Colton's Ranch Refuge

“No, it’s not,” Derek returned, his expression calm.

“Yet you’ve invited a horde of strangers to bring their cameras and lights and dressing rooms—” he cut a meaningful glance at Violet “—onto the ranch for who knows how long. Hardly my idea of rest or privacy, Derek.”

“Which is why I’ve told Mr. Gremble that your cabin and the woods around it are off-limits. Any filming they do will be in and around the main house.” When Piper drew an excited breath, her eyes widening, Derek aimed a finger at her. “You have to promise to stay out of their way and respect the confidentiality agreement. You can’t tell anyone they are filming here. We don’t want the media or rubberneckers milling around here.”

“I can’t even tell my friends?” Piper asked, aghast. “But—”

“Not even your friends,” Derek said.

“Especially not your friends,” Sawyer added. “Talk about gossip central. TMZ has nothing on Tiffany and Amber.”

Piper glared at Sawyer. “Shut up, twerp.”

“You shut up, Amazon.”

Groaning, Derek scrubbed both hands over his face.

Gunnar grabbed Sawyer by the back of the coat and pulled him away from Piper. “Both of you give it a rest. Why do you have to antagonize each other all the time? Sheesh.”

Violet flashed a lopsided grin. “So … is this what I have to look forward to?”

“I promise you they’re not always this bad,” Derek said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean them.” Violet waved her hands in denial. “I meant when my boys get older.”

“You have kids?” Gunnar asked in a tone that said he found it difficult to believe.

Violet faced him again, bemused by his attitude. “Eighteen-month-old twins. They’re with their nanny … in my dressing room.”

She shot him a look that dared him to comment on that fact.

Gunnar sent her an annoyed look. “Your kids are here?”

“Yes. In the bus, napping.”

“With a nanny.”

“Yeaaahhh,” she said drawing out the word, warily. “Where else would they be while I’m working?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe with their father? Or don’t you Hollywood types believe in raising your own children?” Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest and sent her a condescending look she itched to slap off his smug face.

Violet gaped at him, too stunned to answer right away. The reference to Adam landed a punch in her stomach and sucked the air from her lungs.

“Um, Gunnar … helloooo?” Piper said. “Sawyer and I have a nanny.”

He shot his sister a quelling look. “That’s different.”

“How?” Piper returned.

“It just is.”

Mac stepped into the breach, shouldering in between her and the loutish Colton. “Look, pal, I don’t know what your beef is, but if you—”

Violet grabbed Mac’s sleeve, and shaking herself from her momentary daze, she shoved her director out of the way. Planting herself toe-to-toe with Gunnar, she met his gaze with a steely glare. Even standing as tall as she could, he dwarfed her by over a foot, but she refused to let his size or his gruff manner intimidate her. “My husband is dead, you oaf! Not that you’d know that since you don’t keep up with ‘Hollywood hype.’“

She poked him in his broad, rock-hard chest. “And while I’m on location, I keep my children near me, in my dressing room, because there is nothing, nothing more important to me than my boys. I want to be a part of their lives and involved in raising them as much as possible with my filming schedule.” Fisting her hands at her sides, she raised up on her toes and stuck her face as close to his as she could. “Or don’t you military types believe in women having a career and earning an income to feed her family?”

Around them no one moved, and the only sounds Violet could hear were the pounding pulse in her ears and her own angry breaths sawing from her lungs. Gunnar’s hazel eyes bore into hers, unflinching, piercing, until her belly quivered with that disturbing energy again.

Finally he unfolded his arms and clapped slowly, mockingly. “Bravo, Ms. Chastain. You are very convincing as the offended and protective young mother. Oscar-worthy performance, for sure.”

Violet knocked his hands out of the way and crowded so close to him that her body bumped his muscled torso and sparks skittered through her veins. “You’re an ass, Gunnar Colton.”

He simply lifted a corner of his mouth in an aggravating grin and said in a cloyingly sweet tone, “Thanks, Tinkerbell. Now would you pretty please move your oversize dressing room from my driveway, so I can get to my cabin?”

Tinkerbell?

Violet held her ground, chewing the inside of her cheek and deciding her best response. This close to him, his body heat and pine scent surrounded her, teasing her senses, her ability to think going haywire.

“Oh. My. God!” Piper groaned. “Enough with the foreplay. Would you two just get a room already?”

Gunnar’s dark eyebrows snapped together, and he whipped his head toward his younger sister. “What?”

She shook her head smugly and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Gunnar. I may be sixteen, but I’m not naive. I know sexual tension when I see it, and you two are giving off so many pheromones that wild animals are going to start showing up here in a minute.”

Gunnar frowned and shot Derek a look. “What have you been teaching her, Doc?”

Derek lifted both hands. “Don’t look at me.” Then twitching a grin, he added, “And for the record, I agree with Piper. I’m also sensing a certain … vibe between you two.”

Violet’s mouth opened, but only a sort of choking sound came out. A sexual vibe between her and the boorish linebacker? No way …

Gunnar scoffed and backpedaled from their nose-to-nose standoff, grumbling, “Give me a break.”

With one last dark glance at her, the older Colton brother stormed back toward the SUV.

“So then you’re okay with them filming here as long as they avoid your cabin?” Derek called after him.

When Gunnar didn’t answer, Derek grinned mischievously at Mac. “I think that’s a yes. When do you want to start?”

Get a room? Gunnar gritted his back teeth as he stormed back to the Suburban. If Piper weren’t too old to spank …

He huffed out a frustrated breath. Who was he kidding? He’d never lay a hand on his sister in the name of discipline. But that mouth of hers! And when had his baby sister learned about sex and pheromones, for cripes sake? The idea Piper had become a young woman while he was deployed unnerved him, and the thought of some randy teenage boy coming sniffing around his sister …

Gunnar flexed and balled his fists a few times to work out the tension. He knew all too well what boys Piper’s age thought about girls. It was pretty much the same thing men his age thought about women—especially perky young women with short blond hair and Bambi eyes … sassy, petite women with ample curves and pouting lips that begged to be kissed …

Grunting, Gunnar scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn it, Piper was right. As annoyed as he was to see the film crew on the ranch property, Gunnar had found trading barbs with the feisty actress incredibly … invigorating, arousing.

Yanking open the driver’s door of the ranch’s Suburban, Gunnar growled under his breath. If he wanted to get involved with a woman—which at this juncture in his life, he did not—a spoiled and superficial starlet was the last person he’d consider for a fling. And a starlet with kids? He shuddered. No thank you. He was not a glutton for punishment.

Cranking the engine, Gunnar glared through the windshield at the people assembled on the ranch lawn, and a sour feeling gnawed his gut. He knew he’d been inordinately rude. Guilt kicked him for having assumed a hostile demeanor. But after the incident in town, his nerves were already jangling, and all he wanted was to go back to his cabin, reheat some leftover stew for dinner and kick back in his recliner for the Penn State football game—alone, without distractions. He wanted to think—or not think if his thoughts dwelled too long on the way he’d made a fool of himself in town or the fool of himself he’d made in front of the movie crew.

He squeezed the steering wheel impatiently as Violet Chastain’s dressing room bus lumbered down the driveway, out of his path. He cut another glance to the tiny woman who’d stood up to him like a warrior or a mama bear when he’d challenged her. The spark that had lit her brown eyes had intrigued him, enticed him. He sent an appreciative gaze over her formfitting green minidress and tan leggings, the spots of color the cold air put in her cheeks. With her pixie haircut, petite stature and gamine face, was it any wonder she conjured images of Tinkerbell for him? She was a grown-up Tinkerbell … with a hot body and lush mouth. And a dead husband. And kids.

Gunnar shook his head to clear it and jammed the SUV in gear as the bus finally cleared the road. The blonde actress stirred too many confusing and contradictory feelings in him. His gut told him she was trouble with a capital T. While the movie crew filmed in town and at the Double C, he’d do well to stay far away from the temptation and aggravation that was Violet Chastain.

Violet stamped up the steps into her tour bus, then stopped for a moment as a shiver rolled through her from the cold, from unspent adrenaline after her confrontation with Gunnar, and from … okay, lust, because Gunnar Colton, jerk that he was, had a to-die-for physique, a rough-hewn square jaw and knee-melting hazel eyes. Too bad he had the personality of an angry badger.

The rest of the Colton family she’d liked. Derek had been charming and gracious. Piper was clearly bright, if starstruck, while Sawyer seemed shy and soulful, his dark eyes keenly assessing, much like her Mason’s did.

As if her thoughts of her contemplative son had conjured him, Mason toddled out of the bus’s bedroom and spotted her. “Mommy!”

“Hey, sunshine!” Violet hurried to scoop her son into her arms for a hug. “All done napping?”

Mason gave her wet kisses, then pressed his chubby hands to her face. “Cold.”

“Yeah, it’s cold outside. Brrr!” She poked her chilled nose against his cheek, which still bore the impression of his blanket from his nap, and he shrank back giggling.

“Brrr!”

“Mommy!” Hudson’s voice preceded him as he came charging out of the bedroom with no diaper on.

Violet stooped to greet her second son, laughing. “Well, hello young streaker. Do you have a kiss for me?”

Hudson smacked a kiss on her face, then turned and darted away as his nanny appeared in the bedroom door.

“Hudson, you scamp! Get back here and put on some pants, mister!” Rani Ogitani propped a hand on her hip and shook her head. “I’ve never seen a kid with so much energy! And believe me, I’ve babysat for some rambunctious kids in my day.”

“Rani, I bless the day I found you. I don’t know what I would have done these past few months without your help with the kids.”

The nanny grinned. “Oh, probably hired someone else just as competent.”

“Not likely.” After going through three nannies in eight months, Violet had mentioned her child care troubles to an old high school friend, with whom she kept in touch through email. Her friend, Zoe Bancroft, mentioned that her babysitter was looking for a job as a full-time nanny and gave Rani high marks. A week later, Rani had moved from Louisiana to Beverly Hills to live with Violet, Adam and the boys.

Violet shook her head. “No one’s better than you, and the proof is in how my boys are thriving, even without—” a rush of emotion overwhelmed Violet, and her throat closed “—you know … Adam …”

Her nanny gave her a sympathetic smile. “They are thriving because of the love and attention you give them.”

Or don’t you Hollywood types believe in raising your own children? Gunnar Colton’s accusations reverberated in her memory, and she sighed.

“I wish you would tell that to the linebacker,” she mumbled, then wondered why she gave a fig what Gunnar Colton thought of her parenting skills. Perhaps because he prodded her working-mommy guilt over leaving so much of her children’s care up to Rani.

“Linebacker?”

“Never mind.” She stood and held Mason out to her. “Here, you take this one, and I’ll round up the streaker and finish dressing him.”

Rani held up a hand of refusal. “Wait.” She turned her head and coughed several times into the crook of her arm. “Sorry. I’ll take him now.”

Violet frowned. “Are you coming down with something?”

“I hope not.” Rani rested Mason on her hip and brushed his blond curls out of his eyes. “Maybe it’s just the changing weather or dry air or something. I can’t seem to shake this cough.”

“I’ll watch the boys for a while if you want to rest. I told the Yoders I’d be back for dinner, but if you need—”

“I’m okay. I grabbed a short nap while the boys were asleep. Besides, don’t you need to go over the new script for the barn scene they sent over this morning?”

“New script? They changed the barn scene again?” Violet’s shoulders sagged. “I wish they’d make up their minds. I wanted to be through shooting by Christmas. The boys should be in their own home on Christmas morning.”

Rani turned her head and covered another cough. “Mac still think that can happen?”

“It’ll be close.”

The hydraulic hiss of the bus door opening announced a new arrival, and Violet turned.

“Knock, knock,” Mac called as he poked his head around the corner. “Everybody decent?”

“Everyone except Hudson,” Violet said, meeting her director in the living area of the bus and scooping Hudson off the couch where he was bouncing on the cushions. She turned to ask Rani to grab a diaper out of the boys’ bag and discovered, as usual, Rani was a step ahead of her. The nanny tossed her a diaper and a toddler-size pair of overalls. Violet caught the diaper. Mac snagged the overalls and eyed them.

“I didn’t know they made these for tykes.”

Violet had the diaper fastened around Hudson in a few deft motions, then took the denim clothes from her director. “They make just about anything you can imagine in babies’ sizes. But I’m sure you’re not here to discuss toddler fashions. What’s up?”

“Just making sure you’re all right. If you think that Gunnar fellow is going to be a problem, we can look for another location—”

“I’m fine. And this ranch is perfect for the scenes at the lawyer’s house. I’m sure if we stay out of the big bad wolf’s way, he’ll stay out of ours.”

“Bad woff!” Hudson repeated. “Puff, puff, bwooooow!”

Mac gave Hudson a raised eyebrow glance.

“I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down,” she said to clarify as she struggled to button Hudson’s overalls while he hopped up and down on the couch. “The Three Little Pigs is one of the boys’ favorite stories.”

Her son filled his cheeks and acted out the scene from the fable while grinning impishly.

“Okay, I’ll sign the contracts with Dr. Colton then. Did you get a chance to look over the revised script? I’d like to shoot the barn scene tomorrow.”

Violet winced. “No, I haven’t. How much did the script change?”

“A lot. We decided to combine a couple scenes. Jan now has Matthew showing up while Grace confronts Luther, and the three of them have it out.”

Jan Teague, the lead writer for Wrongfully Accused, had won numerous awards for her past scripts, so Violet trusted her to do the right thing for the movie. But the constant last minute changes were exhausting to keep up with.

“I’ll have to burn some midnight oil—literally—” because her Amish host family didn’t have electricity and used oil lamps instead “—but I’ll be ready in the morning.”

Mac chucked her lightly on the chin. “That’s my girl. Things okay at the Yoders?”

Benjamin and Alice Yoder, an Amish couple with three children in Paradise Ridge, had agreed to let Violet live with them for several weeks in order to immerse herself in her role as Amish woman Grace Moon. Violet wanted to understand and appreciate the nuances of the Amish lifestyle, religion and traditions in order to bring more authenticity to her character. She was learning a tremendous amount about the Amish community while staying with the Yoders, but in order not to crowd and add chaos to the Yoders’ home, her boys and Rani were staying in the bed-and-breakfast rented by the film crew. She missed the time away from Mason and Hudson, but the arrangement was better than leaving them in California for several weeks while she shot the movie in Pennsylvania.

Mac pulled a frown. “I know the recent abductions and murders have the Amish community on edge.”

“Not just the Amish community. I’m a little spooked myself, but … yes, things at the Yoders are fine,” Violet said.

In recent weeks, three Amish girls had disappeared from the community, and two of the teenagers were later found dead in a remote cabin. The shock of the tragedy had sent ripples through not just the Amish families of Paradise Ridge but the film crew as well—especially since the real life events bore some similarity to the story line of the movie.

But Violet couldn’t credit the recent crimes for the odd jitters dancing inside her. No, the blame for her butterflies belonged to a certain sexy boor with soul-piercing hazel eyes. Gunnar Colton was far more dangerous to her peace of mind.

Chapter 2

“Mary, I want you and your brothers to deliver this food before school,” Alice Yoder said and placed a basket on the wooden table next to a burlap sack.

Violet looked up from her breakfast of fresh baked bread with honey, fried ham and scrambled eggs with homemade cheese. Her Amish family might not use many of the conveniences the modern world took for granted, but Alice Yoder’s cooking was heavenly.

“Ja, Mamm,” seventeen-year-old Mary replied, then glanced toward Violet and said, “Yes, Mother.”

Violet shook her head. “No, don’t speak English for me. I want to learn Dutch.”

Mary glanced at her mother, who gave a nod, and the teenager faced Violet again. “As you wish.”

Alice finished instructing her daughter about the delivery in Pennsylvania Dutch, and the only words Violet understood were a name: Caleb Troyer.

“Troyer? Isn’t he the man whose sister was kidnapped?” Violet asked, her gut pitching with empathy for the young Amish man.

Alice’s face reflected her concern for Caleb. “Ja. His sister, Hannah. He’s been working with the Englischers to find her, which doesn’t leave much time for preparing meals. It is our duty to look after Caleb and his precious daughters during this difficult time.”

Violet smiled. “I think it’s awesome the way the Amish community rallies around their neighbors in times of crisis.”

“Awesome?” Mary blinked and frowned.

Violet realized her slang use of the term must have confused the girl.

“Oh, by that, I mean that it’s wonderful. Kind and generous.”

Mary nodded and fingered the strings of her black kapp, the head covering worn in respect for God and signifying her unwed status. Because of her role as an unwed Amish woman, Violet also wore the traditional dress, apron and black kapp that she would wear as Grace during the filming.

“William, David, are you ready for school?” Alice called to her young sons.

The two boys ran in from outside, their cheeks ruddy from the cold, and Alice handed them their burlap bags. “Go with your sister, and take these to Caleb Troyer. Go now. Don’t be late for school.”

Violet shoved to her feet. “I’ll walk with them. I’d like to meet Caleb and his family, offer my assistance, as well.”

Alice handed Mary the basket and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You may walk with Mary and the boys, but do not be offended if Caleb refuses your offer. We take care of our own but do not want outside influences or help from Englischers.”

“I understand.” Violet pushed away from the table and hurried to the door to catch up with Mary and the Yoder boys. “Thank you for breakfast, Alice. I’ll help you clean up when I get back.”

Alice waved her out the door. “No, you are our guest. Go on before the boys leave you.”

William and David had, in fact, already trotted to the road that led to the Yoder’s farm. Mary lifted a hand to wave goodbye to her father, tending the horses in the stable, and Violet, pulling on a thick cape for warmth, hustled to catch up, her feet crunching through the thick frost. Her plain leather lace-up boots and calf-length skirt of her dress made running difficult, especially on the uneven earth of the Yoder’s farm, but Mary lingered at the road, waiting for her.

“How far is the Troyer’s home?” Violet asked, readjusting her kapp, which had come askew as she rushed.

“Not far.” Mary pointed down the rural road. “It is the next farm. Only two miles.”

Violet chuckled, her breath forming a white cloud in the cold air. “Your definition of not far and mine are a little different. No wonder you all can eat so well and stay in shape.”

Mary angled her a shy smile and started to ask a question but was distracted by her brothers’ playful bumping and swatting of each other. “William, settle down.”

“I can beat you to the next road!” David shouted and took off running. William cast a quick glance to his sister then gave chase.

“David!” Mary called to no avail. She sighed heavily. “Boys are so …” She waved a hand in frustration, clearly searching for the right word that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

Violet caught the girl’s hand in hers. “Yes, they are! Very …” And she raised her own hand in frustration, then laughed. Mary’s smile broadened, and Violet clasped her other hand around Mary’s. “And they only get worse. Men are especially … aurgh!” Violet raised her eyes toward the sky in exasperation.

When Mary chuckled, Violet squeezed the teenager’s hand and studied her lightly freckled face. Her fresh-scrubbed, makeup-free skin glowed with the dewiness of youth and innocence. Her wide gray eyes held no guile, only an earnest love for life, and her dark brown hair was twisted up in the traditional modest bun.

“Mary Yoder,” Violet said, grinning, “do you have any idea how lovely you are?”

Her compliment obviously caught the girl off guard. A pink blush blossomed in her cheeks, and she ducked her head to hide a small smile before sobering a bit. She cast Violet a guarded look. “Vanity is a sin.”

Ah, right. That belief was the reason why the Amish had no mirrors in their houses.

“Hmm, in that case I know quite a few women—and men—in Hollywood who are in big trouble!” Violet returned with a wink.

The rumble of a car engine drew Violet’s attention to the large silver sedan that was driving rapidly toward them on the country road—far too rapidly considering how narrow the road was and how frequently the lane was used by Amish pedestrians or horse buggies, she thought, twisting her mouth in a scowl.

“Careful,” she said, taking Mary by the arm to tug her farther from the road, “give this idiot—” Violet stopped abruptly as the silver car skidded to a stop a few yards ahead of them, blocking their path. Her immediate thought was the car had been sent by the production staff to find her. Was there an emergency with her boys? If that were the case, why hadn’t they called her cell?

Violet patted her apron pocket—no phone. She’d left her cell on the bedside table at the Yoders’. Her pulse gave a little leap of concern, and she took a step toward the car.

The driver’s and passenger’s doors opened at the same time, and the two men who emerged wore ski masks. Alarm and confusion skittered through Violet, and even before she’d fully registered what was happening, she moved between the men and Mary. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going for a ride, sweetcheeks,” one of the men chortled as they advanced on Violet and Mary.