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A Rancher's Honor
Ann Roth
One Night With A CowboyThere's no room in day-care owner Lana Carpenter's life for casual flings. After all, her dream of adopting a baby is closer to becoming a reality than ever. So why is she still mooning over the sexy cowboy who made her forget everything but the strong, sure feel of his arms around her?It wasn't supposed to be more than one unforgettable night between consenting strangers. But when Sly Pettit spots Lana's photo in the local paper, he grabs at the chance to see her again. The guarded rancher is falling hard for Lana, but it can only end in heartbreak. Unless Sly can trust her with the secrets that keep him from believing that, just maybe, they could have a future together.
One Night With A Cowboy
There’s no room in day-care owner Lana Carpenter’s life for casual flings. After all, her dream of adopting a baby is closer to becoming a reality than ever. So why is she still mooning over the sexy cowboy who made her forget everything but the strong, sure feel of his arms around her?
It wasn’t supposed to be more than one unforgettable night between consenting strangers. But when Sly Pettit spots Lana’s photo in the local paper, he grabs at the chance to see her again. The guarded rancher is falling hard for Lana, but it can only end in heartbreak. Unless Sly can trust her with the secrets that keep him from believing that, just maybe, they could have a future together.
“I usually don’t spend the night with a man I just met. You were the first and the last.”
“I’m honored that you picked me. I enjoyed our time together.”
Her warm eyes flashed that Lana had, too. She had a mouth made for loving. Plump, soft lips that were naturally pink. They parted a fraction, just as they had seconds before he’d kissed her the other night.
Sly definitely wanted to see more of her and explore that heat, unleash her fiery passion and enjoy a repeat of their memorable night together. He moved closer and tucked her hair behind her ears with hands that shook.
He wanted her that much. Too much.
The strength of his need scared him. If he was smart, he’d turn around and leave. But his legs refused to budge.
Dear Reader,
This is the first book in my Prosperity, Montana miniseries. Prosperity is a fictitious town in north central Montana—gorgeous country. With ranches, great places to hike, wonderful restaurants and stunning Prosperity Falls, the waterfall that draws tourists and locals, what’s not to love? I had fun creating the town and look forward to further developing it as I write new stories.
Sly Pettit, a successful rancher, hasn’t had life easy. The oldest of three siblings (don’t worry, they’ll get their own books), Sly had to grow up fast. Except for his little sister, he doesn’t trust anyone. He likes living alone.
Lana Carpenter owns a day care. Almost six years ago, Lana married and settled into what she thought was her happily ever after. Her dream ended when her husband left her for someone else. Lana longs for a family of her own.
I loved writing Sly and Lana’s story, and hope you’ll enjoy reading about them.
Enjoy!
Ann
P.S. I always appreciate hearing from readers. Email me at ann@annroth.net, write me c/o P.O. Box 25003, Seattle, WA 98165-1903, or visit my Facebook page. And please visit my website, at www.annroth.net (http://www.annroth.net), where you can sign up for my newsletter and enter the monthly drawing to win a free, autographed book! Be sure to visit the Fun Stuff page, where you’ll find my blog, recipes and other fun stuff.
For even more, check out my Ann Roth Author page on Facebook and follow me on Twitter: @Ann_Roth (https://twitter.com/Ann_Roth).
A Rancher’s Honor
Ann Roth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ann Roth lives in the greater Seattle area with her husband. After earning an MBA she worked as a banker and corporate trainer. She gave up the corporate life to write, and if they awarded PhDs in writing happily-ever-after stories, she’d surely have one.
Ann loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 25003, Seattle, WA 98165-1903, or email her at ann@annroth.net.
To my wonderful readers. You’re the best!
Contents
Chapter One (#u174a4a1f-104b-5cb4-9030-b9d125238732)
Chapter Two (#udb09435a-9f04-50c0-88f7-d7e654fe44dd)
Chapter Three (#u7bf72716-d19a-52a6-aaaa-ed1dbedc1d9e)
Chapter Four (#u69180f59-8d74-5359-837a-d7de674d2d04)
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)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Lana Carpenter woke up with the worst headache ever. With a groan, she cracked one eye open to glance at the clock on the bedside table. But there was no clock, and the dark wood table was nothing like her oak furniture.
She wasn’t in her queen-size bed at her town house—she was in a king-size bed in a hotel room, and judging by the monogram on the sheets, it was the Prosperity Inn, one of Prosperity, Montana’s, four-star hotels.
Both eyes were open now. After stealing a peek at the other side of the bed—it was empty, but a dented pillow lay close to hers—she sat up quickly, grimacing at the sudden thundering in her temples.
The clock on that side of the bed said it was just after ten. She never slept this late—even if it was Saturday!
She pulled the dented pillow to her face and the lingering scent of a man’s spicy aftershave tickled her nostrils. One whiff and everything flooded back.
Kate picking her up and commiserating with her over the fact that Brent and Julia had had their baby. Driving to the Bitter & Sweet Bar and Grill for dinner and dancing to a live country-and-western band. Consuming too little dinner and too many cocktails in an effort to forget her ex’s betrayal. The handsome cowboy at the table across the way, and the strong attraction that had flared between them from the first moment of eye contact.
On the way to the bar, Lana hadn’t even thought about meeting a man. She was still recovering from the divorce and had only wanted to forget that Brent’s new wife had given him the one thing Lana couldn’t—a baby.
Then the sexy cowboy had asked her to dance, and they’d kept on dancing, with short stops for drinks and casual chitchat in between. After a while Kate had grown bored and left. Lana had stayed, with the intention of finding a cab later to take her home. But she’d soon forgotten all about the cab when dancing progressed to long, passionate kisses and the haste to rent a room within walking distance so that she and the cowboy could...
“Oh, dear God, I didn’t!” she muttered, shattering the quiet.
Her clothes lay in a telltale trail that started just inside the door and ended near the bed.
She definitely had.
Which was so unlike her. Another groan escaped from her. Normally, she wasn’t much of a drinker. Oh, sure, she enjoyed an occasional glass of wine with dinner, but that was pretty much it. She’d never picked up a stranger, either.
Sly, that was his name, had assured her that he was clean—Lana recalled that. She’d stated that she was clean and healthy, too. Shortly after Brent had left her for Julia some eighteen months ago, she’d had herself tested. She hadn’t been with a man since.
Until last night.
She and Sly had more than made up for her year and a half of celibacy. Boy, had they.
Her cheeks warmed. Then she remembered that sometime during the night, as they lay tangled together after making love, he’d explained he’d have to leave for work early in the morning. Lana was glad he’d let her sleep instead of waking her to say goodbye, because facing him this morning would have been, at best, uncomfortable.
Mother Nature called. Clutching her head, Lana made her way to the bathroom. There on the counter she found a bottle of aspirin and an unopened half liter of water. Under the water, a note.
Last night was great. This should help with the hangover.
Bless the man for his thoughtfulness. After swallowing several pain tablets with a healthy quantity of water, she studied herself in the mirror. Despite her headache, she looked radiant, as if she was still basking in the afterglow of a night of unbridled passion. Sly was right—last night had been great.
A long shower helped revive her, and by the time she dried off, fixed her hair and dressed in last night’s clothes—clean clothes would have been nice, but Lana didn’t have any with her—she felt almost normal.
She was shrugging into her coat to leave when her cell phone chirped “It’s Raining Men.” Kate’s favorite song. Lana picked up right away. “Hey there.”
“You were supposed to call this morning with the scoop. Tell me that handsome cowboy you were dancing with gave you a ride home.”
Lana glanced at the unmade bed, winced and plopped onto a chair. “Not exactly.”
“You’re saying you turned him down and took a cab instead? That’s a crying shame, Lana, because for the first time in forever, you were actually having fun with a really hot guy.”
Kate was right about the hot part. Tall, lean and muscled, with startling silvery-blue eyes and a killer smile, Sly was every woman’s cowboy fantasy. Lana caught herself in a dreamy sigh and frowned. “He never offered me a ride.”
“Well, shoot. And he seemed so into you. How much longer did you dance before you parted company?”
“Um...actually, we didn’t part company. I’m at the Prosperity Inn.” Which was only a few short blocks from the Bitter & Sweet.
“What are you doing at a hotel?” Kate asked, then answered her own question with a singsong “Oh.” Her voice softened to an excited whisper. “You should have said something sooner. Call me later.”
“It’s okay—he’s not here.”
“You mean he’s in the shower?”
“No, I mean he had to leave early this morning to go to work. I slept in.”
“It’s not like you to spend the night with a guy you just met.”
“Tell me about it.” As a rule, Lana waited for that level of intimacy until she was in a relationship. “I can’t believe I did this.”
“Hey, it happens. Did you at least enjoy yourself?”
Lana didn’t have to think long about that. Now that her headache was all but gone, other things bubbled into her mind. Good memories that made her whole body hum. “It was pretty special.”
“Ooh. Gonna share some details?”
“No!”
“At least give me his name? Maybe what he does for a living?”
“His name is Sly and I assume he’s a rancher. He must be, right? Who else has to get up at the crack of dawn to go to work on a Saturday? I don’t know his last name or anything else about him, except that he’s never been married. I said I was divorced.”
In the heat of the moment, she’d also mentioned that she couldn’t have kids. “We agreed that this was a night to forget our troubles and keep things fun and light.” They’d accomplished both goals, in spades. “I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.”
“That’s so unlike you.”
“So you said.” As unforgettable as last night had been, Lana regretted what she’d done. She massaged the space between her eyes. “Remind me to never drink again.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Look on the positive side—you’re back in the saddle, and a darned handsome cowboy put you there.” Kate hooted at her joke. “Besides, you needed to be wild for one night. Once you adopt a baby, you won’t be able to overdo the alcohol or stay out all night on a whim.”
“I never do either of those things.”
“You did last night. Listen, I have to leave for my mani-pedi, but if you need a ride, I can come pick you up in an hour or so.”
Lana supposed she could order breakfast downstairs and wait, but she wanted to change into fresh clothes. She also had a jillion things to do today—clean her house, grocery shop, do laundry, et cetera. “I’ll take a cab, thanks. Send me a picture of your nails.”
“Will do. Talk to you later.”
* * *
EARLY APRIL IN western Montana usually brought mornings cold enough to see your own breath. Yet this morning, Sly Pettit was sweating like a son of a dog. He also felt like crap. At thirty-five he was no longer able to shake off a hangover with a couple of aspirin as easily as he’d done at thirty.
“Sly? I said, if you’re feelin’ poorly, Ollie, Bean and I can handle the rest of the branding.”
