TO TAME A COWBOY by Jules Bennett

TO TAME A COWBOY by Jules Bennett


A Texas Cattleman's Club tale of best friends falling in love ...

Royal, Texas, is the perfect place for rodeo star Ryan Grant to slow down and finally show Piper Kindred she's the woman for him. When an accident sends Piper rushing to take care of him, her sexy bedside manner suggests to Ryan that seducing his best friend will be easier than he'd expected.

But Piper knows the lure of the rodeo circuit—and the risk of a broken heart, when Ryan realizes he's not ready to hang up his saddle for good. She can't let herself fall for a cowboy. If only her heart would listen!

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~Excerpt~

To Tame a Cowboy
by Jules Bennett

Piper Kindred did a double take at the black sports car. Her heart sank, bile rising in her throat. No, it couldn't be.

Oh, sweet mercy. There was no way this massive accident would have no casualties. Wreckage lay crushed with mangled pieces across the median, shattered glass scattered along the stretch of highway, a black BMW on its top and a large tractor-trailer on its side, blocking both lanes of traffic.

As a paramedic, Piper had seen plenty of wrecks, fatalities and gut-wrenching scenes, but nothing settled fear as deep within her as seeing the familiar car that was so often in her driveway…the car that belonged to her best friend, Ryan Grant.

The ambulance barely came to a stop before Piper grabbed her heavy red medical bag, hopped out and hit the ground running. The warm November sun beat down on her back as she ran toward the chilling scene.

The medic in her couldn't get to the victims fast enough. The woman in her feared what she'd uncover once she reached Ryan.

Once closer, she squatted in an attempt to see the inside of the vehicle. A wave of relief swept through her the second she realized the car was empty. Okay, so he wasn't trapped, but what was the extent of his injuries?

Sirens blared in near surround sound between the police, ambulances and a fire truck trying to assist the wounded and clean up the mess.

Piper tried to keep her eye out for Ryan, hoping she'd see him sitting in the back of an ambulance with just an ice pack on his head. But her duty was to assist where needed…not to seek out those most important in her life.

As she moved closer to the tractor-trailer, where the majority of the cops seemed to be congregated, she noticed numerous Hispanic people huddled together. With disheveled clothes, scraggly beards and various cuts and bruises, Piper couldn't help but wonder what they were all doing at the scene of an accident involving only one semi and the car of her best friend.

Piper ran to the group of obviously injured men and women. Some were crying, some had their heads dropped between their shoulders and some were shouting Spanish slang even she didn't understand because of the rapid rate, but she could tell they were angry and scared.

As Piper passed two uniformed police officers she heard the words illegal and FBI. Yeah, this was so much more than an ill-fated accident. By the number of uniformed officers scouring the area, it looked as though these people were not here legally.

Moments later she heard other officers discussing how so many stowaways were hidden in such a small compartment in the back of that semi. This situation was beyond what Piper was used to. Her job right now was to assess and treat the victims, not to worry about the legalities of this mess.

"Where do you need me?" she asked another paramedic who was examining a man's leg beneath his torn pants.

"The truck driver was pretty shaken," the paramedic told her. "He's sitting in the back of a squad car for questioning right now. No visible injuries, but his pupils were dilated and he did say his back was hurting. Seems he was driving this illegal group and he had no clue."

Piper nodded, gripped her bag tighter and headed toward the squad car closest to the overturned semi. Sure enough a trooper had his forearm resting on the roof of the car as he leaned in and listened to whatever the man seated in the back was saying.

"I swear I had no clue what was in the back of my truck. Please, you've got to believe me," the driver pleaded. "I was just trying to get into the other lane and that car came out of nowhere. I didn't see him at all."

According to the man's story, he was completely innocent. This was a mess of epic proportions and not something a few questions would solve. But all Piper needed to do was to assess the man to see if he needed to go to the hospital or if he could continue being questioned.

"Officer, may I please check him out?" Piper asked. "I understand he has back pain."

The officer stood to his full height and nodded, but didn't move too far away. Often medics and cops worked together. Being a first responder required teamwork and so far she'd never had an issue with any cop getting in the way of her treating a patient at the scene.

Piper leaned in and saw a middle-aged man with a protruding belly hanging over his faded jeans, a dirty, bushy blond mustache with matching beard and nicotine-stained fingers.

"Sir, my name is Piper and I'm an EMT. I was told your back is hurting. Can you stand?"

He nodded and slid out of the car as Piper backed up. When he came to his full height, he winced, grabbing his lower back—whether for show to get the officer's sympathy or because the pain was indeed real, she didn't know. Yet again, not her place to judge.

"If you'll come this way, we can set you in the back of an ambulance. You may want to go to the hospital just to make sure nothing else is wrong, but I can get your vitals over here."

"I appreciate that, ma'am."

As she led the man toward the nearest empty ambulance, her eyes scanned the crowd for Ryan. Had he already been taken to the E.R.? Were his injuries life-threatening? The unknowns were killing her.

She knew a life flight chopper hadn't been dispatched to the scene, so that was a mild comfort. Not only for the fact Ryan didn't need a medevac, but that none of the others involved in the accident did, either.

Another ambulance arrived on the scene as Piper assisted the truck driver into the back of a vacant one. When fresh paramedics hopped from their emergency vehicle and made their way toward the group of injured people, she jogged back over to assist.

But froze in her tracks as one head lifted and a familiar set of dark eyes met hers. He was amid a group of Mexicans, but this man… She knew this man.

Dear God. How could this… What the hell…?

"Alex?" she whispered to herself.

Piper took off at a dead run and stopped beside Alex Santiago. Her bag dropped at her feet as she held her breath.

Was she honest to God seeing the man who'd disappeared months ago without a trace? Could it truly be him?

The man glanced up at her, holding his hand over his eyes to block the glaring afternoon sun.

My God. It was him. The hair was a shaggy, unkempt mess and the scruff on his cheeks and chin indicated he hadn't shaved in a few days or even weeks. But this was Alex. The man who'd been missing from Royal, Texas, for months.

The man most people assumed had become a victim of foul play, maybe even at his best friend's hand. But here he was, living and breathing.

"Alex, what on earth are you doing here? Where have you been?" she asked, eyeing the knot on the side of his head.

He winced as she slid her fingertip over the swollen bump. "You must have me confused with someone else. My name isn't Alex."

Piper's hand stilled above his head as she leaned down to look him in the eyes. She was pretty sure she knew what her friend looked like. Just because she hadn't seen him in months didn't mean she was clueless.

She looked closer. Um…yeah, this was Alex. If he didn't think he was Alex, then he'd hit his head too hard in that crash. But at least he was alive.

"Your name is Alex Santiago," she told him, making sure to keep her eyes locked on to his, waiting for a spark of recognition from his end.

His brows drew together and he slowly shook his head. "I've never heard that name."

"Then what do people call you?" she asked, worry growing deeper with each passing moment.

Alex's eyes searched hers; he opened his mouth, closed it and sighed. "I don't…remember. That doesn't make sense. How could I not know my own name?"

"You have a good bump here on your head," she reminded him as her eyes traveled down to the wrist he cradled in his other hand. "Looks like you may have broken your wrist."

He glanced down and simply nodded. Piper worried shock may be setting in. Between the accident and the apparent memory loss, she had no doubt Alex was shaken.

"Let's get you to an ambulance and see what the doctors have to say once you get to the hospital," she said gently. "I'm sure you'll remember you're Alex Santiago in no time. I'm Piper Kindred and we've been friends for a while. Can you at least tell me how you got into that truck?"

Piper lifted her duffel bag, helped Alex to his feet and held an arm around his waist when he started to sway. "Easy," she told him. "No rush. We're only going to that ambulance a few feet away. Think you can make it or should I bring a gurney?"

"No, I'm okay."

She didn't quite believe him so she kept him leaning against her side as she led him to the waiting ambulance.

"Go ahead and lie down on that cot," she said as she assisted Alex into the back of the vehicle.

"Do you know where you are?"

His blank look added to the sickening feeling in her stomach.

"We ready to roll?"

Piper glanced at the other EMT on the scene. They might as well go without her because there was no way in hell she was leaving without at least seeing that Ryan was okay…and to tell him of miraculously discovering Alex.

"Go ahead and take him. He's got some memory loss so he doesn't know his name. Make sure the doctors are aware this is Alex Santiago and he's been missing for months. I'll go inform an officer because Alex was the subject of an ongoing investigation."

Turning her attention back to Alex, Piper offered a warm smile. "You're in good hands now, Alex. I know you're confused, but I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can to check on you."

Continuing to hold on to his wrist, Alex leaned back on the gurney. Piper closed the doors and tapped the back to inform the driver he was good to go.

With several paramedics now on the scene, Piper felt comfortable going in search of Ryan.

After searching frantically, running through the chaos, she found him next to the road on the other side of the overturned semi. Her knees weakened with relief at the sight of Ryan whole and upright. He was a good bit from his car, so she had to assume the officer had taken him aside to get his statement.

But glancing at Ryan and actually talking to him were two different things. He looked fine, but looks, as she'd discovered numerous times over the years, could be deceiving. Internal injuries were nothing to mess around with and could prove fatal even when a patient looked perfectly fine.

Added to needing to know the extent of his injuries, she had to tell him about the mind-blowing discovery she'd just made.

Alex Santiago was alive. Their friend who had been missing for months was alive and on his way to Royal Memorial Hospital with an obvious broken wrist and some memory loss. But he was alive.

But, my God, what in the world had he been doing in the back of a semi-truck filled with illegal Mexicans? So many questions whirled around in her mind. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but she knew Alex was probably scared and confused.

As Piper moved closer, she noticed Ryan holding on to one of his sides. A trooper was jotting down notes and nodding as he took Ryan's statement. Piper closed the gap, but stayed a few feet away, waiting for him to finish.

The sight of him with a slight bruise over his right brow and his hair even messier than usual made Piper want to throw her arms around his broad, muscular body and squeeze him to death for scaring her. But he'd probably laugh at her if she got all misty-eyed or mushy right now.

She'd seen this cowboy compete on the rodeo circuit countless times. She'd seen him get knocked around, bucked and nearly trampled, but nothing had terrified her more than the sight of his totaled car.

The trooper stepped away and Piper inched closer on still shaky legs.

Ryan caught her eye and offered that crooked smile. "Hey, Red."

That smile could melt the panties off any woman, and it had according to rumor. But Ryan was her friend so her panties had stayed in place over the years. Though she wasn't blind—her bestie was the sexiest cowboy she'd ever laid eyes on.

With that dark, messy hair usually hidden by a black Stetson and heavy-lidded baby blues, yeah, Ryan Grant was one very fine-looking cowboy and he did some mighty nice things to a pair of well-worn jeans.

"You need to be seen," she informed him, raking her eyes over him to look for other visible injuries. "And I won't take no for an answer."

"I'm just sore and banged up a little, that's all." He reached out, grabbed one of her shaky hands and squeezed. "You look tense. I'm fine, Piper."

"You will be checked out because you'll want to come to the hospital anyway when I tell you who I saw."

Ryan shrugged, hissing and grabbing his side again.

"Who?"

Piper's eyes darted down to his ribs. "If they're not broken, they're bruised, so you'll be going straight to X-ray when you get there, big boy."

"Who did you see?" he insisted.

All joking aside, she leaned in and said, "Alex."

"Alex?" he repeated. "Alex Santiago?"

Piper nodded. "He was in the back of that semi."

"Piper…" He eyed her as though she was the one who'd hit her head. "Alex was in the truck?"

She merely nodded, crossing her arms and silently daring him to argue.

"How in the hell did he get there?" Ryan asked.

Piper nodded toward another ambulance and guided Ryan toward the open back. "He doesn't remember."

Ryan, still holding his side, put his foot on the back step. "He doesn't remember how he got into the semi?"

"He doesn't remember anything," she whispered. "He didn't even know his damn name was Alex when I was talking to him. He didn't recognize me and he was totally clueless."

"Damn it." Ryan glanced around at the group of Mexicans being tended to by EMTs and talked to by the cops. "He has amnesia?"

Piper shrugged. "I honestly don't know. He had a good-size knot on his head, but that could've happened from the accident. He's on his way in the squad I came with, so we'll catch a ride with another. Right now I think we both need to get to the hospital for multiple reasons."

"I don't need to get checked out, but I'll appease you only because I want to see Alex for myself."

Piper studied him, as if she could see beyond the surface and actually make an official diagnosis.

"You all right?" he asked. "You look a little pale."

Piper caught his worried gaze and smiled. "I'm fine. And if the doctors give you the go-ahead and release you, I'm going to kick your rear end for worrying me to death when I saw your overturned car."

Ryan's wide, signature smile spread across his face. "There's that Piper love. Come on. Let's get to the hospital."

"Oh, God, Ryan." She held a hand on his arm before he could step into the back of the ambulance. "What about Cara? Someone needs to call her."

Piper couldn't even imagine what Alex's fiancée, Cara Windsor, would think when she was told he was alive. Piper was stunned and thrilled, but she was worried about how extensive this memory loss was.

"Let's get the facts from the doctor first," Ryan suggested. "We can't have her running all in there in hysterics and shock. We need to prepare her for this and have concrete information."

Piper nodded. "I agree. Let's get to the hospital. And while you're getting checked out, I'll find out Alex's status."

"Red—"

She held up a hand. "The fact my heart rate is still out of control after not knowing if you were okay or not gives me the right to override anything you say. Now get your butt in and let's get to the hospital."

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WHATEVER THE PRICE by Jules Bennett

WHATEVER THE PRICE by Jules Bennett

Baby makes three?

 

As Hollywood's hottest director, Anthony Price is used to getting what he wants. But life hands him a brand-new script when he gains custody of his orphaned niece. Now he needs his wife more than ever—only, Charlotte moved out three months ago. To win her back, he just has to prove he's ready to put family before his career.

 

Charlotte doesn't know if sudden fatherhood will change Anthony's priorities, but she can't turn her back on an innocent baby—or the husband she still desires. Is a happy ending too much to hope for?

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Excerpts

From the book
...

Her eyes darted from her soon-to-be ex-husband down to the sleeping baby in his arms. "Anthony?"

Charlotte Price stared at her estranged husband--the one man she loved with every fiber of her being, the one man she was now looking to divorce. But what he held in his arms pulled her attention even more.

Not a what...a who.

A hotshot Hollywood director, Anthony Price didn't look too comfortable with the bundle wrapped in a pink, silky blanket, a swirl of black hair dotting the top of her head.

And speaking of hair, Anthony's stood on end. The top three buttons of his royal-blue dress shirt were undone, and was that.. oh, yeah, that was spit-up. The milky-white substance spread across the top of one broad shoulder, and she'd bet it had traveled down his back, as well. If she weren't so shocked she'd laugh at the irony of this entire situation.

Her husband holding a child. She'd always wanted to have a child with him...but he'd never been ready.

"Rachel's daughter," he said in a gravelly voice.

Rachel. Anthony's sister who had suddenly died in a car crash less than a week ago, leaving behind an eight-month-old little girl.

An ache spread through her as she eyed the precious child, and Charlotte opened the door to her best friend's apartment just a bit wider. "Bring her in and lay her down."

Charlotte showed him through the apartment she'd been staying in while her friend was off traveling, taking her dream vacation. Charlotte had packed only her most favorite clothes and other essentials, unsure of when she'd have a place of her own. She was getting the alone time she needed to think things through. But she kept coming to the same conclusion as far as her marriage was concerned.

Their life together was over. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted Anthony to love her the way she deserved, it just wasn't meant to be.

And now that he was here, she couldn't help but wonder why he'd come to her. Did she dare hope he wanted to work things out now? Was he willing to try the therapist she'd suggested?

She'd moved out in June, and now nearly three months of awkward calls, not to mention the one time a month ago he'd come for a visit to talk and they'd foolishly ended up in bed, was about to come to an abrupt halt. Communication had always been a major issue in the nine years of their marriage. The sex, however, had never been a problem because most of the times they were alone, they were naked.

But talking was inevitable--over more than just his surprise bundle. She had an appointment on Friday to file for divorce.

"I'm afraid to lay her down. She cried all the way here," Anthony told her, panic lacing his voice. "I gave her a bottle and she threw up all over me, then cried some more. A three-hour car ride and she didn't fall asleep until about ten minutes ago."

More than comfortable with babies of all ages, Charlotte gently slid her hands between her husband's hard body and the soft bundle. With care she laid the baby down in an oversized armchair, tucking her back against the cushion so she couldn't move too much. Then Charlotte grabbed a velvety throw pillow and laid it beside the baby so she wouldn't roll off.

With questions mounting in her mind, Charlotte motioned for Anthony to step into the kitchen, where she could still keep an eye on the child over the wide granite bar that separated the two rooms.

"What is going on, Anthony?" she demanded in a harsh whisper as soon as he came to stand beside her.

"You have to help with Lily."

Help with Lily?

"Oh,...

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ON THE VERGE OF I DO by Heidi Betts

Dynasties: The Kincaids Book 4

Wedding, Interrupted

It’s hard for events planner Kara Kincaid to be planning her sister's wedding to the man Kara's had a crush on since childhood. Even harder when said sister calls the whole thing off. Hardest still is when the jilted groom shows Kara some very personal attention, threatening to destroy her relationship with her family - and Kara ends up in his bed anyway.

After a just-friends engagement that just didn't work, hotel magnate Eli Houghton thinks he's finally found the right woman. His new plan: convince Kara there's no hidden agenda, and that the magic words are I do…

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~Excerpt~

The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. Eli swiped his pass key and punched the button for his private suites, then brought her around so they could face forward while remaining in physical contact. Otherwise, she was sure they looked perfectly professional, perfectly normal.

The doors slid closed, shutting them in together, alone. One minute she was staring at their blurry reflection in the polished silver of the double elevator doors. The next, she was spinning like a top, coming to rest between the hard wall of Eli’s broad chest at her front and the cool steel of the doors at her back.

“I can’t wait one more minute to do this,” he growled.

She opened her mouth to ask Do what?, but didn’t get the chance to voice the first syllable before his mouth crushed down on hers. It took her completely by surprise, cutting off her oxygen and making her muscles go limp as noodles.

Against her better judgment, when his tongue licked the seam of her lips and he attempted to nudge his way inside, she let him. It was just a kiss, after all. Just one . . . tiny . . . kiss.

Somewhere over their heads, a bell dinged. The sound didn’t have time to register in her fog-laden brain before the doors behind her slid open and she fell backward.

Eli stumbled after her, catching them both before they ended up in an undignified pile on the foyer floor. Keeping them on their feet, he continued backing her across the entryway until she was once again stopped by a wall. He pinned her there with his body, touching her from collarbones to knee bones.

He kissed her again, not nearly as gently as he had in the elevator. If the kiss in the elevator could be called gentle, which is couldn’t. But he didn’t wait for her compliance, didn’t give her time to adjust or a chance to open her mouth in invitation. He simply leaned in and took what he wanted.

For long, languid moments, they stood there, tasting, touching, letting the rest of the world spin out of control. His hands clutched her waist. His erection pressed into her belly. In return, she pawed at his shoulders, her nails kneading him through the material of his suit jacket like a kitten kneading for cream.

When he released her mouth, she gasped. Then, while she was sucking air into her scalded, much-abused lungs, he caught her off-guard by scooping her into his arms.

She let out a startled yip to find herself suddenly horizontal, literally swept off her feet. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he retorted without inflection, not sounding the least bit out of breath, even though she was still struggling not to pant.

Now that he wasn’t muddling her mind with steamy kisses and subtle strokes of his hands up and down her sides, she could almost think straight, and she knew this wasn’t right. Knew they couldn’t do what he was carrying her off to do.

Pressing a palm to his rock-solid shoulder and wiggling slightly in his embrace, she said, “Eli, no. We can’t do this.”

“Yes,” he told her in no uncertain terms. “We can.”

Reaching the bedroom doorway, he elbowed open the pocket doors and headed straight for the massive king size mattress at its center. The entire room was decorated in shades of the ocean—sand, turquoise, salmon—and the bed was made up with a thick golden comforter with enough pillows stacked against the woven bamboo headboard to build a fort.

That’s all she had time to notice, though, as he carried her around to the side and set her on her feet so he could begin tossing those pillows onto the floor and tearing back the covers. Snowy white sheets in what she was sure was the finest Egyptian cotton lay beneath, just begging to be dirtied and rumpled.

Uh-oh. She took a step back in self-preservation.

Eli noticed her retreat immediately.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he mumbled, grabbing her wrist and tugging her toward him.

Her hands went up to stop her from bumping into his chest, but he apparently wanted her to do just that, because he kept tugging until she made contact with a solid thump.

“We can’t do this, Eli,” she said again, trying desperately to make him see sense.

“Yes,” he returned with even more resolve than before, “we can.”

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HER LITTLE SECRET, HIS HIDDEN HEIR by Heidi Betts

HER LITTLE SECRET, HIS HIDDEN HEIR by Heidi Betts

Lies and lullabies…

Face-to-face with his ex-wife again, millionaire Marcus Keller received more than a jolt of deep attraction - he discovered he was a daddy. Vanessa had been pregnant when they divorced, bore him a son and kept it a secret. It was a betrayal he couldn't forgive.

There was no way he would walk away from his child...his heir. The businessman would do his best to be civil to the lovely bakery owner, who was one tough cookie in her own right. But would it only be business between them, or would Marcus indulge his own secret agenda to make this woman his again...once and for all?

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Excerpt

Marcus Keller flexed his fingers on the warm leather of the steering wheel, his sleek black Mercedes hugging the road as he took the narrow curves leading into Summerville faster than was probably wise.

The small Pennsylvania town was only three hours from his own home in Pittsburgh, but it might as well have been a world away. Where Pittsburgh was ninety percent concrete and city lights, Summerville was thick forests, green grass, quaint houses and a small downtown area that reminded Marcus of a modern version of Mayberry.

He slowed his speed, taking the time to examine the storefronts as he passed. A drug store, a post office, a bar and grill, a gift shop…and a bakery.

Lifting his foot from the gas, he slowed even more, studying the bright yellow awning and fancy black lettering declaring it to be The Sugar Shack…the red neon sign in the window letting customers know they were open…and the handful of people inside, enjoying freshly made baked goods.

It looked inviting, which was important in the food service industry. He was tempted to lower his window and see if he could actually smell the delicious scents of breads and cookies and pies in the air.

But there was more to running a successful business than a cute name and an attractive front window, and if he was going to put money into The Sugar Shack, he wanted to know it was a sound investment.

At the corner, he took a left and continued down a side street, following the directions he'd been given to reach the offices of Blake and Fetzer, Financial Advisors. He'd worked with Brian Blake before, though never on an investment this far from home or this close to Blake's own offices. Still, the man had never steered him wrong, which made Marcus more willing to take time off work and make the long drive.

A few blocks down the street, he noticed a lone woman walking quickly on three-inch heels. Given the uneven pavement and pebbles littering the sidewalk, she wasn't having an easy time of it. She also seemed distracted, rooting around inside an oversize handbag rather than keeping her attention on where she was going.

A niggle of something uncomfortable skated through his belly. She reminded him somehow of his ex-wife. A bit heavier and curvier, her coppery hair cut short instead of left to flow halfway down her back, but still very similar. Especially the way she walked and dressed. This woman was wearing a white blouse and a black skirt with a short slit at the back, framing a pair of long, lovely legs. No jacket and no clunky accessories, which followed Vanessa's personal style to a T.

Shifting his gaze back to the road, he tamped down on whatever emotion had his chest going tight. Guilt? Regret? Simple sentimentality? He wasn't sure and didn't care to examine the unexpected feelings too closely.

They'd been divorced for over a year. Better to put it all behind him and move on, as he was sure Vanessa had done.

Spotting the offices of Blake and Fetzer, he pulled into the diminutive three-car lot at the back of the building, cut the engine and stepped out into the warm spring day. With any luck, this meeting and the subsequent tour of The Sugar Shack would only take a couple of hours, then he could be back on the road and headed home. Small town life might be fine for some people, but Marcus would be only too happy to get back to the hustle and bustle of the city and the life he'd made for himself there.

Vanessa stopped outside Brian Blake's office, taking a moment to straighten her blouse and skirt, run a hand through her short-cropped hair and touch up her lipstick. It had been a long time since she'd gotten this dressed up and she was sorely out of practice.

It didn't help, either, that all of the nicer clothes she'd acquired while being married to Marcus were now at least one size too small. That meant her top was a bit too snug across the chest, her skirt was a good inch shorter than she would have liked and darned if the waistband wasn't cutting off her circulation.

Thankfully, the town of Summerville didn't require her to dress up this much, even for Sunday services. Otherwise, she may have had to invest in a new wardrobe, and given what a hard time she was having just keeping her head above water and her business afloat, that was an added expense she definitely could not afford.

Deciding that her appearance was about as good as it was going to get at this late date, she took a deep breath and pushed through the door. Blake and Fetzer's lone receptionist greeted her with a wide smile, informed her that Brian and the potential investor were waiting in his office, and told her to go right in.

She took another steadying breath and before stepping inside sent a quick prayer heavenward that the wealthy entrepreneur Brian had found to hopefully invest in her fledging enterprise would find The Sugar Shack worthy of his financial backing.

The first thing she saw was Brian sitting behind his desk, smiling as he chatted with the visitor facing away from her in one of the guest chairs. The man had dark hair that barely dusted the collar of his charcoal-gray jacket and was tapping a tan, long-fingered hand on the arm of his chair, as though he was impatient to get down to business.

As soon as Brian spotted her, his smile widened and he rose to his feet. "Vanessa," he greeted her, "you're right on time. Allow me to introduce you to the man I hope will become an investor in your wonderful bakery. Marcus Keller, this is Vanessa Mason. Vanessa this is—"

"We've met."

Marcus's voice hit her like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus, but it was only one of a series of rapid-fire shocks to her system. Brian had spoken her ex-husband's name and her stomach had plummeted all the way to her feet. At the same time, Marcus had risen from his seat and turned to face her, and her heart had started to pound against her rib cage like a runaway freight train.

She saw him standing in front of her, black hair glinting midnight blue in the dappled sunlight streaming through the tall, multipaned windows lining one wall of the office, his green eyes gleaming with devilment. Yet his suit-and-tie image wavered and no amount of blinking brought him into focus.

"Hello, Vanessa," he murmured softly.

Brushing his jacket aside, he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his matching charcoal slacks, adopting a negligent pose. He looked so comfortable and amused, while she felt as though an army of ants was crawling beneath her skin.

How in God's name could this have happened? How could she not know that he was the potential investor? How could Brian not realize that Marcus was her ex-husband?

She wanted to kick herself for not asking more questions or insisting on being given more details about today's meeting. But then, she hadn't really cared who Brian's mystery investor was, had she? She'd cared only that he was rich and seemed willing to partner up with small business owners in the hopes of a big payoff down the road.

She'd convinced herself she was desperate and needed a quick influx of cash to keep The Sugar Shack's doors open. But she would never be desperate enough to take charity from the man who had broken her heart and turned his back on her when she'd needed him the most.

Not bothering to address Marcus, she turned her gaze to Brian. "I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work out," she told him, then promptly turned on her heel and marched back out of the office building.

She was down the front steps and halfway up the block before she heard the first call.

"Vanessa! Vanessa, wait!"

The three-inch pumps she'd worn because they went so well with her outfit—and because she'd wanted to make a good impression—pinched her toes as she nearly ran the length of the uneven sidewalk in the direction of The Sugar Shack. All she wanted was to get away from Marcus, away from those glittering eyes and the arrogant tilt of his chin.

She didn't care that he was yelling for her, or that she could hear his footsteps keeping pace several yards behind her. "Vanessa!"

Turning the corner only a short distance from The Sugar Shack, her steps faltered. Her heart lurched and her blood chilled.

Oh, no. She'd been so angry, so eager to get away from her ex-husband and escape back to the safety of the bakery that she'd forgotten that's where Danny was. And if there was anything she needed to protect more than her own sanity, it was her son.

Suddenly, she couldn't take another step, coming to a jerky stop only feet from the bakery door. Marcus rounded the corner a moment later, coming to an equally abrupt halt when he spotted her simply standing there like a panicked and disheveled department store mannequin.

He was slightly out of breath, and she found that more than a little satisfying. It was a nice change from his normal state of being calm, cool and always in control. And nothing less than he deserved, given what he was putting her through now.

"Finally," he muttered, sounding completely put out. "Why did you run?" He wanted to know. "We may be divorced, but that doesn't mean we can't sit and have a civil conversation."

"I have nothing to say to you," she bit out. And there was nothing she had to say that he wanted to hear. The cruel declaration replayed through her mind, bringing with it a fresh stab of pain and reminding her of just how important it was to keep him away from her child.

"What about this business of yours?" he asked, running a hand through his thick, dark hair before smoothing his tie and buttoning his suit jacket, once again the epitome of entrepreneurial precision. "It sounds like you could use the capital and I'm always on the lookout for a good investment."

"I don't want your money," she told him.

He inclined his head, acknowledging the sincerity of her words. "But do you need it?"

He asked the question in a low tone, with no hint of condescension and not as though he meant to dangle his wealth over her head like a plump, juicy carrot. Instead, he sounded willing to help her if she needed it.

Oh, she needed help, but not of the strings-attached variety. And not from her cold, unfeeling ex-husband.

Fighting the urge to grab whatever money he was willing to toss her way and run, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she was doing just fine on her own. She didn't need a man—any man—to ride in and rescue her.

"The bakery is doing quite well, thank you," she replied, her voice clipped. "And even if it weren't, I wouldn't need anything from you."

Marc opened his mouth, about to reply and possibly try to change her mind, when Brian Blake rushed around the corner. He skidded to a jerky halt when he saw them, looking frazzled and alarmed. For a second, he stood there, breathing heavily, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them. Then he shook his head and his puzzlement seemed to clear.

"Mr. Keller… Vanessa…" He took another moment to suck in much-needed oxygen, his Adam's apple riding up and down above the tight collar of his pale blue dress shirt. "This isn't at all how I'd planned for this meeting to go," he told them apologetically. "If you'll just come back to the office…. Let's sit down and see if we can't work something out."

A touch of guilt tugged at Vanessa's chest. Brian was a good guy. He didn't deserve to suffer or be put in the middle of an acrimonious situation just because she despised Marc and refused to have anything more to do with him—let alone go into business with him.

"I'm sorry, Brian," she apologized. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, but this particular partnership just isn't going to work."

For a minute, Brian looked as though he meant to argue. Noting the firm expression on her face, however, he released a sigh of resignation and nodded. "I understand."

"Actually," Marc said, "I'm still very much interested in hearing about the bakery."

Brian's eyes widened with a spark of relief, but Vanessa immediately tensed.

"No, Marcus," she told him, her firm tone brooking no arguments. Not that that had ever stopped him before.

"It sounds like it might be a sound investment, Nessa," he retorted, arching a single dark brow and using his old pet name for her. No doubt to put her off balance. "I drove three hours to get here and I'd prefer not to turn right around and go back empty-handed." He paused for a beat, letting that sink in. Then he added, "At least give me a tour."

No. Oh, no. She definitely couldn't let him into the bakery. That would be even more dangerous than simply having him in town, aware that she lived here now, as well.

She opened her mouth to say so, linking her arms across her chest to let him know she had no intention of changing her mind, when Brian stopped her. Touching her shoulder, he tipped his head, signaling her to follow him a few steps away, out of earshot of Marcus.

"Miss Mason. Vanessa," he said, dropping formalities. "Think about this. Please. I know Mr. Keller is your ex-husband—although I had no idea when I set up today's meeting. I never would have asked him to come here if I had—but if he's willing to invest in The Sugar Shack, as your financial advisor, I have to recommend that you seriously consider his offer. You're doing all right at the moment. The bakery is holding its own. But you'll never be able to move forward with your plans to expand without added capital from an outside source, and if worst comes to worst, one bad season could cause you to lose the business entirely."

Even though Vanessa didn't want to listen, didn't want to believe Brian was right, she knew deep down that he was. The Sugar Shack might be her livelihood, but smart financial planning was his. She wouldn't have begun working with him in the first place if she didn't think he knew what he was doing.

Casting a glance over her shoulder to be sure Marc couldn't overhear their conversation, she turned back and whispered, "There's more at stake here than just the bakery, Brian." So much more. "I'll let him look around. Let the two of you talk. But no matter what kind of plan you two come up with, no matter what offer he might make, I can't promise I'll be willing to accept. I'm sorry."

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HER INNOCENCE, HIS CONQUEST by Jules Bennett

HER INNOCENCE, HIS CONQUEST by Jules Bennett

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY?

Architecture kingpin and expert playboy Zach Marcum knew exactly how to get what he wanted - both on the job and in the bedroom. Until sexy, independent and impossible-to-ignore Ana Clark charged into his life. Her construction company could make his luxury resort project a multi-million dollar reality, but he couldn't risk letting the career-driven siren slip past his defenses. Discovering she was a virgin made the seduction stakes even greater, as Zach crossed the line from business to pleasure...

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Excerpt:

"That's what I like to see. The foreman watching over her crew."
"Forewoman." Anastasia Clark concentrated on the swift work of her men and tried to keep her eyes off the broad-shouldered man who'd sidled right up against her. "You seem to keep making that blunder."

"So I do."

Risking a glance, Ana darted her gaze to the side. Zach Marcum was just as rugged and, dammit, sexy as he had been the last time she'd seen him in Victor Lawson's office nearly two years ago. Why did she have to find him so attractive?

"Let's step into your office," he told her, peering at her through his dark sunglasses. "We need to discuss some things."

Ana clutched her clipboard to her chest as she turned fully to face him. "We can't talk here?"

Who knew what went on behind those mirrored aviator shades he wore, but she was thankful she didn't have to look at him eye to eye. Those dark, exotic eyes could cause a woman to go utterly speechless. Any other woman, not her.

God help her. They didn't raise men this sexy where she was from in the Midwest.

Zach's mouth quirked up. "No, it's hot."

He turned on his work-booted heel and headed in the direction of her small trailer as if she were just supposed to fall in line simply because he said so. He was just like her father. Just because she found him one of the sexiest men she'd ever seen, didn't mean she thought his cocky attitude was acceptable.

Never in all of her life had she ever dealt with a project manager with such arrogance…or sex appeal. She had to omit that last thought from her mind or she'd have more to worry about on this job than Miami's daily afternoon rain.

If Victor Lawson hadn't been the world-renowned billionaire hotelier building this resort, Ana would've declined without hesitation.

She had plenty of work and more than a steady income, especially since she didn't spend on frivilous things. Every bit she made after bills—and her father's gambling counted as a bill—went into stocks, savings or to her mother.

But the meeting with Victor and The Marcum Agency forced her to face reality. This project would boost her reputation into amazing territory. Zach's twin, Cole, and his fiancee, Tamera, were the designing architects and wonderful people. And, from what Ana had heard, the couple had been reunited thanks to Victor Lawson hiring both The Marcum Agency and the architectural agency Tamera previously owned.

Ana hadn't met the Marcum twins' younger sister, Kayla, but she'd only heard amazing things about her as well.

Which left Zach. There was one in every family. One person who just had to be the star of every show, the flashy one, the one with all the attention, deserved or not.

Zach was a complete replica of her father—or at least the man her father used to be before he gambled away everything they owned. A handsome man who had more money than he knew what to do with so he flaunted everything he could, including and especially his charms, knowing the women would simply flock to his side.

Well, if Zach thought that's how she worked, he had another think coming. She was and always had been a professional. And she'd be damned if she'd let Zach and his architectural ego mess with her mind or the most important project she'd ever had the opportunity to contract.

She didn't have just herself to think of. She had a crew of men and women with families who depended on her. Not to mention her father, who had already called her seeking another ten thousand. If Ana's mother would just leave the man, Ana would pay for anything for her. All the money going to front her father's habit could be used to put her mother in the house of her dreams. And her father could fend for himself. He was long past due to stand up and act like the man he claimed to be.

Turning in her dusty boots, she followed Zach into her on-site office.

He'd already entered, making himself at home by taking a seat in an old yellow vinyl chair opposite her desk.

"What's up?" she asked, closing the door behind her to keep in the refreshing air-conditioning.

He slid those sexy sunglasses off his face, tossed them onto the drafted plans on her desk. He then had the gall to rake that heavy-lidded bedroom gaze over her face as if he expected her to get turned on and swoon.

The hellish Miami heat must be getting to her. She nearly did swoon.

"Did I do something to you?"

Stunned at his blunt question, Ana jerked back a bit. "Excuse me?"

Zach's hands rested on his narrow, denim-clad hips. "I've always been a good people reader. Comes from being the quiet one in the family, always sitting back and observing. What I'm getting from you is that you don't care much for me."

Nearly choking on her laughter, Ana propped a hip on the corner of her desk. No way was she going to sit completely down. She had to keep the upper hand here, on her turf. Instead of smacking him in the head with her clipboard, she professionally and calmly laid it on her desk.

"Zach, I hardly know you. I have no problem with you or our working relationship."

He stepped closer, his brows drawn together as if assessing her. "No, the issue isn't our working relationship. You're one of the most professional companies I've worked with, thus far. It's you. There's something about the way your back straightens, that defiant tilt of your chin when I come around. It's subtle, but your attitude is a bit forced professionally which makes me wonder what you're compensating for."

"Attitude?" she repeated. "Let's not get into attitudes or personal assessments. Is that all you came here for?"

"Where is the rest of your crew?"

Ana didn't fidget with her hands like she wanted to. No way would she let Zach know she was nervous or edgy.

"My crew will be here within the week." She looked him dead in the eye, even though it cost her heart extra beats. "We are finishing up another project in Seattle and the rain up there has put us behind by a month. Mother Nature doesn't care about deadlines."

Zach closed the gap between them, rested his hands on the edge of her desk, right next to her hip. "You are putting a multimillion-dollar deal on the line because you can't work through the weather?"

Now she rose to her full height, which still came in a good three inches below his. "I can work through anything, Mr. Marcum, and remain within budget and deadline."

A smile broke through the ruggedness of his stubbled face. "There's that slight attitude switch again. You're getting all worked up and you called me Mr. Marcum. It was Zach just a few minutes ago."

Millionaire or not, Zach had a bad-boy side that made her want to scream. Why did he have to have so much sex appeal? And most importantly, why did he have to know it?

No, the most important point, she argued with herself, was why did she find him so damn attractive and infuriating at the same time?

"May as well call me Zach," he continued with that cocky grin. "We'll be seeing so much of each other until this project is complete that we'll practically be married."

Ana smoothed stray hairs off her sweaty forehead and gave him her sweetest, sarcastic smile. "Lucky me."

"I knew you'd come around," he mocked. "The concrete will be delivered on Monday. Your crew will be available then, I assume?"

Ana nodded, keeping her mouth shut. Even though he was professional in every aspect, his personality grated on her nerves. Even so, she couldn't let it show, but she would make him choke on his charm. She refused, refused to let him see just how he affected her feminine, non-businesswoman side.

She wondered if any woman ever threw what he offered back in his face. Probably not. And not that he was offering her anything by any means. God knew she was just one of the guys, always had been. She'd grown up on construction sites and always seemed to blend in.

But how easy it would be to fall for the sexy, bad-boy image he portrayed—and portrayed well—knowing all the while beneath the well-worn jeans and black fitted T-shirt a millionaire businessman lurked. Ana bet he lived up to the total bad-boy persona and rode a Harley and had at least one tattoo. Oh, what she wouldn't give to explore his body to find that ink.

"You're overheating."

She jerked her attention back to him. "What?" His hand came up to her cheek. "You're too hot. Get some water."

Get some" What? God, she couldn't think. Not when his thumb caressed her heated skin. If he didn't stop, a little flush would be the least of her worries.

How in the world could her body betray her like that? She couldn't, wouldn't, fall in line with what she was sure was a long trail of busty bimbos tripping over each other to fall at Zach's feet.

"I'm fine," she insisted, swatting his hand away. "I need to get back out there."

"You'll get a drink of water before you fall over in this heat." He moved to the small fridge beside her desk and pulled out a bottle of water. "Drink. I can't have my forewoman out of commission before the first beam is raised."

Taking the bottle from his hands, she twisted the cap, knowing he was right. "Thanks."

The cold, refreshing water was what she needed, but no way would she admit that to Mr. Overinflated Ego. And she certainly wouldn't admit that his touch had affected her in ways the heat of the scorching Miami sun in June couldn't.

Mercy, the man was potent. And she'd thought his looks were sinful. Maybe he deserved that cocky attitude he sported.

"Better," he commented, still studying her face. "You need to keep water with you in this weather."

"I have a cooler out there for me and my crew. This isn't my first job, you know."

His breathtaking smile widened. "Yes, I know your reputation."

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BOUGHT BY A MILLIONAIRE by Heidi Betts

BOUGHT BY A MILLIONAIRE by Heidi Betts

Millionaire Bachelor Seeks Heir

Chicago's Most Eligible Bachelor, Burke Bishop, wanted a child—but didn't want to be shackled by marriage. Surrogacy seemed the only solution, and when he met gorgeous Shannon Moriarity, he knew he'd found the perfect mother for his baby. For reasons she wouldn’t say, Shannon accepted his high-price offer and requested they keep things strictly business.

They conceived without touching, yet Burke found himself craving Shannon’s warmth and demanded she move into his penthouse. Soon, the close quarters elevated their relationship into intimate territory where neither could deny the bond they shared. But when their contract was fulfilled, would they find a prize richer than money could buy?

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Excerpt:

“Dance with me.”

Startled out of her reverie, she realized she’d been more focused on the curve of his full, attractive mouth than the words coming out of it. “Excuse me?”

He took her hand as he rose to his feet. “Dance with me.”

Setting her napkin on the table beside her empty dessert plate, she followed him through the maze of elegantly appointed tables to the polished oak dance floor. A full orchestra played a light, classic rendition of “I’m In the Mood For Love”, and although she didn’t know all the proper steps to this kind of music, she found herself leaning against Burke and simply following his lead.

He held her close, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. They moved in tandem, swaying back and forth as though they were the only couple on the dance floor. The only two people in the room.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Shannon fought her way through the lull of the music and Burke’s soft, possessive hold. She forced her heavy lids open to look him in the eye, and said, “It’s the dress.”

One side of his mouth quirked upwards. “It’s not the dress. Although that’s lovely, too, I’m much more impressed by the woman wearing the dress.”

The first slow song blended into next as they took another turn around the floor. His splayed hand moved lower on her back, tingling the bare flesh there and shooting sparks of awareness up and down her spine. When he pressed his cheek to hers, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She rubbed against the slight sandpapery texture, even though she knew he’d shaved just before they left for the evening. Soft to hard, smooth to rough, woman to man. It was real and right, and she wanted to freeze this moment in time so she could remember it forever.

Burke’s voice melted in her ear as he nuzzled her lobe and the patch of neck just beneath. “Let me take you home.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. For one thing, she didn’t want to. Not anymore.

The orchestra, the atmosphere, Burke’s closeness all meshed together to beat down her defenses. She didn’t care anymore about propriety or keeping her relationship with Burke distanced and professional. She didn’t care about what tomorrow might bring or how many regrets they both might have.

For once, just once, she wanted to follow her heart. She wanted this adventure, with this man.

VALENTE'S BABY by Maxine Sullivan

VALENTE'S BABY by Maxine Sullivan

A baby...and an unwilling bride

For Matthew Valente, paternity trumped everything. Never mind that his ex-employee Lana had kept his baby a secret for nearly a year. Never mind that he considered her a liar and a thief. Their child would bear the Valente name...and so would she. As tension mounted in the House of Valente, Matthew fought to resist the memories of their past indiscretion. His bewitching bride insisted things were not as they seemed. But as restraint turned to passion, would the corporate king fall victim to the very worst of takeover - his heart?

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Excerpt:

"You're a father."

Matt Valente broke into a grin as he sat down on the hotel bed. "I didn't know I was pregnant."

"Don't be smart, Matthew," Cesare Valente snapped down the telephone line. The founder of the House of Valente perfume dynasty was clearly not amused. "Remember Lana Jensen?"

The smile dropped from Matt's lips. "She was my top accountant a while back, so yeah, I should remember her." That perfect body…that beautiful face… those Nordic blue eyes hinting at a Scandinavian heritage that seemed as clear as crystal but were in fact deep and hiding lies.

"She had your baby."

A baby?

No way.

The only thing she'd had was him.

They'd both been a little tipsy at the office Christmas party and she'd taken advantage of his inebriated state to seduce him. They'd made love on the sofa in his office.

Not that he'd been any less to blame for succumbing to her charms, despite her giving him the come-on for months, her blue gaze skittering away every so often, teasing him with a sensual game of cat and mouse.

Afterward he'd regretted not keeping to his golden rule of no personal involvement with office staff. As chief financial officer for the family business, he didn't need any complications in the workplace.

"I don't believe it. She's lying."

"I saw the child with my own eyes, Matt. I was in my Mercedes waiting for the light to change when Lana crossed in front of me pushing a small child in a stroller. I checked out the birth certificate. Your name's on it."

Matt's hand tightened around the phone. "Dad, that's a breach of privacy."

His.

Hell, if his name was on that birth certificate he needed to sort it out.

"Matt, I did what needed to be done. And that included a background check on Lana."

Matt's lips twisted. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It was necessary. She's the mother of my grandchild."

"And she'd suitable?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm.

"As far as I'm concerned, yes. Her parents are dead, and she has an uncle who lives in France and is a respected businessman. Do you want to know more? There's some other information on her family. I can send you the report."

"No, thanks." He knew all he needed to know about Lana Jensen. More than enough.
And he needed to make his father see sense.

"Dad, look, you can put any name on a birth certificate. I didn't think you'd fall for that old trick."

"She's a Valente, figlio mio." Son of mine. "She looked just like you. There's no doubt in my mind."

Something odd bounced around in Matt's chest. "It's a girl? Er… I mean, she's a girl?"

"Yes. And I'm delighted. It's about time we had another little girl in the family."

Matt grimaced. Girl or boy, it didn't matter to him. "Well, I'm not."

"You will be once you see her."

"Who said I was going to see her?"

"She's my granddaughter, Matt. If you don't go to her, then I'll bring her to you."

Matt's jaw clenched. "This is to trick me into getting married, isn't it? You may have forced Alex and Nick to marry, but I'm not falling for it, Dad."

A year ago they'd been about to branch into the North American market with their top-selling perfume, Valente's Woman, when Cesare had threatened to sell the business out from under Alex's feet if he didn't marry. Then a couple of months ago, Cesare had promised to give the Valente estate to anyone but his second son, Nick. Both his brothers had been given no choice but to do what their father wanted or lose what they loved most. As youngest son, Matt had decided there was nothing his father could do to him to make him marry.

"Matt, I admit I had no compunction in forcing your two brothers to marry, and I would have found a way to force you to marry, too. Only now I don't have to, do I? You've brought a daughter into this world and you will give that daughter your name. She will be known as a true Valente."

"Don't dictate to me, Dad. If this child is mine, and I'm in no way convinced of it, then I'll give her my name. You can count on it."

"That's all I wanted to know. The family jet is at Brisbane Airport waiting for you. Nick and Sasha are already there and will attend the conference dinner in your place."

His father was like a damn bulldozer at times. Not even the heart attack had stopped his interfering in his sons' lives.

"I've got a date for the dinner tonight."

"You had a date. I suggest you break it and get back to Sydney tonight and go see the mother of your child as soon as possible. I like Lana and I'm sure she'll be reasonable."

At the mention of Lana, his gut clenched, but there was no way he wanted his father to know that. Cesare would somehow use that knowledge in future if he could. He could imagine the older man's reaction if he ever told him Lana was a thief and that he'd covered up for her without telling anyone. And he couldn't wholly blame his decision not to report their theft on Cesare's heart attack at the time either.

"What woman is ever reasonable, Dad?" he mocked.

Cesare laughed and said goodbye, and Matt hung up the phone and went to stand at the window in his hotel suite. He looked out over the sweeping coastline of Queensland's Gold Coast as the rolling surf of the Pacific Ocean tumbled onto the golden beaches of Australia's tourist capital.

Tonight he'd planned a romantic dinner and a night of lovemaking with a lady friend of his.

Now he could only think of one woman.

Lana Jensen.

She'd been the only woman he'd made love to without a condom. He'd been so hot for her, and the alcohol he'd consumed had lowered his guard.

But if that child was his-if Lana had lied to him about being protected from a pregnancy-then she'd done more than stolen that fifty thousand dollars from the House of Valente.

She'd just stolen his freedom.

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HIS RING, HER BABY by Maxine Sullivan

HIS RING, HER BABY by Maxine Sullivan

Wanted: One Wedding Ring...For Now

The job title was housekeeper, not fiancee! But billionaire cattleman Kirk Deverill couldn't throw the lovely single mom off his ranch. Especially when he knew the job would help her keep her son. Of course, the eligible bachelor hadn't expected her to tell everyone she was also Kirk's bride-to-be! He agreed to Vanessa's ruse for her adorable son's sake. And for the opportunity to claim some "husbandly" pleasures. Of course, making their fake engagement a real union was never going to happen. The Outback loner had his reasons...and even the most desirable of women wouldn't get him to change his mind.

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Excerpt:

We've sold the motel.

Vanessa Hamilton was still reeling from her cousin's news when she looked up and saw a luxury Range Rover pull up out front of the Jackaroo Plains Motel.

She groaned, wishing she could go think about her situation without interruption from either telephones or guests. Her son was taking his morning nap right now so the timing would have been perfect. She was pleased for Linda and Hugh, of course. It was what they wanted. But she'd only been here three weeks and had planned on staying at least six months.

And right now she had to put all her worry aside as she watched the man push open the glass door. Lord, he was certainly handsome enough to take any woman's mind off her problems.

Or create one.

No one had taught her about these three Rs in school.

Rich.

Rugged.

Red-blooded.

He epitomized everything she imagined a wealthy outback male to be. From the tips of his brown leather boots, to bone-colored trousers and the light blue polo shirt a woman was tempted to rub against, to his wrist where an expensive Rolex glistened in the light.

He stopped in front of the reception desk, his blue eyes filling with masculine appreciation. "You're new here," he drawled.

She lifted her chin, annoyed with herself for finding him attractive. "Are you looking for a room?" she asked in her best no-nonsense voice, already knowing they had nothing suitable. The Plaza Hotel in New York was more his style.

Those blue eyes narrowed on her. "No."

"If you're looking to eat in the restaurant—"

"I'm not."

"You're not here for the gardener's job, are you?" she said, knowing it sounded ridiculous but one never knew.

His low chuckle resonated with something inside her. Something she didn't want to acknowledge.

"No, I'm not here for that, either."

Suddenly she noticed his gaze dart to her left hand, noting her bare fingers. Uneasiness fluttered inside her stomach that he might think her single and available. It had been weird taking off her rings, but the heat had made her fingers swell a little and the alternative had been to have the rings adjusted. She hadn't wanted to do that, seeing her fingers would return to normal once she returned to Sydney.

Just like she would return to normal, she had promised herself, realizing now it might happen sooner than expected.

Oh, God, she didn't want to go back to the city where her wealthy parents-in-law doted on her one-year-old son, Josh.

More than doted.

Smothered.

"I came to see Linda and Hugh," the man said, drawing her back to the present.

The penny dropped. He was the new owner of the motel. Oh, yes, that explained him. Her cousin said he was rich, predatory, and sucked up failing businesses like a vacuum cleaner, then got rid of half the staff under the guise of modernization.

Well, officially she wasn't on the staff.

She gave him a cool look. "They're not here."

"Where are they?"

"Dubbo."

There was a moment's pause. "When will they be back?"

"No idea."

One brow lifted, a questioning light in his eyes. "Are you always this helpful?"

"Only when it's part of the job," she said with a politeness that was nothing more than lip service.

His jaw set. "Look, I'm a friend of Linda and Hugh's and—"

Her heart thudded. "A… a friend?"

"Yes, Hugh and I went to boarding school together."

"Oh, I thought—" She stopped. Perhaps Linda and Hugh didn't want it known yet that they were selling.

"Yes?"

"It doesn't matter." It all made sense now. She could easily see the two men being friends. Hugh's parents owned a cattle station, but Hugh had been more interested in business than the land and had bought the motel for him and Linda.

Did this man own a cattle station, too? He certainly looked like one of the wealthy landowners.

"The name's Kirk, by the way," he said, snapping her from her thoughts. "Kirk Deverill."

His name flowed over her. Why couldn't he be called Bruce? Or Darryl? Something that didn't sound so masculine or make a woman think about him as a man.

She let out a shaky breath. "I'm Linda's cousin. Vanessa Hamilton."

He paused, as if putting the name to her face and liking what he saw. Then his eyes fell to her lips. "I didn't know Linda had such a beautiful cousin."

She gave a soft gasp. Why did this man's words make her knees weak when almost every available male in town, and some not so available, had said the same thing since her arrival?

The telephone rang and she snatched it up, uncomfortable at the feelings he was raising inside her. She could feel him watching her as she went to a stand to get a brochure on the Western Plains Zoo at Dubbo. She answered a couple of questions for the guest then hung up and put the brochure back.

"I'm sorry. I—" She looked up and caught him eyeing the full length of her denim jeans. "Um… just a question about the zoo," she finished on a lame note.

"No need to be sorry," he said smoothly, not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable at having been caught. Then he considered her. "So tell me. Why the attitude?"

She cleared her throat. "Attitude?"

"You obviously thought I was someone else."

"Perhaps." It wasn't up to her to tell him about the sale. Besides, he could say he was a friend of Linda and Hugh's but that didn't mean he actually was.

"Someone you don't like."

"Maybe."

"You realize you owe me an apology," he pointed out.

Yes, and he owed her an apology for the way he'd been looking at her, but did she want to go there? No way.

"Of course, there is a way you could make up for it," he said, a light in his eyes telling her this man was very experienced with women.

She stiffened. Here it comes. One sexist remark and she'd tie him to a tree for the dingoes to eat.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Dinner?" Her heart jumped in her chest. "I can't. I mean, I can't desert Linda and Hugh then. It's going to be a big night for them. I'm helping out around the place, you see, and I—"

"You only had to say no." Her reaction seemed to amuse him. "I'm a big boy. I can take it."

Vanessa didn't know whether to be relieved or irritated that he gave in so easily. She'd expected some sort of fight from the guy.

She drew breath. "Fine then. No, I don't want to have dinner with you tomorrow night."

"How about a rain check?"

She gave a startled laugh. "What happened to 'you only had to say no'?"

"I said I could take it. I didn't say I would." An air of indolence exuded from him. "Now, about that rain check…"

All at once she wanted to get the better of him. "Okay," she said, planting a smirk on her lips. "Next time it rains I'll have dinner with you."

His brow rose. "You realize we're in the middle of a severe drought, don't you?"

"Yes, I know."

His firm lips relaxed into a lazy smile and her stomach did a flip-flop. Suddenly she wanted to step around the counter and into his arms. Arms that would snake around her hips and pull her up against his aroused body.

Aroused? Yes, she had the feeling she could excite this man, if she chose to make a move on him.

Not that she would, she told herself as she mentally pulled away in confusion. She'd never felt such an instant reaction before. With Mike the attraction had grown as she'd slowly fallen in love.

Mike.

Oh, God, how could she even think about comparing her late husband to this stranger? What was wrong with her today? Maybe it was just too much stress. In any case, it was definitely too much of—

"Kirk!" Linda exclaimed, coming through a side door with Hugh, sending a sigh of relief through Vanessa, who was more than ready to go clean some of the vacated rooms. "You're back from Sydney at last."

"Yes, just passing through on the way home." He gave Linda a kiss on the cheek and shook Hugh's hand. Then his gaze slid across the reception desk. "Your cousin's been looking after me."

Linda darted a smile at Vanessa. "Good."

"Did she tell you about the sale?" Hugh said.

Kirk brows drew together. "Sale?"

Vanessa gave Hugh a helpless smile. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything."

"That's okay, love," Hugh said warmly. "Kirk, we put the motel on the market a few weeks ago and this morning we received our first reasonable offer. That's why we rushed into Dubbo. To sign the contract."

A frown crossed Kirk's face. "You're selling?"

"It's either sell now or lose everything," Hugh said, then his face brightened. "But I've been offered a job to manage some apartments on the Gold Coast. It's come at the perfect time. Linda and I want to have another baby in the nottoo-distant future." He hugged his wife to his side. "Don't we, darling?"

Linda smiled up at him. "A little brother or sister for Toby would be lovely."

Kirk scowled. "Listen, if you need money to keep the motel afloat—"

Hugh shook his head. "Thanks, mate, but it's been getting too much for us anyway. It'll be nice to have a normal family life again."

Vanessa watched Kirk seriously consider his friends, then give a slow nod. "I'll be sorry to see you both go."

"Hey, we'll only be a few hours away by air," Linda said.

"When does the sale go through?"

"We're handing over in a month's time." Hugh grimaced. "The buyer is Bert Viner and you know what his reputation is like. I don't like selling to him but—" He put up his hand as Kirk went to speak. "No, we're fine, Kirk. It's time for us to move on."

Linda sighed. "Unfortunately he'll cut back on staff and I hate that people will lose their jobs. And Vanessa was going to stay for six months but now…" Linda looked at her cousin and her eyes clouded over. "I just didn't think it would happen this quickly."

Neither had she, Vanessa thought, forcing a smile. "Oh, Linda, it's not like you hadn't told me that you'd put the motel on the market."

"I know but—"

"Don't worry about me. This is your life we're talking about." They'd worked hard to get to this point in their lives.

"I know but—"

"I've had a nice break," Vanessa said firmly.

Linda took a shuddering breath, then her face filled with resolve. "You're my cousin. We'll think of something."

Vanessa's heart softened as she looked at Linda's upset face and Hugh's concerned one. These two people had welcomed her into their home with love and affection and she didn't want them to feel guilty about any of this.

Then she realized Kirk's intense gaze was on her. He couldn't know her circumstances but she suspected he knew she was deeply worried.

So she welcomed Linda's exclamation. "Oh, heavens, Kirk! We're standing here talking to you instead of offering you a drink. Or how about I make you some lunch? The restaurant's closed but I'd be happy to whip something up for you."

Kirk's smile said thanks but he replied, "Sorry, I can't. I need to get home and do some catching up. I've been away too long."

Linda's expression turned sympathetic. "I'd heard your housekeeper had to go interstate to take care of a family member. It won't be easy getting someone to replace her." She pulled a face. "And here, I haven't even asked how your mother is after her surgery. There were some complications, I believe."

"Yes, but she's finally on the mend. Jade's looking after her now, when she's not working all the hours under the sun, that is."

"I wonder who your sister is like?" Linda teased, then her eyes widened. "Oh, I almost forgot. It's Hugh's parents' thirty-fifth wedding anniversary tomorrow and we're giving them a party in the restaurant. You must come, Kirk. They'd be heartbroken if you didn't. Isn't that right, Hugh?"

"You know they always had a soft spot for you," Hugh said, going over to one of their guests who'd come in and made a beeline for the brochure stand.

"I don't see how," Kirk joked after him, and Vanessa had to wonder the same thing, too. The man had a hardness about him that didn't translate into him being more a friend than a foe. Yet watching him here with Linda and Kirk—and he evidently treated his mother and sister well—didn't fit. That hardness was more than skin deep, she was sure.

"I'll see what I can do," he added.

"Good," Linda said, taking that for his word. "And if you don't mind, you can keep an eye on Vanessa. She doesn't know many people in Jackaroo Plains. She's only been here from Sydney three weeks."

Vanessa froze.

"It would be my pleasure," she heard Kirk say.

She recovered quickly. Her cousin was a mother hen at times but she didn't need looking after, and certainly not by a man who dined on women for breakfast.

"I'll be fine, Linda. I don't want to take Kirk away from the other guests."

"You won't," he said, a purposeful gleam in his eyes sending a shock through her, though it shouldn't have. He'd been making a move on her since he'd walked through the door, and mentally she was already his.

"There you are then," Linda said, giving Vanessa an encouraging smile. All at once she tilted her head thoughtfully. "You're looking quite flushed, sweetie. It's this outback heat. You haven't got the air-conditioning turned up high enough. You should go for a quick swim but don't stay in the sun too long."

Vanessa swallowed with difficulty. "What a good idea," she said, not looking at Kirk.

Thankfully another guest came into the reception area just then, and with Hugh still busy with the previous guest, Linda came around the counter. "Here, cuz. Let me take over. You go have that swim."

Vanessa didn't need further prompting. She twirled toward the door marked Private, desperate to grab any excuse to get out of that man's presence. She heard him tell the others he had to get home.

Then, "Vanessa?"

If only she could ignore him, but Linda and Hugh would think her rude.

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"See you at the party," he said, an intensity to his eyes that made her softly gasp.

Somehow she managed a jerky nod before making her escape. It hadn't been an issue before now but tomorrow night she'd tell him he'd got it all wrong. He had to be told she was a widow. There was no way this man would want any involvement with a woman who was still mourning the man she loved.

Kirk Deverill would never accept being second best.

After six weeks away Kirk had looked forward to coming home but now as he drove toward Deverill Downs, he realized the news that his friends were leaving the area shouldn't really have come as a surprise. He'd miss them. There weren't many people he totally trusted like he did Hugh and Linda.

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CHRISTMAS IN HIS ROYAL BED by Heidi Betts

CHRISTMAS IN HIS ROYAL BED by Heidi Betts

OWNED BY THE PRINCE

The moment Prince Nicolas saw sultry Alandra Sanchez, he wanted her for his mistress. Determined to have her in his bed by Christmas, he lured her with a job at his island palace. Nicolas would stop at nothing to satisfy his lust, including seducing her with a little royal treatment. Soon his fiery passion began to awaken Alandra’s own forbidden desires. But would she leave him once she discovered he was about to enter a loveless royal marriage?

She’d become the prince’s paramour…but would she ever be his wife?

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Excerpt:

Alandra was drawn from her thoughts when the limousine slowed and waited for a tall antiqued iron gate to slide open and allow them entrance. They drove up a long, winding drive that ran between two sections of pristine, well-manicured lawn before arriving in front of what could never be mistaken for anything but a palace.

The house—for lack of a better word—was somewhat historical in design, but looked updated and modern. Eggshell white, with pillars and balconies and a myriad of floor-to-ceiling, multi-paned windows everywhere she looked, it stood atop a small rise and overlooked the rushing waves of the Mediterranean.

As the driver opened the door and helped her out of the vehicle, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the breathtaking view. She continued to gawk while he removed her bags from the trunk and escorted her to the front of the palace.

A butler opened the door and invited her inside, where a handful of maids dressed in matching gray uniforms collected her luggage and trotted off with it.

Rather than showing her where she would be staying, the butler said, “The Prince has requested you be brought to him immediately upon your arrival, Miss Sanchez. If you’ll follow me.”

Feeling as though she’d just stepped into a fairy tale, Alandra did just that, taking in every detail of the foyer as they passed.

The floor was expensive, highly polished marble in checked squares of black and a mottled white that looked almost gray. A chandelier the size of a small bus hung overhead, thousands of dangling crystals twinkling in the natural light. Directly across from the front entrance stood a wide staircase leading halfway to the second level before branching off to either side.

The butler led her to the right of the foyer, still on the first floor, and down a carpeted corridor lined with priceless artwork and closed doorways. He paused at one of these doors and knocked. When a low, muffled voice bade him entrance, he stepped inside, announced her presence, and then moved aside for her to pass.

The personal office was decidedly masculine, with a dark area rug, built-in bookshelves lining three of the four walls, and a large cherry wood desk taking up a good portion of the room.

Dragging her gaze from the impressive surroundings, Alandra turned her attention to the man sitting behind that desk . . . only to feel her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open.

Dear God, it was . . . “You,” she breathed.

“Miss Sanchez.” He rose and regally rounded the desk until he stood directly in front of her. “How good of you to accept my offer and come to work for our family.”

“You’re Prince Stephan—”

“Nicolas Braedon of Glendovia, yes. You may call me Nicolas.”

Nicolas. The same Nicolas who had asked her over for a glass of champagne and then invited her to sleep with him.

Her mouth went dry with shock, her stomach clenching and her pulse kicking as hard as though she’d just run a marathon. At the same time, her palms turned damp and she feared her knees might give out on her.

How could this be happening? How could she have missed all the hints and clues?

My God, she felt like an idiot.

She should have recognized the jacket he was wearing the night of the charity dinner, similar to the one he wore now that all but shouted “royalty.”

Or his reluctance to give her a full name when he’d introduced himself.

Or the name on the letterhead, with the one name he had given her right there in dark, raised script. Just because it was a middle name didn’t mean it wasn’t still the same name.

Looking back, there were any number of signs she should have picked up on, more research she should have done before accepting this position. It was enough to make her want to bang her head against the nearest brick wall.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice fainter than usual as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “Why would you invite me to work for you after the way we parted after the hospital fundraiser? All you wanted from me then was . . .”

Realization dawned and her blood turned cold.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, oxygen rushing from her lungs as shock coursed through her body. “You did this on purpose. You lured me here under false pretenses so that I would sleep with you.”

“Not exactly,” he replied, standing straight as a sword with his hands clasped behind his back. “Glendovia is very much in need of someone to organize its charitable foundations, and after seeing you in action, I decided you would be the perfect person for the job.”

“And you’ve changed your mind about wanting me in your bed?” she challenged.

His lip curled in what could only be described as a dangerous, predatory grin as he replied, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

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