Two-Week Texas Seduction

She’s willing to bet the ranch that he can’t resist temptation...

Up-by-her-bootstraps Brandee Lawson fought hard to establish Hope Springs Ranch. But a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose her secret to real estate developer Shane Delgado. She could lose everything, and she can’t let sexy Shane short-circuit her survival instinct!

Sure, Shane wants her land, but he can’t help wanting Brandee, as well. When she offers Royal’s most notorious bachelor a winner-takes-all wager in a bid to keep the ranch, it’s the ultimate test. Can he resist her charms—and should he even bother to try when something much deeper than sexiness surfaces between them?

“You’ll have ample opportunity to convince me to sleep with you.”

A shock blasted through him as potent as if he’d grabbed a live wire with both hands. “You call that a wager?” He had no idea where he found the strength to joke. “I call it shooting ducks in a barrel.”

“Don’t you mean fish?” Her dry smile warned him winning wasn’t going to be easy. “Getting me to sleep with you isn’t the wager. Though I’ll admit the thought of you and me has crossed my mind once or twice.”

Shane wondered why he wasn’t feeling more triumphant at the moment. “Damn, woman. You sure do know how to stroke a man’s ego.”

“Oh please,” she said. “You love playing games. I thought this would appeal to everything you stand for.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“You get me to fall for you and I sell you the ranch for ten million.”

He hadn’t prepared himself properly for the devastation of that other shoe. It was a doozy. “And what needs to happen for you to win?”

“Simple.” Her smile was pure evil. “I get you to fall for me.”

* * *

Two-Week Texas Seduction is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: Blackmail— No secret—or heart—is safe in Royal, Texas...

Two-Week Texas Seduction

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in Business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.com and follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

For everyone trying to make ends meet while keeping your dreams alive.

Never give up, never surrender.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

One

Before she’d moved to Royal, Texas, few people had ever done Brandee Lawless any favors. If this had left her with an attitude of “you’re damned right I can,” she wasn’t going to apologize. She spoke her mind and sometimes that ruffled feathers. Lately those feathers belonged to a trio of women new to the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Cecelia Morgan, Simone Parker and Naomi Price had begun making waves as soon as they’d been accepted as members and Brandee had opposed them at every turn.

Her long legs made short work of the clubhouse foyer and the hallway leading to the high-ceilinged dining room where she and her best friend, Chelsea Hunt, were having lunch. At five feet five inches, she wasn’t exactly an imposing figure, but she knew how to make an entrance.

Instead of her usual denim, boots, work shirt and cowboy hat, Brandee wore a gray fit-and-flare sweater dress with lace inset cuffs over a layered tulle slip, also in gray. She’d braided sections of her long blond hair and fastened them with rhinestone-encrusted bobby pins. She noted three pair of eyes watching her progress across the room and imagined the women assessing her outfit. To let them know she wasn’t the least bit bothered, Brandee made sure she took her time winding through the diners on her way to the table by the window.

Chelsea looked up from the menu as she neared. Her green eyes widened. “Wow, you look great.”

Delighted by her friend’s approval, Brandee smiled. “Part of the new collection.” In addition to running one of the most profitable ranches in Royal, Texas, Brandee still designed a few pieces of clothing and accessories for the fashion company she’d started twelve years earlier. “What do you think of the boots?”

“I’m sick with jealousy.” Chelsea eyed the bright purple Tres Outlaws and grinned. “You are going to let me borrow them, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Brandee sat down, basking in feminine satisfaction. With all the hours she put in working her ranch, most saw her as a tomboy. Despite a closet full of frivolous, girlie clothes, getting dressed up for the sole purpose of coming into town for a leisurely lunch was a rare occurrence. But this was a celebration. Her first monthlong teenage outreach session was booked solid. This summer Hope Springs Camp was going to make a difference in those kids’ lives.

“You made quite an impression on the terrible trio.” Chelsea tipped her head to indicate the three newly minted members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. “They’re staring at us and whispering.”

“No doubt hating on what I’m wearing. I don’t know why they think I care what they say about me.”

It was a bit like being in high school, where the pretty, popular girls ganged up on anyone they viewed as easy prey. Not that Brandee was weak. In fact, her standing in the club and in the community was strong.

“It’s pack mentality,” Brandee continued. “On their own they feel powerless, but put them in a group and they’ll tear you apart.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help that you’re more successful than they are.”

“Or that I’ve been blocking their attempts to run this club like their personal playground. All this politicking is such a distraction. I’d much rather spend my time holed up at Hope Springs, working the ranch.”

“I’m sure they’d prefer that, as well. Especially when you show up looking like this.” Chelsea gestured to Brandee’s outfit. “You look like a million bucks. They must hate it.”

“Except I’m wearing a very affordable line of clothing. I started the company with the idea that I wanted the price points to be within reach of teenagers and women who couldn’t afford to pay the designer prices.”

“I think it’s more the way you wear your success. You are confident without ever having to build yourself up or tear someone else down.”

“It comes from accepting my flaws.”

“You have flaws?”

Brandee felt a rush of affection for her best friend. An ex-hacker and present CTO of the Hunt & Co. chain of steak houses, Chelsea was the complete package of brains and beauty. From the moment they’d met, Brandee had loved her friend’s kick-ass attitude.

“Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like,” Brandee said. “My lips are too thin and my ears stick out. My dad used to say they were good for keeping my hat from going too low and covering my eyes.”

As always, bringing up her father gave Brandee a bittersweet pang. Until she’d lost him to a freak accident when she was twelve, he’d been her world. From him she’d learned how to run a ranch, and the joys of hard work and a job well done. Without his voice in her head, she never would’ve had the courage to run from the bad situation with her mother at seventeen and to become a successful rancher.

“But you modeled your own designs for your online store,” Chelsea exclaimed. “How did you do that if you were so uncomfortable about how you looked?”

“I think what makes us stand out is what makes us interesting. And memorable. Think of all those gorgeous beauty queens competing in pageants. The ones you remember are those who do something wrong and get called out or who overcome disabilities to compete.”

“So the three over there are forgettable?” With a minute twitch of her head, Chelsea indicated the trio of mean girls.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Brandee smiled. “And I think they know it. Which is why they work so hard to be noticed.”

She’d barely finished speaking when a stir in the air raised her hackles. A second later a tall, athletically built man appeared beside their table, blocking their view of the three women. Shane Delgado. Brandee had detected his ruggedly masculine aftershave a second before she saw him.

“Hey, Shane.” Chelsea’s earlier tension melted away beneath the mega wattage of Shane’s charismatic white grin. Brandee resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Shane would love seeing proof that he’d gotten to her.

“Good to see you, Chelsea.” His smooth Texas drawl had a trace of New England in it. “Hello, Brandee.”

She greeted him without looking in his direction. “Delgado.” She kept her tone neutral and disinterested, masking the way her body went on full alert in his presence.

“You’re looking particularly gorgeous today.”

Across from her, Chelsea glanced with eyebrows raised from Shane to Brandee and back.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She didn’t need to check out his long legs in immaculate denim jeans or the crisp tan shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders to know the man looked like a million bucks. “Something I can do for you, Delgado?” She hated that she was playing into his hands by asking, but he wouldn’t move on until he’d had his say.

“Do?” He caressed the word with his silver tongue and almost made Brandee shiver.

She recognized her mistake, but the damage was done. Her tone grew impatient as she clarified, “Did you just stop by to say hello or is there something else on your mind?”

“You know what’s on my mind.” With another man this might have been a horrible pickup line, but Shane had elevated flirting to an art form.

Brandee glanced up and rammed her gaze into his. “My ranch?” For years he’d been pestering her to sell her land so he could ruin the gorgeous vistas with a bunch of luxury homes.

To his credit, the look in his hazel eyes remained friendly and compelling despite her antagonism. “Among other things.”

“You’re wasting your time,” she told him yet again. “I’m not selling.”

“I never consider the time I spend with you as wasted.” Honey dripped from every vowel as he flashed his perfect white teeth in a sexy grin.

Brandee’s nerve endings sizzled in response. Several times in the last few years she’d considered hooking up with the cocky charmer. He possessed a body to die for and offered the perfect balance of risk and fun. Sex with him would be explosive and memorable. Too memorable. No doubt she’d spend the rest of her days wanting more. Except as far as she could tell, Shane wasn’t the type to stick around for long. Not that she was looking for anything long-term, but a girl could get addicted to things that weren’t necessarily good for her.

“In fact,” he continued, sex appeal rolling off him in waves, “I enjoy our little chats.”

“Our chats end up with me turning you down.” She gave him her best smirk. “Are you saying you enjoy that?”

“Honey, you know I never back down from a challenge.”

At long last he broke eye contact and let his gaze roam over her mouth and breasts. His open appreciation electrified Brandee, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless.

“Good seeing you both.” With a nod at Chelsea, Shane ambled away.

“Damn,” Chelsea muttered, her tone reverent.

“What?” The question came out a little sharper than Brandee intended. She noticed her hands were clenched and relaxed her fingers. It did no good. Her blood continued to boil, but whether with lust or outrage Brandee couldn’t determine.

“You two have some serious chemistry going on. How did I not know this?”

“It’s not chemistry,” Brandee corrected. “It’s antagonism.”

“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to. It’s hot.” Either Chelsea missed Brandee’s warning scowl or she chose to ignore it as she continued, “How come you’ve never taken him for a test drive?”

“Are you crazy? Did you miss the part where he’s been trying to buy Hope Springs Ranch for the last three years?”

“Maybe it’s because it gives him an excuse to stop by and see you? Remember how he came by the day after the tornado and stayed to help?” Two and a half years earlier an F4 tornado had swept through Royal. The biggest to hit in almost eighty years, it had taken out a chunk of the west side of town including the town hall and a wing of Royal Memorial Hospital before raging on to cause various degrees of damage to several surrounding ranches.

“He wasn’t being altruistic. He was sniffing around, checking to see if because of the hit the ranch took whether I was in a position where I had to sell.”

“That’s not why he spent the next few days cleaning up the storm damage.”

Brandee shook her head. Chelsea didn’t understand how well Shane hid his true motives for being nice to her. He lived by the motto “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” The smooth-talking son of a bitch wanted Hope Springs Ranch. If Brandee agreed to sell, she’d never hear from Shane again.

“Where Shane Delgado is concerned, let’s agree to disagree,” Brandee suggested, not wanting to spoil her lunch with further talk of Shane.

“Okay.” Chelsea clasped her hands together on the table and leaned forward. “So, tell me your good news. What’s going on?”

“I found out this morning that Hope Springs’ first summer session is completely booked.”

“Brandee, that’s fantastic.”

Since purchasing the land that had become Hope Springs Ranch, Brandee had been working to create programs for at-risk teens that helped address destructive behaviors and promote self-esteem. Inspired by her own difficult teen years after losing her dad, Brandee wanted to provide a structured, supportive environment for young adults to learn goal-setting, communication and productive life skills.

“I can’t believe how well everything is coming together. And how much work I have to do before the bunkhouses and camp facilities are going to be ready.”

“You’ll get it all done. You’re one of the most driven, organized people I know.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

It had taken years of hard work and relentless optimism, but she’d done her dad proud with the success she’d made of Hope Springs Ranch. And now she stood on the threshold of realizing her dream of the camp. Her life was perfect and Brandee couldn’t imagine anything better than how she felt at this moment.

* * *

Shane strode away from his latest encounter with Brandee feeling like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. Over the years, he’d engaged in many sizzling exchanges with the spitfire rancher. After each one, he’d conned himself into believing he’d emerged unscathed, while in reality he rarely escaped without several holes poked in his ego.

She was never happy to see him. It didn’t seem fair when everything about her brightened his day. Usually he stopped by her ranch and caught her laboring beside her ranch hands, moving cattle, tending to the horses or helping to build the structures for her camp. Clad in worn jeans, faded plaid work shirts and dusty boots, her gray-blue eyes blazing in a face streaked with sweat and dirt, she smelled like horses, hay and hard work. All tomboy. All woman. And he lusted after every lean inch of her.

She, however, was completely immune to him. Given her impenetrable defenses, he should have moved on. There were too many receptive women who appreciated that he was easy and fun, while in Brandee’s cool gaze, he glimpsed an ocean of distrust.

But it was the challenge of bringing her around. Of knowing that once he drew her beneath his spell, he would satisfy himself with her complete surrender and emerge triumphant. This didn’t mean he was a bad guy. He just wasn’t built to be tied down. And from what he’d noticed of Brandee’s social life, she wasn’t much into long-term relationships, either.

And so he kept going back for more despite knowing each time they tangled she would introduce him to some fresh hell. Today it had been the scent of her perfume. A light floral scent that made him long to gather handfuls of her hair and bury his face in the lustrous gold waves.

“Shane.”

His mental meanderings came to a screeching halt. He nodded in acknowledgment toward a trio of women, unsure which one had hailed him. These three were trouble. Cecelia, Simone and Naomi. A blonde, brunette and a redhead. All three women were gorgeous, entitled and dangerous if crossed.

They’d recently been admitted to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and were making waves with their demands that the clubhouse needed a feminine face-lift. They wanted to get rid of the old boys’ club style and weren’t being subtle about manipulating votes in their favor.

Brandee had been one of their most obstinate adversaries, working tirelessly to gather the votes needed to defeat them. She’d infiltrated the ranks of the oldest and most established members in order to preach against every suggestion these three women made. The whole thing was amusing to watch.

Shane responded to Naomi’s wave by strolling to their table. “Ladies.”

“Join us,” Cecelia insisted. She was a striking platinum blonde with an ice queen’s sharp eyes. As president of To The Moon, a company specializing in high-end children’s furniture, Cecelia was obviously accustomed to being obeyed.

Putting on his best easy grin, Shane shook his head. “Now, you know I’d love nothing more, but I’m sorry to say I’m already running late.” He glanced to where his best friend, Gabriel Walsh, sat talking on his cell phone, a half-empty tumbler of scotch on the table before him. “Is there something I can do for you ladies?”

“We noticed you were talking with Brandee Lawless,” Simone said, leaning forward in a way that offered a sensational glimpse of her ample cleavage. With lush curves, arresting blue eyes and long black hair, she, too, was a striking blend of beauty and brains. “And we wanted to give you some friendly advice about her.”

Had the women picked up on his attraction to Brandee? If so, Shane was losing his touch. He set his hands on the back of the empty fourth chair and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink.

“I’m always happy to listen to advice from beautiful women.”

Cecelia nodded as if approving his wisdom. “She’s only acting interested in you because she wants you to vote against the clubhouse redesign.”

Shane blinked. Brandee was acting interested in him? What had these three women seen that he’d missed?

“Once the vote is done,” Simone continued, “she will dismiss you like that.” She snapped her fingers and settled her full lips into a determined pout.

“Brandee has been acting as if she’s interested in me?” Shane put on a show of surprise and hoped this would entice the women to expound on their theories. “I thought she was just being nice.”

The women exchanged glances and silently selected Naomi to speak next. “She’s not nice. She’s manipulating you. Haven’t you noticed the way she flirts with you? She knows how well liked you are and plans to use your popularity to manipulate the vote.”

Shane considered this. Was Brandee flirting with him? For a second he let himself bask in the pleasure of that idea. Did she fight the same intoxicating attraction that gripped him every time they met? Then he rejected the notion. No. The way she communicated with him was more like a series of verbal jousts all determined to knock him off his white charger and land him ass-first in the dirt.

“Thank you for the warning, ladies.” Unnecessary as it had been. “I’ll make sure I keep my wits about me where Brandee is concerned.”

“Anytime,” Naomi murmured. Her brown eyes, framed by long, lush lashes, had a sharp look of satisfaction.

“We will always have your back,” Cecelia added, and glanced at the other two, garnering agreeing head bobs.

“I’ll remember that.” With a friendly smile and a nod, Shane left the trio and headed to where Gabe waited.

The former Texas Ranger watched him approach, a smirk kicking up one corner of his lips. “What the hell was that about? Were you feeding them canaries?”

“Canaries?” Shane dropped into his seat and gestured to a nearby waiter. He needed a stiff drink after negotiating the gauntlet of strong-willed women.

“That was a trio of very satisfied pussycats.”

Shane resisted the urge to rub at the spot between his shoulder blades that burned from several sets of female eyes boring into him. “I gave them what they wanted.”

“Don’t you always?”

“It’s what I do.”

Shane flashed a cocky grin, but he didn’t feel any satisfaction.

“So what did they want?” Gabe asked.

“To warn me about Brandee Lawless.”

Gabe’s gaze flickered past Shane. Whatever he saw made his eyes narrow. “Do you need to be warned?”

“Oh hell no.” The waiter set a scotch before him and Shane swallowed a healthy dose of the fiery liquid before continuing. “You know how she and I are. If we were kids she’d knock me down and sit on me.”

“And you’d let her because then she’d be close enough to tickle.”

“Tickle?” Shane stared at his best friend in mock outrage. “Do you not know me at all?”

“We’re talking about you and Brandee as little kids. It was the least offensive thing I could think of that you’d do to her.”

Shane snorted in amusement. “You could have said spank.”

Gabe closed his eyes as if in pain. “Can we get back to Cecelia, Simone and Naomi?”

“They’re just frustrated that Brandee has sided against them and has more influence at the club than they do. They want to rule the world. Or at least our little corner of it.”

On the table, Gabe’s phone chimed, signaling a text. “Damn,” he murmured after reading the screen.

“Bad news?”

“My uncle’s tumor isn’t operable.”

Several weeks ago Gabe’s uncle Dusty had been diagnosed with stage-four brain cancer.

“Aw, Gabe, I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

Dale “Dusty” Walsh was a dynamic bear of a man. Like Gabe he was a few inches over six feet and built to intimidate. Founder of Royal’s most private security firm, The Walsh Group, he’d brought Gabe into the fold after he’d left the Texas Rangers.

“Yeah, my dad’s pretty shook up. That was him sending the text.”

Gabe’s close relationship with his father was something Shane had always envied. His dad had died when Shane was in his early twenties, but even before the heart attack took him, there hadn’t been much good about their connection.

“Hopefully, the doctors have a good alternative program to get Dusty through this.”

“Let’s hope.”

The two men shifted gears and talked about the progress on Shane’s latest project, a luxury resort development in the vein of George Vanderbilt’s iconic French Renaissance château in North Carolina, but brimming with cutting-edge technology. As he was expounding on the challenges of introducing the concept of small plates to a state whose motto was “everything’s bigger in Texas,” a hand settled on Shane’s shoulder. The all-too-familiar zap of awareness told him who stood beside him before she spoke.