Being stranded for Christmas
never had so much sizzle!
Texas Cattleman’s Club member Jesse Stevens just hired a matchmaker to lure an appropriate wife to his remote ranch. But when a flash flood dumps Houston heiress Esme Perry on his doorstep instead, days before Christmas, is it a sign? Esme is smart, sexy...and a big-city girl to the core. Totally wrong for him. So why can’t they keep their hands off each other?
“I’m not a snob.”
“Really?” He took the decoration, their fingers brushing.
Her skin tingled even after he’d pulled away. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
Desire danced in the air, an electricity between them as he moved closer to her. “Would it soften the sting to your ego if I told you how hot you look no matter what you’re wearing?”
She closed her hand into a fist, trying to will away the lingering sensation of that simple touch. “And what about those three bridal prospects of yours, one of whom will give you babies to make Christmas memories with?”
He canted back, nodding tightly. “You’re right. It’s totally inappropriate of me. I mean it when I say I want to be a family man, and all that entails.”
“The epitome of a Texas Cattleman’s Club fella.”
“Yes, exactly that.” His gaze held hers, setting her skin on fire with just the stroke of his eyes on her face.
Even knowing it was unwise and there were so many reasons they were wrong for each other, she still felt herself sway toward him. Just one kiss.
* * *
Hot Holiday Rancher is part of the
Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston series.
Dear Reader,
I so enjoy the Christmas season and celebrating with family—the one we were born into and the one we create for ourselves. Yes, the Texas Cattleman’s Club novels are full of dynamic, loving and sometimes feuding families. But I especially enjoy how this fan-favorite ongoing series also showcases friendships that grow into a beautiful extended family network. So that made this particular TCC novel a treat for me to write in their world by featuring the opening of a whole new chapter in Houston.
Whether you’re a longtime reader of the Texas Cattleman Club stories or are new to the TCC community, thank you for picking up Hot Holiday Rancher!
Merry Christmas!
Cathy Mann
www.CatherineMann.com
Catherine Mann
Hot Holiday Rancher
USA TODAY bestselling author Catherine Mann has won numerous awards for her novels, including both a prestigious RITA® Award and an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. After years of moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina, where she’s active in animal rescue. For more information, visit her website, catherinemann.com.
Books by Catherine Mann
Harlequin Desire
Alaskan Oil Barons
The Baby Claim
The Double Deal
The Love Child
The Twin Birthright
The Second Chance
The Rancher’s Seduction
The Billionaire Renegade
The Secret Twin
Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston
Hot Holiday Rancher
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or catherinemann.com, for more titles.
You can find Catherine Mann on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at www.Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!
To my children, the best gift all year round!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Rebel by Joanne Rock
One
Esme Perry had basked in the sun on a private beach in the South of France. She’d surfed with the best of them in California, Hawaii and Australia. But not even the threat of heatstroke or sharks had concerned her as much as the rush of water rolling down the country Texas back road toward her low-slung Porsche.
Rain sheeting against her windshield, Esme shifted into Reverse, willing her pulse to slow. Be calm. Take deep breaths. A quick three-point turn should have her ready to race out of harm’s way. It would be a tight maneuver since the road was narrow, bracketed by a ditch on one side and sycamore trees on the other. It was tough enough to make such a maneuver during the daytime, but after dark? In the middle of a storm?
Not that she had a choice but to move. Flash floods were dangerous, especially in the country.
But her V-8 engine could outrace just about anything. Perhaps the Porsche wasn’t the best choice for dirt roads, but she’d been excited about her early Christmas gift to herself.
Two points into Esme’s three-point turn, the wave of rainwater slammed into the side of her vehicle. Her stomach clenched. She struggled to control the steering wheel as her car slid along the mud-slicked road. The Porsche’s back end fishtailed. Her foot slipped off the clutch, her spiky heel wedging under the brake. The heel snapped. But she didn’t have time to mourn the demise of her favorite leopard-print pumps. The Porsche lurched, then spun out, whipping the wheel from her clenched grip.
Her heart rose into her throat with panic as she battled what felt like g-forces slamming her against the door. Worse yet, she couldn’t see due to vertigo and the rush of water over her candy apple–red hood. Was she close to the side of the road? How deep was the ditch? Where were the trees?
And, oh God, were those headlights or lampposts?
She braced. Struggled not to close her eyes. And prayed.
The spinning stopped, her car halting with a jolt. But not a crash. She exhaled a shaky breath, her ears ringing so loudly it almost drowned out the rain pounding the roof and a Christmas carol flowing from the speaker.
“Silent Night”?
Hardly.
But she was all right, in one piece, as was her car. With luck, she could still reach her destination before bedtime. She would have arrived earlier, but an accident on the interstate from Houston to Royal had delayed her arrival. At least she was close enough to her destination to walk. According to her GPS, the front gate to Jesse Stevens’s ranch should be less than a mile away.
She pressed the clutch, threw the car into Neutral and pressed the ignition.
The engine turned over. Then spluttered out.
She tried again and...
Nothing. Not even a catch.
She’d bought the stick-shift model, a purist when it came to her sports cars. She liked the control of a manual transmission, a talent she’d learned when teaching herself to drive on one of her father’s older trucks on their Houston ranch. She’d been determined to perfect the skill, to win his approval.
Not much had changed on that front, since she was here to please her dad, to bolster his image with the charter branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club here in Royal, in hopes that he could be president of the new Houston branch.
Her PR plan would start with a surprise visit to Royal’s own Jesse Stevens, an influential player at the TCC. If she could ever get there.
She bit back a curse, weighing her options. The odds of a tow truck showing up out here in this weather were slim. Should she wait to see if the car started and risk getting hit by another wave?
Or start walking? In her broken shoes. In the rain. And mud. Sighing in resignation, she angled to get her umbrella.
Bracing, she opened the door, and rain sheeted inside. She wedged her umbrella through the opening, although it was fast becoming a moot point. Even her Prada trench was losing the fight against the deluge. Frigid water lapped around her ankles, soaking the hem of her slacks as she leaned into the wind, shivering. Still, she was determined to forge ahead, one step at a time.
She couldn’t bear the thought of telling her father she needed to postpone the promotion trip. He’d put his trust in her, and even knowing a thirty-four-year-old woman shouldn’t care this much what her father thought, she couldn’t deny she was still trying to win his approval, to be something other than the often-forgotten middle child.
In college, she’d found her niche with an aptitude for public relations. It was her chance to shine. When her father had taken note of her success after graduation, he’d hired her as PR executive for the family business, Perry Holdings.
And if ever Sterling Perry had needed a promotional face-lift, it was now, when the new Houston Texas Cattleman’s Club was cranking up. Fledgling organizations hated nothing more than a scandal.
And her father’s good name had taken quite a few blows, first with an arrest on charges of orchestrating a Ponzi scheme that nearly caused a collapse of one of his investment funds.
No sooner had her father gotten out from under the weight of the fraud rumors than he was under suspicion for the murder of a Perry Holdings assistant. And, as if her father wasn’t already stressed enough, just last week a Currin Oil executive named Willem Inwood had been arrested under suspicion of being behind the Ponzi scheme. He wasn’t talking yet, but already people were coming forward saying he was the one who’d started those nasty rumors.
Now, even though his innocence had been proven on the murder charge and Ponzi issue, he still needed a serious image makeover if he expected to win the club’s leadership spot.
And she intended to give him that fresh start, with some help from Jesse Stevens. Wrestling her bedraggled umbrella, she trudged ahead another couple of steps.
Were those lights flickering ahead? Hope and wariness jockeyed inside her. She was so very cold and soggy. But this also wasn’t Houston, with her high-rise condo secured by round-the-clock guards.
She pulled one hand from the umbrella and reached inside her coat to her cross-body bag, fumbling for her can of Mace.
The lights drew closer, grew stronger, until the glow focused into two beams. High off the ground. A truck. The driver’s-side door swung wide and a large, looming figure jumped out, ducking into the rain while holding his Stetson in place.
She gripped her Mace harder. She’d taken self-defense classes in college, but she was seriously off-balance with one broken heel and the other spiked into the mud.
“Ma’am, what are you doing out here tonight? Are you waiting for a tow truck?”
That voice. It couldn’t be... But her ears told her it was. After all, she’d spent countless hours watching videos of Jesse Stevens giving interviews, memorized them, in fact, to decide the best tactic for approaching him. She tilted her head to catch sight of his face below the brim to confirm.
And she gasped.
No picture could do him justice. Even with the Stetson covering his blond hair, he bore the look of a cowboy Viking. An image she found difficult to let go of once it came to life in her mind.
Spluttering on a mouthful of rain, she tucked her Mace can back into her purse, no longer needing protection.
She should have suspected the truck could belong to Jesse Stevens. She was near his ranch, after all. But still, weren’t the odds higher it would be one of his employees rather than him at this hour, in the rain?
Yet there was no doubting who this man was, even in the dark with just his headlights slicing through the night. She’d done her research on the man and his spread well before this excursion to meet him, persuade him.
But she wasn’t ready to let him know who she was. Not just yet. She swallowed hard. “My car won’t start, and the cell reception is garbage out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Speaking as the landlord of the Middle of Nowhere, I’ve never had any trouble with mine.” Rain dripped from the brim of his hat as he towered over her. “You should check with your provider.”
Was that irony or irritation coating his words?
Not good if she’d already made him angry. This would be over before it started.
She longed for higher heels to make her taller, closer to his eye level. “I’ll be sure to look into my provider as soon as I find dry clothes. If you could just help me call for a tow, I’ll get my suitcase so I can change. I’m freezing to death.”
It was cold for Texas, even in December.
“Your car’s not going anywhere tonight, ma’am. And there’s no way either of us should risk walking back over to your vehicle to retrieve your luggage. The ground could give way at any time.”
Her foot slipped. She looked quickly at him. “It’s just my broken shoe.”
Then her other foot shot out from under her. She lurched to the side, her umbrella whipping away in the wind. Her arms pinwheeled as she lost her balance, tumbling toward the rushing swell of water alongside the dirt road.
Strong hands clasped her waist and stopped her fall. Before she could catch her breath, he’d hauled her against his chest. His warm breath fanned her cheek.
“Are you all right?”
Other than goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold because she was in the arms of a Viking cowboy? “I’m fine.” Her words came out husky. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing out here this time of night in such crummy weather?” Thunder rolled in the distance.
She braced her palms on his impossibly broad shoulders and looked straight into Jesse Stevens’s emerald green eyes. “I’m looking for you.”
* * *
Jesse Stevens held the drenched woman against him, her willowy body enticing even through her soaked raincoat and his hastily-tossed-on jacket. He’d been making a last check of the horses, concerned about the thunder spooking them, when he’d seen the car lights. He’d been surprised, not expecting anyone until tomorrow. Not that he was complaining.
The matchmaker he’d hired had outdone herself in sending this candidate.
He wondered which of the three contenders this was—the single mom, the veterinarian or the Miss Texas pageant runner-up. This woman certainly could be the latter, and that might explain the high heels and flashy car choice. The height seemed to be right, based on the stats in her profile. Although it was difficult to tell much in the dark. He was definitely curious to learn more about the husky-voiced siren. All the more reason to resist the temptation to hold on for an extra second or two.
Stepping back, he still cupped her elbow. Just to make sure she didn’t lose her balance, of course. “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt when your car spun out, were you?”
She nodded, pulling one foot, then the other, out of the mud. “I’m fine, thank you. I truly didn’t expect the weather to get this bad.”
Given her slick trench and Porsche, she had more of a city-girl vibe that he had doubts would hold up out here. But the matchmaker would have told her about him and his rural lifestyle. He’d sure filled out a checklist of his criteria for the kind of woman he was looking for.
“Ma’am, the road is at risk of giving way further. You need to get to safety. My truck can take an alternate path that’s not accessible to the public.”
“Let’s go, then.” She started forward, her purse tucked tight to her side, but her foot sank deeper into the mud, stopping her progress. Sighing, she cursed under her breath. Like a sailor, no less.
An unexpected surprise. She had grit to go along with all of that glam. He could still feel the imprint of her
against him.
She glanced up at him, her eyelashes spiky wet, her ponytail slick and sleek down the front of her coat. “The heels aren’t holding up well out here.”
“Then I’ll carry you.” He wasn’t sure where the invitation came from, but now that he’d said it, the idea had taken root. An appealing option, and with each passing second, an increasingly necessary one.
“Whoa, wait.” She held up a manicured hand, with two chipped nails and another broken. “That’s a bit extreme.”
“Ma’am...” He smiled. “The longer we talk, the worse the roads will be. And I don’t know about you, but I’m cold even though I have on boots.”
Indecision flickered across her face. But then she shivered and her hand lowered. She nodded quickly, her teeth chattering.
All the invitation he needed.
He scooped her up into his arms, tucking her against him as he made tracks toward his truck. With a squeak of surprise, she looped her arms around his neck, a light scent of something floral and exotic riding the humid air to tempt his nose. Her body fit against him, the curve of her breast pressed to him.
So much for feeling cold. Heat fired through his veins. But he needed to learn more about her. His days of sowing wild oats were in the past. He was ready to settle down, build a family, and he wasn’t waiting around for chance to bring him the woman he needed.
He’d contacted a selective, high-priced matchmaker to assist him in the search. His days were packed with running his ranch. His only social life involved the occasional event at the Texas Cattleman’s Club and he already knew every one of the members. He wanted a wife, children—heirs. He didn’t believe in grand romance or love. But he was a firm advocate of the benefits of a winning partnership.
Yes, he more than wanted a wife. He needed a wife and he was prepared to offer that spouse his full partnership in return. A win-win for them both.
Once he found the right candidate.
Stopping by the passenger side of his dual-cab truck, he set the woman on her feet carefully, ensuring the ground beneath her was safe before he let go. The rain was coming down in buckets.
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