“But you don’t live out there?”
“No, I stay right here in town now to be close to the store.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
Sharon Lynn grinned. “There’s hardly time for that. There’s always something going on out at White Pines. I’m back there practically every weekend for one celebration or another or just for an old-fashioned barbecue if granddaddy starts getting lonely for a little commotion.”
She caught the faintly wistful expression on his face. “What about you? Did you grow up on a ranch?”
“If you could call it that. It was probably every bit as bad as you say White Pines was way back when, but every time my daddy had a chance to make a real go of it, he squandered the money on booze. After he was gone, I sold the place to get a stake so I could move on to someplace where I could learn how a real ranch was run. I drifted a bit through Montana and Wyoming before heading south. Once I crossed into Texas, I kept hearing about your granddaddy and White Pines.”
“Well, you picked the right place. Nobody knows more about ranching than Grandpa Harlan and my daddy, or Harlan Patrick, to hear him tell it.”
She caught herself. “Just listen to me. I’m going on and on. Maybe you’d like to finish your meal in peace. I’ve got things I could do in the back.”
“No, indeed. Don’t even think of it. I’ve been on the road for days now. I’m glad of the company and the conversation, especially when the company’s as pretty as you and the conversation’s fascinating.”
The words were all glib charm, but as he met her gaze and smiled slowly, Sharon Lynn felt another of those quick little quivers in the pit of her stomach. Cord Branson was a very disconcerting man, more direct than most she’d met, outside of her brother and her cousins. He was certainly less subtle than Kyle, who had tended toward shyness.
She gazed into those devilish eyes with their golden sparks and something told her that she was in more danger now than she would have been if the only thing he’d wanted was to rob the place.
* * *
Cord wolfed down two of the best hamburgers he’d had in ages and tried to remember what it was that had brought him to Los Piños. He knew better than most that a man didn’t get anywhere in life, if he let himself get distracted.
And yet, he couldn’t help thinking that Sharon Lynn Adams would be a damned fine distraction. He’d never seen a woman with more sorrow written all over a face that was meant for angels. He had watched with amusement as she’d run the gamut of emotions when he’d first walked through the door. He’d seen the tiny flicker of fear, the fierce resolve and then the quiet, ingrained compassion that made her take him in and feed him despite the probable inconvenience. He thought he’d also noted a hint of relief in her expression, but, unable to imagine the origin of that, he’d dismissed it.
He pegged her age at late twenties and, after glancing at her ringless fingers, wondered why no man had snapped her up. Even in the past few minutes he’d seen that she was easy to get along with and even easier on the eye. To say nothing of being an Adams. From everything he’d heard, that counted for something in these parts. Maybe for too many men that was all that counted and she’d simply gotten used to warily fending them off.
He enjoyed watching her work, the quick efficient movements, the sway of hips a little on the generous side. Even more, he liked the ready rise of color in her cheeks when he teased and the way her laughter sounded when he finally managed to coax it out of her with one of the worst jokes either of them had ever heard. He’d found himself lingering long after he’d finished his meal, drinking more caffeine than his body needed if he was to get any rest at all tonight. Still, the coffee had been an excuse. He wasn’t looking forward to going back out into the cold night or to leaving her.
“Do you have a place to stay?” she asked eventually, when a glance at the clock and the discovery that it was after ten clearly startled her. “There’s a motel outside of town, but on a night like this it’s probably full and I’m not sure you ought to risk driving that far on the icy roads.”
“No problem. Unless you think the local law enforcement will object, I’ll just find a place to pull my truck off on the side of the road and sleep in back,” he said. “I’ve got a nice warm sleeping bag and I’m used to roughing it.”
Even as he said it, she was shaking her head. “No way. I won’t have your freezing to death on my conscience. If you truly don’t mind roughing it, you can sleep in the back room here. The floor’s hard as a rock, but the sleeping bag ought to help and at least you’ll have heat.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Of course you could.”
He frowned at her. As generous as it was, the offer filled him with concern. He didn’t like thinking of her taking that kind of risk with other strangers. “You know,” he chided, “it’s possible that you’re entirely too trusting.”
She shrugged off the suggestion. “That’s the way folks around here are. First impressions count for a lot, and I can see you’re a decent man.”
Cord regarded her with blatant amusement. “I thought you said first impressions counted?”
“They do.”
“Your first impression of me was that I was here to rob you.”
A guilty flush confirmed his guess.
“Okay, yes,” she admitted, “just for a second, I did wonder. Most people would have been inside on a night like this, unless they were up to no good.”
“But you don’t wonder anymore?”
Her gaze met his, blue eyes the exact shade of wildflowers searching his face. “Not anymore,” she said at last, giving his hand a brief, reassuring pat.
He told himself later that it wasn’t the way his pulse leapt when her fingers grazed his that mattered. It wasn’t the unexpected yearning that came over him looking into her eyes. It was the fact that she said those two simple words with such quiet confidence that made him fall in love with her. It had been a very long time since anyone on earth had believed in Cord Branson.
Before he could get lost in the wonder of that, a heavy thump against the back door startled them both. Sharon Lynn whirled in that direction, but Cord was faster. “You stay put. I’ll check it out.” He gestured toward the back room. “Where’s the door? Through there?”
She nodded. “It was probably just a dog bumping into a trash can or the wind knocking something over,” she said, right on his heels.
Cord glanced over his shoulder. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
She shot him a defiant look. “It’s my store. Besides, I have a gun right here.” She snatched a very deadly looking rifle out of its hiding place. “I can look after myself.”
He grinned at the fierce response and the determined jut of her jaw. “Yes, I can see that. Okay, but would you stay behind me at least and keep that gun pointed at something other than my backside?”
She regarded him with a faint glimmer of amusement, then shrugged. “I suppose I could do that.”
“I do love an amenable woman,” he said as he began twisting locks. When he’d unlatched the last one, he slowly turned the knob, shot Sharon Lynn one last warning look, then eased outside. What he found stunned him almost as bad as confronting a thief would have.
“Holy Mother of God,” he murmured as he bent down over the basket.
“What is it?” Sharon Lynn asked, nudging against him.
The quick bump of her hip was surprisingly provocative. She was so close he could smell her perfume, something light and innocent, maybe little more than scented hand lotion. It set off a surge of pure lust just the same. There was no time for that now, though.
“A baby,” he replied, his voice hushed as he scooped the tiny child up into his arms. “Some damned fool left a baby out here in this weather. If we hadn’t been here, it would have been dead before morning.” Just the thought of that filled him with cold fury.
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“Let me see,” she demanded, scooting around him. At the sight of the tiny infant, her eyes went wide with a mix of shock and indignation every bit as violent as his own.
“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered, reaching at once for the baby. “Let me. Maybe they knew we were inside and knew we’d find the baby before any harm came to it.”
“Maybe,” Cord said, because the notion seemed to console her. The basket had been left a little too close to the trash Dumpster for his liking, though. And the way the snow was coming down now, in no time at all, the basket and its contents would have been shrouded in a way that might have made it blend in with the bags of trash heaped nearby. He suspected that thump they’d heard had been an accident, not a deliberate attempt to catch their attention. No, this had been a cruel and heartless attempt to leave a child to die. He’d stake his life on that.
“Whoever did this can’t have gotten far,” Sharon Lynn said. “See if there’s any sign of him or her.”
“Him,” Cord said grimly.
“How do you know that?”
“The boot prints. There’s just enough snow on the ground to see the size of the shoe. It’s too big for a woman’s.”
Cord knew there was no point in following the trail. Whoever had done this despicable thing was long gone by now, but he went to the end of the alley just to satisfy Sharon Lynn. The footprints ended at the curb around the corner. A melted patch in the midst of all the snow indicated someone had left an engine running for a few minutes at least. Skid marks in the fresh snow suggested that whoever had driven away had probably heard the store’s back door open and left in a hurry.
By the time Cord got back inside, Sharon Lynn was holding a squalling, wide-awake baby in her arms as naturally as if this were something she did every day. The look of awe and concern on her face was enough to take his breath away. For one wild and improbable second, he imagined that she was his, the baby theirs. In that instant, with a certainty that stunned him, he knew that whatever it took, somehow he would make it happen.
Over the years he had seen too many of life’s most valuable treasures slip through his daddy’s fingers. Hawk Branson had lost his wife—Cord’s mama—to another man. He’d lost a fortune and most of the payments on the family ranch to the bottle. There’d been pitifully little left for Cord, once all the debts had been settled. Watching Hawk’s downfall had made Cord an impatient man.
When he spotted something he wanted, he went after it with a no-holds-barred vengeance. He had come here intending to claim a place for himself at the famed White Pines ranch, vowing to work harder and longer than any other hand.
He could have stayed in Montana and tried to save his daddy’s spread. The local bankers trusted him. They knew he wasn’t anything like his daddy. But there were too many defeats and bad memories associated with the place. He’d wanted a fresh start, not just as a hand at a truly successful ranch where he could learn everything there was to know about running a decent herd of cattle, but someplace where he could earn enough to buy his own land, acre by acre if he had to. Ownership and self-respect were all tied up together in his head.
Instinctively he’d aimed for Texas and its sprawling cattle ranches. He’d hung out in a bar in Fort Worth and asked questions. He’d gone to a couple of cattle auctions and asked more questions. White Pines and its owners had come up time and again, always accompanied by respectful anecdotes.
The last time he’d stopped, about a hundred miles from Los Piños, he’d asked pointedly about the ranch and learned that not only was White Pines taking on new help, but there was a neighboring ranch that might be for sale. The owner had died in a tragic accident and the widow wanted no part of it. The story had piqued his interest. He’d wasted no time in getting to Los Piños.
He’d been prepared to do whatever he had to to get the job he was after and to lay claim to that ranch, if the widow was willing to wait to make a sale. What he hadn’t been prepared for at all was spotting a woman like Sharon Lynn on his first night in town. She was the missing piece of his dream. Gut instinct told him that destiny had brought him into Dolan’s on this icy, miserable night.
He glanced down at her head, which was bent low as she soothed the fussing baby in her arms. The baby’s fat little fist held a thick strand of silken hair and was tugging mightily. Sharon Lynn smiled, even as she tried to disengage that tiny hand. Watching her, Cord felt a swirl of powerful emotions that rocked him on his heels. Just like that, he knew that what he was feeling was love. Impossible, unexpected, but love, just the same. The lightning bolt kind that changed a man’s life when he least expected it.
Slow down, he warned himself. He might be bold and impetuous and ready to believe in fate, but he doubted this woman or any other would be quite so ready to throw caution to the wind and jump into a relationship with a stranger.
He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, just the same. For once in a life filled with nasty twists and turns, it appeared that fate had finally dealt him a winning hand.
Chapter Two
Cord spent a restless night in the back room at Dolan’s. For every pleasant dream he had about a beautiful, mysterious woman sharing his bed, there was a counterpoint—the nightmare of a baby’s whispered cries fading into silence. He awoke bathed in a cold sweat more times than he could count.
Finally just before dawn, unable to face the torment of another nightmare, he’d crawled out of his sleeping bag, rolled it into a neat bundle, then tried to repair the night’s ravages to his face. Eyedrops and a shave took care of the worst of it. A microwaved cup of last night’s leftover coffee gave him a much-needed jolt of caffeine and a couple of stale doughnuts gave him a sugar rush that would last him through the morning. By six he was feeling almost human and ready to face the day.
But he still couldn’t shake his worry about the baby he and Sharon Lynn had rescued from the frigid night. Had she been out there long enough to catch her death of cold? What if she were spiking a fever? Would Sharon Lynn know what to do? Probably every bit as well as he would, he conceded.
The temptation to go by her place to see how the pair of them were doing was tremendous. It was also a distraction, one he’d vowed not to allow, especially since he couldn’t be sure that concern for the baby was the only reason he wanted to drop in. He was determined that the previous night’s incidents weren’t going to take his mind off of what he had to do today.
Right after his discovery the day before that White Pines was hiring, he’d made a call to the ranch. He was scheduled for a 7:00 a.m. meeting with Cody Adams and nothing on God’s earth was going to keep him from being on time for it. Allowing for the condition of the roads, it was going to take every second he had allowed to drive to White Pines. He figured showing up on schedule despite the adverse conditions would be a point in his favor.
His tight timetable and grim determination not to allow any distractions might not permit a visit, but he could detour past Sharon Lynn’s house. That might not be nearly as satisfying as getting a peek at the two of them, but it would be enough to reassure himself that they were nice and cozy inside on this miserable morning. Then he could go on to his job interview with a clear conscience.
“That’s a plan,” he concluded, slamming the door on his pickup and easing out onto a road covered with snow and a treacherous undersheet of ice. The drive was going to be a picnic, all right, he thought as the tires skidded, then finally held.
The sun was just beginning to sneak over the horizon as he eased cautiously down Main Street. He caught a glimpse of the huge orange ball in his rearview mirror as he crept down the block, then turned the corner to drive past Sharon Lynn’s.
The small, neat house, which also doubled as a veterinary clinic, had surprised him when they’d arrived there the night before. He’d been expecting something bigger, fancier, but once he’d walked through the front door he’d had the feeling that the hou
se suited Sharon Lynn. It was homey and warm, a welcoming kind of place with its cheery yellows and mellowing blues. And she’d explained that the veterinary practice belonged to her cousin, who actually owned the property and, she added with a grin, most of the cats and kittens who were scrambling around their ankles the instant they’d walked through the door.
“Dani’s always taking in strays, me included,” Sharon Lynn had told him. She indicated the baby in her arms. “This would be a little over the top even for her.”
“But not for you,” he’d guessed. “You’re a natural mother.”
The comment had brought on a too-quick denial...and tears she hadn’t been quick enough to hide. There were emotions there he couldn’t begin to fathom and she hadn’t given him time to try.
With a briskness that had amused him, she’d thanked him for walking her home, for helping with all the baby supplies she’d taken from the store, and hustled him out the door before he could blink. Before he knew it, he was outside looking in, just as he had been all his life. The woman was a self-sufficient whirlwind, all right. It was an irritating trait, especially to a man who had hoped to be needed.
She wouldn’t go on brushing him off, he’d promised himself as he left. Soon he would be part of her life, but only after he was settled, only when he had something to offer. He wasn’t long on patience, so he’d just have to make sure he had steady work by the end of the day. That would give him confidence and resources, so he could begin phase one of his campaign to win Sharon Lynn’s heart.
As his pickup idled, he gave the house a quick survey in the pale morning light. There was a light on—in the kitchen, he thought, recalling the layout of the house from his brief stay the night before. He pictured Sharon Lynn, her hair tousled from sleep, her cheeks flushed, maybe wearing nothing more than a robe, heating a baby bottle or maybe making coffee. It was like gazing into his heart and seeing what he’d longed for all his life—someone to come home to, someone who cared. And a baby they’d created together, one who would never know the kind of abandonment he’d felt when his mama had run off.
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