Expecting A Lone Star Heir

A Texas affair leads to a little surprise! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Sara Orwig.

Former army ranger Mike Moretti is finding it hard to remember that Vivian Warner is forbidden. She’s his late buddy’s widow and his new boss. Mike hired on at the Warner ranch to help Vivian, not to seduce her.

But playing the role of pretend suitor leads to irresistible temptation...and an unexpected pregnancy. This cowboy’s code of honor demands he do the right thing, but Vivian won’t say, “I do,” for anything less than love.

Expecting a Lone Star Heir is part of the Texas Promises trilogy.

“Vivian, you’re just asking for trouble.”

“That means I don’t scare you,” she said in a sultry voice.

“You scare the hell out of me because I shouldn’t like dancing with you. I shouldn’t like flirting with you. I shouldn’t want to kiss you. I shouldn’t feel anything when our fingers touch, and neither should you.”

“For a US Army Ranger, you’re a little stuffy.”

He caught her around the waist and took long steps, dancing in circles through the terrace doors and outside, where it was darker and cooler.

“Try this for stuffy, darlin’.” He pulled her tightly against him and his mouth covered hers as he kissed her. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was having more fun with her than he could recall having had anywhere, anytime in the past three years.

* * *

Expecting a Lone Star Heir

is part of the Texas Promises trilogy:

When three military men return to Texas

to fulfill their promises to a fallen comrade,

they find redemption...and love.

Dear Reader,

An honorable man keeps his promises, and this series is about three friends keeping promises made to their dying US Army Ranger buddy. The surviving rangers eventually go home to do the honorable thing, and each promise they fulfill involves a life-changing event.

The first to keep his promise is former US Army Ranger Mike Moretti. Mike takes over running his deceased friend’s ranch, a situation he doesn’t like, but he gave his word. The widow, Vivian Warner, a stunning blonde, knows nothing about ranching—Mike has to work for her, run her spread and try to fight the instant mutual attraction that flares when they meet.

Mike is a cowboy, a rugged alpha male who has definite ideas about relationships, and he sees no place in his life for Vivian. Her father is a billionaire and she has just inherited her deceased husband’s multimillionaire fortune. To Mike, Vivian is off-limits.

Vivian fights the attraction because she loved her husband and isn’t over the loss. In addition, she knows how Mike feels about her fortune. Mike never imagined he would fall in love with an heiress. Vivian thought her heart was torn away when she lost her husband. This is a story of two people divided by their deep feelings and life views as they fight falling in love.

Thank you for your interest in this book and best wishes to you. Please find me at saraorwig.com or on Facebook as Sara Orwig, Romance Writer.

Sara Orwig

Expecting a Lone Star Heir

Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SARA ORWIG, from Oklahoma, loves family, friends, dogs, books, long walks, sunny beaches and palm trees. She is married to and in love with the guy she met in college. They have three children and six grandchildren. Sara’s 100th published novel was a July 2016 release. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Sara welcomes readers on Facebook or at www.saraorwig.com.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To senior editor Stacy Boyd

with many, many thanks.

To Maureen Walters,

as always, with thanks.

To my family,

who are all-important to me.

To my friends,

who have given me laughter and memories.

To hope, to love and to peace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Extract

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Afghanistan, November

What else could go wrong?

In the dark, under a starless sky, they had driven their Humvee straight into an ambush, and now they were barely holding on, pinned down in a firefight with nothing but a crumbling rock wall between them and the enemy. Help couldn’t arrive too soon.

Mike Moretti was one of the lucky ones—he only had cuts and bruises. His two close friends, Noah Grant and Jake Ralston, also had non-life-threatening injuries. The other member on this US Army Rangers mission, Captain Thane Warner, wasn’t so lucky. Mike didn’t need a doctor to tell him that Thane was hurt badly with wounds to his chest and head, an injured leg and deep gashes all over his body from flying shrapnel. Mike was trying to apply pressure to the two most serious wounds, hoping his captain and friend would hang on until help arrived. Their last communication had been cut off, but before it was he’d been told a chopper was on the way.

Thane gripped his arm and Mike leaned closer to hear him over the gunfire. His voice was raspy, his breathing shallow as he spoke through the pain that was no doubt seizing his body. “Mike, promise me you’ll take the ranch job for three months at least. Promise me you’ll work for Vivian. I want to know she’s taken care of when I’m gone.” Coughs racked his body and he grimaced. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Mike said without thinking. He concentrated on trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

Thane grabbed his arm with a strength that shocked Mike as Thane pulled him closer. “Key...in my pocket... Get it.”

Mike heard the desperation in the captain’s voice, felt it in his grip. But he couldn’t ease up the pressure on these deep wounds or the man would surely bleed out before a medic got to him. When Thane began to struggle, trying to get to his pocket himself, the bleeding worsened, oozing over Mike’s hand.

“Be still. I’ll get the damn key,” Mike ordered.

He struggled to get the key out of Thane’s back pocket—he bent closer to Thane and reassured him. “I have the key.”

Thane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. When he reopened them, Mike saw the gratitude and the fear as clearly as if the captain had spoken the words. “Bottom of box... Packets addressed to Vivian and to you.” He grimaced as the pain no doubt intensified, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “Get Noah... Need him.”

Mike shook his head. “If I leave you, you’ll bleed to death.”

As an explosion rocked the ground not twenty feet away, sending up a plume of light, Thane placed one hand over the mound of Mike’s jacket pressed against his bleeding chest wound. “Get him, dammit.”

Swearing, Mike turned to the man next to him and punched his shoulder to draw his attention. There was no use calling out; his voice wouldn’t be heard over the gunfire.

As Noah Grant lowered his weapon, Mike told him, “Trade places. Keep pressure on his wounds. He wants to talk to you.”

Without hesitation, Noah sidled up to the captain and Mike took up his weapon to keep up the barrage on the enemy, all the time hoping against hope they’d be able to get the injured man on that chopper. His eyes scanned the dark sky. Where was it?

Thane Warner wasn’t only his captain; he was a good friend. Back home, Mike had dated Thane’s younger sister. Though he’d gotten along with the divorcee’s young child, their relationship hadn’t lasted. But Mike’s friendship with Thane had.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Noah motioning him over.

“He’s drifting in and out of consciousness now,” Noah said, shaking his head. “But he wants Jake.”

Before Mike could move to get their friend, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a helicopter in the distance. He pointed his index finger up. “Listen. Chopper.” But he still didn’t have eyes on it, and Mike couldn’t help but wonder if it would be able to get their captain out in time.

If not, Mike admitted with a sinking realization, he had made a promise to Captain Thane Warner and he intended to keep it.

One

April

After driving past miles of mesquite, dry creek beds and cacti, Mike turned and stopped at a pair of tall wrought iron gates. As soon as he punched in the code he had been given, the gates slid open and he drove through beneath a high ornate iron arch that claimed this to be the Tumbling T Ranch.

Eight miles from the state road, he saw fenced grounds ahead. Among the trees, ponds and white fences was what looked like a small town of houses, offices, barns and outbuildings, all dominated by a stately mansion. The grand home reminded Mike again of Thane Warner’s millionaire status and his wife’s family of billionaires. As if Mike needed the reminder.

He soon wound up the long drive to the front of the sprawling three-story stone home with slate roofs and wings built on the east and west sides.

He swore quietly. He didn’t want this job. It was one thing to accept Thane’s offer to go to work on the Warner spread when they expected to come home and work together. It was another to return to civilian life and run a ranch for a widow he didn’t know and who didn’t know ranching.

It had been last year when Thane had first asked Mike to think about a job on the Tumbling T Ranch. Thane’s older foreman had had back trouble and had decided to retire. The foreman had said he would wait until Thane was out of the military and had time to hire someone to take his place. Mike had planned to get a job working on a ranch once he was discharged, so why not work for a man he’d come to like and admire? Besides, the job came with a good salary.

But Thane didn’t make it back home.

Mike cast his eyes on the sprawling ranch, as he recalled the days following his friend’s death. He had followed Thane’s request and used the key Thane had given him to open a lockbox he’d stored in their makeshift camp. Opening the box, he found an odd assortment of stuff, including Thane’s cotton T-shirts, some socks, and in the bottom, three fat packets wrapped in wrinkled, torn brown paper and tied with twine. One was addressed to Mike, one to Noah and one to Jake. Mike passed them out. When he opened his envelope he read a note scribbled on a piece of torn brown paper: Mike, please give this to Vivian. He looked at his friends as he held up another envelope. “I’m to take this home to his wife.”

Noah scratched his jaw that was covered in black stubble. “Yeah, I’m to take one to his sister.”

Noah and Mike looked at Jake who held up his brown envelope. “And I’m to take this to someone who works for his dad.” They all looked at each other and Mike guessed his friends were feeling the same as he was.

“Thane was the best,” he said. “We’ve got to do what he wanted.”

The others nodded and moved away to stash the envelopes safely until they could get home. Mike knew he was the only one who had another note in the box. That note informed him there was a packet for him hidden in among Thane’s things. Mike rummaged through the lockbox and found it quickly. A thick packet shoved down in the toes of a well-worn army sock. Mike opened the fat brown envelope and found more brown paper tied in twine. This one had a note in Thane’s handwriting: Mike, you are the only one getting this. It is yours now. I won’t ever miss it. You’ll earn it. Please take the other packet to Vivian.

Mike unwrapped the brown paper to find a stack of bills. He stared at them a moment in shock. He picked up one and looked at it closely. It was a one-thousand dollar bill. He’d never even seen one before. He thumbed through the stack of twenty-five. He read Thane’s note again and shook his head. He didn’t know why Thane had given him the gift. It was no secret that Thane came from a wealthy family. Along with his two brothers and sister, he was a multimillionaire, and his wife a billionaire heiress, so Thane would never have needed the money if he had lived, but it still was an odd gift. Mike shook his head again, wondering if Thane thought he was poverty-stricken since he was the only one of their group of four friends who wasn’t a millionaire. No, he knew that wasn’t the case because Thane was practical and Mike had never known him to throw money away. That day, and every day since, each time he looked at the bills, he thought of Thane and wanted his friend with him instead of the money.

Now with Thane gone, the foreman job didn’t appeal to Mike, but a promise was a promise. Mike wasn’t going back on his word.

From scuttlebutt and by piecing together things Thane had said, Mike knew Thane’s artist wife was the daughter of a billionaire Dallas hotel magnate, plus now she had inherited Thane’s millions from his ranch and oil interests. Vivian and Thane had only been married a few months when he’d left for Afghanistan. She knew nothing about ranching and Thane had constantly worried about her. Also, he hated to think that if something happened to him, she would sell the ranch and return home to Dallas where she had lived when she was single.

As he stepped out of the car, he pulled on his western-cut navy jacket. His gaze ran over the sprawling gray stone mansion that looked as if it should be in an exclusive Dallas suburb instead of sitting on a mesquite-covered prairie. The mansion was surrounded by beds of spring flowers. Beyond the beds was lush green grass that had to be watered constantly in the dry Texas heat. A tall black wrought iron fence with open gates circled the mansion yard.

After running his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, Mike put on his broad-brimmed black Stetson. As he strode to the front door, he realized he had felt less reluctance walking through minefields in Afghanistan. He crossed the wide porch that held steel and glass furniture with colorful cushions, pots of greenery and fresh flowers. He listened to the door chimes and in seconds, the ten-foot intricately carved wooden door swung open. He faced an actual butler.

“I’m Mike Moretti. I have an appointment with Mrs. Warner.”

“Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Come in. I’m Henry, sir.”

Mike stepped into a wide entryway with a huge crystal chandelier centered overhead above a small pond where a fountain splashed and deep purple and bright pink water lilies added to the ambiance. It was hard to picture the down-to-earth, tough US Army Ranger, Thane Warner as the owner of this elegant mansion.

“If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll tell Mrs. Warner you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” Mike replied, nodding at the butler who turned and disappeared into a room off the hall. With neatly trimmed brown hair, Henry wore a white shirt and a matching black tie and trousers. Mike noticed he also wore boots and when he had shown Mike in, his hands looked rough. His shoulders were thick and broad. Mike suspected Henry might not spend all his time working inside the mansion.

He reappeared. “If you’ll come with me, sir, Mrs. Warner is in the study.” Mike followed him until Henry stopped at an open door. “Mrs. Warner, this is Mike Moretti.”

“Come in, Mr. Moretti,” she said, smiling as she walked toward him.

He entered a room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books. After the first glance, he forgot his surroundings and focused solely on the woman approaching him.

Mike had seen Thane’s pictures of his wife—one in his billfold, one he carried in his duffel bag. Mike knew from those pictures that she was pretty. But those pictures hadn’t done her justice, because in real life, Vivian Warner was a downright beauty. She had big blue eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and full rosy lips. The bulky, conservative tan sweater and slacks she wore couldn’t fully hide her womanly curves and long legs.

What had he gotten himself into? For a moment he was tempted to go back on his promise. But as always, he would remember those last hours with Thane’s blood running over his hands, recall too easily Thane dying in a foreign land after fighting for his country, and Mike knew he had to keep his promise. His only hope was that Thane’s widow wouldn’t want him to work for her.

“Mr. Moretti, I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Thane,” she said, offering her hand.

“It’s Mike,” he said, smiling as he took her soft hand in his. The moment he did, he felt a tingling up his arm that shocked him.

“And I’m Vivian,” she said, her eyes widening when his hand wrapped around hers. Her words came out breathlessly, making Mike feel he had walked into a major disaster. Their gazes locked and he couldn’t get his breath, either. For a moment he felt a hot, intense awareness of her as a woman. A very desirable woman. And judging by her startled expression and the quick intake of her breath, he had a feeling she felt a similar reaction.

His focus shifted to her lips, a rosy temptation. Realizing they were staring at each other and standing too close, he released her hand. When he did, she stepped back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps she labeled the attraction as unwanted as he did.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mike said. “Your husband was a friend I’ll miss,” he added, trying to get his mind back to Thane instead of on his widow.

“Thank you. Thane was special. Please have a seat,” she said softly. She walked toward an arrangement of chairs and as he followed, he couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips.

Mike did not want this scalding awareness of his late buddy’s wife. And he damn well didn’t want to work for Vivian Warner.

Perhaps... He couldn’t help the thought that overtook his mind. Perhaps, because she knew so little about ranching, if he took the job, she would turn running the ranch over to him and he would seldom see or talk to her. Maybe, but... Common sense told him to thank her for the job and decline the offer. But each time he thought about backing off, he knew he had to keep his promise. Thane had fought and died not only for rights, freedom and home, but for promises kept and for trusted friends. He had fought for this ranch he loved and the wife he loved. Mike also thought about that fat packet of money Thane had given him, money he’d already squirreled away and invested.

Mike would do what he felt was right, but he hoped with all his being that he rarely ever saw his new boss. This was not the woman for him and there were more than a billion reasons—each and every one of the billions she was worth. Vivian Warner was an heiress, his friend’s wife, the woman Thane had entrusted to him to take care of. He couldn’t give in to the fiery attraction and seduce her—and betray that trust. For all those reasons, she was off-limits, not the least of which was the fact that he could never move in her circle.

Vivian motioned him to a brown leather wingback chair, then sat farther away than was necessary. He realized that she may have felt as trapped by this situation as he did. Thane had offered him the job and had wanted him as the foreman. Like Mike, she obviously was also following Thane’s wishes now.

“Thank you for taking this job,” she said, her voice lilting, soft-spoken. “Thane wrote a glowing letter about you and said I could count on you to run this place the way he would want. I appreciate that. I know you accepted the job when you were still in the military. Now that you’re here, I assume that means you want the job. Is that correct?”

Her question hung in the air but he couldn’t say yes. “I promised Thane I would take the job for three months to see if I fit and vice versa,” he reluctantly answered.

“So you’re here on a trial basis,” she said, her smile vanishing, and he merely nodded. “Thane had great trust in you so I hope you like it here and stay,” she continued. “Slade Jackson, our foreman, wants to retire and I can’t run this ranch. Actually, Slade runs this place as if it’s his ranch and that’s what Thane said you would do.”

“That makes my job easier,” Mike answered, wondering how often he would see her once he started work. He would have to report in, let her know what was going on, but that didn’t have to be a daily occurrence or even by direct contact. Email would be a salvation.

“There’s a house on the ranch for the foreman. In fact, most of the men who work here live on the ranch.” She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. “I don’t know what Thane told you about me. I’m an artist and I own a gallery in Dallas where I show and sell my paintings. They’re also shown in three other galleries in Houston, Austin and Santa Fe, New Mexico. That takes a lot of my time and I know little about the ranch. We have an accountant and his assistant who help with the bills and payroll. There are two cowboys working here who also double, when needed, as chauffeurs. You’ll see the limo in the garage. There’s a landing strip and we have two planes and again, three of the cowboys are pilots. I saw on your résumé that you have a pilot’s license.”

“That’s correct.”

She nodded her approval. “We have a chef and also the wife of one of the men is a cook for the employees who live here. My cook, Francie Ellison, is here five days a week, off on the weekends unless there’s something special. She has an apartment on the third floor. Heather, the woman who is in charge of the cleaning crew also has an apartment on that floor, and Waldo, her husband, is in charge of the gardening crew. I don’t live alone in this house, Mr. Moretti.”

“Just call me Mike.”

Vivian Warner sat a little straighter and locked her fingers together. “I have a couple of problems. I think one will vanish the minute I introduce you. Since I’m isolated on the ranch and everyone in the area knows I’m a widow and alone, the issues are with two men in particular. I don’t think it will ever involve you and I’m not afraid of either one because I don’t feel threatened, just annoyed. Also, when Thane knew he would be away and I would be isolated, my father talked to him about a bodyguard and Thane agreed I should have one—even when other people live in the house. With my family background, I might be a tempting target. So I have a bodyguard—he and his wife live in this house, too. That way, he’s close at hand.”

“Henry is the bodyguard, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head as she gazed at him. “Thane told you there was a bodyguard?”

“No. Henry didn’t look like my idea of a man who spends every working hour as a butler.”

“You’re observant. Henry Paine and his wife, Millie, live in this house on the third floor. I feel Henry can do a better job as my bodyguard if he’s in the house.”