From New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston comes a story about how even the most unlikely of men can be a diamond in the rough.
Candy Baylor is determined to learn how to train horses and nothing—not even the bullheaded, ruggedly handsome Garth Whitelaw—is going to stop her. When he finally agrees to teach her, Candy is surprised by his sudden agreeable attitude. However she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, her instructors in school had never been so devilishly good-looking... will Candy be the one to tame a once-reckless wrangler?
The last thing Garth wants to do is hold a rich Texas debutante’s hand and drag her around his ranch. She’s too bossy by half, but she sure looks good in tight, worn jeans and with hay in her hair. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal after all…
Previously published as The Wrangler and the Rich Girl.
Dear Reading Friends,
I had no idea when I wrote the three HAWK’S WAY novels in this collection, The Rancher and the Runaway Bride, The Cowboy and the Princess and The Wrangler and the Rich Girl, that they were the beginning of a series that would eventually span twelve books and three generations of Whitelaws. The family tree just before the first book tells you in which order the books were written.
If you’re like me, you enjoy continuing stories about the same family because they provide an opportunity to see how people who grow up in the same family experience life so differently from one another, how family can help—or inhibit—a romance and how individuals seek—and find—love for different reasons, even though they were raised with essentially the same family values.
I often write about other members of the same family because I want to know “the rest of the story.” What happened to that cold-eyed elder brother or that wounded younger sister? I’m frequently surprised at what the characters do and say, by whom they choose to love and by how love finds them. I’m always glad when they manage to live happily ever after. I hope you’ll enjoy these family stories of love and laughter.
Happy trails,
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
JOAN JOHNSTON
“Multi-talented…poignant and sensitive…Joan Johnston continually gives us everything that we want…a story that you wish would never end, and lots of tension and sensuality.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
“Absolutely captivating…a delightful storyteller…Joan Johnston [creates] unforgettable subplots and characters who make every fine thread weave into a touching tapestry.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Joan Johnston does contemporary Westerns to perfection.”
—Publishers Weekly
“…Ms. Johnston writes of intense emotions and tender passions that seem so real that readers will feel each one of them…[she] writes the very essence of the West…”
—Rave Reviews
HAWK’S WAY: GARTH
JOAN JOHNSTON
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
“So how did Mom and Dad meet, Charlie?”
“That’s a long story, Zach, and it’s time for you three kids to get to bed.” Charlie One Horse, the ancient part-Comanche housekeeper at Hawk’s Way, ruffled the hair of the seven-year-old boy sitting on the rawhide stool at the foot of his chair. Zach Whitelaw was the spitting image of his father, Garth. He had black hair that hung over his forehead and dark brown eyes that could be equally serious and mischievous.
“I wanta hear, too,” Falcon said. Garth’s six-year-old son was stretched out on his belly in front of the fireplace, his head resting on his palms. He had his father’s black hair, but his eyes were the same blue as his mother’s. Falcon possessed bronzed skin, high cheekbones and a sharp blade of nose passed down from his Comanche great-great-grandmother.
“Me, too!” four-year-old Callen chorused. Garth’s youngest child, the only girl, had her mother’s delicate features, but her father’s black hair and dark eyes. She wriggled around in Charlie’s lap so she could see the old man’s face. She put a hand on the Indian’s weathered cheek and said, “Please, Charlie?”
Charlie glanced from the three children to their parents, who were sitting on the sofa across from him. Garth had his arm around Candy, and her blond head lay nestled against his shoulder. His big hand clasped hers. They were the image of a loving, caring couple. It hadn’t always been that way.
“So you wanta hear how your mom and dad met, do you?”
“You bet!”
“Sure do!”
“Uh-huh!”
“And after I finish you’ll all go to bed without arguin’?”
Three heads nodded vigorously.
“Well, now, let me see,” Charlie began as he tugged on the rawhide that held one of his gray braids. He chose his words well, knowing there was no way he could tell those three innocent faces the truth. “Long about eight years ago, your father was a hoss wrangler, just like he is now. And your mother, why, she was a rich girl. One of them gen-u-ine Texas deb-u-tantes. Now, one day…”
Garth’s hand tightened on Candy’s as the old man began to speak. Their eyes met and held. As Charlie told a story of how they had met and fallen in love, the two of them remembered how it had really happened.
CHAPTER ONE
Garth Whitelaw had only one use for women, so he didn’t have much to do with the decent sort, like the lady heading straight for him now. He avoided meeting the widely spaced, speculative gray eyes that sought him out along the show ring at the spring quarter horse sale in Amarillo. But he felt a definite tightening across his loins as he perused her long, jean-clad legs and sylphlike figure.
He couldn’t help admiring the grace of her walk or the way her long blond hair shifted across her shoulders as she moved. His appreciation was balanced by the knowledge that where this particular woman was concerned, the growing bulge behind his fly had damn well better stay zipped in his jeans.
Candice Baylor was a genuine Texas debutante, the daughter of one of the richest men in the state. Garth had first met her three years ago, when she was seventeen. She and her father, Evan, had come to his northwest Texas ranch, Hawk’s Way, to look over some championship cutting horses Garth had for sale.
Initially Garth had been amused when Candy tagged along behind him everywhere he went. He had a younger sister who had taught him patience, so he answered all Candy’s eager questions with brotherly indulgence. Because she was clever and interested in everything he did, it was easy to be tolerant.
It soon became clear to Garth that his horses weren’t the only thing that interested Candy Baylor. Unless he was very much mistaken, the girl had caught a bad case of puppy love. She began flirting with him, sending coy, come-hither looks from beneath lowered lashes.
Garth was annoyed by her antics because even though he knew what she was doing—and despite the fact that she was entirely too young for him—he had felt the first stirrings of arousal. He had scowled mightily at her, but even that hadn’t discouraged her.
Garth frowned as he remembered how, the night before she was scheduled to leave the ranch, Candy had confronted him in the downstairs room that served as both office and parlor. She had been dressed for bed and wore a thigh-length belted aqua silk robe over matching long silk pajama bottoms. She might only have been seventeen, but Garth had seen a woman’s shape beneath the sensually draped fabric.
Candy claimed she couldn’t sleep and just needed someone
to talk to. Garth had given her several crude, broad hints, but she hadn’t left him alone. So he had settled back in his chair with a whiskey in hand to watch the show, certain he could handle anything this spoiled little rich girl could dish out.
Candy had wandered around the room touching his things—vicariously touching him. She sought out the collection of trophies he had won in cutting horse futurities and fingered the delicate designs. She picked up a photo of Garth with his two younger brothers, Faron and Jesse, and his sister, Tate, from the mantel and tenderly traced his image. Then she ran her hand the length of the pine mantel, which drew her slowly, inexorably toward where he sat in one of the two leather chairs that faced the stone fireplace.
Frustrated by the arousal he couldn’t control, Garth fought fire with fire. As she stood before him, he let his gaze insolently run the length of her, stopping to admire the firm, high breasts and flat belly before following the length of her pajama-clad legs to her bare toes. When he looked back up at her face, she was blushing a fiery red.
But she didn’t run. He felt a grudging respect for her because he knew the same look had warned off older, more savvy women. Candy had merely turned and strolled, hips sashaying, to the chair across from him. Instead of sitting down normally, she had curled herself into the leather chair with her feet underneath her. She had rested her elbows on the arm of the chair and cupped her chin in her hands.
“Why haven’t you ever gotten married?” she asked.
Garth had fielded that question from a lot of women during his thirty-odd years. He gave her his usual cynical response. “Why buy the cow when the milk’s free?”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That’s an awful thing to say! A man gets other things from marriage besides sex.”
“There’s nothing else I want or need from a woman.”
“What about children?”
Garth’s lips flattened. “If I could be sure they were mine, maybe I’d want some.”
“What do you mean, if you could be sure they were yours? Whose else would they be?”
“Some other man’s,” Garth responded curtly.
“No wife of yours would—”
“You’re right. No wife of mine would. I’d kill her first,” Garth said in a harsh voice. “But don’t fool yourself. Lots of wives cheat on their husbands.” His own mother had cheated on his father. His younger brother—half brother—Faron had been the result.
“What about companionship?” Candy demanded. “A wife can be a friend, someone to share your hopes and dreams and troubles with.”
“I’ve got lots of friends.” He smirked and added, “Of course, none of them are women. I figure there are better things to do when you’re with a woman than talk.”
She blushed again, an enchanting pink flush that raised the ridge in his jeans. He was ready to concede the battle to her and leave the room, but she asked one more question.
“What about love?” she said in a quiet voice.
“What about it?”
“Haven’t you ever been in love with a woman and wanted her to love you back?”
His lips curled in a sardonic smile. “I’m not the kind of man women fall in love with.”
She swallowed hard and said, “I love you.”
Her gray eyes were huge in her face. He had never seen such a look in a woman’s eyes. This was different from the admiration of his physical body, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his straight nose and mouth, his black hair and deep brown eyes, which he had often seen from the women who wanted him—for sex or his money or to show off on their arms. This was something more.
Garth felt a pain in his chest, like there was a great weight on it, making it hard to breathe. For one brief instant he wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and hold her tight, to reach out and accept the love she offered.
But it was an instant only, and the fact he had even considered holding to his bosom what he knew was just one more female viper made him all the more harsh when he finally responded to her words of love.
“What you’re feeling isn’t love, little girl. It’s good old-fashioned lust. Since you’ve been asking for it ever since you walked into this room, I figure it’s about time you got it.” He noticed his hand was shaking when he set down his whiskey glass, so he quickly balled it into a fist.
When he rose to his full height she looked up at him, frozen like a rabbit in a gunsight. Her face had bleached white and her hands had dropped into her lap. He reached out to grasp her wrists and slowly drew her to her feet.
Garth waited for Candy to stop him or show the least sign of fear or resistance. What he wanted her to do was run from him, back to her rich daddy, back to the safe haven of her room upstairs.
He was less surprised this time when she did not.
Candy laid her hands on his bare forearms. Then she turned her face up to his. Her innocent gray eyes were filled with love—and trust.
Garth had never felt so confused. His flesh burned where she touched him. Desire sent blood rushing through his body, engorging a shaft that was already rock hard. He wanted her like he had never wanted another woman. But he was equally determined that he wasn’t going to take her. She was just a rich kid with a bad case of puppy love—which he was about to cure.
His mouth was hard, almost brutal, when it captured hers, and his tongue raped and ravaged the inside of her mouth.
Sweet. Dear God, she’s so sweet!
Garth was disturbed and disgusted when he felt himself responding to the young girl in his arms. He was a bastard, but not enough of one to take advantage of a teenage virgin. He pressed his mouth harder against hers—hard enough to scare the bejesus out of her—until he tasted blood.
He felt her begin to struggle in his arms and reached out for her breast, the most crude, most possessive male gesture he could make. He cupped the warmth of her through the slippery silk, and in spite of the strong urge he felt to caress her, forced himself to tighten his hold beyond what a girl of her little experience would find comfortable. This wasn’t making love. This was sex. Down and dirty. The kind he might have with a woman who wanted it a little rough.
“No, Garth!”
When Candy jerked away, he let her go. She nearly fell when he released her. She stood panting, her parted lips still moist and swollen from his kisses. Her eyes…her gray eyes were wounded, full of pain and disillusionment. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of blood across her cheek. He felt acid in the pit of his stomach.
“Why?” she asked in a ragged voice. “I love—”
He cut her off with an obscene oath. “Don’t use that word to me! Foolish little girl! You’re just a rich kid playing grown-up. Come back and see me when you’re woman enough to handle what I have to offer.”
He kept his eyes hard, his lips curled into a sneer.
Even then she hadn’t run. He had watched the tears brim in her eyes, watched her try to blink them back before one finally spilled down her cheek. It was plain she wanted to say something to him, but she couldn’t talk because she had her teeth gritted to control her trembling chin.
For several tense moments he stood there feeling an urgent need to comfort her. He forced himself to remain where he was. What he had done was for her own good. But the tightness in his chest was back.
At last she swallowed and said, “You’re the fool, Garth Whitelaw, to throw away an offer of love. You’re going to end up a bitter, lonely old man.
“But I thank you for making me see that giving my love to a man like you, a man who can’t—or won’t—give love in return, would be like standing in front of a Brahma bull, waiting to get stomped. I know when it’s time to make a break for the fence. Believe me when I say I’ll be glad to put some distance between us!”
She turned and marched from the room, shoulders back, head held high with a dignity and courage he couldn’t help but admire.
He hadn’t seen Candice Baylor again before she left Hawk’s
Way or at any time since that night. Until now. Here she was headed straight toward him, a friendly smile on her face as though that night had never happened. At least they were on neutral territory at the fairgrounds in Amarillo. It was doubtful she planned to make a scene in a public place, although that had happened to him once or twice in the past with other women. His lips flattened in displeasure as he recalled such a moment.
“Hello, Garth.”
He had forgotten how husky her voice was. The sound rasped over his flesh, lifting the hairs. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. An awkward silence followed. Candy was close enough that he could smell the perfume she was wearing, the light scent of lilacs. He felt his body tightening in instant response to her allure and swore under his breath.
She froze and her face paled.
Garth clamped his back teeth and stood in silence.
“I need to talk to you,” she said at last.
“If you want to buy a horse, see the auctioneer.”
“Not about that.”
Garth refused to help her by asking what she wanted. He watched the expressions chase across her face. Frustration, then anger, then determination.
“I’d like you to join me for a drink at the hotel across the street,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were old enough to drink in a public place.”
She flushed painfully, but her chin came up a notch. “I’m not. I’ll have a glass of tea. I have a proposal I’d like to make to you. I thought we might as well get away from the noise and bustle of the sale. Will you join me?”
Garth listened to the auctioneer’s patter over the microphone and the sounds of horses neighing. People were going right on with their lives, unaware that he was being confronted by a specter from his past.
He knew it would be a mistake to go with her. Despite the three years that had passed since he had seen Candy Baylor, he was still attracted to her. She was definitely not a child anymore. Her voice, her face, her body had all matured. She was a woman now.
Hawk's Way: Garth Page 1
