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The Cowboy's Million-Dollar Secret
Emilie Rose
One lucky bachelor was about to inherit millions! And not just any bachelor–but the chivalrous cowboy Leanna Jensen had coveted ever since she'd read about his boyhood escapades in his illegitimate daddy's old love letters. And now Patrick Lander had grown into a hard-muscled, smolderingly sexy Texan.As executor of his estate, Leanna was honor-bound to fulfill her deathbed promise to filthy rich Hollywood legend Arch Golden and give Patrick his due. But when she bided her time playing hostess at the family-run dude ranch, the straitlaced virgin hadn't counted on melting beneath Patrick's hot, hungry stare…or experiencing exquisite tenderness ensconced in his protective arms. Would her proclamations of love fall on deaf ears when Patrick discovered he didn't have Lander blood coursing through his veins?
“Afraid You Can’t Keep Up With Me?”
The dare in Leanna’s eyes stirred his competitive blood. “Sweetheart, the question isn’t whether or not I could keep up with you. It’s whether or not I’d leave you eating my dust. I am good.”
For three dances he spun, dipped and twirled her, using every intricate dance move he knew, and he knew ’em all. Leanna never missed a step. It’d been ages since he’d had a partner who could keep up with him. His breathing became unsteady and he felt a little feverish. He had a serious hankering to kiss that sassy smirk right off her lips.
Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Did I mention my former employer’s last lover was a dance instructor?”
He’d been hustled twice by a wet-behind-the-ears gal. He’d underestimated her abilities as a hostess and a dance partner, and he had to wonder if she had any more surprises in store for him….
The Cowboy’s Million-Dollar Secret
Emilie Rose
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Kim Nadelson, my editor.
I couldn’t do this without you.
EMILIE ROSE
lives in North Carolina with her college-sweetheart husband and four sons. This bestselling author’s love for romance novels developed when she was twelve years old and her mother hid them under sofa cushions each time Emilie entered the room. Emilie grew up riding and showing horses. She’s a devoted baseball mom during the season and can usually be found in the bleachers watching one of her sons play. Her hobbies include quilting, cooking (especially cheesecake) and anything cowboy. Her favorite TV shows include Discovery Channel’s medical programs, ER, CSI and Boston Public. Emilie’s a country music fan because there’s an entire book in nearly every song.
Emilie loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619 or at http://www.EmilieRose.com.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
One
One cowboy.
One final request.
Fifteen million dollars.
Leanna Jensen smiled and congratulated herself on finding a way to tie all three into a neat package. “You won’t regret giving me the job, Ms. Lander.”
“Call me Brooke. If you’ll follow me into the kitchen I’ll introduce you to my brother-in-law.” Leanna’s new boss led the way across the expansive common room, calling over her shoulder, “I forgot to mention when we spoke on the phone that Patrick will be managing the dude ranch while my husband and I are away.”
Leanna’s steps faltered. She hadn’t expected to meet the star player of her adolescent daydreams so soon. Would he measure up to her high expectations or disappoint her like every other man? “Patrick is here? Now?”
“In the flesh.” The deep voice drew her gaze to the cowboy already occupying the spacious dude ranch dine-in kitchen. Slumped over a glass of iced tea at the end of the long pine table, he slowly straightened. His twinkling dark eyes and charismatic grin stole her breath.
Brooke motioned her forward. “Patrick, this is Leanna Jensen. She’ll be filling in for me as hostess for the next month. Leanna, Patrick.”
Pressing a hand over her leaping heart, Leanna moved farther into the room. Her feet practically floated above the floor. She’d waited nine years to meet the son Carolyn Lander had described in her letters to her lover.
At thirty-six, the man unfolding inch by muscular inch in front of her was ten times more potent than the lean and lanky sixteen-year-old he’d been in the last photo Arch had received.
“I-it’s n-nice to meet you.” She never stuttered or stammered, but Patrick in the flesh was much more manly than she’d imagined. Taller. Broader.
Sexier. She pushed that unwelcome thought aside.
Her gaze raced over his features like a runaway roller coaster. Patrick’s dark, smoldering looks were the complete opposite of his biological father’s, but his classically honed features and sensuously full mouth were the same ones Arch Golden had parlayed into a fortune on the big screen. He’d left that fortune to Patrick, the son he’d never met, but had worried about up until his last breath.
The ache in her heart over losing Arch momentarily overshadowed the thrill of finally meeting his son. Perhaps once she and Patrick became friends they could curl up by a campfire and exchange stories—his exciting tales of life on a ranch, rescuing animals and fighting wildfires and hers about the incredible man who’d fathered him. She especially wanted to make sure Patrick knew that his father—his real father—had loved him even though the two had never met.
She hadn’t been as lucky.
Squaring her shoulders, Leanna met the gaze of the man she’d driven over a thousand miles to meet, and eagerly reached for the hand he extended. She’d read so much about him in his mother’s letters that meeting him was almost like meeting an old friend, and yet an old friend wouldn’t make her fingers tremble.
As if he knew the unsettling effect his good looks had on her, Patrick’s grin deepened, crinkling the laugh lines around his dark eyes and deepening the grooves bracketing his mouth. His warm, slightly rough grasp seemed to reach right down inside her and squeeze her already nervous stomach tighter.
Dear heavens, he was handsome. Her mouth dried and her knees wobbled.
“Hey, there. So we’re gonna play house?” He waggled his dark brows and gave her a slow wink.
Her stomach bottomed out. A tiny drop of doubt threatened to rain on her parade. Was Patrick a charmer and a flirt? Surely the man she’d waited so long to meet wasn’t the very type she’d spent most of her life avoiding?
“I’m going to be keeping house, not playing.” Nervousness made her voice come out sterner than she’d intended. She sounded like a schoolmarm. Embarrassed, she tugged her hand free. Witty, be witty. She’d learned social repartee at her mother’s knee. What was her problem?
He rolled his wide shoulders in a shrug. “‘All work and no play…”’
“Is a good way to get ahead.” Rats. That sounded worse than before, but her insides jangled like loose change in a jogger’s pocket. She fought the urge to wring her hands, shoving her fists into her pants pockets instead. Her palm continued to tingle.
The wattage in his lady-killer grin dimmed. Leaning a hip against the table, he crossed his scuffed and dusty boots. “I can tell you’re going to be a load of fun.”
His sarcasm stung, like tearing a scab off a nearly healed wound. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that from a man.
He folded his arms and turned a long-suffering look toward his sister-in-law. “You and Caleb did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
Brooke’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. You and big brother hired a straitlaced baby-sitter to keep me in line while you’re off on your book tour.” And he wasn’t pleased.
Hurt that he’d pigeon-holed her so easily and that he obviously wasn’t as thrilled to meet her as she was to meet him, Leanna clenched her teeth. “I’m a hostess, not a baby-sitter.”
He shoved a lock of hair off his brow, yanked his black hat from the hook beside the back door, and parked it on his head in one smooth, choreographed move. “Right.”
With his hat pulled low on his forehead, Patrick Lander looked like the real deal as far as cowboys went. She’d bet the muscles straining the shoulders of his plaid shirt and the thighs of his faded jeans hadn’t come from a personal trainer, and his tanned skin looked genuine, not the result of some expensive cream. There wasn’t any Hollywood in him.
Yet. She chewed her lip.
Would a multimillion-dollar inheritance change him? She certainly hoped not, because thanks to her mom, she’d already had a parade of Hollywood phonies and live-for-the-minute men in her life. What she needed now was a man she could trust, a friend to replace the one she’d lost. She hoped to find one in Arch’s son.
He turned for the door, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She had a zillion questions to ask. None of which she actually could ask without giving too much away too soon. But she had to think of something to keep him from walking out. “Do you need someone to watch your every move?”
Patrick paused and slowly pivoted. An assessing light entered his eyes and then he chuckled. The sound slid over her nerve endings like the scrape of a cat’s tongue. “If I did, it wouldn’t be some gal half my age. I could run circles around you without breaking a sweat.”
She swallowed hard. Gaining his friendship wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. “How old do you think I am?”
His dark gaze fastened on her with the sharp focus of a paparazzo’s zoom lens. He took in the stick-straight brown hair she’d pulled back with a barrette, her beige shirt and slacks, and her sensible shoes in a look so slow and thorough she grew warm all over.
The flash of vanity making her long for something besides her baggy traveling outfit was totally ridiculous. The last thing she wanted to be was attracted to a charmer, or worse yet, to have to dodge one’s advances.
The corners of his mouth curled upward, and her stomach fluttered. Then, when his smile twisted into an irritated expression, her hopes sank.
“You can’t be more than eighteen, kid. It’s likely I’ll end up hauling your butt out of trouble every time I turn around. Between corralling the dudes and keeping Dad from working himself to death over on our place, I won’t have time. We’re short-handed and there’s no room for dead weight.”
The “kid” comment rankled. She’d been looking after herself and her mother for as long as she could remember. Stretching up to her full height, which left her a head shorter than Patrick, she threw back her shoulders.
“I’m twenty-one. I don’t need looking after, and I’ll carry my share of the load. As for you running circles around me…you’ll be lucky if you can keep up with me.”
She bit her tongue and took a calming breath. When backed into a corner she tended to get smart-mouthed, but now was not the time to wise-off. Arguing in front of her new employer was likely to get the job offer rescinded. She glanced at Brooke.
Her new boss watched the byplay with an interested and amused expression on her face but made no comment.
Leanna forced a smile. “I came here to work, Mr. Lander, not to have fun.”
“You might not be looking for fun, but our guests will be. From sunup to bunk-down, fun is our profession. And the name’s Patrick. I don’t answer to anything else except in the bedroom. And, kid—” his lips curled in a sly, knowing smile that twisted her insides in a peculiar way “—you and I won’t ever be in the same one at the same time.”
At least they agreed on one thing. Relieved, she smiled back. “Not unless you’re pushing the vacuum.”
He didn’t smile, but his lips twitched, and a spark danced in his dark eyes. She thought she detected a trace of grudging respect. “Where are you staying?”
She blinked at his change of topic and bit the inside of her cheek. Glancing from Patrick to Brooke and back, she shrugged. “The job description was a little unclear. Aren’t accommodations part of the package?”
Brooke shook her head. “The only staff member who lives on-site is Toby, the head trail boss.”
Patrick faced Brooke. “Your painters will be in first thing tomorrow morning. The Double C’s booked solid. She can’t stay here.”
An unexpected twist, but she’d sleep in her car, if necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time she made her bed in a back seat. Leanna asked, “Painters?”
Brooke nodded and rested a hand over her stomach. “Caleb and I are expecting. We decided to have our private quarters redecorated while we’re traveling, because we didn’t want the baby exposed to the paint fumes or the dust from the floor refinishers. Maria, our housekeeper, offered to keep an eye on everything, but she’s been unexpectedly called away.”
Brooke crossed the room and pulled a phone book from the drawer. “Patrick’s right. We can’t house you at the Double C, but there’s a rooming house about ten miles from here. I’ll write down the address and phone number for you—if you’re still interested in the job?”
“I’m definitely interested.” She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than spending the next month learning more about the Lander family. Carolyn Lander hadn’t been happy in this remote section of Texas, although she’d stayed there till she died twenty years ago. But to Leanna, who’d spent years dodging paparazzi as part of her job with Arch, wide-open spaces sounded like heaven.
Besides, someone had to help Patrick deal with the devastating news she was about to deliver. And maybe, just maybe, he could fill the void Arch’s death left in her life.
“In that case,” Brooke continued, “I’ve left a thorough description of my job duties for you along with Maria’s daughter’s phone number.” She pointed to a piece of paper pinned on the bulletin board above the counter. “She said you could call her if you had any questions. I don’t think I left anything out during our tour of the facilities, but why don’t you look over the list while I get the boarding house address?”
Patrick intercepted Leanna before she could reach the bulletin board. He moved so swiftly she had to put up her hands to prevent a collision. Her fingertips grazed his firm chest and a tingle jolted clear to her elbows. His cedar and citrus scent teased her senses. Disconcerted, she took a quick step back.
“Maria has her hands full with her grandkids while her daughter’s recuperating from surgery. Don’t bug her. You need anything, you whistle for me. Got it?” His voice was low and intimate, as if he didn’t want his sister-in-law to overhear.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Patrick didn’t think she was qualified for the position of hostess. Mentally dusting off her hands, she met the challenge in his eyes.
“My former employer had a forty-room home with an in-house staff of four, along with an outside staff that varied depending on the season. I supervised them all. Guests were always coming and going. I can handle the dude ranch.”
Her words had no visible effect on him, but she held her ground. Experience had taught her not to respond to intimidation.
Brooke’s voice intruded on their staring match. “I’m sorry Arch Golden’s death forced you to seek other employment, Leanna, but his attorney—who coincidentally used to be mine before I moved to Texas—gave you a glowing reference.”
He would. Phil knew the role Leanna had played in his client’s life, as well as the one she’d now been assigned to play as the executrix of Arch’s estate. Sitting in Phil’s office it had sounded relatively easy to fulfill her executrix duties. All she had to do was contact Patrick and tell him about his real father and his inheritance before the press crashed down on him with the news.
Arch’s last request was a little more complicated. He’d asked her to explain to Patrick that although he’d never tried to contact his son, he had loved him. In return, Arch had promised her enough money to finish college and keep her mother in rehab. She would have agreed without the promise of money, because the stories Carolyn had written about Patrick’s boyhood escapades had whetted her appetite for adventure—cowboy-style.
Patrick Lander, according to his mother, was a man of the land and good with animals and children. He had a family history—something Leanna sorely lacked—and he’d lived in the same place since birth. Compared to her life, his sounded like a fairy-tale, and compared to the court jesters she’d dated, he sounded like King Arthur. The tales of his gallantry had certainly spoiled her for every man she’d met.
“You worked for a movie star?” Patrick stepped back, looking and sounding repulsed rather than impressed, the way most people were by her former employer.
She sighed. Her friendship apparently didn’t rank high on his list of things to accomplish today. Well, tomorrow was another day, as Scarlett had said. “Yes, but managing staff and making guests comfortable, whether it’s paying customers or just friends dropping in, are universal skills.”
“Right.”
She’d never known one word could carry so much sarcasm, and she’d lived with an actor for the last six years. Pivoting on his worn-down boot heel, her quarry opened the back door but paused in the threshold. “Brooke, tell Caleb I’ll catch up with him later.”
“Patrick.” Brooke hurried across the kitchen and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I know the extra work is going to be tough on you while we’re away, and I want you to know how much Caleb and I appreciate you allowing us this time together before the baby comes.”
A flush darkened Patrick’s neck and cheekbones. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he shifted from one boot to the other. “You haven’t been married to my brother long enough to know there’s nothing I won’t do for family.”
