Thunder Canyon Homecoming / A Thunder Canyon Christmas

But the truth was, even before they’d shared that one scorching kiss, he’d been haunted by thoughts of Erin Castro.

Thoughts of wanting to kiss Erin Castro.

He shook his head as he tugged on his jeans.

He didn’t know what it was about the woman that had gotten under his skin. Sure, she was attractive in a classic blue-eyed, blond-haired, porcelain-skinned, soft curves sort of way.

Okay, more than attractive. He hadn’t been giving her a line when they were dancing and he’d told her she was the most beautiful woman at the wedding because from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, he hadn’t seen anyone else.

And now that he had kissed her, now that he’d tasted the sweet seductive flavor that was hers alone, he worried that he’d made a mistake. Because now he wanted more.

Cursing himself for his weakness, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d obtained from directory assistance. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Erin, it’s Corey.”

“Corey?” She sounded distracted, as if he’d caught her in the middle of something. Or maybe as if she didn’t recognize the name.

He was frowning over that possibility when she spoke again.

“Oh, Dillon’s brother. Hi.”

Dillon’s brother?

That was how she thought of him? How about the man who’d taken her home the night before? The man who’d kissed her breathless and continued to kiss her until they’d both wanted a lot more?

But of course he didn’t ask any of those questions. He didn’t want her to confirm that he’d thought about her a lot more than she’d thought about him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection right away,” she said. “I just—you caught me when my mind was wandering.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” he prompted.

“Well, I guess that depends on why you’re calling,” she said.

“Partly just to find out how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said you had too much champagne last night, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t suffering any lingering effects today.”

“Champagne. Right. Well, that certainly explains the… uh…”

She faltered, and he suspected that she was thinking about that kiss again. Or maybe he just wanted to believe she was thinking about it because he was.

“…the headache I had this morning,” she continued. “But I took a couple of aspirin with breakfast and I’m fine now.”

“Good,” he said, even while silently wishing he could rid himself of the residual effects of the night so easily. But he suspected that the only thing that could cure his craving for Erin was Erin herself.

“And since you’ve already had breakfast—which was the other reason I was calling—why don’t you let me take you to lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“You know—the meal usually served in the middle of the day,” he teased.

“Yes, I do know what lunch is,” she assured him. “I’m just not sure I understand why you’re inviting me to have lunch with you.”

“Because I don’t like to eat alone. And because I really enjoyed spending time with you last night and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Erin was tempted—too tempted—to jump at his invitation. And not just because she knew he would be able to distract her from the questions that had been pounding inside of her head since she’d seen that picture of Grant Clifton’s sister the night before. Unfortunately, all of the rea sons that Corey would be such a great distraction were the same reasons that she had to refuse. Because she was far too attracted to the man, because she couldn’t think of anything else when he was near and because she could very well end up with her heart broken when he went back to Texas.

So instead of accepting, she said, “I’m afraid I may have given you the wrong impression last night.”

There was a pause, as if he was surprised by her response. And he probably was because she’d no doubt given him the impression of a wild, willing woman who wanted to gobble him up in big, greedy bites.

And the impression wasn’t really wrong, but it was misleading because nothing like that was going to happen between them. She couldn’t let things move in that direction with him while her life was veering off course in so many other ways.

“The only impression I got,” he finally said, “was that of a smart, beautiful woman who was the last thought on my mind before I fell asleep last night and the first when I woke up this morning.”

“Oh. Wow.” Erin didn’t know what else to say. Was it the words, she wondered, that made her heart pound so fast? Or the sensual tone that turned the words into a verbal seduction?

She used her free hand to fan her flushed cheeks, grateful that he couldn’t see what she was doing, couldn’t know the effect that he had on her, even over a phone line.

“Then you definitely got the wrong impression because I’m really not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”

“I invited you to lunch, darlin’, not to shop for an engagement ring,” he said.

The heat in her cheeks intensified. He was right—she was overreacting. But even an invitation to lunch was dangerous when she wasn’t sure she could control her instinctive response to the man issuing the invitation.

“I know,” she said. “But I still don’t think lunch is a good idea.”

“Because you’re philosophically opposed to eating in the middle of the day?”

She had to smile. “Because you’re far too charming for your own good.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“I’m going to say goodbye now,” she told him.

“Wait, Erin.”

But she couldn’t wait, because she knew that if she let him say anything else, she might very well give in—not only to his invitation but to the desire stirring again in her blood. “Goodbye, Corey.”

Corey continued to hold the receiver to his ear, as if he didn’t quite believe that he was hearing a dial tone instead of Erin’s voice. He didn’t think any woman had ever hung up on him before but, for some inexplicable reason, the realization made him smile.

As a management consultant, his professional reputation had been made on the basis of identifying a problem and determining the best solutions. He would simply analyze Erin’s resistance in the same way. And if she thought he was the type of man to be dissuaded by one terminated phone call, well then, she was very soon going to learn differently.

But thinking of his business objectives made him remember that he had other reasons for being in Thunder Canyon than his brother’s wedding and more reasons for staying than a pretty blue-eyed bridesmaid.

Pushing all thoughts of Erin Castro from his mind, at least for the time being, he pulled out his laptop and got to work reviewing the reports he needed for his meetings on Wednesday. The information he’d seen so far had been in complete and often contradictory, warning him that the evaluation he’d expected to finish within a couple of weeks might take a lot longer than that.

At first, he’d been frustrated by this realization, but now—thinking of Erin—the idea of extending his stay in Thunder Canyon didn’t bother him at all.

Erin called home on Sunday and spoke to both of her parents. Betty and Jack still didn’t know her real reasons for going to Thunder Canyon, but they tried to be supportive of her decision. They asked about her new job and her friends and, as usual, when she would be coming home for a visit.

She had originally planned to go back to San Diego for Thanksgiving, certain she would have all of the answers she sought by then, but she warned her parents now that a trip at that time might not be possible. The holiday was the start of one of the busiest seasons at the resort and she wasn’t sure that she would be able to get any time off. But she had another reason for changing her plans—she didn’t want to leave Thunder Canyon just when Grant Clifton’s sister would be arriving.

She continued to battle against the guilt she felt for not sharing her suspicions with them. She’d never really kept secrets from them before, and certainly never anything of this magnitude—if there could be anything else of such magnitude. Although she’d always felt a little disconnected from her parents and her brothers—as if they shared a deeper bond that somehow eluded her—she’d never been deceitful or dishonest, and the lie that she’d been living for the past several months was weighing heavily on her conscience.

When her mother said, “I love you, Erin,” as she always did at the end of a conversation, Erin’s eyes filled with tears.

They had always loved her. She didn’t doubt that. And she wondered now if the feeling that there was something missing in their relationship was actually indicative of some thing missing within herself. Maybe she was chasing after something that didn’t exist except inside her own imagination.

The original seed had been planted by Erma, but her aunt was gone now and Erin was starting to wonder what purpose could possibly be served by continuing to nurture the old woman’s suspicions. And if there was no purpose, then maybe it was time for her to forget everything Erma had said and just go home.

As she readied herself for bed, Erin realized the doubting and confusion had become as much a part of her Sunday night ritual as her call to her parents. Because talking to them inevitably made her realize how much she missed them, and missing them made her question why she was willing to upset the status quo.

Her family wasn’t perfect, but they were hers.

Weren’t they?

With a sigh, she pulled back the covers and crawled into bed.

As she settled back against her pillows, she acknowledged that it was entirely possible that her birthday being on the same day as Elise Clifton’s was nothing more than a coincidence. And both of them being born in the same hospital was probably just another coincidence. But the physical resemblance she’d noticed in Elise’s photo and her own brothers was a little harder to ignore.

Or maybe she’d just been looking for answers for so long that she was grasping at straws.

Determined to push these thoughts out of her mind, she picked up the Stephanie Plum novel she’d just started reading. But she was too distracted to focus on the story and she set the book down again after reading only a few pages.

It took her a long time after that to fall asleep, and when she finally did, she had the strangest dream.

She was in the hospital, and the cry of a baby slowly penetrated the thick fog of pain that surrounded her.

No, not a baby. Her baby.

She struggled to sit up but felt as if she was strapped to the bed, unable to move.

“My baby.” She tried to shout, but the words were barely a whisper.

“Your baby is fine. We’re going to take her to the nursery so that you can rest.”

She couldn’t see the speaker, but the gentle tone both soothed and reassured her.

A short while later, after she’d rested, she wanted to see her baby. But the hall that led to the nursery seemed to stretch ahead of her forever. She walked faster but made no progress. So she started to run. She ran until her legs were weak and her lungs ached, and still she hadn’t reached the end of the long, narrow corridor.

Then suddenly she was there, standing in the middle of the nursery, and her baby was crying again. But there were dozens of bassinets, dozens of crying babies, and she didn’t know which one was hers. She ran from one to the next, desperately hoping for some sense of recognition, but they were all the same, all strangers to her.

But then another woman came into the room, and she went directly to one of the bassinets and picked up the crying baby and carried it away. Then another, and another, and another. Until it seemed as if a whole parade of women had come into the room and, one by one, taken away the crying babies until there was only one left.

She tried to rationalize that the one remaining had to be her own, but she wasn’t certain. She didn’t know how each of the other new mothers had been sure that the baby she was taking belonged to her. What if someone had taken her baby?

She lifted the last infant from its bed, yearning for some sense of connection. But there was nothing. Her eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for someone, anyone, to help her. But she was alone. And when she looked at the baby again, it was gone, too.

Erin awoke with a start. She struggled to sit up and pushed her hair away from her face. Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding. It was easy to tell herself that it was only a dream. It wasn’t so easy to shake the feelings of helplessness and fear that lingered.

There was no reason to believe that the scenario played out by her imagination had any foundation in reality, but she knew that the questions would continue to haunt her until she’d figured out the truth.

Maybe she should go home. Not forever, just for a while. If nothing else, the disturbing dream had proved that she definitely needed a distraction, something to stop her from thinking about hospitals and babies and questions that might never be answered. As if anything could distract her from these thoughts.

Unbidden, an image of Corey Traub came to mind.

Okay, there was a man who could make a woman forget her own name. Just one kiss had proved that. But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him get that close again. She snuggled under the covers, reminding herself that he would probably be heading back to Texas soon anyway, disappearing from her life as abruptly as he’d appeared.

She drifted back to sleep. But this time when she dreamed, she dreamed of Corey.

* * *

Corey wasn’t used to chasing women. If anything, he’d become accustomed to being chased by them. Prior to his fifteenth birthday, he’d been short and scrawny and mostly overlooked by everyone. But in that magical year, things had started to change. He’d shot up in height, put on some muscle, started to shave. And when he’d gone out for football the next fall, he’d made the team.

By the time he’d started college, he was a first-string receiver and his family was known across the great state of Texas for the fortune they’d made in oil. Corey had been so caught up in the thrill of being popular that he hadn’t questioned what he’d done to earn the attention. Truthfully, the reasons hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that the skinny kid who had been mostly ignored by the girls and laughed at by the older boys was no more.

Corey Traub was now in the spotlight. Guys wanted to hang with him, girls wanted to be seen with him, and he’d reveled in the attention. And then he’d met Heather, and everything had changed. He hadn’t needed the adulation of fans so long as he had her attention; he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else so long as he was with her.

They’d dated for a year and a half. She was the first girl he ever loved, and she claimed to love him, too. And then he discovered that, during the entire time they’d been dating, she’d been lying to him, deliberately keeping certain parts of her life a secret from him. When he finally found out and confronted her, she cried and apologized, but learning the extent of her deception had destroyed his trust, and her tears didn’t sway him.

It didn’t take long for news of their split to make its way around campus, and the girls started coming around again. In the decade that had passed since his college graduation, little had changed. He was as successful in the business world as he’d been on the football field. And although there weren’t any shy giggling girls hanging around outside of his locker room, there were plenty of bold, sexy women sneaking into his office after hours or slipping hotel room keys into his pocket.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to take the first step with a woman. And it had been a heck of a lot longer than that since any female had told him “no.” But somewhere along the line, sometime within the last few years, he’d started to grow weary of empty relationships and meaningless hookups. He wanted what Dillon had found with Erika.

His brothers liked to tease that he fell in love too easily, but the truth was, Heather’s deception had taught him to be careful with his heart. Not that he’d given up on falling in love. He was still hopeful that would happen, but the next time he opened up his heart completely, it would be to a woman who he could trust was capable of loving him the same way. Openly and honestly, without any secrets or lies between them.

There was something about Erin Castro that made him think she might be that woman.

Maybe he was putting the cart before the horse, considering that she hadn’t even agreed to have lunch with him. But he refused to be dissuaded. If he’d believed that she was honestly not interested, he would have backed off. But he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him when they danced, the way she’d trembled in his arms, the way she’d responded to his kiss. No way was the attraction one-sided.

When Monday morning came around and he still hadn’t managed to put her out of his mind, he decided to track her down. Because he was staying in one of the resort’s condo units, it would be easy enough to stop by the front desk of the main building and invite her to lunch and see where things went from there. Except that when he went down to the desk, he didn’t see her anywhere.

“Erin isn’t in today,” Trina told him.

“Will she be in later?” he asked, wondering if she’d switched her shift for some reason.

“I doubt it. She called in sick.”

Sick?

He knew she hadn’t been feeling well Saturday night, but she’d sounded okay when he’d spoken with her Sunday morning. Did she have a touch of the flu or some other kind of bug and had suffered a relapse?

“Is there something I can help you with?” Trina’s long lashes fluttered, the invitation in those green eyes obvious.

“No, thanks,” he told her. “I’ll catch up with Erin later.”

“If you change your mind, you can catch up with me around four.” Her glossy pink lips curved. “That’s when I finish my shift.”

“I’ll remember that,” he told her, determined to ensure that he was nowhere around when Trina got off work.

With any luck, he would be with Erin.

Erin prided herself on being a reliable employee, someone who could be depended on to get things done, whatever those things might be. But when she woke up Monday morning and still hadn’t figured out what—if anything—to say to her boss about her suspicion that he might be her brother, she called in sick.

When her bell rang shortly after 10:00 a.m., she didn’t think twice before responding to the summons. It wasn’t until she’d peeked through the sidelight and saw Corey on her step, making her heart do a little hop and skip, that she hesitated. Unfortunately, he was looking through the same window from the other side, which meant there was no way she could now pretend she wasn’t home.

Forcing a smile, she pulled open the door.

“Corey, hi.”

He smiled back, and she felt that funny little quiver in her belly again.

“I stopped by the resort to see you, and Trina said you were home sick,” he explained. His gaze skimmed over her, leisurely, appraisingly. “But you look pretty good to me.”

“I wasn’t feeling well when I got up this morning,” she fibbed, conscious that her cheeks were burning. “I thought I should stay home…in case I was contagious.”

“Well, I brought you some homemade chicken soup—my mother’s favorite cure for whatever ails you.”

“You made chicken soup?”

He chuckled at the obvious skepticism in her tone. “No, I bought chicken soup that was homemade by the wonderful chefs at the Gallatin Room.”

She lifted a brow at his mention of the resort’s fine dining restaurant and figured the little plastic bowl in his hand probably cost more than a whole meal at any other restaurant in town.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was a really sweet gesture.”

“But you’ve already had lunch,” he guessed.

She nodded.

“So put it in the fridge for tomorrow.”

It would be rude to refuse his offer, so she did as he suggested, though she wondered what kind of strings might be attached to the bowl in her hand.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

“What are your plans for the afternoon? Because I know you’re not working.”

“I have no plans. I’m home sick,” she reminded him.

His smile widened. “Don’t worry. I won’t turn you in for playing hooky…so long as you let me play hooky with you.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

He shrugged. “Whatever works.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked warily.

“Just grab a jacket and put on a pair of boots.”

Which, of course, told her absolutely nothing about what he had planned. “Look, Corey, I’m flattered that you’d go to such lengths to spend time with me, but I really don’t understand why.”

“There’s nothing to understand. I just think some time outside in the crisp, fresh air will help you feel better,” he assured her.

“I don’t know,” she hedged.

“Trust me.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Corey so much as she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. The attraction she felt whenever she was near him was both awesome and overwhelming.

As she went to get her jacket and boots, she couldn’t help but think he looked as relaxed and unself-conscious in the jeans and flannel he was wearing today as he had in the designer tux he’d worn for his brother’s wedding, making her curious to know which was the real Corey Traub. Not that it mattered. Her instinctive response to him was the same regardless of what he was wearing.

She didn’t understand the attraction. She’d always dated guys who were…more subtle, she decided. There was nothing subtle about Corey. He was blatantly and undeniably male.

And the way he filled out a pair of jeans made her want to sigh. The cowboy boots didn’t surprise her. He’d even worn a pair at the wedding, with his tux. But those boots had been polished, and these were battered and worn, like the hat on his head.

She’d never known a cowboy before she came to Montana. And even in the past few months, she’d never met any one like Corey.

He wasn’t just sexy. He was knock-the-breath-out-of-your-lungs sexy. And the way he smiled at her, he knew it.

She’d never liked arrogant men. Or maybe it was just that she’d always wondered why the men she’d known felt entitled to their arrogance. With Corey, there was no question of his entitlement. And it made her wonder, not for the first time, why he was interested in her.

She wasn’t oblivious to her own appeal. Over the years, she’d received a fair share of compliments on her appearance, and she knew how to play up her attributes—how to apply makeup so her blue eyes looked bluer, how to dress so that her curves seemed curvier, how to walk into a room so that heads turned in her direction.

Since coming to Thunder Canyon, however, she’d deliberately downplayed her appearance. She’d toned down her makeup and dressed to blend in rather than stand out. No one looked at her twice, and no one asked any questions. At least, not until Erika’s wedding.

When Erin agreed to be a bridesmaid, she’d been thinking that she could somehow hide beneath layers of pink organza ruffles. She should have remembered that her friend had exquisite taste and an eye for fashion. There had been no way to hide in the strapless satin gown that hugged her curves. And she could hardly refuse when the bride suggested that her maid of honor should have her hair and makeup professionally done.

The result was that, as she’d made her way up the aisle, she’d been aware of the attention focused on her—and the speculation. She recognized some of her regular customers from the Hitching Post who had never looked twice when she’d waited on their tables and others who she’d met through her duties at the resort. None of them seemed to realize who she was. And although she’d been all too aware that the groom’s brother wasn’t the only man who had been watching her, he was the only one she’d watched back.