A Texas affair leads to a little surprise! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Sara Orwig.

Former army ranger Mike Moretti is finding it hard to remember that Vivian Warner is forbidden. She’s his late buddy’s widow and his new boss. Mike hired on at the Warner ranch to help Vivian, not to seduce her.

But playing the role of pretend suitor leads to irresistible temptation...and an unexpected pregnancy. This cowboy’s code of honor demands he do the right thing, but Vivian won’t say, “I do,” for anything less than love.

Expecting a Lone Star Heir is part of the Texas Promises trilogy.

“Vivian, you’re just asking for trouble.”

“That means I don’t scare you,” she said in a sultry voice.

“You scare the hell out of me because I shouldn’t like dancing with you. I shouldn’t like flirting with you. I shouldn’t want to kiss you. I shouldn’t feel anything when our fingers touch, and neither should you.”

“For a US Army Ranger, you’re a little stuffy.”

He caught her around the waist and took long steps, dancing in circles through the terrace doors and outside, where it was darker and cooler.

“Try this for stuffy, darlin’.” He pulled her tightly against him and his mouth covered hers as he kissed her. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was having more fun with her than he could recall having had anywhere, anytime in the past three years.

* * *

Expecting a Lone Star Heir

is part of the Texas Promises trilogy:

When three military men return to Texas

to fulfill their promises to a fallen comrade,

they find redemption...and love.

Dear Reader,

An honorable man keeps his promises, and this series is about three friends keeping promises made to their dying US Army Ranger buddy. The surviving rangers eventually go home to do the honorable thing, and each promise they fulfill involves a life-changing event.

The first to keep his promise is former US Army Ranger Mike Moretti. Mike takes over running his deceased friend’s ranch, a situation he doesn’t like, but he gave his word. The widow, Vivian Warner, a stunning blonde, knows nothing about ranching—Mike has to work for her, run her spread and try to fight the instant mutual attraction that flares when they meet.

Mike is a cowboy, a rugged alpha male who has definite ideas about relationships, and he sees no place in his life for Vivian. Her father is a billionaire and she has just inherited her deceased husband’s multimillionaire fortune. To Mike, Vivian is off-limits.

Vivian fights the attraction because she loved her husband and isn’t over the loss. In addition, she knows how Mike feels about her fortune. Mike never imagined he would fall in love with an heiress. Vivian thought her heart was torn away when she lost her husband. This is a story of two people divided by their deep feelings and life views as they fight falling in love.

Thank you for your interest in this book and best wishes to you. Please find me at saraorwig.com or on Facebook as Sara Orwig, Romance Writer.

Sara Orwig

Expecting a Lone Star Heir

Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SARA ORWIG, from Oklahoma, loves family, friends, dogs, books, long walks, sunny beaches and palm trees. She is married to and in love with the guy she met in college. They have three children and six grandchildren. Sara’s 100th published novel was a July 2016 release. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Sara welcomes readers on Facebook or at www.saraorwig.com.

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To senior editor Stacy Boyd

with many, many thanks.

To Maureen Walters,

as always, with thanks.

To my family,

who are all-important to me.

To my friends,

who have given me laughter and memories.

To hope, to love and to peace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Extract

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Afghanistan, November

What else could go wrong?

In the dark, under a starless sky, they had driven their Humvee straight into an ambush, and now they were barely holding on, pinned down in a firefight with nothing but a crumbling rock wall between them and the enemy. Help couldn’t arrive too soon.

Mike Moretti was one of the lucky ones—he only had cuts and bruises. His two close friends, Noah Grant and Jake Ralston, also had non-life-threatening injuries. The other member on this US Army Rangers mission, Captain Thane Warner, wasn’t so lucky. Mike didn’t need a doctor to tell him that Thane was hurt badly with wounds to his chest and head, an injured leg and deep gashes all over his body from flying shrapnel. Mike was trying to apply pressure to the two most serious wounds, hoping his captain and friend would hang on until help arrived. Their last communication had been cut off, but before it was he’d been told a chopper was on the way.

Thane gripped his arm and Mike leaned closer to hear him over the gunfire. His voice was raspy, his breathing shallow as he spoke through the pain that was no doubt seizing his body. “Mike, promise me you’ll take the ranch job for three months at least. Promise me you’ll work for Vivian. I want to know she’s taken care of when I’m gone.” Coughs racked his body and he grimaced. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Mike said without thinking. He concentrated on trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

Thane grabbed his arm with a strength that shocked Mike as Thane pulled him closer. “Key...in my pocket... Get it.”

Mike heard the desperation in the captain’s voice, felt it in his grip. But he couldn’t ease up the pressure on these deep wounds or the man would surely bleed out before a medic got to him. When Thane began to struggle, trying to get to his pocket himself, the bleeding worsened, oozing over Mike’s hand.

“Be still. I’ll get the damn key,” Mike ordered.

He struggled to get the key out of Thane’s back pocket—he bent closer to Thane and reassured him. “I have the key.”

Thane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. When he reopened them, Mike saw the gratitude and the fear as clearly as if the captain had spoken the words. “Bottom of box... Packets addressed to Vivian and to you.” He grimaced as the pain no doubt intensified, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “Get Noah... Need him.”

Mike shook his head. “If I leave you, you’ll bleed to death.”

As an explosion rocked the ground not twenty feet away, sending up a plume of light, Thane placed one hand over the mound of Mike’s jacket pressed against his bleeding chest wound. “Get him, dammit.”

Swearing, Mike turned to the man next to him and punched his shoulder to draw his attention. There was no use calling out; his voice wouldn’t be heard over the gunfire.

As Noah Grant lowered his weapon, Mike told him, “Trade places. Keep pressure on his wounds. He wants to talk to you.”

Without hesitation, Noah sidled up to the captain and Mike took up his weapon to keep up the barrage on the enemy, all the time hoping against hope they’d be able to get the injured man on that chopper. His eyes scanned the dark sky. Where was it?

Thane Warner wasn’t only his captain; he was a good friend. Back home, Mike had dated Thane’s younger sister. Though he’d gotten along with the divorcee’s young child, their relationship hadn’t lasted. But Mike’s friendship with Thane had.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Noah motioning him over.

“He’s drifting in and out of consciousness now,” Noah said, shaking his head. “But he wants Jake.”

Before Mike could move to get their friend, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a helicopter in the distance. He pointed his index finger up. “Listen. Chopper.” But he still didn’t have eyes on it, and Mike couldn’t help but wonder if it would be able to get their captain out in time.

If not, Mike admitted with a sinking realization, he had made a promise to Captain Thane Warner and he intended to keep it.

One

April

After driving past miles of mesquite, dry creek beds and cacti, Mike turned and stopped at a pair of tall wrought iron gates. As soon as he punched in the code he had been given, the gates slid open and he drove through beneath a high ornate iron arch that claimed this to be the Tumbling T Ranch.

Eight miles from the state road, he saw fenced grounds ahead. Among the trees, ponds and white fences was what looked like a small town of houses, offices, barns and outbuildings, all dominated by a stately mansion. The grand home reminded Mike again of Thane Warner’s millionaire status and his wife’s family of billionaires. As if Mike needed the reminder.

He soon wound up the long drive to the front of the sprawling three-story stone home with slate roofs and wings built on the east and west sides.

He swore quietly. He didn’t want this job. It was one thing to accept Thane’s offer to go to work on the Warner spread when they expected to come home and work together. It was another to return to civilian life and run a ranch for a widow he didn’t know and who didn’t know ranching.

It had been last year when Thane had first asked Mike to think about a job on the Tumbling T Ranch. Thane’s older foreman had had back trouble and had decided to retire. The foreman had said he would wait until Thane was out of the military and had time to hire someone to take his place. Mike had planned to get a job working on a ranch once he was discharged, so why not work for a man he’d come to like and admire? Besides, the job came with a good salary.

But Thane didn’t make it back home.

Mike cast his eyes on the sprawling ranch, as he recalled the days following his friend’s death. He had followed Thane’s request and used the key Thane had given him to open a lockbox he’d stored in their makeshift camp. Opening the box, he found an odd assortment of stuff, including Thane’s cotton T-shirts, some socks, and in the bottom, three fat packets wrapped in wrinkled, torn brown paper and tied with twine. One was addressed to Mike, one to Noah and one to Jake. Mike passed them out. When he opened his envelope he read a note scribbled on a piece of torn brown paper: Mike, please give this to Vivian. He looked at his friends as he held up another envelope. “I’m to take this home to his wife.”

Noah scratched his jaw that was covered in black stubble. “Yeah, I’m to take one to his sister.”

Noah and Mike looked at Jake who held up his brown envelope. “And I’m to take this to someone who works for his dad.” They all looked at each other and Mike guessed his friends were feeling the same as he was.

“Thane was the best,” he said. “We’ve got to do what he wanted.”

The others nodded and moved away to stash the envelopes safely until they could get home. Mike knew he was the only one who had another note in the box. That note informed him there was a packet for him hidden in among Thane’s things. Mike rummaged through the lockbox and found it quickly. A thick packet shoved down in the toes of a well-worn army sock. Mike opened the fat brown envelope and found more brown paper tied in twine. This one had a note in Thane’s handwriting: Mike, you are the only one getting this. It is yours now. I won’t ever miss it. You’ll earn it. Please take the other packet to Vivian.

Mike unwrapped the brown paper to find a stack of bills. He stared at them a moment in shock. He picked up one and looked at it closely. It was a one-thousand dollar bill. He’d never even seen one before. He thumbed through the stack of twenty-five. He read Thane’s note again and shook his head. He didn’t know why Thane had given him the gift. It was no secret that Thane came from a wealthy family. Along with his two brothers and sister, he was a multimillionaire, and his wife a billionaire heiress, so Thane would never have needed the money if he had lived, but it still was an odd gift. Mike shook his head again, wondering if Thane thought he was poverty-stricken since he was the only one of their group of four friends who wasn’t a millionaire. No, he knew that wasn’t the case because Thane was practical and Mike had never known him to throw money away. That day, and every day since, each time he looked at the bills, he thought of Thane and wanted his friend with him instead of the money.

Now with Thane gone, the foreman job didn’t appeal to Mike, but a promise was a promise. Mike wasn’t going back on his word.

From scuttlebutt and by piecing together things Thane had said, Mike knew Thane’s artist wife was the daughter of a billionaire Dallas hotel magnate, plus now she had inherited Thane’s millions from his ranch and oil interests. Vivian and Thane had only been married a few months when he’d left for Afghanistan. She knew nothing about ranching and Thane had constantly worried about her. Also, he hated to think that if something happened to him, she would sell the ranch and return home to Dallas where she had lived when she was single.

As he stepped out of the car, he pulled on his western-cut navy jacket. His gaze ran over the sprawling gray stone mansion that looked as if it should be in an exclusive Dallas suburb instead of sitting on a mesquite-covered prairie. The mansion was surrounded by beds of spring flowers. Beyond the beds was lush green grass that had to be watered constantly in the dry Texas heat. A tall black wrought iron fence with open gates circled the mansion yard.

After running his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, Mike put on his broad-brimmed black Stetson. As he strode to the front door, he realized he had felt less reluctance walking through minefields in Afghanistan. He crossed the wide porch that held steel and glass furniture with colorful cushions, pots of greenery and fresh flowers. He listened to the door chimes and in seconds, the ten-foot intricately carved wooden door swung open. He faced an actual butler.

“I’m Mike Moretti. I have an appointment with Mrs. Warner.”

“Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Come in. I’m Henry, sir.”

Mike stepped into a wide entryway with a huge crystal chandelier centered overhead above a small pond where a fountain splashed and deep purple and bright pink water lilies added to the ambiance. It was hard to picture the down-to-earth, tough US Army Ranger, Thane Warner as the owner of this elegant mansion.

“If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll tell Mrs. Warner you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” Mike replied, nodding at the butler who turned and disappeared into a room off the hall. With neatly trimmed brown hair, Henry wore a white shirt and a matching black tie and trousers. Mike noticed he also wore boots and when he had shown Mike in, his hands looked rough. His shoulders were thick and broad. Mike suspected Henry might not spend all his time working inside the mansion.

He reappeared. “If you’ll come with me, sir, Mrs. Warner is in the study.” Mike followed him until Henry stopped at an open door. “Mrs. Warner, this is Mike Moretti.”

“Come in, Mr. Moretti,” she said, smiling as she walked toward him.

He entered a room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books. After the first glance, he forgot his surroundings and focused solely on the woman approaching him.

Mike had seen Thane’s pictures of his wife—one in his billfold, one he carried in his duffel bag. Mike knew from those pictures that she was pretty. But those pictures hadn’t done her justice, because in real life, Vivian Warner was a downright beauty. She had big blue eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and full rosy lips. The bulky, conservative tan sweater and slacks she wore couldn’t fully hide her womanly curves and long legs.

What had he gotten himself into? For a moment he was tempted to go back on his promise. But as always, he would remember those last hours with Thane’s blood running over his hands, recall too easily Thane dying in a foreign land after fighting for his country, and Mike knew he had to keep his promise. His only hope was that Thane’s widow wouldn’t want him to work for her.

“Mr. Moretti, I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Thane,” she said, offering her hand.

“It’s Mike,” he said, smiling as he took her soft hand in his. The moment he did, he felt a tingling up his arm that shocked him.

“And I’m Vivian,” she said, her eyes widening when his hand wrapped around hers. Her words came out breathlessly, making Mike feel he had walked into a major disaster. Their gazes locked and he couldn’t get his breath, either. For a moment he felt a hot, intense awareness of her as a woman. A very desirable woman. And judging by her startled expression and the quick intake of her breath, he had a feeling she felt a similar reaction.

His focus shifted to her lips, a rosy temptation. Realizing they were staring at each other and standing too close, he released her hand. When he did, she stepped back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps she labeled the attraction as unwanted as he did.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mike said. “Your husband was a friend I’ll miss,” he added, trying to get his mind back to Thane instead of on his widow.

“Thank you. Thane was special. Please have a seat,” she said softly. She walked toward an arrangement of chairs and as he followed, he couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips.

Mike did not want this scalding awareness of his late buddy’s wife. And he damn well didn’t want to work for Vivian Warner.

Perhaps... He couldn’t help the thought that overtook his mind. Perhaps, because she knew so little about ranching, if he took the job, she would turn running the ranch over to him and he would seldom see or talk to her. Maybe, but... Common sense told him to thank her for the job and decline the offer. But each time he thought about backing off, he knew he had to keep his promise. Thane had fought and died not only for rights, freedom and home, but for promises kept and for trusted friends. He had fought for this ranch he loved and the wife he loved. Mike also thought about that fat packet of money Thane had given him, money he’d already squirreled away and invested.

Mike would do what he felt was right, but he hoped with all his being that he rarely ever saw his new boss. This was not the woman for him and there were more than a billion reasons—each and every one of the billions she was worth. Vivian Warner was an heiress, his friend’s wife, the woman Thane had entrusted to him to take care of. He couldn’t give in to the fiery attraction and seduce her—and betray that trust. For all those reasons, she was off-limits, not the least of which was the fact that he could never move in her circle.

Vivian motioned him to a brown leather wingback chair, then sat farther away than was necessary. He realized that she may have felt as trapped by this situation as he did. Thane had offered him the job and had wanted him as the foreman. Like Mike, she obviously was also following Thane’s wishes now.

“Thank you for taking this job,” she said, her voice lilting, soft-spoken. “Thane wrote a glowing letter about you and said I could count on you to run this place the way he would want. I appreciate that. I know you accepted the job when you were still in the military. Now that you’re here, I assume that means you want the job. Is that correct?”

Her question hung in the air but he couldn’t say yes. “I promised Thane I would take the job for three months to see if I fit and vice versa,” he reluctantly answered.

“So you’re here on a trial basis,” she said, her smile vanishing, and he merely nodded. “Thane had great trust in you so I hope you like it here and stay,” she continued. “Slade Jackson, our foreman, wants to retire and I can’t run this ranch. Actually, Slade runs this place as if it’s his ranch and that’s what Thane said you would do.”

“That makes my job easier,” Mike answered, wondering how often he would see her once he started work. He would have to report in, let her know what was going on, but that didn’t have to be a daily occurrence or even by direct contact. Email would be a salvation.

“There’s a house on the ranch for the foreman. In fact, most of the men who work here live on the ranch.” She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. “I don’t know what Thane told you about me. I’m an artist and I own a gallery in Dallas where I show and sell my paintings. They’re also shown in three other galleries in Houston, Austin and Santa Fe, New Mexico. That takes a lot of my time and I know little about the ranch. We have an accountant and his assistant who help with the bills and payroll. There are two cowboys working here who also double, when needed, as chauffeurs. You’ll see the limo in the garage. There’s a landing strip and we have two planes and again, three of the cowboys are pilots. I saw on your résumé that you have a pilot’s license.”

“That’s correct.”

She nodded her approval. “We have a chef and also the wife of one of the men is a cook for the employees who live here. My cook, Francie Ellison, is here five days a week, off on the weekends unless there’s something special. She has an apartment on the third floor. Heather, the woman who is in charge of the cleaning crew also has an apartment on that floor, and Waldo, her husband, is in charge of the gardening crew. I don’t live alone in this house, Mr. Moretti.”

“Just call me Mike.”

Vivian Warner sat a little straighter and locked her fingers together. “I have a couple of problems. I think one will vanish the minute I introduce you. Since I’m isolated on the ranch and everyone in the area knows I’m a widow and alone, the issues are with two men in particular. I don’t think it will ever involve you and I’m not afraid of either one because I don’t feel threatened, just annoyed. Also, when Thane knew he would be away and I would be isolated, my father talked to him about a bodyguard and Thane agreed I should have one—even when other people live in the house. With my family background, I might be a tempting target. So I have a bodyguard—he and his wife live in this house, too. That way, he’s close at hand.”

“Henry is the bodyguard, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head as she gazed at him. “Thane told you there was a bodyguard?”

“No. Henry didn’t look like my idea of a man who spends every working hour as a butler.”

“You’re observant. Henry Paine and his wife, Millie, live in this house on the third floor. I feel Henry can do a better job as my bodyguard if he’s in the house.”

“I agree with that.”

She smiled. “His wife, Millie, is my assistant and helps with the business part of my art. As far as the problems I have, Thane knew nothing about them because he had enough to worry about where he was. I didn’t want him halfway around the world and worrying about me and two men I can cope with well enough. With you taking this job, I think the least of the two problems will vanish instantly because it didn’t exist when Thane was here. It concerns one of my employees.” She ran a hand over her blond hair, more of a nervous gesture, Mike thought, since not one strand was out of place. Then she continued. “Thane always said Leon Major could work with horses better than any other cowboy he had known. Thane let Leon deal with the problem horses that he wanted to keep, so I don’t want to let Leon go. I also haven’t ever told this to Slade. Slade isn’t well, plus he’s older, so I didn’t want to worry him. Besides, Leon isn’t threatening. He’s more of a nuisance. Since Thane’s death, he’s been by to see me a couple of times. At first, I thought it was about the ranch or business.”

“And it wasn’t at all,” Mike said, and she nodded.

“I told him not to come to the house. He can talk to Slade, our foreman. So far, Leon has cooperated and as I said, with your taking the job, I think that will be the end of that problem.”

“What’s the other problem?”

“That’s a bigger one, unfortunately. My neighbor, Clint Woodson, knows I’m widowed and knows I’m not a rancher. He’s divorced and he wants me to go out with him. I also know he wants this ranch.”

“Are you interested in selling?”

“At this point, no, I’m not. The time may come when I will be, but I don’t want to do something in haste and regret it later. Also, if I don’t sell to him and I won’t go out with him, I keep thinking he’ll stop coming by or calling me. Neither man, not Leon nor my neighbor, has stepped out of line to the extent that Henry would get involved with, so I haven’t had any help from Henry about this except to make his presence known. You see, Mr. Moretti, I haven’t gone out with any man since Thane, nor have I wanted to. There are other men who’ve called, but some are simply friends who are being nice and asking me out since I’m widowed and don’t get out much. Some are a nuisance, but I can deal with that. Actually, Clint started asking me out as soon as Thane enlisted. Since Thane’s death, Clint calls and drops by much more often. I don’t invite him inside and Henry always makes an appearance. Occasionally, he comes by when Henry has gone to town—it’s as if he knows when Henry leaves—but I don’t even go to the door. I’m not afraid of Clint. He’s just aggravating and I don’t care to talk to him. He brings me presents, which I tell him I can’t accept, so he leaves them on the porch. I give them to a charity in town and tell them to drop him a thank-you, but that hasn’t stopped him. Nor have I managed to convince him that I have no interest in going out with him or selling this ranch to him.”

Mike nodded. “When I’m in charge, we can keep him from setting foot on the ranch. We can stop him at the front gate and tell him you’re not receiving visitors. I can also go into town and get to know the sheriff so there won’t be any misunderstandings. You can think about that last one.”

“I don’t need to think about it. That would be excellent if it works. I’ve thought about changing the code but with the amount of people who live and work here, he can easily get it from one of them. And we usually have the gate open anyway.”

“We can hire someone to be a gatekeeper temporarily. Or perhaps we could get several hands who are willing to do extra duty.”

She nodded. “We’ll see if that works.” Then she added some further information about the neighboring suitor. “As soon as Thane had to deploy, Clint started being buddies with my dad. They have mutual friends, you see. My dad’s business is hotels, but he does have an oil company, so he and Clint know each other in the business world, too. It won’t matter. I just wanted you to know. I can take care of my dad.”

“It shouldn’t take long to get the message across,” Mike reassured her.

Her shoulders seemed to ease and a small smile pulled back her lips. “Thane wrote a very long, detailed glowing letter about how much he trusted you and how much I can trust you.”

Mike looked into her eyes and wondered how many times he would have to remind himself how much Thane had trusted him. “Thane was a buddy, a fine man, and I trusted him with my life. I’m sorry he didn’t make it home.”

She looked away and laced her fingers together in her lap. “I am, too. I miss him.” As she stared into space he waited silently. Finally, she turned to look at him again.

“How soon can you start work? I’ll tell you that we need you today, or as soon as you can start working here.”

“I can start tomorrow. Because of being in the military, I travel lightly, so I can move in right away.”

“That’s wonderful. You can have the guesthouse as long as Slade is still here. When he goes, we’ll have the foreman house done over however you’d like and you can move in there.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. There was a moment of silence and she looked as if she were debating whether or not to say something so he sat quietly waiting.

“I want to ask you something. If you don’t want to do this, say no.”

“Sure. Ask away,” he said, curious of what she had in mind.

“After you’ve worked here a couple of weeks, could we go out to dinner maybe a few times where people would see us?” She took a deep breath. “You don’t have to agree, but I think if you went out with me where we would be seen, Clint and a couple of the other men who have called on me would back off. I think Clint would stop trying to get me to move and sell the ranch. We could go to a country club in Dallas—dinner will go on my tab, of course, because, in the first place, at the club that’s automatic.” Her cheeks turned pink as she talked. “You don’t have to go. It is definitely not a job requirement, and if there’s a woman in your life—”

“Relax, Mrs. Warner. I can easily take you to dinner,” he lied, trying to sound positive and knowing that she was right about the men backing off. “There’s no woman to worry about. You pick the time for dinner and you select the place because you know this neck of the woods better than I do,” he said.

They would go to dinner. If it had been anyone besides Thane’s wife, he probably would have politely refused, but he believed the reasons she was giving.

When she looked down at her fingers locked together, his gaze swept over her and his heartbeat sped up. Her long blond hair curled slightly where it fell on her shoulders. Mike knew she had no romantic interest in him, but with the jolt of mutual awareness when their hands had briefly touched, he suspected that any time spent with her he would be driven by two forces: the first—intense attraction; the second—the reminder that she was absolutely off-limits for him. She was Thane’s wife. How many times had he already had to remind himself of that? It was easy to get lost in those big eyes and forget the world and his purpose here.

“If it looks as if we’re dating, I think Clint will stop trying to buy this place. But it’s merely a request and if you say no, I’ll understand,” she repeated.

“As I said, I don’t mind taking you to dinner,” he lied again politely as he smiled at her.

She looked as if a weight had lifted off her shoulders while he felt as if one had just dropped on his.

“It will help, too, if you’ll call me Vivian.”

“I noticed Henry calls you Mrs. Warner.”

“He did that for your benefit and because you’re new. He and his wife both call me Vivian, and Thane told them to call him by his first name. Thane wasn’t much for formalities.”

“I think it should be Mrs. Warner until we have that dinner date. I’ll change to Vivian then.”

She nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to dinner. And remember, it will be the weekend after this one. I have tickets for a charity ball. It’s a dinner dance at a country club in Dallas. You’ll need a tux.”

“I can get one,” he said, smiling.

“Good. Clint belongs to the same club, so there’s a good chance he’ll be there.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “It’s uncanny, but he seems to know most places I go and he appears there, too.”

“You haven’t noticed anyone following you around when you’re off the ranch, have you? He could easily hire a PI.”

“No, but I haven’t really paid much attention.” She smiled at him. “Actually, I’m not off the ranch much because I’m busy painting. I have a showing coming up this month.”

“Well, I don’t want you to worry about Clint. I think I can get rid of him.”

“Thank you, Mike. That’s a relief. He’s even had real estate people call me about the ranch, as well as an attorney who represents him. It will be such a relief to have him out of my life.”

“I don’t think that will be difficult to accomplish,” Mike replied, already suspecting his biggest problem might be keeping his distance from her.

“I can introduce you to Slade now if you’d like. He’s expecting us. He’ll talk to you a little and show you around.”

“Thane said he has back trouble. Can he still work and get around?”

“Yes, thank goodness. He isn’t able to do what he used to, but he works. He does more than he should. Thane wrote to him and told him how you know ranching. He’s glad you’re here. We all are.” She started to rise from her chair. “I’ll call him and we’ll go to his office.”

“Mrs. Warner, wait a minute,” Mike said, wondering how the next few minutes would go. “In the last moments I was with your husband, he asked me to give something to you. He had a gift for you. He kept it with his things. Fighting like we were and on the move, we carried very little with us, but he carried your gift with him. It wasn’t gift wrapped. When I brought it home, I thought about having it wrapped. Perhaps it should be, but I thought about all we went through and decided maybe it would mean something special to you to give it to you the way he carried it through fights and tough assignments. I’ve brought it to you like I got it from him,” Mike said, standing. “It seemed more appropriate to me.”

“We weren’t even married a year,” she said, looking at Mike’s hands as he pulled the parcel from his jacket pocket. The package was wrapped in plain wrinkled brown paper that was smudged, slightly torn in a couple of spots. He held it out to her. She glanced up at him and then took it from him with icy fingers.

“Thane had this?”

“Yes, for you. I imagine he got it when we were in one of the European cities. I don’t know when or where. We never talked about it, really, except when he asked me to get it to you.”

She struggled with the string until he reached into his pocket. “Here, let me,” he said, opening a small knife and cutting the twine. Their fingers brushed and again, Mike had that instant sizzle when there should have been nothing. Without thinking, he glanced from the package to her and saw her surprised look again as she gazed up at him. The minute he met her eyes, she hurried to unwrap the wrinkled brown paper.

When she saw the gift, she gasped. A gold chain with a large diamond pendant glittered in the light. It looked like an antique. She closed her hand around the necklace and put her head down. To give her privacy, he walked a few feet away to a window to gaze outside without seeing anything before him. Instead, he remembered the flashes of shells and flames, the smell of blood and fire and gunpowder. He remembered Thane and hurt again over the loss of his friend.

“There’s a note,” she said. He didn’t turn to look. He could hear her open paper and then she was quiet. And he knew she was crying because she loved her husband. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be. We all miss him, including Noah and Jake, our two other friends. Thane bought that pendant for you because he loved you. He was a good man and people cry over good men.”

Mike moved away, returning to his seat and looking at his phone, trying to give her a moment until she was ready to talk again.

“I always thought he would come home to me. I was sure he’d get through it,” she said so softly, he could barely hear her. “I was wrong.”

Mike stood. “I’ll get you a drink of water,” he said, leaving so she could be alone with her grief for a few minutes. He hadn’t been in the hall two seconds before Henry emerged from one of the rooms.

“Can I help you, Mr. Moretti?”

“It’s Mike, Henry. She told me you’re a bodyguard. You’re military, too, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Marines.”

“I’m giving her a moment. I told her I’d get her a drink of water. Thane had a gift for her and a note, and asked me to give it to her. It... Well, it tore her up.”

“I’ll get the water. Have a seat, Mike.”

Mike smiled and felt he would have a friend in Henry.

In minutes Henry returned with a tray that held two glasses and a pitcher of ice water. Cubes clinked in the pitcher as he approached Mike. “Here’s one for you, sir.”

“Henry, you don’t need to call me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir. Not too many people off the ranch realize I’m anything but a butler out here. It’s probably better that way. As you know, she’s worth a lot and this can be an isolated spot in spite of all the people who work here.”

“Okay. I’ll take the water to her. She should be okay now.”

Henry held the door open and closed it quietly behind Mike. Vivian was at the window and turned to face him.

He crossed the room and held the tray for her. “Have a drink.”

“Thanks. That caught me off guard,” she said, taking the glass nearest her. “I loved him and I miss him.”

“That’s understandable.” Mike turned away to set the tray on a table and sip his drink. He set the glass back on the tray.

“If you’re ready now, I’ll call Slade and see if he’s ready to meet you.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

While she talked on her phone, he glanced around. The desk at one side of the room looked French and a sofa covered in antique blue velvet faced the fireplace. One wall was almost floor-to-ceiling glass and overlooked a fenced yard with neat beds of red roses, a flowering crab apple tree and spirea and hyacinth in bloom. His gaze flicked back to Vivian. Her clothes didn’t reveal her figure or her legs, but one of the pictures Thane had carried was of both of them on a beach and Mike had total recall of her long legs and fabulous curves and a smile that could melt ice.

She turned to Mike. “Slade said he’s ready, so shall we go? It’s a short walk.”

“Sure,” he said, watching her cross the room and joining her, catching the faintest scent of an exotic perfume. He held the library door for her and then fell into step beside her as they walked down a wide hall that held potted palms and an elegant arrangement of chairs and loveseats. A splashing fountain was built into one of the walls and marble statuary and oils in gilt frames lined each side.

“Is this your art?”

She laughed, a melodic, cheerful sound that made him want to get her to laugh again. “Not all of it. Some of them. I specialize in Western art and portraits. One of the horse paintings is mine.” She pointed to the nearest painting. “The black horse.”

“Very nice,” he said. As he commented, he thought what a pity that Thane’s wife wasn’t older, less attractive, less appealing and less friendly because then she would definitely be less tempting.

Outside, they followed a stone path bordered by beds of blooming yellow jonquils and purple irises to a gate that he opened and held for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she walked through and he followed, closing the gate. “I really know so little about this ranch other than that we raise Hereford cattle. I do ride because we had a family farm that we went to occasionally and I had a horse, but that farm was nothing like this ranch and I didn’t spend much time with my horse. And I don’t here. I’m really not a ranch person. Also, I think the farm was more of a place for my father to relax.”

Mike saw barns, corrals and garages for the various cars, trucks and the one limo. In another direction there were houses and fenced yards. They approached a single-story building with lots of glass and wood.

“Here’s the foreman’s office. And here comes Slade,” she said as a door opened and a tall, slender man came out. He was in boots, jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt. In spite of the protection of his broad-brimmed Western hat, his skin was brown, wrinkled and weathered. His gray hair was long at the back of his neck.

“Slade, meet Mike Moretti, Thane’s ranger friend. Mike, this is Slade Jackson, our foreman.”

As Mike shook hands, he looked into gray eyes that stared intently at him. “I’ve heard about you from Thane, Mr. Jackson, and what a great job you’ve always done.”

“Call me Slade. Hate to step down, but the time has come. This is a family ranch and it’s been here through seven generations of Warners. It goes way back. I understand you’ve worked on a ranch.”

Vivian took a step forward. “Before you answer Slade, I’ll tell you two goodbye,” she said to the two men. “I enjoyed meeting you, Mike, and we’ll talk some more. You and Slade can come to some decisions.”

He gazed into her eyes and the thought crossed his mind that he could look at her for hours. Instantly, he thought about her from a few minutes earlier, crying over Thane, the man she once loved. And still loved. Mike knew he hadn’t imagined his reaction to touching her and he was equally certain that she had felt something, too. Why did they have the slightest chemistry between them when neither one wanted it? Was it really going to help for him to take her to dinner a couple of times to drive away a bothersome neighbor? Or would an evening together complicate both their lives?

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