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Operation Cowboy Daddy
Carla Cassidy
Danger and desire collide when New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy takes us back to Holiday Ranch…When a baby is abandoned on his doorstep, cowboy Tony Nanki is blindsided. He never wanted to be a father, but his ex-girlfriend is on the run and tells Tony he's the only person she trusts to keep little Joey safe. Struggling with the infant, Tony turns to caring Mary Redwing for help.Lovely Mary agrees to help care for the child, but a shared desire simmering between her and Tony soon intensifies the arrangement. As the search for Joey’s mom brings grave danger to their doorstep, his protective instincts emerge, unearthing the depth of his feelings. But can the rugged rancher save the family he’s falling for…before it’s too late?
Danger and desire collide when New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy takes us back to Holiday Ranch…
When a baby is abandoned on his doorstep, cowboy Tony Nakni is blindsided. He never wanted to be a father, but his ex-girlfriend is on the run and tells Tony he’s the only person she trusts to keep little Joey safe. Struggling with the infant, Tony turns to caring Mary Redwing for help.
Lovely Mary agrees to help care for the child, but a shared desire simmering between her and Tony soon intensifies the arrangement. As the search for Joey’s mom brings grave danger to their doorstep, Tony’s protective instincts emerge, unearthing the depth of his feelings. But can the rugged rancher save the family he’s falling for…before it’s too late?
Fire danced through his veins.
Mary’s lips were soft and warm, and they only increased Tony’s appetite for more. Her breasts pushed against his chest and the heady scent of her surrounded him. The kiss went on for several long moments, and then she broke it and stepped back from him.
The flames of his own desire shot out of her eyes, letting him know that she’d been as moved by the kiss as he had. “That wasn’t really a good idea,” she said, her voice slightly husky.
He grinned at her. “It wasn’t really a bad idea.” He reached out and tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear, his fingers noting the silky softness.
“Tony, it wouldn’t be wise for us to indulge in any kind of a relationship other than what we have right now.” She took a step back from him.
“Do we always have to be wise?” he countered.
“I try to be,” she replied. Joey cried out from behind them. “Good night, Tony.”
* * *
Be sure to check out the next books
in this exciting series: Cowboys of Holiday Ranch—Where sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys… and irresistible heroes!
Dear Reader (#ulink_ace84aaa-ec26-53f9-85f7-63a2dc73da13),
Like my hero, Tony Nakni, I love autumn. I enjoy the cool evening breezes, the changing colors of the tree leaves and that crisp, clean scent that lingers in the air.
However, for Tony autumn brings big changes when his ex-girlfriend drops off a baby and tells him the child is his. Before he can ask any questions she’s gone, and the cowboy is left with the three-month-old baby. In desperation he seeks the help of Mary Redwing, a woman who has secrets of her own.
Tony and Mary not only face an unexpected danger but also a surprising passion. In order to protect the child, they will not only have to put their lives on the line, but also their hearts.
Oh, yes, I love autumn, especially when it brings a shout of danger and a whisper of desire.
I hope you enjoy reading Operation Cowboy Daddy, the newest book in the Cowboys of Holiday Ranch series.
Happy reading!
Operation Cowboy Daddy
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred and twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.
Contents
Cover (#ufeb40ef4-1c37-5789-8ca6-5da141d853ea)
Back Cover Text (#ub3fb31ef-e903-5f3d-b22d-16dbd2f4f300)
Introduction (#u640737d6-0dd9-5aee-8aba-0461be413709)
Dear Reader (#ulink_db86c0cf-804f-5da7-8e9f-0d691768d68d)
Title Page (#u21eb142a-5025-52bc-bf82-528d3d20aa36)
About the Author (#ub35634e4-15a0-5fc8-99a4-39e93c2370f6)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_2142972f-ea0d-5ec6-bdce-28af95f46218)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_e6ed7bfb-ffb3-5fce-8e9f-d661c84d87b7)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_bd154e6d-2c6f-5710-b102-ccf3a542c4c2)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_4481c205-d638-5179-8bea-524db727be5d)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_8a1f0f02-b24e-5a75-a198-5f69cf76055a)
This was Tony Nakni’s favorite time, when the day slowly faded and took on the slightly purple shades of dusk as the sun sank behind the horizon.
He sat outside, in front of his bunk-room door, and drew in a deep breath of the early September evening air. Cicadas clicked and whirred their songs from nearby trees and a cow lowed from the pasture in the distance.
The twelve-unit bunkhouse was quiet for now, but Tony knew it was the calm before a brief storm. In the next half hour or so most of the other cowboys would explode out of their rooms, all of them cleaned up and ready for a Saturday night out on the town.
They’d all head to the Watering Hole. The bar was the place to go for drinking, playing pool or dancing in the small town of Bitterroot, Oklahoma.
Tony only rarely joined the other men on their weekly foray of cutting loose after a long week of work on the ranch. He preferred to unwind by watching the sunset, having a beer and, until recently, talking to Dusty Crawford, who had lived in the bunk room next to Tony’s.
But two weeks ago, Dusty had moved from the Holiday ranch into a house in town with Trisha Cahill and her three-year-old son, Cooper. Dusty had chosen a life path that Tony had no interest in following. Tony had been alone for as long as he could remember and he was most comfortable that way.
He reached down and grabbed a beer from the small cooler at his feet. He twisted off the top, tossed the lid into the cooler, took a sip and leaned back in his chair.
In the distance, lights began to glow from the windows of the big house where Cassie Peterson lived. It was hard to believe that it had been almost five months since owner Cass Holiday had been killed in a spring tornado that had ripped through the area. Everyone had been surprised to learn that she’d left the ranch to her niece, Cassie. Cassie was New York City born and raised and since she’d taken over the ranch there had been many adjustments.
The sixty-eight-year-old Cass had been the only person Tony had completely trusted on the face of the earth. All of the cowboys on the ranch had been a bit lost since her death.
He shoved thoughts of Cass out of his head and instead focused his attention on the colorful sunset currently taking place in the western sky. As far as he was concerned, Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a little piece of heaven on earth.
He turned his attention to the right as he heard a door open and then smelled the scent of minty soap and heavy spicy cologne.
“Hey, brother.” Sawyer Quincy greeted Tony with a grin. “Why don’t you splash on some good-smelling stuff and come with us into town. Maybe you can find yourself a sexy female to warm your cold, lonely bed.”
Tony grinned back at the tall, russet-haired cowboy. “You have enough smelly stuff on for the both of us. Besides, you never come home with a female. You’re usually carried back from town by the other men.”
Sawyer’s inability to hold his liquor was legendary. It took only a couple of beers for him to be half-comatose. “Don’t remind me,” he said ruefully. “It’s embarrassing that I can ride a wild bronco and wrestle a steer to the ground in record time, but I can’t drink more than three or four beers without getting totally plastered.”
“Have you ever considered not drinking beer at all?”
Sawyer looked at him in mock horror. “What kind of a cowboy doesn’t drink beer?”
Before Tony could reply, several other ranch hands made an appearance from around the corner of the building. Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, was followed by Mac McBride, Brody Booth and Clay Madison.
“You keeping the home fires burning again tonight, Tony?” Adam asked.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to nothing more exciting than a good night’s sleep,” he replied.
“I’ll kiss a beautiful lady for you,” Clay said with his usual bravado. “Heck, maybe I’ll kiss two.”
Tony laughed. “Clay, if you actually did as much as you talked, you’d be a real legend. As it is, you’re only a legend in your own mind,” Tony teased.
The others hooted with laughter. There was a bit more ribbing of each other and then they all headed to the outbuilding, where the vehicles were parked. Minutes later headlights wove through the semidarkness in the direction toward town.
Tony finished his beer and grabbed a second one. Tomorrow was Sunday and in the rotation of the ranch work, it was a day he was off duty.
He had no real plans for the next day. He might go into town and see about getting a new pair of boots, or he might not. He tried to live in the moment, never looking to the future or dwelling on the past.
By the time he finished his second beer the dark of night had settled in. He grabbed his cooler and folding chair and carried them into his room.
All of the living quarters for the cowboys who worked the Holiday ranch were the same. A twin bed was on one side of the room and a chest of drawers was on the other. There was also a small closet and a bathroom with a shower.
Most of the men who lived here had added personal touches to make the rooms their own over the years. But other than the brown cowboy hat and gun and holster on top of the dresser, and the clothes in the closet, Tony’s room was exactly the same as it had been when he’d been a fifteen-year-old runaway and Cass Holiday had taken a chance on him.
If she hadn’t hired him on here, there was no question in his mind that he would have more than likely died on the streets of Oklahoma City. He probably would have been beaten to death—not for who he was or any action he’d taken, but rather for what he was.
He pulled out the strip of rawhide that he used to tie back his black hair during the day and then stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.
The only time any ghosts from the past ever threatened him was in the quiet minutes just before he fell asleep, in the darkened privacy of his room.
Half-breed. Your mother didn’t want you and your father was a drunk who was gone long before you were born. You don’t belong anywhere. You have no place in this world. You’re just lucky we took you in.
He consciously shoved the hurtful words away. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, wondering why his foster parents treated him so differently from their own children.
He fell asleep with the ghosts from his youth silenced. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when rapid knocking sounded at his door.
A glance at the clock let him know it was almost one. He muttered a small curse and got out of bed, fully expecting one of his fellow cowboys who wanted to share the drunken escapades of the evening with him.
He pulled open the door and stared in stunned surprise at the blond-haired, blue-eyed woman who stood before him. “Amy...what are you doing here?”
It had been a little over a year ago since Tony had last seen Amy Kincaid. He’d been just a bit crazy over her, until he realized she was more than just a little bit crazy herself. She was achingly thin and sported a yellowing bruise on the side of her face.
“Tony, I’m in trouble.” She cast a glance over her skinny shoulder and then looked at him again, her eyes huge and simmering with what appeared to be barely suppressed terror.
She’d pulled her car up just outside the bunkhouse, had driven across the lawn from where the driveway ended in the distance. The engine was still running.
“Amy, what’s going on? Come inside and talk to me,” he replied.
She shook her head. “I’ve got to go, but I need you to step up.”
Tony frowned. “Step up?”
She turned and ran to her car and opened the back door. She pulled out a medium-sized suitcase and then a car seat with a sleeping baby inside.
When she returned to his door, Tony stared at her in bewilderment. “Would you tell me what’s going on?”
“This is your son. His name is Joey.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t take care of him right now.” Once again she shot a frantic look over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Tony.” She grabbed his forearm, her fingers feverish and her sharp nails biting into his skin. “Please...protect him from evil.” She turned and ran for her car.
“Amy, wait!” Tony shouted after her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate. She jumped into the driver seat and then tore off toward the ranch exit.
Two other doors flew open. Clay came out of one and Sawyer stumbled out of the other one. “Whaz goin’ on?” Sawyer mumbled with a slight slur. “Hey, what’s that doing here?” he asked as he stared down at the sleeping little boy.
“It’s not a ‘that,’ it’s a boy,” Tony replied absently. He was still trying to process what had just happened. This is your son. Protect him from evil. “Amy just dropped him off. She said he’s my son and it was time for me to step up.”
