked, you liked big hair and tight clothes.”

Wade’s face turned ruddy. “Not for a nurse,” he murmured, though he and Anne shared an understanding look. Anne, who was normally a sedate, conservative attorney, had first caught Wade’s eye by decking herself out like a country-western singer, complete with sequins, and brazenly flirting with him at a rodeo.

Edward fixed his oldest son with a penetrating stare. “You’re awfully quiet about all this. What do you think of her? Are you comfortable with her taking care of you and the kids?”

Comfortable? Not likely, when he had an arousal like a steel bar pushing against his jeans.

He shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, and if she’s not, I’ll send her packing.” He fervently hoped she would be a terrible nurse, and that he would find ten excuses before nightfall to fire her. Because otherwise he was going to have to work to keep his hands off her.

Chapter Two

Sherry struggled to breathe normally as Allison took her on a tour of the house. Though no women had inhabited this house for many years, it was neat and clean as a convent, calming her earlier fears. Which was good, because she had plenty of new concerns—like how she was going to remain a detached care-giver while caring for the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on.

She’d only been teasing Allison when she’d asked if Jonathan was good-looking. Normally she didn’t care what her patients looked like, only that they needed her. She’d figured that if he was related to Jeff, who was movie-star handsome, he wouldn’t be a gargoyle. But nothing had prepared her for exactly how good-looking the older brother would be—and very different from Jeff.

He was taller, for one thing. Sherry could tell even though Jonathan had been in a recliner. He was rangier, too—a bit broader in the shoulders, more sinewy, like a cowboy from those old cigarette billboards. His face still held on to its summer tan, though it was almost winter. His dark, wavy hair, a little unruly, was nothing like Jeff’s sun-burnished locks. But it was the eyes that really caught Sherry in a snare. Dark, mysterious, wary. Nothing tickled her libido faster than a man with secrets to hide.

Unfortunately, her policy was strictly hands-off when it came to her patients. What a bummer. Why couldn’t a guy like him show up in her life when she could actually take advantage?

Well, she might not be here that long, she reminded herself. The man’s superficial smile hadn’t extended to his eyes. Jonathan Hardison didn’t want her in his house.

She didn’t always make a great first impression. That was something she’d learned early, though she’d never understood why it was true. She always tried to be her most pleasant when she met new people.

At least most people liked her when they got to know her. Jonathan’s resistance made her just that much more determined to win him over—if he didn’t fire her first.

As for the kids, they were so precious they made her heart ache. All children made her feel that way, bringing back memories she’d just as soon keep buried. She liked to think she would be good with children, but in reality she hadn’t spent enough time around any to know. She imagined she could keep them safe, clean and fed, which was the minimum this job required. But she wasn’t sure if they would like her. For all she knew, they might believe she was trying to replace their mother.

“We laid in some groceries earlier today,” Allison was explaining as they entered the kitchen. “I have no idea what you like to cook, so I bought some staples and also frozen convenience stuff, just in case. The ranch has an account at the grocery store, so you can just charge whatever you want.”

Sherry inspected the cupboards and refrigerator contents in the large, homey kitchen. There seemed to be plenty of everything she would need for several days. “Will I need to get some sort of authorization?”

Allison looked at her blankly. “For what?”

“To charge the groceries.”

Allison laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just called Clem down at Grubbs’ Food Mart and let him know it’s okay for you to sign on the Hardison account.”

Wow. That was small-town life, Sherry guessed. Everyone knew everyone and trusted everyone, apparently. Sherry wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She was accustomed to the anonymity of the big city. She met new people every day and none of them could judge her on her past, only on what she let them see.

Sometimes that was enough, she conceded with a grin.

“Why are you smiling?” the little girl asked.

Sherry’s grin grew. “Because I’m happy to be here, I guess. Sometimes I just smile for the heck of it. You know, doctors have done tests on people that prove smiling makes you happy, even if you aren’t happy to start with.”

“That sounds like hogwash,” the boy said as he peered hopefully into an empty cookie jar.

Sam, Sherry reminded herself. Sam and Kristin. She prided herself on remembering names because she’d learned that her patients felt more relaxed when she related to them as people, one on one.

“Sam!” Allison scolded. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“He just says that word because Grandpa Pete says it and he thinks it’s funny,” Kristin said. Then she turned shy blue eyes on Sherry. “You have pretty teeth.”

“Best teeth money can buy,” Sherry quipped.

Allison started to say something, then stopped.

“What?” Sherry prompted.

“I was just wondering what happened to your real teeth, because I’m a dentist and therefore unnaturally interested in people’s mouths. But it’s a rude question.”

“No, it’s not,” Sherry said. “I chipped two of them by falling off a bicycle when I was a kid.” That was the story she’d been using for a long time. It was a lot nicer than the truth.

“Well, someone did an excellent job on your caps,” Allison said as they headed back through the dining room and into the living room. “Only a dentist like me would notice you have caps.”

“Thanks.” Getting her teeth fixed was one of the first things Sherry had attended to after she got out of nursing school.

Jeff was just coming through the front door with Sherry’s luggage. It hadn’t seemed like so much when she’d stuffed it all into the trunk and back seat of the Firebird, but now it looked like a tapestry-printed mountain growing in the middle of the room.

Jonathan frowned at the vast pile of luggage. Then he turned to Sherry. “You are here just for a few days, right?”

“I know it looks like a lot,” Sherry said apologetically. “I never have been good at packing. Don’t worry, the bags will be out of your way in a jiffy.” She grabbed up as many of the smaller bags as she could carry and lugged them toward her room. Jeff and Allison got the rest.

“This room is really nice,” Sherry said, running a finger along the top of the oak dresser. The comforter on the queen-size bed looked fluffy and warm, and there were at least four pillows, all with matching pillow slips.

“Anne made it over,” Allison said. “She has really good taste. In fact, Anne is the one who made me over.”

Allison had told Sherry the whole story when they first became friends. She’d wanted to catch Jeff’s eye, so she’d done a radical makeover on herself, only to have Jeff fail to notice. He’d finally come to his senses and realized he loved Allison, but apparently his feelings had little to do with her appearance.

“Want me to help you unpack?” Allison asked.

“I’ll do that later. Right now, I’d like to sit down with Jeff and learn more about Jonathan’s medical condition to find out exactly what sort of care you want me to provide.” She slipped a notebook and pen from the outer pocket of one of her bags.

“He has a concussion,” Jeff said. “He landed on his head.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t leave a dent in the ground,” Allison said, “instead of the other way round.”

“Of the two, his head’s probably harder,” Jeff agreed. “Anyway, Sherry, Jonathan also has an angulated, displaced fracture of the tibia, but it was simple. There were no bone fragments, so the orthopedist didn’t feel surgery was necessary, just reduction and a cast. But there was a lot of swelling and bruising, so he needs to keep the leg elevated—and keep off it, of course. Otherwise, just watch for signs of infection. He has some minor abrasions where the horse kicked him.”

Sherry gasped. “A horse kicked him?”

“After bucking him off,” Allison added. “These men and their horses…Well, anyway, other than keeping an eye on Jonathan, you’ll just need to cook and clean and help out with the kids. I know it’s not a job that requires your level of skill—”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Sherry said quickly, then realized how overeager she sounded. But the idea of playing house with Jonathan Hardison and his family was far more appealing than it should have been. “Is Jonathan on any medication?”

“Antibiotics and Vicadin for pain, but he’s not taking the pain pill. He said he didn’t like how it made him groggy.” Jeff pulled two prescription bottles out of his shirt pocket and handed them to Sherry. “Make him take the Vicadin if the pain keeps him awake at night. He needs to sleep if he wants to heal.”

“Gotcha.” She scribbled in her notebook as they all three returned to the living room.

“Kristin has food allergies,” Allison added. “The list of everything she’s allergic to is on the fridge.”

More scribbles in the notebook.

“Sam hates baths and will go to any lengths to avoid them,” Allison said with a chuckle. “Don’t let him con you.”

Sherry started to worry. What other idiosyncrasies did this family have, and what would they forget to tell her? She’d never done private-practice nursing before. She’d always worked in a hospital or doctor’s office, where there were plenty of people around if she had any questions or problems.

“Why doesn’t everybody stay for dinner?” Sherry asked. “I can make a Frito-chili pie that’s out of this world.”

JONATHAN COULDN’T BELIEVE his ears. The woman had been in his house for, what, fifteen minutes? And already she acted like she owned the place, inviting people to dinner. He wanted everyone to go home. He was in no shape to entertain guests.

At least he wouldn’t have to go to the table. He planned to take his meals right here on a TV tray.

But the aggravating woman messed up those plans, too. Realizing Jonathan would have to eat his dinner alone if everyone else sat in the dining room, she announced she would serve dinner in the living room. “The kids can sit on the floor in front of the coffee table and everyone else can eat on TV trays. You have TV trays, right?” She looked at Jonathan.

He was forced to smile and tell her where the trays were kept.

Frito-chili pie. Jonathan knew it was a Texas tradition, but he wasn’t fond of Mexican food of any kind. He liked his meat and potatoes. But the smell coming from the kitchen as Sherry cooked wasn’t too bad.

Allison got out the trays, and Kristin helped her set places for everyone. Anne put some lively zydeco music on the CD player, while Sally turned on every light and lamp in the house. Pretty soon it was like a party.

A party was the last thing Jonathan needed. Couldn’t his family see that? And Sherry—didn’t she know injured people needed peace and quiet? What kind of nurse was she?

In less than an hour she had dinner ready. He had to give her credit for efficiency. The steaming square of casserole on his plate didn’t cheer him, though. He would have preferred a nice pork chop.

“Do you normally have a blessing?” Sherry asked as everyone got settled in with their plates and drinks.

“Usually only when my father’s here,” Allison said. “I think I told you before, he’s a minister. I suppose we should bless the meal. Would you like to do it, Sherry?”

“Oh, um, sure.” She bowed her head. Jonathan would have done the same, but he was too entranced watching how Sherry’s curls fell over one shoulder and breast, the very end teasing her cleavage. “Thank you, Lord, for this food,” she said, “and for giving me a temporary job so the credit card companies don’t come get me, and for Jonathan being on the road to a full recovery.”

“Amen.”

“Let’s eat!” Sam said, picking up his fork and digging in. Everyone else followed suit.

From his first bite, Jonathan thought his mouth had caught fire. He somehow managed to swallow, chasing the bite down with a gulp of milk, but he coughed afterward. Looking around, he noticed he wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulty with the meal. Jeff’s eyes were watering, Edward had covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes were bulging, and Anne was gasping for breath.

Kristin was less polite. She spit out her first bite. “This is too hot!” she announced.

“No kidding,” Sam said, staring at his food as if it were a poisonous snake.

Sherry looked at the children with concern. “Is it? I put peppers in the pie—I found them in the fridge, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Pete chuckled. “Those’re my peppers. I put ’em on everything, but these other tenderfoots don’t like ’em.” Pete took a second bite of the casserole, obviously not bothered by the piquant flavor.

“Daddy, can I have a peanut butter sandwich?” Kristin asked.

One by one everyone except Pete and Sherry found an alternate dinner. They tried to tell Sherry it wasn’t her fault, but she was obviously embarrassed.

“What about you, Jonathan?” she asked. “Can I fix you something else?”

“I’m really not hungry,” he announced. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

Sherry dropped the sponge she was using to clean spills off the coffee table. “I’ll help you.”

He held up a hand to halt her approach. “I can manage, thanks.” But, to his humiliation, he couldn’t. He was stuck in the recliner.

Ignoring his objections, Sherry went to work levering him out of the chair, helping him balance on his good leg while he situated the crutches.

“I’ve got it now, thanks.”

But the infernal woman hovered over him as he limped toward his room. “It’s always hardest the first day on crutches,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of using them soon. Of course, you shouldn’t walk much at all these first few days.”

“I don’t plan to—what in the name of all that’s holy is that thing?” Jonathan stopped at the doorway to his bedroom, staring at this monstrous flowered balloon-looking thing on his bed.

“It’s an inflatable bed-chair,” Sherry said cheerfully, sliding into the room ahead of him. “It’s great for bolstering yourself up while confined to a bed. Because you don’t want to lie flat all the—”

“I’m not confined to a bed,” he grated out. “I am not an invalid.”

She plucked the offending object off the bed and shoved it aside. “I like to use it when I sit up reading at night,” she said, still cheerful despite his rebuff. “Now then, where do you keep your pajamas?”

She started opening and closing the dresser drawers as if she had the perfect right.

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

“Oh. All right, then.” She pulled the covers back on his double bed. “Sit down, and I’ll help you—”

“Damn it, woman,” he roared, “can’t you see I don’t want any help?”

She stared at him a moment, then looked down at the floor. “Yes,” she said softly, “that’s been obvious since I got here. It’s also obvious to me that whether you want it or not you need some assistance.”

“In case I haven’t made myself clear yet, let me try again. You are to confine yourself to cooking, cleaning and caring for my children. I can take care of myself.”

She picked up the bed-chair and pulled its plug. It made an awful noise as she squeezed the air out of it. “If that’s what you wish.” She didn’t seem perturbed at all. “I’m only here to make things easier. If you need anything, call.”

Jonathan could still smell her perfume after she left. Damn. He hadn’t meant to be so rude. He knew she was only trying to do the job she’d been hired for. But the sight of her in his bedroom had made him snap. Having a woman like her anywhere near his bed was asking for trouble.

Besides, if she’d helped him undress, she’d have discovered exactly the effect she had on him. It would be highly embarrassing for Sherry to know she could turn him on just by walking across the room.

He allowed himself a brief fantasy—Sherry undressing him, cool, detached, her elegant hands touching him with a nurse’s practical manner, those long nails lightly raking his skin. He let out an involuntary groan and hoped everyone in the house hadn’t heard.

“I’M SORRY JONATHAN’S being such a bear,” Allison said as she helped Sherry in the kitchen. “He’s normally very nice, just reserved. But he’s not used to being so helpless.”

“Can you blame him, after I just about poisoned the whole family?”

“It was an honest mistake.”

“Well, I’ll remember from now on. No spicy food for the Hardisons.” Sherry smiled, trying to get over the humiliation of ruining her very first meal here. “Listen, I know how some men are when they’re injured. They feel weak, powerless, and they compensate by bullying everybody that crosses their paths. I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me.” Although it did, a little. It was always important to her to do a good job, but she also wanted her patients to like her. Jonathan, she suspected, couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Well, she’d always enjoyed a challenge.

“Maybe when the rest of us go, he’ll simmer down some,” Allison said.

“You’re leaving now?” Sherry knew his whole family wouldn’t be spending the night, but she was a little nervous about assuming full responsibility, especially for the children.

“Pete will be here one more night, but he and Sally are getting married tomorrow morning and taking off on their cruise.”

“Does Jonathan expect to attend the wedding?” Sherry asked, concerned.

“He’d like to, but Jeff said no way.”

“What about the children?”

“Yes. Pete will take them to the church, but if you could get them ready, that would be a big help.”

“Okay.” Sherry thought for a moment. “Where’s the reception?”

“We’re just having punch and cake at the church hall. It’ll be a very small wedding. Why?”

“I don’t mean to interfere, but I was just thinking, what if they moved the reception here? Then we could include Jonathan in the celebration.”

Allison’s eyes lit up. “That’s a terrific idea! Let’s run it past Pete and Sally and see what they think.”

The older couple was enthusiastic about the suggestion. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” Sally said. “We haven’t invited that many guests, so space isn’t an issue, and I’ve always thought that church hall was ugly, anyway. I’ll just call Gussie and Reenie and tell them to bring the refreshments and decorations here. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Who, me?” Sherry laughed. “I love a party, any kind of party.” She couldn’t wait to tell Jonathan the good news—if he didn’t throw something at her first.

JONATHAN WAS rudely awakened the next morning by a blast of sunlight. He opened his bleary eyes to find Sherry in his room, whisking curtains open.

“Good morning.” Whisk! Another curtain open. But the bright sun could hardly compete with the woman herself. Wearing black leggings and a hot-pink, clingy shirt, her outrageous mountain of blond curls piled carelessly atop her head, she was an erotic fantasy come to life.

“Would you like breakfast in bed?” she asked cheerfully. “Or would you like to bathe and dress first and sit in your chair?”

He was aghast at her audacity. “You…you can’t just barge in here without knocking!” he sputtered. “This isn’t a hospital, it’s my home, and my room.”

He expected her to murmur an apology and slink away. But she didn’t. He was quickly learning to expect the unexpected where his nursemaid was concerned.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. I had to check on you. Once I saw you were breathing—”

“You should have just left me in peace!”

“But it’s late and you need to get up.”

“Why, in God’s name? Do I have an appointment with the President?”

She smiled, as if she had a secret. “You have a wedding reception to attend.”

“Are you crazy? I can’t go to Pete’s wedding.”

“You don’t have to. The wedding’s coming to you. Or at least, part of it. Pete and Sally have relocated the reception here, so you don’t have to miss out on everything.”

Jonathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “All those people are coming here?” Great, just what he needed, for the whole town to witness his infirmity. “Forget it. It’s not happening.”

“You’re not pleased?”

“I’m in no shape to entertain!”

“You won’t have to lift a finger, I promise.”

He sighed. The woman hadn’t been here twenty-four hours and already she was driving him mad. He’d told Pete he regretted missing the wedding, but in reality, weddings weren’t his cup of tea. They only served to remind him that his own marriage had been a dismal failure. All that lovey-dovey, till-death-do-us-part stuff made his divorced status that much more noticeable.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth, since she seemed to be waiting for a decision from him. “I’ll get dressed first, then have breakfast.”

She beamed. “Great. I’ll get your bathwater. Do you have a plastic tub somewhere I can use?”

“A plastic—” Suddenly he realized her intentions. “Oh, no, you don’t. You and your sponge just keep away from me. I can manage on my own, thank you very much.”

“Jonathan. You’re in a full-leg cast. You can’t take a regular bath or shower. Now, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve given hundreds of sponge baths—”

“No. If you’re dying to bathe someone, bathe the kids. That ought to be enough challenge for you.”

“They’ve already had their baths.”

“Really?” He was impressed. Kristin didn’t fight it too hard, if she had plenty of bubbles. But it took an act of Congress to get Sam in the tub.

“Well, Pete helped,” she admitted.

He softened a bit toward Sherry. “Why don’t you run along and see about breakfast? I’ll be there shortly.”

She shrugged. “All right. But before I go, I need to check you over.”

Her words had a profound effect on him—unintended, he was sure. “What’s to check?” he said gruffly. “The leg’s in a cast.”

But he saw by her implacable expression that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was one fight he wasn’t going to win. Jeff and Ed had both warned him about the complications that could arise from his injuries, especially his concussion. With a sigh, he allowed her to shine a flashlight in his face to see if his pupils would contract appropriately. She pointed a finger into the air and made him follow it with his eyes.

When she tried to pull the blankets off his cast he resisted—he was otherwise naked. But he finally relented and she was careful to keep the rest of his body modestly covered.

He lay back, closed his eyes and tried not to think about her touching him. She was gentler than any of the nurses at the hospital had been. She checked his toes for swelling and signs of poor circulation. Then she took his temperature to be sure he wasn’t running a fever. He actually found himself enjoying Sherry’s ministrations.

“All done.”

He opened his eyes. She had that brilliant smile on her face again.

“You enjoy your work?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I really do. And if there’s anything I can do better, please tell me.”

“There’s just one thing.”

“What?” She blinked her big green eyes at him, eyes that were enhanced with soft brown shadow, dark eyeliner and lashes that were so long and curly they should have been outlawed.

“Do you have to be so relentlessly cheerful?”

The smile drooped. “I’ll try to adopt a more depressing attitude.” And she left.

Jonathan immediately felt guilty, and well he should. What was it about this woman that brought out the absolute worst in him?

Chapter Three

Sherry knocked on Pete’s bedroom door. “Pete? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jonathan’s grandfather opened the door, his hair sticking out wildly, his eyes reflecting blind panic. “I don’t have any shoes! I bought a new suit for the weddin’, but I forgot about dress shoes!”

“You must have something that would work.”

“All I have is boots. Cowboy boots and work boots, one pair of Hush Puppies and house slippers.”

“Let’s see the boots.”

When Pete showed her into his closet, she saw the problem. All of his boots were brown and his suit was blue. She selected the best-looking pair, brown ostrich skin. “I think I can make these work.”

Pete looked doubtful. “If you say so.”

She patted him on the arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are the kids getting dressed?”

“I laid out their clothes.”

“It’ll take more than that.”

Sherry checked her watch. She still had forty-five minutes before Pete and the kids had to leave for the church. “Sam! Kristin?” No answer. When she checked their rooms, their church clothes were untouched. Those rascals, they were probably hiding, testing her authority over them. She would have to be more stern, she knew. Soon Pete wouldn’t be here to help her manage them.

She’d seen some black shoe polish under the sink. She gave the boots a makeover, then buffed them, bringing the ostrich skin to a shiny black finish. A rancher should get married in cowboy boots, she thought with a grin. She set them on newspaper to dry, then went in search of Jonathan’s children. His breakfast would have to wait.

They weren’t in the house. She stepped outside and called, but no answer. Slightly worried now, she ventured farther from the house, calling their names. “Come on, kids, you have to get dressed for Grandpa Pete’s wedding!”

When they still didn’t answer, she headed for the barn, the most logical place for them to be. When she stepped inside the modern building, she heard childish laughter and sighed with relief. “Kids? Children? Come on, now, it’s time to get dressed for the—” She skidded to a stop when she spotted the children in an empty stall. They both leaned over a huge aquarium that sat on an old picnic table.

And they both did a really good job of ignoring her.

She came closer. “Do I need to clean the wax out of your ears? You don’t want to be late for the wedding, do you?”

Sam finally looked up. “These are our pets, Alexander the Great and Miss Pooh. Here, see?” He reached into the aquarium, picked up something large and before she could react, plopped it on Sherry’s shoulder.

She got a fleeting impression of slimy skin and huge, bulbous eyes, a cold, wet foot, or tentacle, or something touching her neck.

She screamed. The thing, whatever it was, leaped from her shoulder and landed on a hay bale.

“Get him!” Sam shouted. And both children dived for the creature, which Sherry could now see was an enormous bullfrog.

“No, you’ll get dirty!” Sherry objected, ineffectually as it turned out. Both children were crawling around on the filthy stall floor, chasing after the slippery frog.

Finally they corralled the animal and returned it to its habitat. Only then did they turn their attention to Sherry, who was trembling with anger.

If they’d been about to giggle at her reaction to the frog, they stopped when they saw her face.

“Go back up to the house this instant,” she ordered. “Wash your faces and hands, put on your church clothes, then sit in the living room, and don’t move until it’s time to leave for the wedding.”

Sam gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” He scurried away, followed by Kristin, who’d looked as if she were ready to cry.

Great. Jonathan hated her guts and now she’d made enemies of the children. At least Pete liked her.

Or so she thought.

Pete stood in the kitchen, bow tie in hand, staring down at the black boots. “What in tarnation did you do to my ostrich boots?”

“I polished them.”

“You turned them black! Missy, those are seven-hundred-dollar custom-made boots!”

“I don’t understand. Can’t boots be black?”

“But these are supposed to be brown!”

She was at a loss. She’d thought the boots looked much better after her polish job.

Just then, Jonathan hobbled into the kitchen. He wore the same pair of jeans as yesterday, one leg split up the center seam to accommodate his cast, but he’d also put on a starched dress shirt. He’d shaved and combed his wavy brown hair.

Her breathing came in shallow gasps.

“Problem?” he asked.

Sam and Kristin came running up to him, still dirty, still not dressed in the proper clothes. “Dad, Dad, Sherry yelled at us.”

Jonathan spared a flickering gaze toward Sherry.

“They threw a frog at me,” she said in her own defense. “And they weren’t obeying me very well. I’m sorry I lost my temper, but I didn’t want them to make Pete late for his own wedding.” While she made this speech, she pulled a chair out for Jonathan to sit at the kitchen table. Though he’d said nothing, she could tell by the tension in his face that it hurt him to stand.

Jonathan sat down, then looked at his children. “Go wash up. And put on your church clothes,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

They scrambled to do his bidding.

“See? No need to yell.”

Right. She’d told the children exactly the same thing, but they hadn’t listened to her. Were people like Jonathan born with a natural authority that children responded to? And had she been born without it? Or did it have something to do with her lack of parenting role models in her formative years?

If she ever wanted to have children of her own, she’d better figure that out.

Pete picked up his boots and, grumbling all the way, left the kitchen.

Jonathan watched him go, seeming faintly amused. Then he turned his gaze on Sherry. “Well, seems you’re winning friends and influencing people this morning. If you can manage to burn my breakfast, you’ll be four for four.”

JONATHAN ACTUALLY FELT a bit sorry for Sherry as he watched her bustle around the kitchen, frying his eggs and toasting an English muffin. She was trying, he’d give her that. She might be a skilled nurse, but she obviously wasn’t going to fit in here. He should have listened to Jeff.

He’d wait until after the wedding reception, he decided, then he would let her go.

With that decision made, Jonathan felt much more mellow. He went easier on Sherry, thanking her for breakfast and telling her it was good, even though she’d made his eggs too runny and the muffin too dark. No need to correct her. This was the last breakfast she would cook for him.

Pete and the kids got off to the wedding without further incident. Sherry stood at the front door and waved to them. “Bye, good luck, Pete.” Then the real fun began. Sally’s two best friends, Gussie and Reenie, arrived with flowers and garlands, a wedding cake in the shape of a cowboy hat and enough food to feed a third-world country.

Sherry was obviously in her element. Gussie and Reenie, who thought of themselves as Cottonwood’s social directors, were a little suspicious of her at first. From the recliner in the living room, where he pretended to read, Jonathan could see the two septuagenarians whispering to each other whenever Sherry stepped out of the room and shaking their heads disapprovingly.

But Sherry worked tirelessly, ironing a small wrinkle out of a tablecloth, rifling through cabinet after cabinet to find a punchbowl, quickly polishing a silver candelabra, pinching a brown leaf off a flower arrangement. She did whatever the two older women requested of her with a smile, complimented Gussie’s horrific hat and even asked for Reenie’s crab salad recipe.

Pretty soon the three women worked as a team, chattering and laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Sherry did have a way about her, Jonathan conceded. She could drive him crazy in thirty seconds, but anyone could see she meant well. She didn’t seem to have a malicious bone in her body.

Her very sexy body.

The way she was dressed, Jonathan couldn’t help but notice her physical assets. She’d changed out of her earlier outfit and into a white, ruffly blouse that showed two inches of cleavage, paired with a red miniskirt and a wide black belt that made her waist look minuscule. Her legs were encased in black stockings, her feet in black spike heels with red polka-dots. She even had a red polka-dot bow in her hair, which cascaded around her shoulders and down her back in a waterfall of blond curls.

Her lips and fingernails, of course, were bright red, too.

When Sherry leaned down to pick up a runaway olive, she very nearly showed him her panties. Were they color-coordinated, too? Determinedly he buried his face in his book. It was useless to entertain fantasies about Sherry. Even if she wasn’t going to be out of his life soon, she wasn’t the type of woman he wanted to involve himself with. If he’d learned one thing from his marriage, it was that what turned him on wasn’t what he needed to be happy.

Did that mean there was a type he would become involved with?

Good question. After his divorce from Rita, he swore he was done with women for good. But he supposed that was a pretty normal reaction. He didn’t hate women. His brothers had managed to catch a couple of good ones. In fact, he’d been on a date not too long ago with Allison. He’d done it strictly to make Jeff jealous, but he’d found her company more pleasurable than he’d expected and that night he realized he missed female companionship.

But if he were to start dating again, he wouldn’t date someone like Sherry. He would look for a country girl with simple tastes, one who understood and loved ranch life. Judging from the few comments she’d made, Sherry didn’t know a steer from a bull. He would look for a woman who was good with children. Hard as she tried, Jonathan suspected Sherry had zero maternal instincts. His children were usually pretty easy to get along with, yet she’d managed to upset them somehow.

He would look for a woman who wasn’t ashamed to buy clothes at Wal-Mart, one who didn’t agonize over breaking a fingernail, one who didn’t crave champagne and five-star dining experiences on a daily basis. The casual comment Sherry had made about credit card bills was a red flag. She was probably a shopaholic, like Rita.

Not that he minded an occasional shopping trip in Dallas or a special dinner out at a fancy steak-house. He wasn’t cheap, and before his marriage he’d actually enjoyed treating a woman to special things now and then.

But Rita had wanted those treats in her life every day. She’d thought nothing of spending two hundred dollars on a pair of pants and then never wearing them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford her, the ranch made good money, but their priorities simply hadn’t meshed.

When she’d suggested they hire a full-time nanny for the children, Jonathan had flatly refused. There was no practical need for professional child care. Rita didn’t work outside the home and Pete would watch the kids virtually any time Rita asked. But all of her Dallas and New Orleans friends had nannies, so she wanted to keep up.

She’d left him soon after that argument.

Jonathan sneaked another look at Sherry. High maintenance, that one. Don’t even think about it.

Then, there wasn’t time to think about anything because the wedding guests started to arrive—hundreds of them, or so it seemed. Each and every one of them had to pay his respects to Jonathan and ask all about the accident. He repeated the story so many times it became rote. Then people kept bringing him plates of food, precious little stuffed mushrooms, tiny quiches and pimento-cheese minisandwiches. He would have preferred some real food, like a roast beef sandwich. But his hired nurse was too busy playing hostess to see to his needs.

“You look like you swallowed an olive pit.” This comment came from Jonathan’s father. Edward perched on the arm of his recliner. “Is all this matrimonial bliss getting to you? First Wade and now Pete. In December it’ll be Jeff and Allison.”

That was as good an excuse as any. “Yeah, looks like you and me are the last hold-outs. You ever think about finding a woman?”

Edward laughed. “Me? Too set in my ways.”

“That’s what Pete used to say.”

Edward sobered. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Every woman I meet, I compare her to your mother and find her lacking.”

“Mom was special, all right.”

“You’re not thinking of—”

“No, not me. All the good women in Cottonwood have been taken.”

“Is that why we’ve started importing new ones?” Edward’s gaze followed Sherry as she bustled around the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a plate of hors d’oeuvres in the other, refilling glasses and making sure everyone had everything they needed.

“No exotic imports for me,” Jonathan said with an exaggerated shiver of revulsion. “Been there, done that.”

By the time Pete and Sally had left for their honeymoon and the last guest had finally departed, Jonathan felt exhausted. He couldn’t imagine why. All he’d done was sit in this blasted chair. He supposed small talk required more of an effort from him than most people. Being pleasant to casual acquaintances sapped his energy. He’d much rather spend time with his horses and cows, which didn’t require conversation.

Sherry moved around the room with a trash bag, scooping up paper napkins, plates and plastic champagne glasses. “Well, I’d say that was a success.”

“You would?” He looked at the devastation the party had wrought on his house.

“Oh, don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in a jiffy.” She kicked off her high heels and continued her efforts. “It was just so nice, getting to meet everybody. Now when I see them in town, I won’t be a stranger. Of course, I’m not sure all of them liked me. Anne’s mother, Deborah Chatsworth, I thought was going to flip her wig when I pulled a champagne cork out with my teeth.”

“Deborah Chatsworth is something of a snob and her husband is worse. They wanted Anne to marry Jeff, have a doctor in the family. Instead, she went for Wade, an itinerant rodeo cowboy. But once they realized Anne and Wade were really in love, they accepted him. They’re okay once you get to know them.” Jonathan didn’t add that Sherry wouldn’t get that chance. She’d be gone.

“And Reverend Crane, Allison’s father,” she said. “I burned my hand on a hot plate and I sort of let out a little curse. He turned so red I thought I was going to have to perform CPR on the spot.”

“You burned your hand?”

She held out one elegant, pale hand toward him, showing him a red mark on the outside of her little finger. “No big deal, but it hurt like hell—I mean, heck.” She cast worried glances around, but the children were nowhere in the vicinity. “Shoot, where are those kids? I hope they changed clothes before running down to the barn to play with their frogs.”

“I doubt they did.”

“They’re not mad at me anymore.”

Jonathan already knew that. Once she’d told them they could have all the cake and punch they wanted, since it was a special occasion and all, she’d instantly become their friend. He thought a nurse should know better.

She stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Jonathan, is there anything I can get for you? I’ve kind of ignored you these past few hours.”

Nice of you to notice. “I could use some lunch.”

She looked shocked. “How could you be hungry? I saw all those adoring women bringing you plates of food.”

“Finger food. Itty-bitty pastries. Not enough to keep a mouse alive.”

“Gee, I’m so stuffed I won’t eat for a—” She stopped. “Of course, I’m not you. What would you like? There’s leftover Frito-chili pie—oh, no, of course you wouldn’t want that, it almost poisoned you. I could make you a sandwich or soup.”

He hoped never to see that Frito-chili pie again. “Is there any roast beef?”

“I think so. Anne and Allison stocked the fridge pretty thoroughly.”

“A sandwich, then, please.”

“Okay.”

Moments later he heard her clattering around in the kitchen and he started feeling guilty. She had enough to do, cleaning up after the party. Then again, there wouldn’t have been a party if she hadn’t arranged it.

A short time later she set a tray in front of him—a sliced barbecued-beef sandwich and a bowl of thick potato soup. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed this. The soup tasted homemade. Maybe Anne or Allison had brought over some dishes already cooked, along with the groceries.

“Is that all right?”

“Mmm, yes, it’s fine.”

She smiled, then resumed her cleaning efforts.

He couldn’t wait to hear what Deborah Chatsworth would say on the subject of his nurse, not to mention Reverend Crane. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone who’d met Sherry would have an opinion on the subject.

What a relief it would be to tell them, “She’s already gone. I fired her.”

“Those choir ladies from the church sure seem nice,” Sherry said as she sprayed some furniture polish on the coffee table.

Jonathan didn’t know to which ladies she referred, since he seldom noticed the choir when he went to church. “Mmm-hmm.”

“It’s a shame, them missing out on their practice.”

“Mmm-hmm. What?”

“It seems Reverend Crane rented out the church hall to the high school dance squad to practice their routines while the gymnasium floor is being repaired. The church needs the money, so the choir ladies don’t blame the reverend.”

“No, I don’t imagine so.” Jonathan picked up his book, hoping to discourage Sherry’s idle chitchat. He wasn’t much for flapping his gums just to fill silence. He soon learned, however, that this conversation had a very specific purpose.

“But the choir has no place to practice.”

“Can’t they practice in the church?”

“Thin walls. They tried it once, but pretty soon they were all singing the disco song the dance squad was playing, and the dance squad girls were all kicking each other in the head because the singing next door was throwing off their rhythm.”

“That’s a shame,” he said.

“The reason I’m telling you all this is, well, I felt sorry for them, so I invited them to come practice here.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard right.

“The invitation popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. There’s plenty of space, if we move the furniture out of these two rooms.” She indicated the living and dining rooms, which were separated only by a short bookcase. “And set out folding chairs—”

“Are you out of your mind?” he roared. “The church choir? Here?”

“The music will cheer you up. Doctors have done studies, you know, and—”

“The music will not cheer me up. Having fifty strange women in my house will make me exceedingly cranky.”

“There are only thirty-two members in the choir.”

“Look, Sherry. I don’t like parties. I don’t like company. And I particularly don’t like a lot of jabbering women who only stop jabbering when they sing—off-key, I might add.”

She looked stricken. “But I’ve already invited them.”

“Then you can just uninvite them.”

“But that would be rude.”

“Did it ever occur to you that inviting them without consulting me first was rude? And this wedding reception—you didn’t ask me about that, either. You just bulldozed ahead, like you owned the place.”

“But I thought…I thought you’d be pleased. Allison mentioned how disappointed you were to miss the wedding, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

She drooped. “All right. I’ll uninvite the choir. And next time I’ll ask before I issue any invitations like that.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Jonathan already felt like he’d kicked a puppy. He might as well get the rest of this over with.

Sherry blinked her green eyes at him a couple of times. “What?”

“Look, this isn’t working out. You simply don’t fit in here. It’s obvious you can’t manage the children. Yelling at them and then bribing them with sweets is no way to deal with kids. Anyway, I can take care of things myself. I’ve been getting around on the crutches okay.”

Sherry faced him squarely, her hands on her slim hips. “You turn white as Wonder Bread every time you stand up and totter around on those crutches. You most certainly cannot take care of yourself. How are you going to look after those kids? They move faster than the speed of light.”

“I’ll manage.”

“How will you cook for them?”

“That’s what a microwave is for. It couldn’t be any worse than—” He stopped himself, but she already knew what he was going to say.

“I got the message. You hate my cooking.”

“It’s a bit spicy. We’re used to more basic fare. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for the time you’ve been here, plus a few days extra for the trouble you went to.”

“I can do better. All you have to do is tell me when you don’t like something, and I’ll…” her voice trailed off when she realized Jonathan wasn’t going to budge. She slumped in defeat. “All right, then. I’ll just finish cleaning up in here, then I’ll pack my things.”

“Leave the mess. I have a service that comes every two weeks. They’ll be here Monday morning.”

She slowly set down the plastic cup she’d been holding. She stared at him a moment, eyes challenging, but only for a moment. Then she swept from the room.

He’d made her cry, he realized. He hadn’t intended to be harsh. He just wanted her gone. Surely even she could see that this wasn’t a compatible employer-employee relationship.

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