Platinum Cowboy

The ones who wanted their own pieces of the pie. He’d been one of them growing up. His father had been a ranch hand and his mother a cook on another big spread, but Flint had wanted to own his own land. Be his own boss.

Master the business himself, not work for someone else. It was one reason he treated his hands like family.

“You’ve obviously done your homework,” he said, although he wasn’t surprised. According to her references, she was smart, motivated, a hard worker who took initiative.

A small smile graced her face, offering him a glimpse of what she might look like if she really smiled.

“Of course. You’re even larger in person than in your photos.”

He arched a brow at that, noting the way she instantly averted her gaze, as if she hadn’t meant to personally comment on his looks.

A dozen different clips of articles that had been printed rolled through his head. Some complimented his skill as a businessman and rancher, especially his innovative breeding techniques and efforts at conservation. Others noted his charity donations, and the hunting regulations and wildlife preservation measures he’d championed.

But there were others that were not so flattering.

Ones that painted him as a conniving, cold son of a bitch who ruthlessly bought out small-time farmers to build his own empire.

And then there was that damn calendar. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to pose for the stupid bachelor thing, except that it had raised millions for charity and he liked to give back.

“Well, don’t believe everything you read,” he murmured.

She folded her hands but refrained from commenting. “I heard you imported some Arabians.”

His mouth tightened. “Yes. Then I guess you also heard about the trouble at the airport.”

She shook her head and he explained, pure horror mounting on her face. “Are the horses all right?”

Ah, so she did sincerely love horses. She’d do a good job.

Except she was so damn small and delicate. Could she really handle herself?

Only time would tell.

“Thankfully, yes.” He checked his watch, then scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, fatigue wearing on him from the strain of the day.

“I’m anxious to see them, along with the rest of your stock. I watched Diamond Daddy win the derby. What an incredible animal.”

He nodded and smiled. “That he is. He’s a descendant of Diamondback Jack—”

“The horse you named the ranch after.”

He angled his head to study her again. “Right. You obviously researched me.”

“Oh, yes. I wanted to be prepared.”

He grinned. Prepared for what? To dislike him?

Hell, the fact that she did irritated him, but he’d change that. He could be charming when he wanted. Sooner or later, he’d win her over.

And get into her bed.

Don’t go there. You have enough to do with breeding season, and with a murderer to catch.

He stood, shaking his head to clear it. “It’s too late to show you around tonight. How about we meet in the morning, and I’ll give you the grand tour?”

She tensed slightly. “I know you’re a busy man, Mr. McKade—”

“Flint.”

She sighed. “Flint. One of your ranch hands or managers can give me a tour.”

He gritted his teeth. Her attitude was starting to annoy him. “Nonsense. If you’re going to work with my horses, I want to see how they react to you.”

She arched a brow. “So this is a test?”

“No, it’s just that I can usually judge if an employee is going to click by their interaction with my other workers and with the animals.”

Her blue eyes darkened. “And how am I doing so far?”

He grinned. “Let’s see how it goes in the morning. Now I’ll show you to your quarters.”

She stood, brushing down her skirt. “Fine.”

He dragged his gaze from her legs and started to tell her to dress for work in the morning, but then he remembered her comment about growing up on a ranch and bit back the gibe. He didn’t want to piss her off any more than he already had.

He just hoped she was more endearing to his animals than she was to him.

LORA LEIGH CLIMBED IN her Jeep and followed Flint in his truck down the graveled road, past the most beautiful pastureland she’d ever seen and several barns, to a small white wooden cottage shaded by giant live oaks and elms. A large weeping willow also shadowed the porch with its sweeping, spidery arms, as if to reach out and embrace her.

A swing on the small front porch and a pot of pansies added a homey flair. Dust swirled around her as she parked and climbed out. She went to retrieve her suitcase from the back, but Flint grabbed it and her cosmetic bag, so she retrieved her laptop.

“I have some apartments on the west side and a few small cottages throughout the ranch for other employees,” he said. “But I thought you’d be more comfortable here. It’s closer to the barns for the horses you’ll be in charge of and will give you some privacy from ranch hands.”

She’d read about his housing projects, the apartments both on the ranch and in town.

“Besides the ranch hands, grooms, trainers and their assistants and vets, I have a wildlife biologist on board as well as scientists specializing in crop production. Each of the vets is assigned to a specific area, but I also have a vet clinic near the main house. It has an office and a computer set up and is fully equipped with medical supplies and equipment. It adjoins the office space for my managers.” He gestured toward a long white building from which a plume of smoke arose.

“That’s the cafeteria. We serve breakfast starting at five o’clock, and meals are available throughout the day.” He led her up the narrow pebbled walkway to the porch, then climbed the steps. She couldn’t help but notice the way his tight jeans hugged his butt and the way his denim shirt stretched across those massive shoulders.

Heaven help her. She had to stop ogling him. He was the enemy.

Flint unlocked the door and pushed it open, then gestured for her to enter. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable, ” he said as she entered.

“It’s fine,” she said, although it was more than fine. A comfortable oversize blue sofa and a chair sat in the living room, in front of a braided rug, and the area opened to a modern kitchen with a breakfast bar and a pine table.

“It’s just one bedroom,” he said, “but there’s a nice bath, and the view’s not bad. You can see the sunrise from the porch in the mornings. The kitchen is stocked with basics to get you started. You’re welcome to take meals at the cafeteria, or you can eat on your own.”

She enjoyed cooking, and when she closed her eyes, she could still smell the scent of her mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls and buttermilk biscuits in the oven and the fresh sausage frying in the pan.

But she intended to use every minute she could here to find out what had happened to Johnny.

Flint strode into the bedroom and settled her suitcase on a luggage rack at the foot of the bed. Two windows, with billowing curtains, flanked the antique four-poster bed, which was covered by a quilt in various shades of blue and white calico.

She stopped to admire the intricate pattern and tiny stitch work. “Oh, my, this is a Dresden plate pattern. Is it handmade?”

He nodded, an odd expression lining his chiseled face. “My mother made it. Quilting was kind of a hobby of hers.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

He stepped back from the bed, his gaze meeting hers. “Do you quilt?”

She hesitated, reluctant to share anything personal with this man who she was supposed to hate. “Yes. My grandmother and mother were both quilters. They taught me when I was a little girl.” And her mother had left her a wedding-ring quilt for her hope chest, the last one she’d made before she died.

Not that Lora Leigh ever planned to marry. She didn’t trust men. Some were intimidated by her degree, some thought she was too much of a tomboy, while others implied she wasn’t sophisticated enough. She just never seemed to fit…

“Well, I guess we have something in common,” Flint said quietly. “Other than our love of horses.”

Emotions bounded up to her throat. She didn’t want to have anything in common with him. To like him at all.

In fact, she felt like a traitor for being on his land. And especially for thinking for even a moment that Flint McKade was handsome.

That he might not be the bad guy she’d pegged him to be.

No, he was bad. He’d said he was sorry about her father’s death, but he hadn’t apologized for driving him to suicide. Stealing her father’s land had been the last straw.

Flint might as well have put the rifle in her father’s hand.

All that blood on the wall…

She couldn’t erase the image from her head. Her father’s vacant eyes, pale skin, his body covered in blood…

“Well, it’s late,” Flint said quietly. “I’ll let you settle in, and I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll come by around six.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded and forced herself not to turn around and watch him leave. But when she heard the door click shut, the tears began to fall.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked to the window and looked out into the night. Somewhere in the distance, frogs croaked, a coyote howled and horses whinnied, reminding her of all she loved about ranch life. The land was rugged in places, dotted with rocky areas, boulders, sagebrush and wild animal life, yet crops survived, cattle thrived and breeding season was in full swing. The stars shimmered in the inky night sky like glittering diamonds, the smell of horses and hay and lush green grass welcoming her as if she were home.

But she wasn’t home. She’d lost her home because of Flint.

Angrily, she swiped at the tears and cursed herself for being weak and for admiring for even a second the ranch that Flint had built. She’d find out what had happened to Johnny, make sure he was alive and safe; then she’d get the hell off the Diamondback and start over someplace else.

But she’d have to watch herself, force herself to be nice and professional. Flint was so influential in the ranching and farming community; if he wasn’t pleased with her work, he could ruin her professional reputation in Texas. And she had no one to take care of her now, no one to turn to, no one to rely on but herself. She had to maintain her reputation and integrity, no matter what.

Of course, if worst came to worst, she could leave the state. Once she found Johnny, there would be nothing holding her here.

She turned to look at the northernmost part of the ranch, at the acreage that had held her home around which swirled the memories that had shaped her life. She had no idea what Flint intended to do with the paltry spread.

But that piece of land would always hold her heart.

And no one would ever touch her heart, especially not Flint McKade.

Chapter Three

The first rays of sunlight streaked the bedroom with various shades of red and orange and gold, waking Lora Leigh from a troubled sleep. She brewed a pot of coffee, then sat in the porch swing to watch the sun slowly rising behind the willow trees, soaking in the quiet as she observed a mare and her foal roaming in the pasture nearby. Others ran across the open space, their manes whipping in the slight breeze. The brilliant colors streaking the horizon made the rolling, lush pastures of the Diamondback look elegant and peaceful, although peace evaded her.

She removed the letter her father had written before he died and unfolded the single piece of plain stationery, studying the scrawled writing. She’d always teased her father about his chicken scratch, but now the narrow print and jagged lines of his penmanship made her long for him even more.

She’d read the suicide note a dozen times, but once again, she reread his last words, needing them to fortify her for the day ahead.

My dearest Lora Leigh,

I write this to you today with a heavy heart, but I do not want yours to be heavy or for you to mourn me when I’m gone. I have had a wonderful sixty years. I loved your mother with all my heart, and you and Johnny completed my life in a way the ranch couldn’t even do.

The Double W was my dream. The smell of the earth, the feel of soil beneath my hands as I planted crops, the sound of cattle grazing and horses galloping across the land—these were precious to me and reminded me of how fleeting and beautiful life is. I only wish that I could have held on to it for you. But I don’t regret a moment of my life or the sacrifices we made as a family together.

That is what families do.

As I said, the Double W was my dream. I hope when I’m gone that you both find your own dreams and make them come true. Now it is time for me to join your mother. Don’t cry for me. Know that I am with the love of my life, and that we’ll both be watching over you.

I love you always,

Dad

Lora Leigh wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks, finished her coffee, then headed to the cafeteria for breakfast, bracing herself to face Flint, take care of his prized animals, and pretend that she didn’t despise him for breaking her father’s heart.

FLINT READ THE NEWSPAPER over his morning coffee and his breakfast of steak and eggs in his home office. The front page spread about Prince Viktor Romanov’s death reminded him of his personal loss. Memories of Aggie tailgating, frat parties, and bonding over beer and chili flashed back.

Dammit, the news reports stated that the bodies of the royal family had been burned beyond recognition. The authorities were still sifting through the debris and bodies from the explosion that had destroyed the palace, trying to make sense of the mess and identify all those lost. But they were convinced that Viktor and his entire family were gone.

Flint scrubbed his hand over his face, his chest aching. But his personal loss was nothing compared to the loss of Viktor’s fellow countrymen.

The people of Rasnovia would suffer. In the wake of the political unrest, Viktor had been instrumental in guiding them from Soviet rule to a free and democratic society. The Aggie Four Foundation had invested in the country’s infrastructure and burgeoning local businesses, which had improved Rasnovia’s economy.

Now the country was in turmoil again, and all the assets would be tied up. And who would bolster Rasnovia’s fledgling democracy and protect the people from the rebels?

He finished his coffee, knotting his hand into a fist. He hoped to hell they found the party responsible for the royal family’s demise and punished the perpetrators for what they’d done.

Lucinda tottered in, with a smile and more coffee, but Flint shook his head as his cell phone rang. He checked the number—Norton International. Deke Norton, another Aggie grad, who was a few years older than Flint, Viktor, Jackson and Akeem, had built his empire with a focus on his import/export business and had also offered each member of the Aggie Four financial advice over the years, which had aided them immensely. He was also a good friend and was mourning Viktor’s death.

Flint connected the call. “Good morning, Deke.”

“Is it?” Deke asked, with an edge to his voice.

Flint pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, not really. I was trying to be optimistic.”

“What’s going on?” Deke asked. “First Viktor is killed. Then your business is attacked.”

Flint frowned. The two couldn’t be related. “I know. I still can’t believe Viktor is actually gone. I keep expecting him to call and say it was a horrible mistake.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Deke said bleakly. “But what about you? Were you hurt at the airport?”

“No, but two of my ranch hands and my pilot were killed.”

“The Arabians weren’t injured?”

“They’re fine and in quarantine now. I hired a new vet to oversee their medical care. Are you still interested in a purchase?”

“Absolutely. I’ll try to get out there soon to take a look. Remember, I get first pick.”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to the auction house today to look at a few yearlings from promising lines.” Deke hesitated. “Do you know if there’s going to be a memorial service for Viktor here in the States? I thought someone at A&M might be planning one.”

“I haven’t heard, but if I do, I’ll let you know.” They agreed to talk later, and Flint disconnected the call.

He thanked Lucinda for the meal, stood, grabbed his Stetson and headed toward the door, but his cell phone rang again. He checked the number and saw it was his half brother, Tate Nettleton. Tate was a pain in the ass, and he didn’t have time to deal with him now, so he let it ring.

That afternoon he had to attend funerals for Grover and his pilot, but this morning he planned to pick up Lora Leigh and show her around his ranch. Pride bloomed in his chest as he stepped into the warm spring sunshine and inhaled the scent of grass and hay. For a moment, he paused to drink it all in, his land, his horses and cattle, his home. He smiled as he watched two mares gallop across the pasture, their foals trotting awkwardly behind.

He was damn proud of what he’d built here, and for some odd reason, he wanted Lora Leigh to be impressed.

But he sensed she might be immune to his accomplishments.

Although she had liked the handmade quilt he’d had Lucinda dig out from his mother’s collection for her bed. Lucinda had questioned him about using items from his treasured personal collection for an employee, but he’d shrugged off her curiosity by saying that it was time he put the quilts to use.

But that wasn’t entirely true. He had seen the homemade quilts at the Whittaker house when he’d stopped by to meet with Lora Leigh’s father, and he’d decided that using one on the bed in the guesthouse would make her feel at home.

He climbed in his truck, started the engine and drove to the guest cottage, his stomach tightening when he spotted Lora Leigh waiting on the front porch. She was dressed in a baby blue T-shirt that hugged her breasts, jeans that molded her lean, muscular legs and work boots, and she had a jacket tied around her waist. Her beautiful blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, which she’d fitted through the back of an Aggie baseball cap, making her look impossibly young and…sweet.

He’d never seen anyone wear denim the way she did. He’d never thought anything was more beautiful than his horses, but Lora Leigh took his breath away.

But judging from the professional expression tacked on her face as she strode toward him, she didn’t think the same about him.

LORA LEIGH SETTLED INTO the passenger seat, trying to ignore the tension simmering between her and Flint as he began the tour. She’d wanted to flash Johnny’s picture around the cafeteria this morning and ask about him, but she’d forced herself to wait. She couldn’t draw suspicion to herself on the first day at work. She had to be patient, to slowly begin to ask around.

Still, she had searched the sea of faces and had introduced herself to a few ranch hands, assistant trainers and grooms, as well as to two other vets.

Much to her consternation, they had all sung Flint’s praises. He was fair. A great boss. He cared about his employees. He offered great benefits and competitive salaries.

He was innovative in farming, cattle ranching and horse breeding, crossing American and European strains in line breeding to develop the ranch’s thoroughbreds.

Flint handed her a map of the Diamondback. “Basically, the ranch is divided into four quadrants: northeast, northwest, southeast and southwest. I know that’s simplistic, but it works. The northeast and northwest quadrants are the largest and hold the cattle, the southwest quadrant is our agriculture and farming mecca, with fruit groves and wheat our core specialties, and the southeast, where we are now, is designated for horse breeding. We also have race tracks for training.”

She nodded and glanced at the map, then at the pastures, barns, stables and small housing areas, as they drove. Live oaks, cedar trees, large pinion pines and elms dotted the property, along with natural shrubs and grass.

“We have about fifty-five thousand cattle in our herd in the north quadrants. The terrain is more mixed, with rugged, high hills, large canyons and valleys with dry creek beds and limestone bluffs. But we get water from the river and also have several running creeks throughout.”

“You use helicopters and ATVs for herding?” Lora Leigh asked.

“Yeah, I have the Falcon. But we’re still a little old-fashioned around here, and we sometimes work on horseback. ” He pulled down the lane to a large stable, where she saw two grooms brushing down quarter horses.

“This stable houses the working quarter horses,” Flint said. “You’re welcome to take your pick if you want to ride.”

He stopped, and they got out so he could show her inside. A lean-looking cowboy glanced up from where he was organizing tack.

“This is Dr. Whittaker, our new vet,” Flint said. “Lora Leigh, this is Jake Kenner. He’s new with us, too. A trainer. But if you’ll let him know which horse you want to use, one of our hands will have him saddled for you.”

Lora Leigh extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake. But I can saddle my own horse.”

Flint frowned, but Jake smiled and shook her hand.

From there, Flint showed her the vet clinic and introduced her to Carol, a charming, robust woman in her forties, who served as the office manager. Carol greeted him affectionately.

Flint grinned. “Carol does everything around here. She’s in charge of ordering medical supplies, coordinating communication between the veterinarians, shipping medical tests to the lab, arranging for assistants. You know we have interns to check the animals nights and on weekends, to give you time off,” he said. “Although we might need you for an emergency.”

“Of course,” Lora Leigh said. “And I don’t mind working weekends.”

“Everyone needs a life,” Flint said. “I don’t want my people burning out.”

Darn it. He sounded nice. Not what she had expected at all.

Then again, he’d fooled her father into selling him his ranch. That was Flint’s game: he knew how to woo and seduce and get what he wanted. She couldn’t fall for his act.

Back in the truck, they headed into the horse quadrant. “That’s the stud barn, and there’s the turnout area for the stallions. The breeding area is part of that barn. We have a separate area for the Thoroughbreds and quarter horses. Broodmares are turned out in pastures, except those getting ready to foal or to be bred.” He gestured to some outdoor pens, where she noticed three gorgeous, sleek mares.

“The yearlings are kept separate, and some are being sent to the auction house now. I keep the show horses and sale horses separate as well.”

“Do you keep them under lights in the winter to keep their coats slick?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “We have some race horses on the road in training, but a couple of our younger ones are kept here near the track.”

“You retired Diamond Daddy to stud?” Lora Leigh asked.

“Yes, his first season.” Flint smiled again, obviously proud of his prized stallion. “I’m anxious to see if he produces another Triple Crown winner.”

“You board and train a lot of horses for Middle Eastern owners?” Lora Leigh asked.

He nodded. “I’ve got contacts there through my friends. We’ve raced the quarter horses as well as competed in reining, cutting and roping and in some of the big rodeos.”

“I saw that one of yours won the National Cutting Horse Association Championship.”

“Yeah. Salamander. We’ve racked up some quarter horse world championships.”

Lora Leigh noticed a bald eagle soaring gracefully above the land. “I heard you’ve instituted hunting regulations on your land.”