Ranch Heat

Dude Ranch - Chapter One

Damn headache. Jake Caldwell used the boot remover to pull off his well-scuffed boots, and then strode tiredly toward the living room and the over-stuffed sofa. It irritated the hell out of him to be forced away from his ranch duties to lie down for a few minutes in the middle of the day. But there was no help for it. The throbbing had gotten so bad he could hardly think straight.

He stretched out on the extra long sofa and closed his eyes. A hammer seemed to be pounding at his forehead from the inside out. He reached up to rub at his brow, but it didn't help at all. Only a spell of resting his eyes would ease the migraine.

Just as he started drifting away from the pain, someone knocked on the front door with the heavy metal knocker. He scowled, wondering whom the blazes was calling on him now. None of his men. They knew he'd gone inside to lie down. So who the blazes kept on rapping with the knocker�a knocker he would damn well remove tomorrow?

When his unwelcome visitor refused to give up, he launched himself from the sofa and stormed to the door. His annoyance immediately gave way to shock as he faced a purple-haired female in her late teens.

"Bitchin' place you got here, Cowboy. Ain't never been on a ranch before."

Jake's gaze took in the small gold stud piercing one eyebrow and a matching gold ring in her left nostril. He winced. He'd seen a lot of things in his thirty-three years, but a sight like this he'd missed until now. He wished he'd missed it now.

The girl caught him staring and smirked. "Got more if'n you want to see them."

"No. No, I don't." He for dang sure didn't want to see more bodily mutilations.

"Mom couldn't make it. Her ex showed up at the last minute. Evidently the old heat flamed up again, if you know what I mean. 'Cause she decided to give him another chance," she explained, as though that would make some kind of sense.

"Your mom?" What kind of mother would let her kid do these weird things to her body? Obviously a mother with no sense at all. Seemed to him that both of them needed some reining in, some time getting their bottoms warmed.

Then, to his horror, the girl winked at him in what he imagined she considered a seductive manner. He cringed and stepped back.

"Maybe, when I bring ya back here after our dinner date, we can lasso one of them horses over yonder. Take a midnight ride. Be romantic, huh?" she suggested, her black-painted lips curving up into a smile of sorts.

"Miss, I've got no idea in the world who either you are, or who your mother is." Jake reached up a shaky hand to rake it through his hair out of frustration.

She beamed. "Miss! Way cool." Her nearly painted on tank top rose with the stiffening of her shoulders, enough to reveal her bare midriff and expose a ring in her navel.

He flinched again. He didn't even want to think about the pain she'd experienced with all the body piercings. Or the infections she was likely to get. Again, he thought the teenager needed more control in her life. Control and discipline.

"Who exactly are you?" he managed to question, inching back a little more.

She looked at him calmly. "Zelda. Mom and I just moved to Dodge City from Denver." She stopped to chomp on her gum a couple of times. "We met Maybelle Caldwell�your grandma�at a flea market. She told Mom to come see you here at the ranch. Convince you to go out with her. Said you were having trouble finding a woman."

He nearly bit his tongue in two to keep from cursing a blue streak in front of the strange teenager. Maybelle and him were going to have words. Soon.

Zelda cocked her head to one side and gave him a thorough looking over. "For an old guy, you ain't all that bad." She grinned, winking again. "Anyway, I got a thing for older men. You know, father-figure types. So I thought, why not come in Mom's place."

Jake tried to wrap his pain-filled thoughts around the words "father figure" and "older man." Indignation flowed through him. This teenager from hell and her mother were living proof that his dear, sweet grandmother had finally lost all touch with reality. Her persistent, failed attempts at matchmaking over the last few months had driven her right over the edge. He too, almost.

"You don't talk much, do you? That's all right. Long as you're a good kisser. I'm seriously into kissing. Frenching. You know, tongue wrestling."

It took every bit of his strength of will to keep from holding up two fingers in a cross symbol to ward off the devil child who'd invaded his ranch. Just the notion of "Frenching" with the likes of her made him consider never kissing another woman. "You're a kid! You shouldn't even know about something like that."

She laughed. "You must not get to many movies."

Enough. She needed to go. He needed to get his phone and call his grandmother. He would put his size twelve feet down good and hard this time. "What I know is that you and I aren't going anywhere. Ever."

"Can't handle the time warp between us, huh?" She shrugged. "Worth a shot anyway." She turned and started down the porch steps, stopping to face him. "I don't think Mom and her ex will make a go of it really. I'll tell her to give you a call�"

"No!" Jake snapped, and then offered a weak smile. "I mean, I'm not in the market for a new woman right now. No matter what my grandmother might have told you." And he wasn't. Struggling to keep his ranch going took all of his time and energy. A woman meant a relationship, and he wasn't particularly good at relationships�even when his life was going along well.

Zelda gave another shrug and walked to a battered Mustang that had seen better days. His breathing finally returned to normal, but his headache was back worse than ever. And he still needed to deal with his grandmother. Hell.It had taken Jake a week to try and talk his grandmother out of her obsession with finding him a wife, and then to come up with a plan to thwart her when she refused to listen to reason. 'Course his good friend and foreman, Rusty, had thought the plan amazingly stupid. Actually, worse than just letting Maybelle continue on with her matchmaking schemes. But Jake couldn't deal with anymore Zeldas showing up at his ranch. Nor could he handle more blind dates with the peculiar women Maybelle kept rounding up for him to go out with. No, he was desperate enough to try this plan. At least HE would be in control.

Yet as he stood on the sidewalk in front of the too-modern-for-his taste Jamison Advertising Agency in downtown Denver just after 8 am, his heart pounded. This was unfamiliar turf for him. Denver itself made him uneasy. Life around Dodge City was so much slower, so much saner. He hated all the hustle and bustle of cities, all the traffic, all the noise. He wanted this meeting over and done with as quickly as possible. He had to get out of the city and back to where he felt comfortable, besides he had a ranch to run. Having to take this desperate step was pure annoyance.

He blew out a deep breath of frustration and pulled open the dark glass door to the building. Before he could even step through it, though, a pair of late-twenty-something men in nearly identical, obviously expensive suits hurried by him as if he were some kind of doorman. It riled him. More so when they hesitated and glanced back at him as a coordinated team, giving him a look filled with distaste. Clearly his ranch-worn jeans weren't impressive. To hell with them. He wasn't here to impress anyone in Denver. Well, maybe he needed to impress Rylee Jamison. He hoped his reasoning would do the impressing for him, hoped his future didn't depend on his choice of clothing. Mr. Fashion he wasn't.

Before he could change his mind, he strode into the lobby that sported a gleaming checkerboard floor of large black and white tiles. The pattern was bold enough to make a person nauseous. Looking further into the lobby, he spotted a white-haired, sixtyish woman behind a chest-high, black marble counter. She smiled at him.

Feeling a little more relaxed at seeing a friendly face he headed her direction. "Ms. Jamison's office?" he asked, glancing at a large sign behind the counter that held a bunch of names and what he assumed were office numbers.

"Sixth floor. The receptionist there will let her know you're here to see Ms. Jamison." She smiled again. "I have to say, young man, you're a pleasant change around here. I've always liked a man of the earth. I was raised on a farm back in Oklahoma."

Young man. He couldn't help preening a bit at that, especially since he still kept thinking about Zelda's "older man" comment every now and then. He tipped his hat brim to her and headed toward the elevators. "Thank you, ma'am."

Elevators made him feel pinned in, but at least he figured it wouldn't be a long ride. He had a few seconds to ponder the place and the woman he'd come to see. The Jamison Advertising Agency had quite a reputation in the Midwest and Colorado, or so his grandmother had told him several times. Rylee Jamison was an executive with the outfit, and she now owned the whole damn place after her father's death. He knew a lot about Ms. Jamison�without actually knowing her. Thanks to his grandmother. The much younger woman lived in his grandmother's exclusive apartment complex and they played bridge together every week or so. He also knew that Rylee had been the only child of a very wealthy man, who had let her go her own way growing up. She'd gotten into one spell of mischief after another in her teen years, which her father had gotten her out of with no more than a "don't do this again" comment. Clearly, the gal had needed a great deal more than that. If she'd been Jake's daughter, he'd have warmed her bottom good and made damn sure she didn't even think about getting into whatever mischief again.

The elevator stopped at every floor going up. Each time the doors opened he got more or less the same critical inspection that the other men had given him. And he was deemed unworthy of being in the building. Uppity people. But what did he care, he wouldn't be seeing any of them again. Besides, he was every bit as good as any of them. Maybe he didn't wear an expensive Armani suit�or whatever�to the office every day, but he owned a right fine ranch. A normal ranch with typical financial ups and downs. Still, the Circle C had been around over a hundred years, and it would be around another hundred, if he had anything to say about it. Probably none of these people knew a thing about tradition and the pride in owning something of real worth.

At long last, he strode out of the metal box and aimed straight for the Executive Suite. Seeing the floor carpeted in a color that reminded him of fresh cream, he hesitated a second and hoped he'd cleaned his work boots really good. He decided he had, and stepped into the reception area that fairly exploded with color: a massive black marble counter surrounding a black desk, shiny chrome and glass tables next to hot red chairs in a seating area, and blindingly bright paintings that he couldn't quite figure out.

He stopped at the receptionist's desk. Then after standing there impatiently for several minutes, he finally gave up on the missing person. He was running real low on patience, and he didn't really want to spend a lot of time here. His plan needed to be presented, accepted, and then he wanted to head back to Kansas by early afternoon.

So he raised his chin determinedly and set off down the hallway to find Ms. Jamison's office. He located it at the back corner of the long hallway and listened in curiosity as a softly feminine voice bit out, "Fudge! Triple fudge!" Not much as cursing went, but he knew that was exactly what he'd heard. He grinned, even though he didn't particularly like women cursing."Fudge! Fudge! Fudge!" Rylee Jamison grumbled again as her elbow knocked a stack of advertising layouts that she'd already jostled to the floor. To her disgust, the papers she'd worked so hard on involving the firm's newest client scattered all around the big ebony desk, several sliding underneath.

She slipped from her chair, going down to hands and knees to scramble around and gather the papers. What a position for the president of the company to be in! If her board could see her now. She felt her clearly shorter-than-she-thought skirt pull up rather high on her thighs. She gathered the papers faster, hoping to get them all retrieved before one of the staff�particularly one of the men�came in and caught a glimpse of more of her than she wanted them to see.

One paper was elusive, tucked way under the side of her desk. With a tiny groan, she leaned nose to carpet and stretched her arm out as far as she could. The skirt slipped up even higher.

At that precise moment, of course, someone tapped on the open office door. It figured. It was just the way her day had been going. No, make that her week.

"Rylee Jamison?" came a voice in a deep, husky tone that had her stomach instantly quivering. She almost didn't want to look up and be disappointed, as so often happened when you finally put a face to a voice you admired.

But when she pulled her arm back from under the desk and glanced his direction, she was definitely NOT disappointed. Her pulse rate ratcheted up a notch. "Yes?" she managed to squeak out.

"Maybelle Caldwell's bridge partner?" asked the six-foot something, splendidly built male looking down at her, a hint of amusement in his ebony-colored eyes.

She nodded, sitting back on her heels, overlooking the fact that her skirt rose even higher. She could listen to this man's voice forever. It called forth the sensual image of being wrapped up in a quilt on a cold winter's evening, sitting by a crackling fire and watching an old romantic movie. Or just an image of being skin-to-skin with him. Yes, THAT was a much better image!

Making an effort to tamp down her hot-to-tackle-him hormones, she said, "Yes. I'm that particular Rylee Jamison. Can I help you?"

"'Pears you're the one needing some help," he said, strolling closer, stopping less than a yard away from her and focusing on her bent legs. "I'm Maybelle's grandson, Jake Caldwell," he added somewhat even huskier sounding.

Oh gawd! He was killing her here. She felt hot; her pulse raced. He looked like he was ready to lay her out on the carpet and� Mortified at her thoughts, she glanced at her lap and discovered that way too much of her was exposed. She immediately slid forward until she was on her knees, but not revealing quite so much of her legs.

He drew in a breath deep enough that she heard it. She sensed that he was attempting to stop staring at her, as much as she was trying to forget some about him. Impossible. How could you forget the amazing sight of a solidly built man wearing a pair of jeans washed so many times they were almost white in spots. Jeans that fit extremely well on long, muscled legs. A cowboy stud to make any woman's mouth water. Including hers, and she normally wasn't much of a cowboy fan.

Finally, she went back to straightening the papers she'd picked up. Feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she handed him the stack. "Would you mind putting these on the desk for me?"

When he moved closer, she inhaled the pleasing mixed scents of leather boots, man, and some kind of aftershave that had her drawing in another deep breath. Oh, yes, she really liked that.

He reached down a long arm and she noted how his white, Western-cut shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. A tanned, work-hardened hand clasped the papers and set them on the desk. A second hand reached down to haul her to her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Thanks," she said, avoiding his eyes lest he see the remnants of pure feminine pleasure that had to be still there.

He released her and she scurried behind her desk. A wall of something solid between them seemed like a very good idea. She wasn't used to such strong reactions to a man, but then she'd been working long hours for the last few months. Little time for dating. Exhaustion no doubt was the culprit behind her explosive responses to this stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, since she'd heard so much about him from Maybelle. She'd just never seen him in person. Seeing him was very, very nice.

She half-heartedly straightened the stack of papers again. "Are you here to see me about advertising for the ranch? I didn't realize we had a meeting scheduled."

"No, ma'am, I'm not here about the Circle C."

A little nervous and wanting to make some kind of conversation, she said, "I hear the Circle C is a pretty impressive cattle ranch. Struggling a bit financially, but that's not unusual for ranches, I've been told."

"You heard right."

Clearly Jake was a man of few words. She attempted to lighten the conversation again. "So you're the hard working cowboy who needs a 'good woman by his side'�as Maybelle put it�but can't seem to find himself one."

He mumbled something, and she imagined it was less than complimentary about Maybelle for telling her such a thing. Then he pulled some kind of rolled up papers from his back pocket and began unfolding them. It appeared to be a legal document.

"Maybelle needs to mind her own business. Particularly when it comes to my personal life." He reached up to thumb his straw hat back a bit. "She won't, though. Meddling in my affairs has become serious business with her."

He shoved the unfolded papers at her. "I believe this will solve both of our problems with my grandmother."

"But I," Rylee began, and then remembered that Maybelle Caldwell definitely had been making her life a trial lately. Although she didn't understand how HE knew that. She glanced at the top paper. In shock, she thumbed to the next one, then the next one.

She raised her gaze and found he had removed his hat only to reveal a thick head of black hair that appeared to be a bit shaggy, although she liked it that way. He fiddled with the brim and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. Nervous. Thinking about what she'd just skimmed, she understood why.

"This is a pre-nuptial agreement. Between you and me." She still couldn't believe what she'd read, or at least partly read.

He nodded and looked oddly pleased with himself. His crooked grin highlighted a deep dimple at the left side of his mouth. A mouth too kissably tempting for her peace of mind. Especially when she also noted what appeared to be permanent five o'clock shadow�something that seemed to scream virility. An advertising photographer's dream. Too bad he had all those good looks and not an ounce of brains.

"I figured us getting married would put a kink in Grandma's meddling. For me, and for you." He faced her steadily. "I'm tired of her matchmaking schemes. Reckon you are, too."

"I�" Rylee began, only to have him continue on with his obviously rehearsed speech.

"I need to concentrate on getting my dude ranch operation going. I don't have time to keep arguing with her. Or time to keep coming up with reasons why I can't go out with whomever she sends husband-hunting my way." Annoyance flared in his eyes. Determination set his jaw.

She looked at the papers again, and then back at him. Oz. Maybe she'd zoned out in her exhaustion and had landed in Oz. Or another world. This was just too nuts to be real.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked in irritation.

"Something like you've been out riding the range too long without your hat, cowboy? Like you've sun-baked your brains?"

Every muscle in his body tensed with indignation. He clenched and un-clenched his hand.

The reaction made her curious, but she focused on his comments. "Let me make sure I understand you clearly. You want to thwart your grandmother. Put a 'kink,' as you put it, into her plans." She waved the legal document in his face, her voice rising in exasperation. "You want ME to marry YOU. A complete stranger."

"Sure, we haven't exactly met one another 'til now. But I've heard a lot about you. A lot. Figured you'd heard about me as well," he protested. "Besides, this'll only be for a year, and only to keep our sanity. You know, for convenience's sake."

This was insane! A bad dream. She'd been married before and had no intention of ever getting married again. She didn't need that kind of grief. "No! Absolutely, unequivocally no!"

Clearly unconcerned with her refusal, he said, "I heard from Grandma that you're planning to take a year off from your job here. You want to rekindle your artistic juices, whatever the heck that means."

He leaned a hip against the desk. "Unless you get away from here, away from my grandmother, she's going to make your year off a living hell. She'll focus on finding you that perfect mate no matter how much you protest."

Rylee wanted to deny what he said, but it was probably true. Maybelle could be very tunnel-focused. And she'd become obsessed with finding her a new husband, someone worthy of her. A strong man, instead of a wimpy mouse who let her do whatever she wanted and could care less. A loyal man, instead of one with a roving eye for other women. And evidently SHE wasn't the only one being bombarded with blind dates.

"Are you listening to me?" Jake interrupted her musings. "I'm here to save your life, really. At least that's one way to look at this."

She fought down a chuckle at his serious expression. "This is crazy. Beyond crazy."

He shrugged and she admired the play of his chest muscles. "Once upon a time I might have thought so, too. Until the teenager hot for an 'older man' came to see me. Until I realized my situation was only going to get worse."

"Teenager?"

He shook his head. "Don't even go there." He played with his hat brim again. "This won't be a REAL marriage. We'll just be sharing space for a limited amount of time. Until Grandma gets focused on something else."

Sitting down in her chair, Rylee gave him a tolerant smile. "I've been married before. A less than wonderful experience, I might add. Single life suits me. The artist's life suits me." She slumped and glanced around the office. "My current problem is that I inherited my father's company, not something I wanted. I'm contemplating selling it, but I want time away to really think that over."

"Grandmother will make that time away miserable, and you know it."

For a second she didn't answer, and then she sighed. "Yes, I know it." She sucked in a breath, met his gaze. "Strictly for convenience's sake?" This was crazy. She was crazy, he crazier.

He looked relieved at her tentative agreement. "Cross my heart, darlin'. My house is so damn big we won't even see each other most of the time."

"I can do whatever I want? Sleep until noon, stay up until the wee hours?" She decided to tease him a little, to learn a little more about his reactions. "I heard you have a pool. So I can sunbathe, topless if I choose? Maybe�"

His dark eyes widened in shock, and a blush crept up his neck. She also thought she caught a movement below his belt. Hmmm. That was indeed interesting.

"No way in hell will you do something like that!" he gritted out. "You'll behave yourself. Not go around tempting my men, tempting�" He sucked in a breath. "You were teasing me, weren't you? Testing me."

She gave a small smile.

"You'll behave, enough said. The only other thing I would expect of you, in exchange for using my ranch as your artist hangout for a year, is to act as my hostess for certain events at the ranch. Not that many of them, really."

"Whoa, cowboy! I think I want a little clarification on this 'behave' matter." The rest of what he'd said hadn't concerned her at all. But there was something odd about that phrasing, something different about the undertone. This cowboy appeared to have many facets to him. She was intrigued.

He looked deadly serious. "I mean that I don't put up with trouble from ANYONE. Not from my ranch hands, or my women."

Her heart pounded. This tall cowboy was nothing like the smooth-talking city boys she'd been exposed to most of her life. Confidence fairly oozed from him, even about this bizarre marriage thing. Dominance, too. While a very independent woman, she found this side of him oddly appealing. No one had ever made her behave, or ever seemed to care enough even to consider it.

As if he realized she needed further explanation, he planted his hat on his head and said, "A ranch hand that gives me trouble will be packing damn quick. A woman that gets too ornery will find herself over my knee."

OVER HIS KNEE! Had he really said such a thing? Surely not. But then she looked at the firmness of his jaw and knew he DID mean it. Wow! Definitely no wuss of a man here. Dominant was definitely right.

"Your answer, Miss Jamison."

With her unfortunate tendency toward finding trouble, she might find herself getting spanked. Spanked! Her! Say NO, just say NO.

Then she looked at him again, really looked. Fudge, he was a handsome hunk. Real serious eye candy. A year of getting to see him every day, maybe sketch him. Definitely have hot dreams about him. Tempting. His bizarre offer was certainly more tempting than staying here in Denver and having Maybelle shift into high gear about matching her up with some up-and-rising yuppie.

He started to open his mouth again, but she quickly blurted, "Yes, I'll do it. For a year." She decided not to add 'in name only,' because she had a strong feeling that she wouldn't mind spending some time wrinkling the sheets with Jake Caldwell. They could always get a divorce instead of the annulment he had planned. "For a year."

Within minutes, she'd signed the legal document�although she really should have had her lawyer look at it first�and watched him head out of her office as quickly as he'd entered. Then he stopped at the door. "I'll give you a week to settle things here. We'll get married in Dodge City, soon as we get the blood tests and whatever else is necessary done. Okay with you?"

She could still change her mind. But, oddly, she didn't want to. "Sure. I'll get directions to the ranch from your grandmother."

"She's leaving tomorrow for a spell down in Florida. I want to get this marriage thing all done by the time she's back." He held her gaze a minute. "I'll treat you good, Ms. Jamison." Then he gave her a heated look, somewhat serious. "Even if I have to turn you over my knee now and then."

"I'm too old for something like that," she protested, her bottom tingling just at the idea.

"Oh, darlin', a woman's NEVER too old for a spanking." He turned and was gone, leaving her to wonder just what she'd gotten herself into.Rylee sat at her desk, staring at her copy of the hastily signed pre-nuptial agreement that would keep each of their assets separate during and when the marriage ended. She couldn't believe she'd actually agreed to his plan. Sure, she tended to make a lot of spur-of-the-moment decisions�some that didn't turn out well. She'd gotten more than her share of ear blisterings over the years because of her rash decisions. But there was just something about the cowboy that had intrigued her. Aroused her, too, which maybe had led to her hasty decision.

A soft tap on the open office door drew her attention. She smiled at her best friend and the firm's vice-president, Samantha. "Come on in."

Samantha pretended to fan her face. "Whew! I just saw the most amazing man heading out the front door. A cowboy. A real, ride-'em-hard cowboy."

Ride 'em hard. Oh the image that invoked! Rylee felt herself blush and said, "He was here to see me."

"You? Since when do you know any cowboys? Have you been holding out on me? Does he have any friends?" Samantha walked into the room, settled into one of the chrome and leather chairs across from Rylee.

"He's Maybelle's grandson. You know, the older lady who is part of my bridge group. Anyway, he's the first cowboy I've ever met." She focused on the papers in front of her and added quietly, "By the way, we're getting married next week. In Dodge City."

Samantha slid forward in the chair, leaned on the desk and looked directly at Rylee. As Rylee glanced sheepishly up, Samantha said, "You're kidding, right? I know you've been a while between men, but � No, you were just playing with me."

"If only that were so." Rylee closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Next week. She, a woman who had never been anywhere with less than a 100,000 population, would be marrying a man�yes, in name only�and going to live on a ranch, near a town. Not a bonified city, but a town.

Samantha was quiet a minute, and finally said, "At least Maybelle won't be able to torture you with anymore matchmaking. Although marrying her grandson, whom you don't even really know, might be a bit drastic to stop her machinations." She locked gazes with Rylee. "Another thoughtless quick decision, wasn't it? How many times did your dad threaten to warm your behind for not thinking about things? For something like this, he just might have actually done it. And you'd deserve it."

Rylee well remembered all her dad's threats, which is all they were. Verbalizations of his frustration with her. Neither she nor Samantha had ever been spanked. Spanked. Only a short while ago a very handsome man that she'd been instantly attracted to had flatly told her she would have to "behave" or else. He'd actually said a woman who misbehaved around him would be taken over his knee. She felt an odd warmth building within her. What would it be like to be bent over someone's knee? Over HIS knee? What would it be like to feel the flat of his hand on her bottom?

She squirmed in her chair. What was she thinking!

"We'd better call a staff meeting as soon as possible," she said, pulling herself from the strangely disturbing thoughts about spanking. Surely he hadn't really meant it. "If I'm to take my leave of absence from the firm sooner than I'd intended, there are a lot of plans to make."

Samantha stood, headed for the door, stopped to look back and said, "I still can't believe you're actually going to marry him. Even if he's probably hotter than hot in bed. I've heard that cowboys�"

Rylee cut her off. "Staff. Arrange the meeting."

She watched her friend disappear out the door and smiled. At least she wouldn't be dealing with running a business she didn't want or really understand. At least Maybelle wouldn't be sneaking around playing matchmaker anymore. Maybelle. Why hadn't she ever tried matching her grandson�whom she desperately wanted to find a wife for�up with her? Distance hadn't mattered to Maybelle. She'd imported potential blind dates for Rylee from as far away as Australia. Had this been some weird kind of unintentional matchmaking plan? Had the sneaky older woman played with them both until she'd driven them together? Interesting idea, very interesting.

Yet she found that she really didn't care. She was going to get away from the firm, get time to work on her art. And�a big "and"�get a chance to maybe get up close and personal with a very sexy man for at least a year. A cowboy who just might be man enough to make her toe the line. Hmmm.