Romancing the Cowboy

Romancing the Cowboy
Judy Duarte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Judy Duarte always knew there was a book inside her, but since English was her least favourite subject in school, she never considered herself a writer. An avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, Judy couldn’t shake the dream of creating a book of her own.

Her dream became a reality in March 2002 when the Special Edition line released her first book. Since then, she has sold nineteen more novels.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Colleen Holth, who has been my friend for almost as long as I can remember. Thanks for letting me rope you into just about anything. I love you, Col.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

Chapter One

“I need to talk to you about Edna.” At the sound of Doc

Graham’s age-worn voice over the telephone line, Jared Clayton’s gut clenched and his chest tightened. This, he suspected, was the moment he’d been dreading. The call he and his two brothers had known would someday come.

He’d been sitting in the worn, tufted-leather chair in his study, the ledger spread across the polished oak desktop, when the phone rang.

Edna Clayton, who was known as Granny to most folks in the small Texas community of Brighton Valley, had adopted Jared when he’d been a gangly adolescent. At the time, he’d had nowhere else to go except the county home for boys. And for the next twenty years, the elderly widow had been the only real mother he’d known.

Jared waited for the small-town physician to tell him the reason he’d called. Instead, Doc asked, “How long has it been since you visited the ranch?”

“A year or so.” Jared made of a point of spending the major holidays with her and whichever brother could make it, although he’d missed being home last Christmas, due to a crisis on his own ranch—a divorce that had caught him completely by surprise. “But I call regularly.”

Oh, yeah? a small voice asked.

When was the last time he’d picked up the phone to chat with her, to ask how things were going?

A couple of weeks, he suspected. Or maybe a month.

Guilt rode him hard. He hadn’t meant to let it go that long. And the fact that he’d been so damn focused lately—first on his divorce, then on his seriously injured brother—didn’t help. At this point, neither Jolene nor Matthew seemed to be a good enough excuse.

“When did you talk to her last?” Doc had been Granny’s best friend for as long as Jared could remember, but this was the first time Jared had felt as if he’d been called on the carpet by the man. Or maybe it was his own guilt doing a number on him.

“I meant to give her a call this evening,” he lied, thinking he ought to actually schedule the time on his calendar so this wouldn’t ever happen again. He’d make a point of checking in with her weekly, if not daily.

“It’s just as well that you haven’t yet done so.”

“Why? What happened?”

“At this point? Nothing, but her memory is failing, and she’s been having some health problems.”

“Like what?” At seventy-nine, any number of things could wear out or go haywire. Maybe Jared ought to bring her to his ranch to live with him so he could keep an eye on her, but she’d always been so independent and set in her ways. And the old Granny, the one who’d raised him, would never agree. He’d have to hog-tie her and throw her over his shoulder in order to convince her to leave the Rocking C, the only home she’d had in nearly sixty years.

“I can’t seem to control her blood pressure,” Doc said, “even with medication. She has a heart murmur, and I’m afraid she may not have much time left.”

A stab of grief shot through him, stirring up his memories—the good ones. Granny and his adopted brothers, Matt and Greg, were the only family he’d ever really had.

“Since I doubt Edna will let you boys know what’s going on, I thought I’d better call.”

Jared couldn’t help thinking that Granny’s heart had worn out over the years. The idea wasn’t founded upon medical science by any means, but it seemed as though all the good deeds and charity work she’d done over the course of her life had finally taken their toll.

For as long as folks in Brighton Valley had known her, Granny had been taking in strays of all shapes and sizes—human ones, as well as the four-legged variety. And Jared thanked his lucky stars that he’d been one of them.

He had his own spread now, nearly a hundred miles away, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her dearly. Granny was the only woman who had always come through for him and never let him down—one way or another.

“Give it to me straight, Doc.”

“Well, I think she needs to go into Houston and see a cardiologist, but I’ve never seen a woman so dang stubborn in all my life.” Since Doc had attended the local high school with Edna and was pushing eighty himself, that was saying a lot.

“Is she all right living out on that ranch alone?” Jared asked, thinking that they might need to hire a nurse to look after her if he couldn’t talk her in to moving in with him.

“She’s not alone,” Doc said. “That’s another issue completely. Right now, she’s got a full house.”

“What do you mean?” The last time Jared had gone by the ranch, the only ones living there had been Granny and Lester Bailey, the foreman, plus a couple of newly hired greenhorns who tried hard but didn’t know much about cattle. Thank goodness the other hands knew what to do without being told. “Who’s she taken in now?”

“A whole passel of women, one of whom looked pregnant to me. And there’s at least one kid.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. Jared, of all people, ought to be understanding of Granny’s hospitality. But she was getting older now and was more vulnerable than she’d been in the past.

“Looks like I’d better make a trip south tomorrow.” Of course, he’d have to find someone to look after Matthew. Jared had a bad feeling about leaving him alone, especially in his present frame of mind.

“You probably ought to consider staying at Edna’s for a while,” Doc added.

“Why is that?”

“I spoke to Grant Whitaker about her yesterday when we were eating breakfast down at Caroline’s Diner.”

Grant was Granny’s CPA, at least he had been. He had to be Granny and Doc’s age. Or at least getting close. “Hasn’t he retired yet?”

“Nope. He still works for Edna and a couple other longtime clients. And he was concerned about something. He decided to run it by me first, before bothering you boys with it.”

Jared stiffened. “What was he worried about?”

“Grant seems to think there’s a discrepancy in her accounts.”

“What kind of discrepancy?” Jared asked.

“He says there have been a significant number of electronic withdrawals over the past few weeks.”

“I don’t know how in the hell that could have happened. Granny doesn’t even have a computer.”

“Apparently, she does now. Her new bookkeeper talked her into getting one.”

She hired a new bookkeeper? One who had access to online banking, account numbers and passwords? Jared gripped the receiver until he thought he might choke the truth out of it. “I’m not going to wait until morning. I’ll give her a call now and tell her…Hell, I’ll think of something. Either way, I’m leaving this evening.”

“Good. If she were my mother, I’d want to know.”

“If someone is taking advantage of her, they’ll wish they weren’t.”

“Now, don’t go in there half-cocked, son. There could be a logical explanation for all of this.”

Yeah. Right.

Granny needed him.

And now it was his turn to be there for her.

As he disconnected the line, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the oak-paneled study. He pushed himself away from the desk, then strode to the open window in slow steady steps as a rumble of thunder rolled across the evening sky.

The scent of rain mingled with smoke from the chimney. He could smell the storm coming. For a moment, he considered waiting it out and driving after it passed, but he didn’t think on it too long.

He needed to get to Granny’s ranch and find out what he was up against. He shut the window, then glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. 8:38 p.m. It would be late by the time he and Matt arrived.

Jared had a key to the back door, but he didn’t want to let himself in without telling Granny he was coming. So he dialed her number.

“Hello?” a woman answered, her voice laced with a slight Latina accent, her tone soft and gentle.

All the frustration and worry that had been swirling inside caused Jared to snap in a manner that was more sharp and brusque than usual. “Who are you?”

She paused momentarily. “Why don’t you introduce yourself first?”

Patience had never been one of his virtues, not when he wanted answers. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, who the hell are you?”

She cleared her throat, yet the softness remained. “I’m Sabrina. I work here.”

“Let me talk to Mrs. Clayton.”

“I’m not sure I want you to.”

“Excuse me?” His voice, rock hard and determined, mocked her velvety tone.

“She’s resting, and I’d rather not see her upset.”

Jared didn’t know who this woman was, but he didn’t like her already. “Why in blazes would I call to stir her up?”

“You seem to be irritated about something, sir. And I can’t see any point in raising her blood pressure.”

“Listen here, Sabrina. You’re raising my blood pressure. All I want to do is talk to Edna, to ask how she’s feeling, to check on her.”

She remained silent for the longest time, as if trying to determine whether she was talking to a friend or a foe.

“This is Jared,” he said, although she didn’t respond right away.

Hadn’t Granny even told those women about him? About how she’d adopted not only Jared, but also two other boys, who loved her and would do anything to protect her?

Apparently not.

The memory lapses Doc had mentioned came to mind, and Jared was even more determined to set things right. Even if it meant backpedaling and reining in a conversation that he now realized had started off on a bad foot.

“Maybe we ought to slow down a bit and clear the air. I’m Edna’s oldest son. And I’d like to talk to her. I get a little riled up when someone tries to put me off.”

“She told me about you. I’m sorry. I’ll get her.”

When the woman set down the receiver, silence filled the line. A barrage of questions begged for answers. And not just questions about Granny’s health, the women who’d infiltrated the ranch and the loss of money in Granny’s account.

What had Granny said about Jared?

It could have been any number of things, he supposed. But sometimes Granny had a way of revealing secrets, things a guy would rather keep to himself. And her lack of discretion was one reason he hadn’t gone into details about the divorce with her, just the irreconcilable differences part.

The real reason Jolene had left him remained deeply hidden within a ragged crevice in his heart.

“Jared?” that familiar, maternal voice asked. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Granny. How are you doing?”

“Fine as frog’s hair,” she responded. Then she made a fruitless attempt to cover the mouthpiece of the phone and speak to someone else, most likely Sabrina. “Thank you, dear. No, I’ll lock up for the night. Go on to bed.”

“Granny?” he asked, a bit put out that she’d be chatting with one of the moochers instead of him.

“I’m sorry. Where were we?” Granny asked.

“I asked how you were doing.”

“Oh, yes. I’m doing just fine. How about you? Are you well?”

Jared had been doing okay until Matthew moved in. And until Doc had called this evening. “I’m all right. Keeping busy.”

“What about Matt?” Granny said. “Is he doing okay, too?”

“Yes,” Jared said, not wanting to worry his mother. But the truth was, although Matt seemed to be mending physically, he’d been depressed ever since the accident.

Of course, Jared really couldn’t blame him. Matt had been the driver in the accident that killed his fiancée and her son. And he’d been the only one in the vehicle to survive.

“Does he still have to use a wheelchair?”

“Yes, but hopefully that’s only temporary.” Jared had built ramps to help him get in and out of the house, even though he seemed to prefer being inside. Or near the liquor cabinet.

“I’m sure it’s tough on him,” Granny said. “A man like Matt doesn’t cotton to being laid up.”

Jared wouldn’t like it, either. And while he wasn’t sure what Matt would say about the decision to go back to the Rocking C for a few days, he thought it might do him some good.

“You don’t usually call so late,” Granny said. “Is there something wrong?”

He suspected so, which was why he decided to lie about his reason for going back to the ranch and staying for a few days. “Matt and I have a couple of business meetings in Houston over the next week or so. We thought we’d come down, stay with you and drive back and forth.”

“Why, of course. I’ll ask Tori to make up beds in the den and in the guestroom.”

“Who’s Tori?”

“My new maid.”

“Then who is Sabrina?” he asked.

“She’s my new bookkeeper.”

Aw. The suspected thief. “What’s she doing at your house this late?”

“She and her nephew live here.”

The hordes had begun to move in, ready to pounce and take advantage of one of the kindest little old ladies in Texas. And Jared wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I guess I’ll meet her when we get there.”

“When are you coming?” she asked.

“Late tonight. But don’t wait up. I’ve got a key.”

And once Jared got to Granny’s ranch, he was going to take control of a sorry situation, evict a few freeloaders and see to it the thief ended up in jail.

It was after midnight, but Sabrina Gonzalez had never been able to sleep very well in an unfamiliar house. So it was no wonder she was wide-awake on one of the twin-size beds in the small guestroom Mrs. Clayton had given her to share with Joey. Her new job, which had been a blessing in and of itself, came with room and board, too. That was a bit out of the ordinary for a bookkeeper, but Sabrina wasn’t about to complain.

Besides, the room inside the Clayton ranch house was only temporary, since Mrs. Clayton planned to remodel an old cabin on the grounds. Sabrina and Joey, her six-year-old nephew, would move in as soon as it was ready for them. But God only knew how long that would be. The rustic structure hadn’t been used in ages, so it would need a lot of work to be livable.

Sabrina stopped by Joey’s bedside and gently caressed the top of his head.

Carlos, her twin brother and Joey’s dad, had been convicted of a crime he hadn’t committed and was currently serving time in prison, so Sabrina had stepped in as a guardian.

At first, when Mrs. Clayton’s job offer came through, Sabrina had declined to take it, since the ranch was quite a drive from Houston and she hadn’t found a competent and trustworthy sitter for her nephew yet. But the elderly woman had invited both Sabrina and Joey to live at the ranch, insisting that it was best for the motherless boy to be near a loved one at a time like this and not in day care.

How could Sabrina argue with that?

Joey stirred, and she shushed him until he grew still. Before leaving the room, she stopped by the closet for a robe, then hesitated. The door squeaked terribly when it slid open, and she hated to make any unnecessary noise.

Besides, what would it hurt to walk out into the kitchen wearing just her nightgown? There were only women in the house.

A night-light lit her way downstairs, the steps creaking under her weight. She walked into the living room, where she flipped on a lamp, illuminating the room. Then she went to the kitchen.

Connie, the new cook, was a sweetheart, but she hadn’t been hired for her culinary skills. The oatmeal cookies she’d made, however, were the best Sabrina had ever tasted.

Rather than turn on every light in the house, Sabrina decided not to flip on the switch. She could make her way through the dimly lit kitchen easy enough.

She opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, just as a car engine sounded outside. She glanced at the clock. 12:17 a.m. Surely, Edna wasn’t expecting company. Maybe someone on the highway had made a wrong turn and was lost. The driver would figure it out soon enough, she supposed, and head back to the road.

She plucked two of the chewy cookies from the plastic container in which Connie had stored them and wrapped them in a paper towel to take into the living room, where she would eat them as she thumbed through a magazine.

But the vehicle didn’t turn around or back out. Instead, the engine continued to idle, and the headlights remained on.

A door opened and shut.

When Sabrina heard a baritone whisper through a window that had been left partially open, she froze. Another voice responded, this one a bit louder.

One of the hired hands?

Maybe so.

She pinched off a bite of one cookie and popped it into her mouth, relishing the taste of raisins and spice, then took a sip of milk.

More voices—all male—sounded. Another door opened, then shut.

“Be quiet,” a man said, as he neared the window. “I don’t want to wake up anyone in the house.”

“I hate this,” another added.

“We don’t like it, either. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, kid.”

Footsteps sounded at the back porch. It might be the end of spring, but a winter frost crept up Sabrina’s spine. Her heart pounded out an ominous dirge in her brain and perspiration beaded on her forehead.

As quiet as a cornered mouse, she tiptoed toward the kitchen counter, where the butcher block rested. She set down her milk and cookies, then grabbed the biggest weapon she could find—a meat cleaver—and held it with both hands, ready to defend herself.

Maybe it was Lester, the ranch foreman, and some of the hired hands. Maybe they had reason to be awake and milling about at this time of night.

That had to be it, yet her pulse escalated until she could hear it throbbing in her ears. An avid mystery reader with a wild imagination, Sabrina often thought in terms of worst-possible scenarios. And she tried to keep that in mind, tried to remain calm.

She could scream, waking everyone in the house. And what if there was a perfectly good explanation for all of this?

Then the new ranch bookkeeper would look like a fool.

The lock clicked, as though someone had a key. Or perhaps someone was picking it.

Should she scream now?

The door to the mudroom swung open, revealing a group of men outside, their forms barely illuminated by the headlights of a vehicle. The one in front, a tall, thirtysomething hulk of a man with wheat-colored hair, held a key in his hand and gaped at her. “Who the hell are you?”

If she’d witnessed a crime and stood behind a mirrored window, looking at a lineup and listening to each voice, she’d recognize that one.

Jared Clayton.

She didn’t know whether to cry in relief or anger. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock on doors?”

“Not at this house.”

“Hey,” a voice behind him said, “get a move on. This is heavy.”

Jared stepped aside, and several of the ranch hands carried a dark-haired man and the wheelchair in which he was still seated through the service porch and into the kitchen, where they lowered him to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, more in response to the injured man’s plight than anything.

From what she’d heard, the one-time rodeo cowboy had been involved in a tragic car accident a while back, and he’d been recuperating at Jared’s ranch. Yet her gaze and her focus turned to Jared. “You scared me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jared’s features—quite handsome in the light—softened a tad. “And you don’t think seeing a shedevil, wielding a meat cleaver in her hand and dressed like a ghost in flowing white didn’t give me a start, too?”

Sabrina glanced down at her gown, realizing how threadbare the fabric had become, how sheer the material.

Her hair hung down her back, but she freed the side tresses, allowing them to cover the front of her gown the best they could.

As Matthew wheeled himself out of the kitchen and into the living room, the ranch hands backed out the door, closing it and leaving her with Mrs. Clayton’s oldest son. He still hadn’t formally introduced himself, although he really hadn’t needed to.

He crossed his arms across a broad chest and shifted the bulk of his weight to one, denim-clad hip. “Who are you?”

She crossed her own arms, hoping that would help hide what her hair couldn’t. “I’m Sabrina Gonzalez.”

“The bookkeeper who’s taken up residence in my mother’s house.”

It wasn’t a question, yet his tone, his condescension, set her off, provoking a retort that was completely out of character. “And you’re the rude, arrogant man who called earlier.”

Jared had been accused of worse, but he didn’t take any guff off anyone. Never had, never would.

Granny had done her best to teach him and his brothers to be cordial and polite, but it didn’t come easy to Jared. Not when he had reason to believe someone was a liar or a cheat. And he didn’t trust Sabrina Gonzalez any farther than he could throw her—something that wouldn’t be too tough. She was just a slip of a thing, with a slinky veil of black hair that nearly reached her waist.

Jared, who’d always favored long-haired women, found it intriguing. Attractive.

But he didn’t dare give this particular woman more than a passing glance. She was, after all, the one with the easiest access to Granny’s accounts. And it didn’t take much skill to put two and two together. He could do the math on that.

“Are you going to put down your weapon?” he asked.

She glanced at the cleaver, then replaced it into the butcher-block holder. Turning to face him again and recrossing her arms, she gave a little shrug. “The ranch is off the beaten path, and I wasn’t sure if this was a home invasion.”

“My guess is that you watch too much television.”

Her eyes, the color of a field of bluebonnets in the spring, were big and expressive. Her lashes, thick and dark, didn’t need mascara.

She was a beautiful woman, even without makeup and dressed in an old gown. Of course, her bedtime attire and sleep-tousled hair had an appeal in and of itself.

To much of one, he decided.

He knew better than to allow himself to be swayed by lust and did his best to shake off any sexual interest in her.

“So what were you doing awake and prowling around in the house at this hour?” he asked

She paused, as if deciding whether to tell the truth or to lie. “Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep, so I came for a glass of milk.”

“You might try whiskey. It works for me.”

The hands that she’d tucked under her arms loosened, leaving him a glimpse of the gentle swell of her breasts.

Her white cotton gown had seen better days, but her body was damn near perfect. What he could see of it, anyway.

He pulled out a chair from the antique oak table, took a seat and studied her.

Early twenties. Just over five feet tall. High cheekbones, big eyes. Lips that were kissable in spite of the pretty pout she wore.

He wondered what her hard-luck story had been. “So how’d you meet Granny?”

She remained standing. “I was referred by Mr. Whitaker, and I came out to the ranch for an interview.”

Grant referred her? If so, that was interesting. Grant had been the one to pick up on the discrepancies in the account.

“I’d originally applied for work at his office,” she added, “but he’s cutting back on his workload. He knew Mrs. Clayton needed a bookkeeper, so he gave her a call.”

By the way she tried to cover herself, Jared suspected she was embarrassed to be standing before him in her nightgown, but apparently she was too proud to make excuses and flee.

And he was too ornery to give her a reason to leave.

Besides, he had some questions to ask her.

That is, until a young, sleepy voice sounded in the doorway of the kitchen. “Aunt Sabrina?”

The woman turned to where a small, dark-haired boy of about five or six stood, rubbing his eyes.

She crossed the distance between them, placing her hand upon his shoulder. “It’s okay, Joey. I’m sorry the men woke you. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I was worried ’bout you,” he said. “Worried you left me here and wouldn’t come back.”

She stooped, her gown pooling onto the kitchen floor. She wrapped her arms around the boy. “I’d never leave you, Joey. Not on purpose.”

“But my mommy…”

“I know, honey. But that wasn’t on purpose.”

Jared raked a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure what that was all about. But it sounded like the hint of a hard-luck story to him, and knowing Granny, she’d been more swayed by Sabrina’s tale of woe than her qualifications, resume or references.

“Come on,” Sabrina told the boy. “I’ll walk you back to the bedroom.”

As she ushered Joey through the doorway, her hair covered most of her back, swaying with her steps. But the thin material of her nightgown did little to hide her shapely hips.

Jared suspected she wasn’t aware that the light was playing a trick on her, baring a slight outline of the panties she wore. Something decent and conservative. A pair worthy of any churchgoing matron.

Yet on Sabrina, with her ebony hair flirting with the elastic waistband, they fit her bottom in a way that would tempt a saint. And Jared was far from saintly.

Especially when he was determined to uncover a liar and a thief.