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Tangled With A Texan
Yvonne Lindsay
Keeping his enemy close… by any means necessary! Seducing Detective Zoe Warren seems like the perfect plan to Rancher Cord Galacia to help prove his best friend’s innocence. But with so much at stake—and their very real heat rising by the minute—will the secrets behind his seduction tear Zoe and Cord apart?
Keeping close tabs on her opponent…is a minefield of temptation!
When detective Zoe Warren arrives in Royal, Texas, to investigate a case, wealthy rancher Cord Galicia can’t believe his innocent best friend is the prime suspect. So Cord decides to woo Zoe as a distraction. But soon she has his libido in custody. With so much at stake—and their very real heat rising by the minute—will his hidden agenda tear them apart?
Award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author YVONNE LINDSAY has always preferred the stories in her head to the real world. Married to her blind-date sweetheart and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart. In her spare time she can be found with her nose firmly in someone else’s book.
Also by Yvonne Lindsay (#u0183beaf-0ada-5b86-a156-cf249075e9a9)
Wed at Any Price
Honour-Bound Groom
Stand-In Bride’s Seduction
For the Sake of the Secret Child
Marriage at First Sight
Tangled Vows
Inconveniently Wed
Vengeful Vows
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Tangled with a Texan
Yvonne Lindsay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09269-2
TANGLED WITH A TEXAN
© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u0183beaf-0ada-5b86-a156-cf249075e9a9)
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To my fellow Texas Cattleman’s
Club: Houston authors, always a
pleasure working with you, ladies!
Contents
Cover (#u802592aa-ceb1-5368-820e-706abc07a65c)
Back Cover Text (#u9c30f632-ebcf-5083-b036-13ecc93e0638)
About the Author (#u228c8759-5459-5826-9c2d-3d70d9c52e1e)
Booklist (#uc8bca49c-baeb-54e2-80b6-92f15a91acf7)
Title Page (#u0aab6bd9-7c81-5ca1-aac8-396710aa8db9)
Copyright (#ue06c7828-30f0-5f04-b279-235ce0256ac2)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u882070de-47d7-5e99-865b-c9ac8a4ad90c)
One (#u7d2eb6b5-8690-5f64-918d-fc92e30014b9)
Two (#u7ee8e57e-7d6e-58b0-8f19-94cbd245fa44)
Three (#ufd3917b0-95ea-57ad-8b8d-c564247014e3)
Four (#uf064cea0-0879-5531-9806-26a97a094d89)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
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Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u0183beaf-0ada-5b86-a156-cf249075e9a9)
As if it wasn’t enough she’d had to hand over her additional casework to the rest of her already overloaded team, now she was headed all the way out to Royal, Texas. Zoe Warren was a city detective, hell, city girl, through and through. She already could start to feel her skin itch at the thought of cattle and cowboys and all that open pasture. Mind you, driving the three hundred or so miles to Royal had presented as a far more attractive option than facing yet another blind date set up by one of her four older brothers or her parents, who seemed to think she needed help settling down. And who said she wanted to settle down, anyway? She’d worked long and hard for her place on Houston P.D.’s detective squad, and her career trajectory was heading straight up. You weren’t a third generation cop without some dreams and goals ahead of you—and at only thirty years old, she had plenty of dreams and goals to fulfill while quite happily still single.
Sure, one day it might be nice to get married, throw a couple more Warren genes into the pool of rapidly growing family her brothers and cousins were constantly adding to. But not right now. And not on her ever-loving family’s timetable, either.
The open country that surrounded her had a raw beauty to it that even her citified eyes couldn’t help but appreciate. But always, in the back of her mind, she was working. As lead detective on the homicide case that was sending her on this journey, she was beginning to feel like the more they uncovered about the deceased, Vincent Hamm, the less they actually knew about him, and for her, following down each and every rabbit hole in Hamm’s life had become an obsession. The good thing about having this time on her own as she drove west toward Maverick County was that it gave her the opportunity for some thinking time. Time without the constant pressures that came with the responsibilities of her job.
Everything about this case was off. First, the vic had disappeared into thin air, then he’d never shown back up for work, and after the floodwaters had receded at the site of the new Texas Cattleman’s Club being built in Houston, he was eventually found dead with his face destroyed. Whoever killed him had taken great pains to ensure he couldn’t be visually identified—although the floodwaters had taken their toll, too.
Zoe took a swig of her water bottle and grunted in annoyance when she found it empty. Still, not long now and she’d be in Royal—she could stock up at a convenience store there. But first, a quick swing by the sheriff’s office was in order to make a courtesy visit and let them know that she’d arrived in the county. Nathan Battle, the sheriff, had made a personal visit to Houston to lend his support to the case. Her vic was the son of a friend of his and she’d expected Battle to be loudmouthed at the very least, and difficult at worst. Instead, she’d been quietly surprised by his demeanor. Oh, there was no mistaking the determination behind his promise to Hamm’s family to get to the root of who murdered their son, but he was a by-the-rules guy and his help here in Royal could prove invaluable to her investigation. She’d gone to great lengths to ensure she was doing everything in her power to bring the murderer to justice, and she was confident she’d earned the older man’s trust. She liked the guy. Not pushy, just determined. She respected that.
About ten minutes later, guided by the GPS on her phone—without which she’d be totally lost anywhere, not having inherited the direction gene her brothers took for granted—Zoe pulled up outside the Royal sheriff’s office. Three minutes after that she was back in her car. Turned out the good sheriff was out on a call, but she’d left a message for him to phone her when he got back.
She reprogrammed the GPS and found the midrange motel she’d booked just on the other side of town. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to check in and unpack. She called for updates from her colleagues back in Houston and let them know she’d arrived safely, then decided to take a short walk around town to stretch her legs and familiarize herself.
Royal struck her as a prosperous town with a decent-sized population scurrying about their daily business. Being late afternoon, there were all kinds of people out and about. Business people, moms and kids, a handful of idlers loitering here and there, but overall the place had a good feel about it. She turned and headed back to the motel, her mind still churning over the facts of the case. Just as she reached her unit, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out and looked at the screen. Nathan Battle.
“Sheriff, thanks for calling,” Zoe answered.
“Thanks for coming by and letting me know you’re in town. Did you want to meet?”
“How about tomorrow afternoon?” she suggested, mentally reviewing her plans for tomorrow morning, which included following up on the lead that had brought her to Royal in the first place.
She heard the flick of paper, followed by a grunt of assent. “Yup, works for me. I’ll meet you at the Royal Diner for coffee and a slice of pie, say, three o’clock?”
Zoe’s stomach growled in response to the mention of food. “Sounds like a plan. See you then.”
That would give her plenty of time to make the drive out to the Stevens ranch in the morning and ask a few questions. Hopefully more than a few. That cryptic message left on Hamm’s answering machine saying no more than “Thanks for nothing, Hamm” had spoken volumes when taking into account the tone of the speaker and the fact that Vincent Hamm had gone missing around the same time. They’d been able to trace the message to a local rancher, Jesse Stevens. Research had shown Stevens and Hamm had been friends at one time, but what had happened to drive them apart? Had it been enough to make Jesse Stevens want to kill his former friend?
Stevens was quite a force here in Royal. The wealthy rancher was very involved in the politics of the local Texas Cattleman’s Club, and while Zoe may be grasping at straws, the fact that her vic had been found in the building currently being developed into a new Cattleman’s Club might not be such a coincidence after all. Right now, she had to look at everything. Pressure from the chief of police and Houston’s mayor was constant, and so far her team had little to show for their investigation. Her captain had pulled her aside just yesterday and asked her if she was getting stale. The question had made her bristle. Stale? When all she did lately was live, eat, sleep and breathe this case? Not likely. But he’d made it clear—he needed to see results or she might be stood down.
Thinking about it, Zoe reached a decision. She didn’t want to wait until morning to go face-to-face with Stevens. She could drive out to his ranch right now. October sunset wasn’t until around seven, which gave her three hours of daylight. Plus, the element of surprise would be in her favor if she just rolled up without an appointment. She opened her map app on her phone and pulled up the address she’d saved for Stevens’s ranch before leaving Houston. The ranch was outside Royal and isolated. Nothing but pasture and cattle. Zoe ignored the itch between her shoulder blades and got into her car, set her phone in the hands-free holder and hit Start on the journey planner.
The drive took longer than she expected, but as she pulled through the gates of Stevens’s ranch she felt a sense of triumphant relief that she had made it. People could tease her all they liked about her reliance on modern technology to get anywhere, but it got the job done, she thought with a small smile.
She was still smiling when she went up the front stairs of the impressive ranch house and knocked on the front door. But her smile slipped when no one came to answer. She knocked again and waited a couple of minutes before walking along the front porch to one of the side windows. She looked in. No movement, nothing. Zoe blew out a huff of frustration. Maybe a phone call would have been a better idea after all. Still, she had a list of his known associates here in Royal and she knew one of them was his neighbor. She walked back to the car and reprogrammed her app to the next address on her list.
This time she struck gold when she knocked at the door of the neighboring ranch, which was no less impressive in size and structure than the Stevens property. She’d always known ranching was a prosperous undertaking when done right, but the two properties she’d been on so far were something else. She plastered a smile on her face and flicked her short dark hair back off her forehead as the steady sound of footsteps coming to the door echoed from the other side.
The words she was about to say dried on the tip of her tongue as the door opened, revealing a tall, imposing presence. While the guy wasn’t heavily muscled, there was no doubting the latent strength in the shoulders that bunched beneath the checkered shirt he wore over a crisp white T-shirt. Zoe’s gaze flicked up—something she wasn’t always used to doing when wearing boots that, combined with her natural height, put her at around six feet. Instantly, her attention was captured by the man’s eyes. Light brown and shot with gold, they were incredibly mesmerizing and were set in a face that was all sharp lines and angles softened by a generous dusting of five o’clock shadow that wrapped his jaw. There was an almost wolflike look to him—as if he were assessing her as prey.
Rather than getting put on the defensive, Zoe found herself reacting on a far more visceral level—each facet of her mind sharpening, while every cell in her body responded with pure feminine interest. A wave of physical need pulled from deep within her, robbing her of breath and making her nipples harden against the lacy cups of her bra. She drew her full lower lip between her teeth to stop herself from making the involuntary sound—something like a moan—that threatened to spill from her.
The man’s hair was wet, as if he’d recently stepped from a shower and just slicked it back—its wet ends kissed the edge of his collar and left a damp trail. She drew in a sharp breath, only to discover how intoxicating the scent of him was. She was shocked at how deeply and suddenly he had affected her. She had trained herself from day one at the police academy not to show her emotions. Good things, bad things—it made no difference. She had learned to remain impassive, detached. But right now, she was anything but detached. In fact, right now, every instinct was screaming at her oversensitized body to plaster itself against his length and take his mouth in a possessive kiss that would leave him in no doubt of how much she wanted him. For a nanosecond she allowed herself the luxury of imagining where that might lead. To their two bodies, glistening with perspiration, tangled in tumbled sheets, gliding together, perhaps? She blinked hard and forced herself under control. This was utter madness. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d reacted to a guy this intensely.
Those intriguing eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she realized that neither of them had spoken.
“Miss? Can I help you?”
His voice poured over her. Deep and strong and sexy as hell. This guy could recite a list of traffic infringements and make her knees turn to water.
“Detective,” she corrected him, showing him her badge. “Zoe Warren, Houston P.D.”
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”
She wasn’t mistaken. The warmth and pure male interest she’d seen reflected in his eyes had dimmed, his gaze sharpening warily.
“The boundaries of our investigation have stretched a little,” she said carefully. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mister…?”
“Cord Galicia,” he answered abruptly and thrust out his hand.
Zoe debated taking it. If her reaction to him on a purely visual basis had been so extreme, how on earth would she react when she actually touched him? There was only one way to find out. She drew in a sharp breath, took the proffered hand and clasped it. A slow sizzle of awareness tracked along her skin. His hand was larger than hers, the palm firm, and she could feel the calluses that spoke of the hard work he did. The title of rancher wasn’t simply some token. This man clearly worked, and worked hard. Did he apply himself to everything else he did with as much vigor? she wondered before giving his hand a quick shake and releasing it.
“May I come in?” she asked.
To her surprise, her voice remained steady. Quite a feat when her insides were jangling about as hard as they had in junior high when she’d been asked to prom by the captain of the soccer team. She was already head and shoulders taller than him but it hadn’t bothered her—until she found out the whole thing had been a joke designed by the rest of the team. But that initial response, the delicious sense of anticipation and excitement, she’d never forget. She just never expected to feel it here on the outskirts of Royal, Texas, while working a homicide investigation.
For a moment it looked as if he’d refuse, but then he stepped back from the doorway and gestured for her to move inside. He closed the door decisively behind her, but Zoe didn’t let it rattle her. She’d dealt with people with far fewer social graces than Cord Galicia.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked as he led the way into a large open-plan living room.
