Lone Star Holiday Proposal

“And what about you, Raina?

Don’t you need somebody as well?” Nolan asked. Raina blushed and looked down for a moment.

“I have JJ,” she said, her voice staunch. “He’s all I need.” Nolan nodded and then stepped a little closer. “I’d really like to see you again.”

Raina’s breath caught in her throat.

“Nolan, I’m flattered. B-but I don’t date anymore. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” Nolan said, his brown eyes gleaming under the street lamp. “But if you ever change your mind, make sure you let me know, okay?”

She was well-advised to steer completely clear of Nolan Dane. She’d only met him four days ago and he was already heating her blood. She couldn’t—no, shouldn’t—entertain the idea. And yet, she still found herself wishing she could say yes.

“How long are you prepared to wait?” Raina joked on a nervous laugh.

Nolan smiled and gave her a look that sent curls of delight all the way to her extremities.

“As long as it takes.”

* * *

Lone Star Holiday Proposal

  is part of The Texas Cattleman’s Club: Lies and Lullabies series—Baby secrets and a scheming sheikh rock Royal, Texas

Lone Star Holiday Proposal

Yvonne Lindsay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A typical Piscean,

USA TODAY

 bestselling author

YVONNE LINDSAY

 has always preferred her imagination to the real world. Married to her blind date hero and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart, and in her spare time she can be found with her nose in a book reliving the power of love, or knitting socks and daydreaming. Contact her via her website

www.yvonnelindsay.com

.

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As always, I’m strengthened by the support of my fellow authors when working on a project like this, whether they are directly involved in the continuity or not. In particular I would like to dedicate this book to Soraya Lane to thank her for her constant cheerleading and encouragement, and for challenging me to bigger, better word counts than I ever dreamed I could achieve in a single day.

 Deadlines become so much easier when you’re haranguing me from the sideline! Thank you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

One

Nolan rolled to a stop in the parking area at the Courtyard and looked around. The four-mile drive out of Royal had been pleasant, quite a difference from the Southern California freeway traffic that was a part of his daily grind back home.

Home. He grunted. Royal, Texas, was really his home, not the sparsely furnished luxury apartment he slept and occasionally ate in back in LA. But he hadn’t lived here in Royal, or even been back, in coming up on seven years. Even now he’d chosen to check into a hotel rather than stay with his parents. The reminders of his old life and old hopes were still too fresh, too raw. He gave his head a slight shake, as if to jog his mind back on track, and pushed open the door to the brand-new SUV he’d hired for his visit. He alighted from the vehicle, grabbed his suit jacket from the backseat and pulled it on before taking a moment to adjust pristine white shirt cuffs.

The wind cut right through the finely woven wool of his suit. It seemed even Armani couldn’t protect you from a frigid Texan winter breeze. Nor were highly polished handmade shoes immune to the dust of the unsealed parking lot, he noted with a slight grimace of distaste. But when had he gotten so prissy? There’d been a time when even baby spit hadn’t bothered him.

A shaft of pain lanced through him. It still hurt as if it was yesterday. Nolan buttoned his jacket and straightened his shoulders. He’d known coming back would be hard, that it might rip the scabs off wounds he’d thought already healed. But what he hadn’t expected were these blindsiding moments when those old hurts threatened to drive him back down on his knees.

Pull it together

, he willed silently, clenching his jaw tight. He’d lived through far worse than these random memories that were all that was left of his old life. He could live through this. It was time to harden back up and get to work.

As private attorney for Rafiq Bin Saleed, Nolan was here to do a job for one of Rafiq’s companies, Samson Oil. He loved his work—particularly loved the cut and parry of entering into property negotiations on behalf of his boss and friend. The fact that doing so now brought him back to the scene of his deepest sorrow was tempered only by the fact that he also got to spend some time with his parents on their home turf. They weren’t getting any younger and his dad was already making noises about retiring. From personal experience working there, Nolan knew that his dad’s family law practice was demanding, but he couldn’t quite reconcile himself to the fact that his dad was getting ready to scale down, or even walk away, from the practice he’d started only a few years out of law school.

Again Nolan reminded himself to get back on track. Obviously he’d have to work harder. Being back home after a long absence had a way of derailing a man when he least expected it—but that wouldn’t earn him any bonuses when it came to crunch time with his boss. He looked around the area that had been christened the Courtyard. The name fit, he decided as he took in the assembly of renovated ranch buildings that housed a variety of stores and craftsmen. His research had already told him that the tenants specialized in arts and crafts with artisanal breads and cheeses also on sale, while the central area was converted into a farmer’s market most Saturday mornings.

To Nolan’s way of thinking, it was an innovative way to use an old run-down and unprofitable piece of land. So what the hell did Rafiq want with it? He knew for a fact that there was no oil to be found in the surrounding area. Hell, everyone who grew up in and around Royal knew that—which kind of raised questions as to what Samson Oil wanted the land for. So far, Rafiq’s quest to buy up property in Royal failed to make economic sense to Nolan.

Sure, he was giving owners who were still battered and struggling to pull their lives together after the tornado a chance to get away and start a new life, but what did Rafe plan to do with all the land he’d acquired?

Nolan reminded himself it wasn’t his place to ask questions but merely to carry out the brief, no matter how much of a waste of money it looked like to him. Rafiq had his reasons but he wasn’t sharing them, and it had been made clear to Nolan that it was his place to see to the acquisition of specific parcels of land—whether they were for sale or not. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

Regrettably, however, it appeared that Winslow Properties, despite their shaky financial footing, were not open to selling this particular parcel of land. It was up to him to persuade them otherwise. He’d hoped some of the tenants would be more forthcoming about their landlord but so far, on his visits to the stores, he’d found them to be a closemouthed bunch. Maybe they were all just scared, he thought. Royal had been through a lot. No one wanted to rock the boat now.

There was one tenant he’d yet to have the opportunity to talk to. He recalled her name from his memory—Raina Patterson. From what he understood she might be closer to Mellie Winslow than some of the other tenants. Maybe Ms. Patterson could give him the angle he needed to pry this property from the Winslow family’s grip.

He began to walk toward a large red barn at the bottom of the U-shape created by the buildings. The iron roof had been proudly painted with the Texas flag. The sight of that flag never failed to tug at him; as much as he’d assimilated to his California lifestyle, he’d always be Texan.

Looking around, Nolan understood why the Winslow family had, after initial interest in Samson Oil’s offer, grown cagey at the idea of selling this little community and the land it was on. For a town that was still rebuilding, this was an area of optimism and growth. Selling out from underneath everyone was bound to create unrest and instability all over again. Not everyone here could just pick up and create a new life in a new town or state like he had.

Damn, and there he was again. Thinking of the past and of what he’d lost. His wife, his son. He should probably have sent someone else on the legal team to do this job but Rafiq had been adamant he handle it himself. He mentally shrugged. It was the price he paid for the obscenely high salary he earned—he could live with that as long as he didn’t ever have to live here again, with his memories.

* * *

Raina made a final tweak of the pine boughs and tartan ribbons she’d used to decorate the antique mantelpiece and looked around her store with a sense of pride and wonder.

Her

 store. Priceless by name and by nature. She’d been here in the renovated red barn a month now. She still couldn’t quite believe that a year after the tornado that had leveled her original business and much of the town of Royal, she’d managed to rebuild her inventory and relocate her business rather than just fold up altogether.

It certainly hadn’t been easy, she thought as she moved through the store and let her hand drift over the highly polished oak sewing table she’d picked up at an estate sale last week—but it had been worth it.

Now all she had to do was hold on to it. A ripple of disquiet trickled down her spine. Her landlord, Mellie Winslow, had been subdued yesterday when she’d visited Raina but had said she was doing everything she could to ensure that her father’s company, Winslow Properties, didn’t sell the Courtyard.

Raina needed to know this wasn’t all going to be ripped away from her a second time. She didn’t know if she had it in her to start over again. Losing her store on Main Street, and most of her underinsured inventory of antiques, had just about sent her packing from the town she’d adopted as her own four years ago. She had to make this work, for herself and for her little boy.

No matter which way she looked at it, though, she still couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in buying the dried-up and overused land, let alone an oil company. If only Samson Oil—who’d been buying land left, right and center around Royal—would go away and let her have the peace and security she’d been searching for her whole life. Heck, it wasn’t even as if they seemed to be doing anything with the properties they’d bought up. At the rate Samson Oil was going, Royal would become a ghost town.

“Mommy! Look!”

Raina turned and smiled at her son, Justin, or JJ as he was known, as he proudly showed off the ice cream cone her dad—his namesake—had just bought him. JJ was three going on thirteen most of the time, but today he was home from day care because he’d been miserable with a persistent cold. He was back to being the little boy who wanted his mommy and his “G’anddad” most of all. The theory had been that he’d rest on the small cot she had in her office out back, but theory had been thrown to the wind when JJ had heard his beloved granddad arrive to help Raina move some of the heavier items in the store.

Looking at JJ now, she began to wonder if she’d been conned by the little rascal all along. The little boy had protested his granddad’s departure most miserably, but he was all smiles now with an ice cream cone and the promise of a sleepover on the weekend.

“Lucky you,” she answered squatting down to JJ’s eye level. “Can I have some?”

JJ pulled the cone closer to him, distrust in his eyes. “No, Mommy. G’anddad said it mine.”

Raina pouted. “Not even one little lick?”

She saw the indecision on his face for just a moment before he proffered the dripping cone in her direction. “One,” he said very solemnly.

Raina licked off the drips before they hit the floor and theatrically sighed in pleasure. “That’s so yummy. Can I have more?” she teased, reaching for JJ’s wrist.

“No more, Mommy! Mine!” JJ squealed and turned and ran, laughing hysterically as Raina growled and lumbered playfully behind him.

Through her son’s shrieks of delight, Raina heard the bell tinkle over the main door, signaling a potential customer.

“Justin Junior, you stop right there! No running through the store,” she called out, but it was futile. JJ was barreling away from her at top speed.

She rounded the corner just in time to hear a muffled “oof!” as JJ ran straight into the man who’d just entered the store. The man was wearing a very expensive looking suit, which, she groaned inwardly, now wore a fair portion of JJ’s ice cream cone, right at the level of the man’s groin. JJ rapidly backed away. The stranger looked up, a startled expression on his face as his eyes met hers. A frisson of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on ran between them like a live current. It unnerved her and made her voice sharp.

“JJ! Apologize to the gentleman, right now.”

She couldn’t help it—even though it was her fault for chasing him, she couldn’t prevent the note of censure that filled her voice. And she still felt unsettled by that look she’d just exchanged with a total stranger. A look that left her feeling things she had no right to feel. Raina dragged her attention back to the disaster at hand and searched around for something to offer the man to help him clean up.

The only pieces of fabric she had close by were a set of handmade lace doilies from the early twentieth century. She certainly couldn’t afford to lose inventory, but then again, nor could she afford to lose a potential customer either.

JJ turned his little face up to hers. His blue eyes, so like her own, filled with tears that began to spill down his still-chubby cheeks. His lower lip began to quiver. He dropped what was left of his cone on the floor and ran to her, burying his face in her maxi skirt as if he could make himself invisible.

“Hey, no harm done,” the man said, his voice slightly gruff and at odds with his words.

Raina definitely noticed a hint of Texas drawl as she glanced from her son to the customer, who, despite that initial look of shock, now appeared unfazed by the incident. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an honest-to-God white handkerchief. Was that a monogram in the corner? Raina didn’t think they had such things anymore.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Here, let me,” she started, reaching for the cotton square.

“Might be best if I handle this myself,” the man replied.

Oh, heavens, she was such an idiot. Of course he’d have to handle it himself. It was

his

 groin, after all. She had no business touching any man’s trousers, let alone there. She gently set JJ to one side and got busy picking up the cone that he’d dropped on the floor, gathering the sticky mess in her left hand.

“JJ, can you go fetch me the tea towel that’s hanging up in the kitchen?” she asked her son. “And no running!”

It was too late. JJ raced away as if he couldn’t wait to put distance between himself and the mess he’d created.

“Kids, huh?”

The stranger finally smiled and Raina looked up at him—really looked this time—and felt a punch of attraction all the way to the tips of her toes. Before she could answer, JJ was back and, ridiculously glad of the distraction, Raina used the cloth to wipe up the residue from the floor and then wrapped up the cone in the towel to deal with later. Her customer had likewise dealt with the mess on his trousers.

“See, all cleaned up,” he said, rolling up the handkerchief and shoving it in his pocket again.

Raina cringed at the cost of getting all that fine tailoring back into pristine condition again. “But the stain. Please, let me get your suit dry cleaned for you.”

“No, seriously, it’s no bother. Is this your boy? JJ is it?”

She nodded and watched as the man squatted down so he was at eye level with JJ, who had cautiously turned his head around when he’d heard his name. She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of the stranger’s trousers caught snugly across his thighs and, despite hastily averting her gaze, she also couldn’t stop the disconcerting rush of acute feminine awareness that welled inside her.

“Hey, JJ, no harm done, except to your ice cream. I’m sorry about that, champ.” When Raina started to protest that he had nothing to be sorry for, he merely put up one hand and kept his attention on her little boy. “Are you okay?”

JJ nodded.

“But you lost your ice cream. Maybe I can talk to your mommy about buying you another one. Would you like that?”

Again Raina went to protest but the man shot her a glance and a smile that made her hush. As embarrassed as she was by what had happened, she found herself prepared to follow his lead.

JJ nodded again and the man put out one hand. “Good,” he said with another smile. “Sounds like we have a deal. You want to shake on that?”

Raina felt a tug of pride as her son extended his grubby little hand to be engulfed in the stranger’s much larger one. But pride was soon overtaken by something else as she noticed the man’s hands. They were tanned and broad, with long fingers and neatly kept nails. Definitely an office worker, she surmised, and not from around here, but—oh boy—there was that swell of attraction again. What on earth was wrong with her? After Jeb, she’d sworn off men. She couldn’t trust her own judgment anymore.

The man rose to his full height, which dwarfed Raina’s own five foot seven by a good several inches. He held out his hand toward her.

“Nolan Dane, pleased to meet you.”

Automatically Raina took his hand but realized her mistake the moment she did so. A sharp tingle of electricity sizzled up her arm the second their palms met.

“I... I’m R-Raina. Raina Patterson.”

She groaned inwardly. Great, now she sounded like a complete idiot. Her heart skittered in her chest as she noticed he was still holding her hand. She gently pulled free and fought the urge to rub her palm on the fabric of her skirt. “Welcome to my store, Priceless. Were you looking for something in particular? Perhaps I can help you,” she asked, forcing herself to put her business voice on.

* * *

His first reaction to her had been instant, visceral and totally unexpected. Now Nolan could barely tear his eyes from her. She looked so much like his dead wife, Carole, it was uncanny. Her shoulder-length hair was the same shade of glossy brown that hovered between dark chocolate and rich espresso. She had the same shape of chin and brows. But it was only once he looked more closely at her that he saw the differences that set them apart.

The woman before him now wore only a bare minimum of makeup, letting her natural beauty shine, whereas Carole had been so caught up in projecting the right appearance that even he had rarely seen her without makeup on. Even at breakfast. Carole’s argument had been that while he’d comfortably slipped into a law practice with his father, she’d had a harder road to travel, proving herself against the good ol’ boys in one of Maverick County’s corporate law firms. She’d needed all the armor she could get.

But there was something in the way that Ms. Patterson carried herself, too, and the sweetly serene smile she wore, that continued to remind him of his late wife. Raina presented a strong and untroubled facade to the world. A facade that he already knew hid a vulnerability that had been evident in her hesitant introduction and which had appealed to the protector in him with surprising force.

Hell no, he reminded himself forcibly. No matter how much she fascinated him, he absolutely couldn’t go there. Women like Raina Patterson were completely out of bounds. Even if she wasn’t married—which she probably was—she had a kid, and he had strict rules about not complicating his life any further. He’d already had his heart torn out and shredded to pieces once and he would bear those scars for the rest of his life. Dating was strictly for brief respites—and this woman did not look like the type for a quick roll in the sheets followed by an even quicker farewell.

“Thank you,” he said, finally pulling himself together. “I just came to look around, to be honest. The Courtyard hasn’t been operating long, has it?”

“No, not terribly long. It stopped being a working ranch a few years ago. The ongoing drought forced the original owners to sell and the new owners, the Winslows, came up with the idea to convert it to shops and studios. It’s helped a lot of us get back on our feet after the tornado.”

Nolan nodded as he processed the information and matched it up with what he knew already. “And you’re selling antiques here?”

“Yes, and running craft classes out back. My first one is tonight. Would you be interested in signing on for a lesson in candle making? They’re going to be a hot gift item for Christmas this year in Royal.”

She laughed softly and, unexpectedly, he delighted in the sound. It was refreshing. Genuine amusement wasn’t often heard in the circles in which he moved, at least not without some malice in it somewhere.

“I’ll take a rain check,” he said with a wink, and he was delighted to see a faint blush color her ivory cheeks.

“A shame,” she said averting her head slightly. “I’m sure all the ladies would have been thrilled to have you.”

And then he felt the heat of a blush on his cheeks, as well. Ridiculous, he thought. He hadn’t blushed since the day he’d asked Carole out in high school and yet here he was with cheeks aflame. The memory was just the cold dose of reality he needed. It was time to get out of here before he made a complete fool of himself and broke his own rules about dating and asked the enticing Ms. Patterson out. He made a show of looking at his watch and made a sound of surprise.

“I need to get on my way, but first I should remedy the demise of JJ’s ice cream.”

“Oh, please don’t worry. He’ll be fine and, besides, the homemade ice cream store will be closed now.”

“And I’m holding you up from closing, too, I see,” he said, gesturing to the face of his watch. “I’ll head off.”

“Please, don’t rush away. Look around—you never know—something might grab your attention. We’ll be a little while closing up anyway.”

Despite his determination to put some distance between them, Nolan found himself agreeing to prolong his visit.

“Okay, thanks. Let me know when you want me out of your way.”

She nodded and gave him another of those serene smiles that delivered a solid whack to his solar plexus.

As he moved among the pieces she had on display, he reexamined his options. He was here to do a job. Part of that job was gathering information. He hadn’t missed the spark of interest in her eyes. Perhaps he could use that interest to his advantage. Ms. Patterson, whether she knew it or not, had just become his best opportunity to get an angle on Winslow Properties and hopefully the leverage he’d need to pull off this purchase. Somehow, he needed to get past his emotional barriers and see her purely as a means to an end. If he didn’t, all bets were likely off, and he’d have to deliver Rafiq his first failure in this acquisitions venture. Nolan’s need to succeed pushed through. He could do this. And he would.

Nolan could hear Raina moving around toward the back of the store. He flicked a look her way and saw her laying out egg cartons and wicks and precut blocks of what he assumed was wax. JJ was doing his best to help. Raina moved quietly behind him and