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His Tomboy Bride
Leanna Wilson
JUNE BRIDESBRIDE IN BLUE JEANS?Boy, how Billie Rae Gunther had changed! She'd gone from a neighbor's pigtailed, skinned-knee little girl to a vision in white satin and lace–at least, until she lifted her dress and Nick Latham saw cowboy boots! Yep, Billie was a capable, confident woman–except in matters of the heart….Still, though Billie would make a beautiful bride–what about her fiancе? Nick couldn't allow her to marry that arrogant twerp until he'd had a chance to show Billie what she'd be missing. But as marriage-shy Nick demonstrated the pleasures of single life, he realized the only aisle Billie should be walking down was one leading to him!Celebrate a month of joyful marriages with Silhouette Romance!
“We need to talk. Privately.” (#uf8906ec5-b7c8-5a07-a925-bbb0fef52629)Letter to Reader (#ud7964922-2319-5e81-bec8-003399563575)Title Page (#u58f51853-3af0-5292-acd0-979d9a91abf2)Dedication (#u7e922c7a-63cd-5fc1-af59-b69213e6bdf5)Acknowledgments (#u366c83f5-9082-5ab0-ae68-2a835abb209b)LEANNA WILSON, (#u25aa35c6-34e0-51fa-bfc7-60deb0634053)Chapter One (#uee53c267-56f1-53aa-bee5-e8b790e4bdb0)Chapter Two (#u97163c27-1279-5e20-84ef-99e3f101b455)Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“We need to talk. Privately.”
Nick’s voice resonated inside Billie like a gust of warm air. His hot gaze traced every curve from the round of her breast to the indentation of her waist and swell of her hips. No one had ever looked at her as Nick did now. It unraveled her composure. It made her jittery. But it also gave her a smug confidence she’d never experienced. She’d always known she could ride or rope as well as any cowboy. But she’d never known she could turn a man’s head.
“Fine, I’ll show you the ranch.” Maybe he’d be impressed. He’d see her as a strong-willed woman who could run a ranch and marry any man she pleased.
“And we’ll talk,” he warned.
Terrific, Billie thought, just what she needed—a heart-to-heart with the man who’d unknowingly stolen hers.
Dear Reader,
Traditionally June is the month for weddings, so Silhouette Romance cordially invites you to enjoy our promotion JUNE BRIDES, starting with Suzanne Carey’s Sweet Bride of Revenge. In this sensuously powerful VIRGIN BRIDES tale, a man forces the daughter of his nemesis to marry him, never counting on falling in love with the enemy....
Up-and-comer Robin Nicholas delivers a touching BUNDLES OF JOY titled Man, Wife and Little Wonder. Can a denim-clad, Harley-riding bad boy turn doting dad and dedicated husband? Find out in this classic marriage-of-convenience romance! Next, Donna Clayton’s delightful duo MOTHER & CHILD continues with the evocative title Who’s the Father of Jeruty’s Baby? A woman awakens in the hospital to discover she has amnesia—and she’s pregnant! Problem is, two men claim to be the baby’s father—her estranged husband...and her husband’s brother!
Granted: Wild West Bride is the next installment in Carol Grace’s BEST-KEPT WISHES series. This richly Western romance pairs a toughened, taut-muscled cowboy and a sophisticated city gal who welcomes his kisses, but will she accept his ring? For a fresh spin on the bridal theme, try Alice Sharpe’s Wife on His Doorstep. An about-to-be bride stops her wedding to the wrong man, only to land on the doorstep of the strong, silent ship captain who was to perform the ill-fated nuptials.... And in Leanna Wilson’s latest Romance. His Tomboy Bride, Nick Latham was supposed to “give away” childhood friend and bride-to-be Billie Rae—not claim the transformer beauty as his own!
We hope you enjoy the month’s wedding fun, and return each and every month for more classic, emotional, heartwarming novels from Silhouette Romance.
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie. Ont. L2A 5X3
His Tomboy Bride
Leanna Wilson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Gary,
the best husband in the world!
Acknowledgments
As always, to my critique buds—Alyson, Betty and
Tommy. Much thanks goes to Frank Weatherford
(and Hawker Crane!).
LEANNA WILSON,
a native Texan, was born and bred in Big D, but she’s a country girl at heart. More at home dreaming up stories than lesson plans, she gave up teaching to pursue writing. Once she began putting her stories onto paper, it didn’t take her long to publish her first Silhouette Romance novel, Strong, Silent Cowboy, which won the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award. She’s married to a strong, not-so-silent city slicker and lives in Lewisville, Texas, with their “children”—two lively shih tzus. She loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her c/o: Leanna Wilson, P.O. Box 294277, Lewisville, TX 75029-4277.
Chapter One
With a mixture of disbelief and wariness, Billie Rae Gunther stared at her wedding gown. The Italian satin looked like a collapsed bridal cake flung across her bedroom floor. How could she wear this frilly concoction? She’d look like a child playing dress-up instead of a beautiful, blushing bride.
“Be careful,” Rosa warned. The dressmaker opened the gown and pushed the expensive material out of the way of Billie’s feet. Nervous about the outcome of this folly, Billie pointed a silk-covered toe and stepped into the mounds of fabric to have the dress fitted. A tremor of apprehension rippled through her. What if she tore a seam? Worse, what if she looked like a fool?
Wiggling her hips, Billie settled into the waist and draped the satin across her shoulders. The cool cloth felt as slippery as the catfish she’d caught in Willow’s Pond last fall. Feeling like a stuffed trout, she rocked back and forth from foot to foot.
“Hold still,” Rosa admonished.
Billie sucked in a breath. It seemed to take hours instead of seconds as Rosa’s nimble fingers fastened the long row of buttons along Billie’s spine. Worried, she slanted her gaze toward the oblong mirror angled in the corner of her childhood room and watched the slow transformation. The creamy white material hugged her frame, and the lace gave her more curves than she owned, making her look softer and more feminine than her faded Wrangler jeans and scuffed Justin boots ever did. Hope swelled inside her. Maybe she could shed her tomboy image and be the woman she’d always imagined.
Then she caught sight of her V-necked tan line standing out in the middle of her chest like an inverted scarlet letter. A wave of apprehension rolled over her. She couldn’t hide the fact she was a tomboy, a cowgirl, or good ol’ “Billie the Kid.” In the far recesses of her mind she heard Jake, her older brother, and his best friend, Nick, snickering and calling her that nickname. The memory brought a sharp, double-edged pain to her heart.
Rosa secured the veil across the top of Billie’s head with hairpins, then stepped back. Satisfied with her creation, she beamed, her wide smile splitting her coppery face. “Ah, so beautiful!” Her solid black gaze narrowed and her brow withered into a frown. “Why this face?” She lifted Billie’s chin a notch. “Why so sad?”
Billie shrugged. “I’m okay. I was thinking about Jake and...” She stopped, shaking her head, trying to shrug off her sorrow like a pesky injury. But this ache wouldn’t go away. He’d been too young, too foolish driving his truck hell-bent for leather. She couldn’t think about her brother now. Nor would she think about Nick Latham. His memory would bring a different kind of pang. He’d moved out of Bonnet, Texas, and on with his own life...without her.
No longer a kid with fanciful dreams, she was a full-grown woman of twenty-three. She drew in a confident breath and adjusted the material bunching around her shoulders. How difficult could parading around like a Barbie doll be? It couldn’t be harder than running her daddy’s ranch, juggling the finances or marrying a man she didn’t love.
Responsibility constricted her like the dress tried to cut off her circulation above her waist. She never could stay ahead of the demands on her time or bank account. Her father’s sudden death five years ago had heaped half the responsibility on her narrow shoulders. In his will, he’d left Billie and Jake the ranch, knowing their mother would never be able to take care of it on her own. Two years later Jake’s death had left her with a barnyard of unexpected debts and all the responsibility. Now, her desperation, her determination, had brought her to this—her wedding.
Reality had a sharper edge and required practical decisions. This marriage solved a truckload of problems for her. She’d face her future with the same grit that had helped her through each tragedy in her life. This time, the things she cared about wouldn’t be taken away from her. This time, she’d take the reins in her own hands and guide her own destiny.
Marriage didn’t come wrapped up in a nice, neat package with frilly ribbons and bows. Billie would not risk her heart on her fiancе or anyone else. She’d tried that once. And failed. With deep scars as proof, she’d learned once too often that love hurt. She could do without any more pain.
Rosa sniffed. “Too much sorrow for one family. Let us think of your wedding. Put on your shoes and come. Let’s not keep your mother waiting.”
Ignoring the satin pumps that looked about as comfortable as the strapless underwire bra she wore beneath her dress, Billie pulled her fancy white boots out of the closet. She hadn’t worn these since she’d gone boot-scootin’ in high school. At least the boots were comfortable.
She left her bedroom, lifting the heavy skirt out of the way, the lush satin brushing against her legs and rustling with each step. She moved past framed pictures of family vacations in the Rocky Mountains, her and Jake huddled in front of a tilted Christmas tree, and school pictures chronicling Billie’s blackened eyes, pigtails and braces. The fond memories fortified her with the courage she needed to face her future.
“Here comes the bride!” Martha Gunther sang, her voice warbling like an old-fashioned organ. Her face crinkled with a warm smile. Her blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
Feeling less like a bride and more like a trussed up heifer, Billie waddled into the den. Shoulders back, she gave her mother her best, most optimistic smile, the same one she used after she paid each month’s bills and counted the leftover money in the checking account.
A movement in the corner of the living room caught her eye. She squinted against the afternoon sunlight pouring through the bay window across the front of her parents’ house. The tall, dark, masculine frame had broad shoulders and a height that would put most men to shame. Her breath caught in her lungs. Had Doug, her fiancе, come early? Maybe the light distorted his size, making him larger than his normally slight, elegant build. Her groom shouldn’t be seeing her wedding dress. It was bad luck. And that was one thing she didn’t need any more of.
“Billie the Kid?” The warm, deep, masculine voice jolted her like a bolt of electricity.
Her breath whooshed out of her. For a second she felt dizzy, her world tilting off center. Nick!
Nicholas Barrett Latham stepped toward her, effectively blocking the sun slanting through the window behind him. She met his gold-flecked amber gaze. Something warm and uncomfortable, something she hadn’t experienced in years, stirred inside her. He ran his fingers through his thick chestnut hair. A grin split his chiseled, tanned features and zapped the strength right out of her knees.
“Well,” he said, rubbing his hand against his square jaw, “I’ll be damned.”
Nick wasn’t her groom, but he was bad luck, all right. She wished her dress would swallow her whole and bury her beneath the yards of lace and satin. So help her, if he laughed at her in this dress, she’d deck him. In anticipation of having to do just that, her hands curled into fists.
“Isn’t it wonderful for Nick to visit us, honey?” her mother said, hugging her own middle as if she might burst with excitement.
Billie nodded automatically. For once in her life words failed her. Or maybe for the second time. The first had been when she’d kissed Nick. She’d grown up since that hot summer day when she’d been a naive sixteen-year-old. But with Nick’s irresistible smile and curious gaze settling on her now, her insides felt mushy once again, like jelly left out of the refrigerator for too long.
“I heard you were getting married,” he said in a rumbling voice that made her stomach roll. “Had to see it for myself.”
His surprise ruffled her feathers. She met his intense gaze squarely. “Why? Is it so impossible to believe someone would want me?”
“I didn’t mean...I... No. ’Course not.” His features twisted with confusion. He stepped forward and awkwardly brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Congratulations, Billie.”
The warmth of his lips sent a surge of heat through her body. She drew in a quick, inadequate breath. Nick stood so close she could have touched him if she’d dared. She smelled his clean, spicy scent, which reminded her of the sharpness of cedar after a summer rain. Her voice caught on the words, “Welcome home, Nick.”
His hand slid around her cinched-in waist and pulled her close against his chest. She felt the hardness of his muscles, the strength in his arms, the gentleness of his words as his breath warmed her ear. “It’s good to see you again, Billie.”
His solid embrace made her feel weak as a newborn colt. She stepped back on the hem of her dress. To her chagrin, Nick steadied her with a hand under her elbow. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her breath came hard and fast, as if she’d run up a steep hill.
“How long has it been?” she asked, knowing it had been exactly two years, one month and sixteen days. She didn’t ask herself how she knew or why. She didn’t want to question whether it was because she so clearly remembered the cool, rainy spring day when she’d stood at her brother’s graveside or because Nick had been there.
“Too long,” he answered.
Knee-deep in grief at her brother’s funeral, Billie remembered Nick’s fierce hug, an awkward pat on her shoulders, a gruff, “I’m so sorry, Billie.” She’d been unable to restrain the resentment at seeing his pretty wife standing beside him. Maybe that’s why she’d been so damned determined to handle the Rocking G Ranch on her own. If she couldn’t have Nick’s love, then by God she’d have his respect. That’s why he couldn’t know she was selling out now...to marriage.
So much had changed since that rainy day. Regret swept through her. She alone bore the guilt of why Nick hadn’t visited the Gunthers since his best friend’s funeral. Instinctively she sensed Nick had changed, too. Something in his face, his eyes. A harder glint had replaced the mischievous glimmer of his youth. Feeling his gaze on her like a warm caress, her dress suddenly felt tight, the air thin, her blood thick as molasses.
“We all should have kept in touch,” Martha said, “after Jake...” She shook her head.
Sorrow darkened Nick’s eyes to a deep walnut
After Jake’s funeral he’d offered to stay and help with the ranch, but Billie had wanted—needed—to prove she could handle it as well as any man. But she hadn’t known about the money Jake had borrowed. She hadn’t known a lot of things then. It had been an uphill battle ever since to stay in operation.
Martha patted Nick’s arm as if he was her own son. “We’ve missed you.”
“I was negligent,” he said, his voice thick. “I should have come back sooner.”
Billie lifted her chin and met his questioning gaze. “We managed fine. We didn’t need any help.”
And we don’t need anything now.
A wry chuckle escaped his tense mouth. “You always could take care of things.”
Her heart lurched. She hadn’t managed very well with the ranch. Good ol’ Billie Rae—strong, capable, dependable—she’ d always prided herself on her good qualities. But did they really describe her or a well-bred stock horse?
Irritated at her own comparison, she wanted to believe Nick’s words were a compliment. But in her heart they taunted her. For a moment she wished she could melt into a helpless puddle of tears instead remaining stoic and practical in the face of adversity. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.
More than ready for him to leave, she asked, “What brings you back here?”
“You.” Something suggestive in his tone made her toes curl under.
“Me?” Her voice squeaked.
With the swiftness of summer lightning, she remembered the burning intensity of their one shared kiss, the awareness sparking between them, the heat searing her to her very feminine core. The texture of his mouth, firm yet gentle, as rough and tempting as raw silk, had awakened her like Prince Charming had stirred Sleeping Beauty from sleep. She had suddenly been proud of her softer curves, grateful finally that she was a girl... woman.
At sixteen she’d suffered a bad case of puppy love. But it had been more, she’d realized as time had passed, as she’d matured, as the feelings had lingered and intensified. It had been real, true. From the very depths of her soul. She’d wanted to marry Nick, have his children. Loving him had outshone all her other dreams. When hit with his captivating gaze, she’d have done anything for him. Then he’d splintered a small part of her heart.
So she’d focused with laser beam precision on her hopes of becoming a vet. It hadn’t taken long for that dream to crash beneath the weight of her father’s death and be buried beneath the burden of her brother’s. Years of hard, backbreaking work and shoulder-scrunching responsibility had demolished the rest of her innocent hopes. Once she’d had grand plans for her life. None of them had come to pass. But she hadn’t given up on all of them yet.
As abruptly as she’d been set back on her heels that day when Nick had told her of his impending marriage, now again she pulled herself up short from her steamy memories. She reminded herself with a quick mental kick that she didn’t want Nick. She had other plans, plans that resurrected her dreams. Plans that didn’t include him.
The cold, wet glass cooled the skyrocketing temperature that burned inside him like a high-pitched fever. Nick felt hotter than the hundred-degree weather outside. He sipped the sweetened tea, and the ice clinked together. The ceiling fan sifted cool air over his heated skin.
Wedding! He still couldn’t believe it. Billie the Kid was really getting married. His world turned upside down as if E no longer equaled mc
. He felt the foundation under him collapsing.
But Nick couldn’t concentrate on anything except Billie. And her vibrant blue eyes. Her golden hair teased her smooth, bare shoulders and made him think of things he didn’t ordinarily associate with Billie, like satin sheets on hot summer nights. Her faint tan line, outlining the opening of a work shirt, brought a smile to his heart as he remembered the rough-and-tumble girl she’d once been. And now she was all grown-up.
For the first time he noticed her very distinctive, patently feminine and too-damn-sexy curves. His “kid sister” had become a woman. A part of him was more than grateful there wasn’t an ounce of blood relation between them.
His throat went bone-dry. He coughed, uncomfortable with his blatant, sexually charged reaction to her. “Tim Cummins told me your good news. I ran into him yesterday in Houston.”
One part of the rumor had been true enough. But he still held out hope the rest had been false.
“We should have called,” Martha said, “but it’s been so rush-rush, with all the plans and everything.” She touched a trembling hand to Billie’s veil. “I wish your father could see you like this. He would have been so proud.” She turned away and sniffed again into her handkerchief.
Billie’s features contorted, the muscles along her neck flexing. Nick wondered if her father’s absence took away part of her wedding joy. Mr. Gunther wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle or twirl her around the dance floor. Didn’t a woman want that emotional support, those tender moments?
None of the Gunther men were alive to offer guidance to Billie. Nick knew neither of them would approve of the groom Tim Cummins had said won Billie’s hand. Nick wouldn’t, either. It had to be some mistake. The Billie he knew would be more discerning than that. That’s why he’d dropped everything, including work, and raced back to Bonnet—to make sure she knew what she was doing.
She met his gaze. A sparkle glinted in her eyes, making them look as dazzling as sapphires. One minute she looked childlike—lost, alone, bereft—and the next, she appeared ready to take on the world. Billie had always surprised him with her quick-flash change of emotions. What the hell did he know about women, anyway? They were an enigma. His divorce was a blatant reminder.
She broke the fragile silence with, “Jake would have gotten a good belly laugh about all this.”
Something familiar and warm passed between them, but a new spark ignited, something disconcerting and way too hot. Ignoring his very male reaction to her obvious feminine charms, he matched her smile with an unsteady one of his own. “You’re right. He would have.”
Then her eyes flashed. Her smile faltered. She tipped her chin higher. He recognized that old challenge.
Jake might have laughed at her all dressed up like this. But Nick couldn’t. His lungs constricted, trapping his breath. Words lodged in his throat. She looked so damn different...so grown-up...so beautiful. When had all these changes taken place? At her father’s funeral five years earlier she’d looked like a frightened child, her eyes wide, but unable to shed a tear. At Jake’s funeral two years later, she’d looked thin as a rail. She’d stood strong for her mother, brave, controlling her trembling lip.
He’d missed the gradual transition from girlhood to a full-fledged woman. Somehow she seemed softer than he’d expected, vulnerable, yet he knew she was tough enough to handle a Texas cattle ranch on her own. Still, a trace of that uncertain, freckle-faced girl could still be seen in her wild, blue gaze.
“Jake would have been a fool not to see how beautiful you are,” he managed.
Uncertainty darkened her eyes to the turbulence of a stormy sea. She glanced down at the yards of lace swirling around her. “I feel like I got walloped with confectioners’ sugar.”
