Tall, Dark & Western

He’d Have Liked Nothing More Than To Climb Right Into That Shower With Her, But He Had Things To See To.

A baby to deal with.

Normally he’d have hesitated to enter the room where the baby slept, but anxiety and adrenaline pushed him into the room. He leaned over the crib and looked down at the tiny, red-faced occupant. “Hey, little man, what’s the matter?”

Bobby stopped crying. And then he smiled. Not a tentative smile, but a wriggling, fist-waving, feet-kicking, face-splitting grin.

Marty’s throat grew tight. A shaft of the familiar pain speared his heart, but he forced himself to reach down and slide his hands beneath the baby, lifting him up and settling him against his chest. The baby snuggled in as if he belonged there.

Maybe he did. Marty blinked, trying to clear vision suddenly suspiciously blurred. This child was a member of his family, his child now.

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year from Silhouette Desire, where we offer you six passionate, powerful and provocative romances every month of the year! Here’s what you can indulge yourself with this January….

Begin the new year with a seductive MAN OF THE MONTH, Tall, Dark & Western by Anne Marie Winston. A rancher seeking a marriage of convenience places a personals ad for a wife, only to fall—hard—for the single mom who responds!

Silhouette Desire proudly presents a sequel to the wildly successful in-line continuity series THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB. This exciting new series about alpha men on a mission is called TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: LONE STAR JEWELS. Jennifer Greene’s launch book, Millionaire M.D., features a wealthy surgeon who helps out his childhood crush when she finds a baby on her doorstep—by marrying her!

Alexandra Sellers continues her exotic miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT with one more irresistible sheikh in Sheikh’s Woman. THE BARONS OF TEXAS miniseries by Fayrene Preston returns with another feisty Baron heroine in The Barons of Texas: Kit. In Kathryn Jensen’s The Earl’s Secret, a British aristocrat romances a U.S. commoner while wrestling with a secret. And Shirley Rogers offers A Cowboy, a Bride & a Wedding Vow, in which a cowboy discovers his secret child.

So ring in the new year with lots of cheer and plenty of red-hot romance, by reading all six of these enticing love stories.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Tall, Dark & Western

Anne Marie Winston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE MARIE WINSTON

has believed in happy endings all her life. Having the opportunity to share them with her readers gives her great joy. Anne Marie enjoys figure skating and working in the gardens of her south-central Pennsylvania home.

For Harold, who keeps all my parts in working order.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

Prologue

When he saw the letter addressed in a looping, unfamiliar feminine handwriting, Marty Stryker withdrew the mail from his post office box in Kadoka, South Dakota, as if it might be poisonous. Stopping by the trash barrel in the corner to get rid of the junk mail, he held up the envelope, weighing it in his palm.

Should he even read it? The last few had been so goofy he hadn’t even bothered to answer them. Quickly, he slit one envelope and scanned the contents.

Dear Rancher,

How much would I have to know about children to marry you? I am eighteen years old. I know you might think that’s a little young but—

With a snort, Marty tossed the letter into the trash. And another one bites the dust.

Dispiritedly, he pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the icy winter afternoon. His truck was parked at an angle just a few steps away on Main Street and he quickly strode over and folded his big frame inside, starting the engine and sitting there for a minute while it warmed up. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the seat, running his fingers through his gold-tipped curls.

A mild depression settled over him. He’d placed an ad in several Rapid City, South Dakota, papers nearly a year ago for a wife. Who’d have thought it would be so difficult to find a good woman?

He reached for the keys and cranked the engine, then started the drive south out of town to the Lucky Stryke, the outfit he worked with his brother Deck. All Marty wanted was a capable, friendly woman to share the raising of his daughter and help with the work around the ranch. Someone who’d enjoy a good romp between the sheets a few nights a week. She didn’t have to declare undying love; in fact he wouldn’t even consider marrying anyone who did.

No, he’d had love once. And losing Lora had been unbearable. All he wanted now was a partner, someone he liked enough to live with and make a life with. He didn’t want more children, so she’d have to be someone who didn’t hanker after babies. But other than that, he didn’t have a lot of requirements.

Or maybe he did. He thought back over the past few months to some of the disastrous encounters he’d had. Drunken women, priggish women, women who said they were thirty when they were closer to sixty…the one that took the cake, though, was the one who had declared that she could never live in a Godforsaken place like Kadoka.

He loved his little town, with its population of seven hundred something. He loved the wide, flat prairie and the gently rolling hills. He loved the lousy winters and the scorching summers, the stupid cattle and the awesome power of the storms that swept down from the north. He glanced out the window at the eroded outcroppings and peaks of the Badlands that stretched away to the west, stark and strangely beautiful to his eye—

And against his will, he remembered another trip on this very road, over two years ago, heading in the opposite direction at a much higher rate of speed as he’d rushed to get his laboring wife to the hospital in Rapid City.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel and the tips of his fingers grew white. He’d lost the battle with time on the trip, lost both Lora and the infant son she’d carried, and lived with the loneliness and grief every day since. Getting married again wasn’t at the top of his list of things he really wanted to accomplish in his lifetime, but he had his daughter to think of. His daughter, his beautiful, totally out of control daughter, needed a mother. And he was tired of sleeping alone, trying to get meals and laundry done in between feeding, branding and birthing calves, tired of the dreary look his home had acquired without a woman’s presence.

So he guessed he’d keep on with his ad campaign, even though his brother and his friends thought it was a crazy idea.

The right woman had to be out there somewhere.

Juliette Duchenay dropped the envelope through the mail slot in the Rapid City, South Dakota Post Office.

A full minute later, she still stood in front of the box. What in the world had possessed her to answer a perfect stranger’s ad for a wife? She must be out of her mind!

She crossed her arms and stared at the box. She was tiny. Maybe if she took off her winter coat, her arm would fit through the slot and she could fish out her envelope. It was illegal, true, but…

She was seriously considering the idea when another after-hours customer walked into the post office lobby. And then another. Clearly her career in crime wasn’t meant to be.

Slowly she picked up the infant carrier in which her six-week-old son Bobby slept. Oh, well. Probably the man wouldn’t even answer her. Maybe he’d found someone already. The paper she’d picked up had been one of the more ridiculous “meet-a-mate” ones she’d seen in the airport when she’d been coming home from her most recent trip to California. She’d begun to read it for the sake of amusement until it had occurred to her that if she were married, her mother-in-law would have to stop the strong-arm tactics to get her to return to California and move in with her.

Married. It seemed like a drastic step to take, but her mother-in-law was a drastic person. Since Juliette had been widowed, it had been increasingly difficult to make a single decision regarding her own life. She’d gone along with it in the months after Rob’s death but now she wasn’t pregnant, grieving and exhausted all the time. Unfortunately, when she’d tried to reclaim her life, Millicent Duchenay had gone behind her back and sublet the apartment she’d found. She’d cut off the trust fund that had been Rob’s, all the while explaining that it really was best for Bobby if they remained in one home, an extended family together….

And that had been when Juliette had had enough. Moving to Rapid City had seemed drastic at the time. But now she wasn’t sure it was drastic enough. Millicent had buckets of money, and money talked. At least, it had talked to the owners of the department store where Juliette had found a job. Her manager had given her two weeks notice along with a quiet warning not to tell her mother-in-law where she was working the next time. She’d gotten another job and heeded his advice. But she was becoming increasingly concerned about her mother-in-law’s need for control.

Bobby was not going to grow up stifled by his family the way his father had. Oh, she’d loved Rob. But they’d met while they were at college and they’d married suddenly before moving back to the town where he’d grown up…where his mother still lived. Would she have married Rob if she’d seen how tightly he still was tied to his mother’s apron strings? She’d never wanted to think too much about the answer to that. She’d loved Rob. Of course she’d have married him anyway.

Maybe.

Millicent was a high-maintenance mother-in-law. They’d never had an open disagreement, largely because Juliette had used every ounce of tact and restraint she’d owned when dealing with the older woman. When Rob had died, she’d gradually come to see that Millicent would rule her life if she let her.

So she hadn’t.

Moving more briskly now, she headed for her car, attaching Bobby’s seat to the base that made it a safety restraint in the middle of the back seat. As she slid into the driver’s seat, the ad that had started all the trouble caught her eye:

“Single white male, thirties. Prosperous rancher seeks hardworking woman for marriage, household management, child care. Offers security, fidelity and comfortable lifestyle.”

The message had stuck out among the others because it was so straightforward. This man didn’t advertise himself as Mr. Romantic, ready to shower a woman with love and affection. He didn’t specify a bra size for his applicants, or an age. He didn’t care whether they liked a moonlit stroll or red roses, ballroom dancing or candlelit dinners. And most important, he must have children if he needed child care. So he probably wouldn’t mind one more.

But she hadn’t mentioned Bobby in her letter. Some newly cautious instinct had told her to wait.

Marty Stryker tore open the envelope and read the single, hand-written note he’d found in his post office box in Kadoka, South Dakota:

November 29

Dear Sir,

I am writing in response to your advertisement for a wife. If the position is still available, I would like to be considered. I am twenty-four years old, have been married and am now a widow. I believe I could cook, clean and run your household. I am interested in children and would be happy to care for yours. If you would like to meet, I presently am living and working in Rapid City.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Juliette Duchenay

December 5

Dear Mrs. Duchenay,

Thank you for your letter. I have a four-year-old daughter and I need someone to help care for her. I also need help with my house since I am a rancher and am out working a lot. I would be happy to meet you in Rapid. A Saturday or Sunday afternoon would be best.

Sincerely,

Todd Martin Stryker, Jr.

December 12

Dear Mr. Stryker,

It was a pleasure to hear from you. I look forward to hearing more about your daughter and your ranch. Could we meet in the food court at Rushmore Mall on Saturday, Dec. 27 at 2:00 p.m.? I am blond and will be wearing a black dress.

Sincerely,

Juliette Duchenay

December 20

Dear Mrs. Duchenay,

Please call me Marty. Sat. the 27 at 2:00 p.m. is a good time for me. I look forward to meeting you then. I will be wearing a brown Stetson to help you identify me.

Sincerely,

Marty Stryker

One

The woman caught his attention the minute she walked into the café food court at the Rushmore Mall in Rapid City, South Dakota. Not because she was particularly well endowed, which was usually one of Marty Stryker’s preferences in feminine company, but because she was so beautiful.

Beautiful, he thought again. Not just pretty, definitely not cute, but breathtakingly gorgeous.

She was tiny, probably not more than five feet tall, and so dainty she looked as though a good wind would send her sailing. As she stood in the middle of the walkway near the food court, a weak ray of winter sunshine fell through one of the skylights, illuminating her pale blond beauty and for a moment, all he could think of was that she looked exactly like an angel.

She was fine-boned, with just about the biggest blue eyes he thought he’d ever seen, and her shining hair was smoothly caught in some kind of fancy twist at the back of her head. She had a straight little nose and a lipsticked pair of bowed lips that reminded him of a perfect china doll. The simple black dress she wore emphasized her fair coloring and a slender, almost childish figure beneath the fabric. She glanced at him once, a flash of intense blue, then looked away, and a hint of rose slid along her high, slanted cheekbones.

Marty was charmed. And turned on. He hadn’t had a woman in…how the heck long had it been, anyway? It was a real bad sign when a man couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex.

But he hardly had time, not to mention the lack of opportunity. Single women weren’t exactly thick on the ground around Kadoka, and the few who were interested in accommodating a man weren’t the kind he wanted to get anywhere near. After all, he was a father. He had standards.

But man, oh, man, wouldn’t it be great if she were the one— Whoa, horse. Marty caught the thought before he could complete it. He didn’t need a beautiful wife. In fact, he’d already met beautiful women, much more his type than this little angel, in his quest for a wife. None of them had worked out. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to be so picky next time. There weren’t that many women answering his ad for a wife that he could keep on looking for the perfect candidate.

And he wanted a wife. Not just for the sex, but for the company. God, he missed sharing simple things like picking out birthday gifts for Cheyenne, drinking morning coffee and conversation.

Then the angel turned his way again. Her eyes locked on his and her eyebrows lifted in a tentative question. She started toward him and he remembered that his wife candidate had said she’d be wearing black.

His heart rate picked up a beat. He stood, whipping off the Stetson he’d worn to identify himself to the woman he was supposed to meet.

“Mr. Stryker?” She was standing in front of him now.

He nodded, not sure if his vocal cords would cooperate if he tried to speak.

“I’m Juliette Duchenay.” The angel held out her hand. Then she smiled.

Marty hoped his face didn’t show the shock to his system as he slowly reached out and enfolded her fragile fingers in his much larger, anything but fragile palm. The smile transformed her from classically lovely to drop-dead beautiful, bringing a mischievous sparkle to her eyes and displaying white, perfect teeth. Her smile had a pixieish quality to it, a genuine friendliness that he found he liked. A lot.

“It’s good to meet you.” It was the first thing he could manage to say, the first words his tongue would wrap themselves around as his palm swallowed hers. She had the tiniest hands he’d ever seen, and the skin was as warm and soft and feminine as he’d imagined.

There was an awkward silence.

Marty roused himself from his bemused stupor. He usually was smooth as silk with the ladies and proud of it. Mrs. Juliette Duchenay would think he was a tongue-tied prairie clod if he didn’t start talking.

“Would you like to sit down?” There. That was a start.

“Thank you.” The faintest touch of pink rose in her cheeks again. A discreet tug made him realize he still was holding her hand and he let her fingers slide away from his, an unsettling feeling of regret lingering. He’d liked holding her hand. The color in her cheeks deepened as he held a chair for her, and he wondered if the skin there felt as baby-soft and fine as it looked. She smiled at him as he seated her at one of the small white tables. “Thank you for wearing your hat. It made you easy to find.”

He nodded, not about to tell her that he’d done this nearly a dozen times with prior candidates, all of whom had been unsuitable. “You’re welcome.” He indicated the food counters ranged around the walls beyond the potted palms and white pillars. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head. She glanced at the elegant gold watch on her slim wrist. “I’m on my break, so I don’t have much time. Why don’t we just talk?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. “Why did you answer my ad?” Why would a woman like you need to marry a stranger?

Delicately arched eyebrows drew together in a perplexed expression. “I…it was an impulse, if you want to know the truth.”

“And how are you feeling about the impulse now? I’m not interested in something short-term, Mrs. Duchenay. This would be a permanent arrangement.”

“Please call me Juliette. I’m still interested, Mr.— Marty.”

Her eyes were soft and luminous. He could look into those eyes for the rest of his life without any trouble, any trouble at all.

“Good.” He wanted to take her hand, to touch her again. God, her skin was soft. Was she that soft all over? He could hardly wait to find out.

“So,” he said. “You work in the mall.”

“Yes,” she said. “And you’re a rancher.”

Even if he hadn’t put his occupation in the ad, he knew it wasn’t a hard call. His skin was tanned from his work outdoors, especially since they’d had a mild fall until the recent big snow. No, as he surveyed his big mitts, he saw there was no way anyone could mistake his hands—scarred from encounters with cranky cattle, barbwire, buffaloberries, splintered wood and hammers that missed their mark—for a city boy’s.

“Beef or sheep?” his pretty lady asked.

“Beef. My brother and I have an outfit near the Badlands. Our ranch is called the Lucky Stryke.”

“Have you always lived there?”

“All my life. Are you from this area?” He was pretty sure she wasn’t, but he couldn’t figure out where her accent might have been from.

She hesitated for a moment so brief that he could have imagined it. Then she said, “No. I’ve only been in Rapid City a short while. I was born in California but my family moved around a lot so I don’t really call anyplace ‘home.”’

“Where do you work?”

“At the moment, in a women’s clothing shop. But I’d really love to work in a bookstore. Of course, I’d never make any money because I’d spend it all on books.”

Marty laughed. “I know the feeling. What do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “Just about anything I can get my hands on. All types of fiction, nonfiction, magazines…my only requirement is that it be well written and gripping.”

“So that leaves out cereal boxes,” he said.

She smiled again, and again it hit him like a physical contact from a fist. Had he ever seen a woman as classically beautiful? As vibrant?

“Don’t bet on that,” she said, and it took him a moment to remember they were talking about cereal boxes.

There was another small silence, and he smiled at her across the table, enchanted with her feminine presence.

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you have to advertise for a wife.”

He shrugged. “There aren’t that many women who want to live in the back of beyond with a lot of cows.”

“Exactly what are you looking for?” she asked him. “What do you want a wife to do?”

Marty hesitated. Then he shrugged. “No point in sugar-coating it,” he said. “I work long hours, mostly outdoors. I need someone to keep my house clean and in good shape, wash and mend clothes, make meals and take care of my daughter. Maybe plant a garden in the summer and help with the stock sometimes.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m willing to work and I like to cook but you might have to teach me a few things about gardening and animals.”

So she was a city girl, just as he’d suspected. “I could do that.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’ll be five next June. Her mother passed away two years ago and—” The expected pang of grief and guilt clutched at his heart as it always did, and he suppressed the flood of emotion that threatened. “—and she really needs a woman’s hand,” he finished quietly.

Juliette nodded, her face serious and sympathetic.

Marty shrugged his shoulders, wishing he were another man in another time, meeting this woman without all the baggage that came with his life. Then he immediately was overwhelmed by guilt. How could he even be thinking stuff like that when he’d once promised to love Lora forever? Until death. He wanted to squeeze his skull between his palms until all the contrary notions settled down. “It doesn’t sound very attractive, I know—”

“It does to me,” she said.

He stared at her. “It does?”

“I think I’d like being a housewife.” She smiled. “That is what you mean, right?”

“Yes. Although I think the politically correct term today is ‘domestic engineer.”’

She laughed. “I like the sound of that.” Then she glanced at her watch again. “I’d better be getting back to work.”

“Afraid you’ll get fired?”

She smiled serenely. “No. I’m a good sales-woman.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged. “It’s a job. One of life’s necessary evils.”

“Unless you marry me.” Spoken straight out like that, it sounded so…intimate. His mind shot right to dark nights in a warm bed.

She raised her gaze to his, and for the longest moment he forgot everything around him and just let himself wallow in those eyes. Was she thinking what he was thinking?

“I really have to go,” she said softly, rising.

As she started out of the food court, he grabbed his hat and followed, taking her elbow when they reached the central walkway that led back to the rest of the mall. After the crowded café area, it seemed positively spacious.

He could feel the fragile bones of her arm beneath his fingers and the warmth of her skin. She seemed tiny walking beside him, and he acknowledged the attraction knotting his gut, making his body stir in response. His heart still belonged to Lora, but his body knew she’d been gone for two years. No question about it. “I’ll walk you back to work,” he said.

“All right.” She smiled up at him. “It’s just down this way.”

They strolled down the mall, passing specialty shops that sold jewelry from the Black Hills, apparel for women in the family way, sunglasses and leather goods.