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Call Of The West
MYRNA TEMTE
BIG JAKE MCBRIDE KNEW HOPE DUMAINE COULDN'T DRIVE HIM NUTS–BECAUSE HE WAS ALREADY THERE!Hailing from Hollywood, Hope was young, rich, beautiful–and all wrong for hard-as-granite Wyoming rancher Jake. So how dare she claim that visiting rough-hewn Sunshine Gap made her feel at home? How dare she flaunt her fashionista charms at him, as if he were the only man for her?Hope made Jake mad enough to spit nails. Worse, she set his pulses jackrabbiting. Sure, her smile was pure as a mountain sunrise, her daring kisses sweet as wild honey. But what was Jake to do with a woman like Hope? Stampede her off–or lasso her? Either way, Jake knew he was in for the ride of a lifetime….
Had Hope just made the biggest mistake of her life?
She’d finally gotten what she wanted—time to spend with Jake McBride.
But what if she made a fool of herself over him again? No, she wouldn’t let that happen. She was an expert at hiding her thoughts and feelings. She could hide them from Jake, as well.
He’d made it sound as if she was doing him a favor to let him help her at her new ranch. But was this simply a way for him to get closer to her operation and figure out how to own it himself someday? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had lied to her to get something he wanted.
Hope didn’t want to doubt Jake’s motives for helping her, but wariness was long a part of her nature. A charming, handsome man was always dangerous to an innocent woman like her.
Even if he was the handsome Wyoming cowboy she loved.
Dear Reader,
Make way for spring—as well as some room on your reading table for six new Special Edition novels! Our selection for this month’s READERS’ RING—Special Edition’s very own book club—is Playing by the Rules by Beverly Bird. In this innovative, edgy romance, a single mom who is sick and tired of the singles scene makes a deal with a handsome divorced hero—that their relationship will not lead to commitment. But both hero and heroine soon find themselves breaking all those pesky rules and falling head over heels for each other!
Gina Wilkins delights her readers with The Family Plan, in which two ambitious lawyers find unexpected love—and a newfound family—with the help of a young orphaned girl. Reader favorite Nikki Benjamin delivers a poignant reunion romance, Loving Leah, about a compassionate nanny who restores hope to an embittered single dad and his fragile young daughter.
In Call of the West, the last in Myrna Temte’s HEARTS OF WYOMING miniseries, a celebrity writer goes to Wyoming and finds the ranch—and the man—with whom she’d like to spend her life. Now she has to convince the cowboy to give up his ranch—and his heart! In her new cross-line miniseries, THE MOM SQUAD, Marie Ferrarella debuts with A Billionaire and a Baby. Here, a scoop-hungry—and pregnant—reporter goes after a reclusive corporate raider, only to go into labor just as she’s about to get the dirt! Ann Roth tickles our fancy with Reforming Cole, a sexy and emotional tale about a willful heroine who starts a “men’s etiquette” school so that the macho opposite sex can learn how best to treat a lady. Against her better judgment, the teacher falls for the gorgeous bad boy of the class!
I hope you enjoy this month’s lineup and come back for another month of moving stories about life, love and family!
Best,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
Call of the West
Myrna Temte
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Cherry Adair, Mary Buckham,
Susan Plunkett and Debra Sims.
You know why, girlfriends.
Many thanks.
MYRNA TEMTE
grew up in Montana and attended college in Wyoming, where she met and married her husband. Marriage didn’t necessarily mean settling down for the Temtes—they have lived in six different states, including Washington, where they currently reside. Moving so much is difficult, the author says, but it is also wonderful stimulation for a writer.
Though always a “readaholic,” Myrna never dreamed of becoming an author. But while spending time at home to care for her first child, she began to seek an outlet from the never-ending duties of housekeeping and child-rearing. She started reading romances and soon became hooked, both as a reader and a writer. Now Myrna appreciates the best of all possible worlds—a loving family and a challenging career that lets her set her own hours and turn her imagination loose.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Hope DuMaine was going to drive him nuts.
Gulping a stiff whiskey ditch, Jake McBride jerked his gaze away from the dance floor and forced himself to watch the sun dip behind the mountains. The bride and groom had left on their honeymoon. Half of the wedding guests had gone home. Jake’s official duties as the best man finally were over.
If he had an ounce of sense, he’d get off his duff, go in the house or out to the barn and get away from Hope for a while. But he didn’t move. He obviously didn’t have a lick of sense left.
No, he just sat here like an idiot, an elbow braced on one of fifty round tables he’d rented for the outdoor reception. Why? Because it was too late to save himself. Hope DuMaine couldn’t drive him nuts.
He’d already arrived.
Jake’s younger brothers, Zack and Cal, plunked themselves down beside him. Cal hummed along with the country-and-western band playing in the gazebo. Zack stretched his legs out and turned toward the dancers. In a heartbeat his brothers were doing exactly what Jake had been doing—watching their cousin, Marsh McBride, waltz Hope around the dance floor.
“I’ve been lookin’ at her all day, but I still don’t believe it,” Zack said with a bemused smile.
“No kiddin’.” His smile equally bemused, Cal let out an appreciative sigh, then took a healthy swig from his drink. “Emma said Hope was beautiful under all that wild paint and hair dye, but I never dreamed she’d clean up that good.”
“Jake didn’t either.” Zack grinned and elbowed Cal in the arm. “Hell, Jake, you should’ve let her catch you.”
Jake shrugged as if their teasing didn’t bother him one bit. A reasonable man might expect that, at thirty-eight and thirty-four, his brothers would ease up on the sibling rivalry, but no such luck. In the past two months they—along with the rest of his big, nosy family—had harassed him so much about Hope’s blatant crush on him, ignoring them had become as automatic as breathing.
Good thing he’d had so much practice at hiding his reactions.
Truth was, every time Marsh whirled Hope back into sight, Jake damn near swallowed his tongue. And he wasn’t the only guy doing it. Not by a long shot.
Audacious, flamboyant and unpredictable as a horse on locoweed, Hope DuMaine was something else.
A member of one of Hollywood’s most notable families, she was internationally famous. But not for acting. Oh, no, not her. Leave it to Hope to be even more unconventional than the rest of her relatives.
She’d published her first racy tattletale novel at the age of nineteen. Rocketing straight to the top of the bestseller lists, she’d set the film and publishing industries on their respective ears. Ten years later she was still doing it.
Literary critics despised her. The tabloids and talk-show hosts loved her. The public raced to buy each new book so they could play the which-movie-star-inspired-which-character game. Though Jake wouldn’t admit it on a bet, he’d read her last one and found himself sucked right into the game along with everybody else. Hope told an entertaining story, he’d give her that much.
But then, there was her appearance to consider. Her hair color changed on an almost daily basis, and he wasn’t talking your usual brown, black or blond. He was talking primary colors—fire-engine red, royal blue, grass green. Her long, talonlike fingernails were always painted to match her hair. And her clothes… He shuddered just thinking about them.
Earlier that afternoon Jake’s cousin, Dillon McBride, had married Hope’s famous cousin, Blair DuMaine. Hope had arrived at the Flying M Ranch twelve weeks ago. She’d been living in the guesthouse, helping with the wedding plans, working on her latest novel and chasing Jake like a buckle bunny after her favorite rodeo cowboy.
The woman could give lessons in perseverance to a badger.
Jake had no idea what she liked so much about him and didn’t care. She wasn’t his type. Other than a glance to check out what color her hair was that day and what bizarre outfit she’d chosen, Jake had done his best to ignore her, too.
Until today…
Blair and Dillon’s wedding pictures undoubtedly would make every entertainment magazine and TV show in the country. Jake figured Hope must’ve felt obligated as the maid of honor to pass up her regular “fashion statement” for Blair’s sake. The results were nothing short of amazing. Funny thing about it, all she’d done to achieve a near-magical transformation was to look sort of normal. For a change.
But it really went beyond normal. Far beyond it.
Aw, man, today Hope was downright gorgeous—a combination of elegant lady and hot sex. Her purple strapless gown faithfully outlined her figure, telling a man with one glance she was one-hundred-and-ten-percent female. Her smooth skin and short, shiny auburn curls made his hands itch to touch them.
Her vitality and the sheer delight she took in her cousin’s happiness made Hope’s smile sparkle brighter than the glittering baubles she wore around her neck. Her slender, kissable, tempt-a-man-to-nibble neck… Aw, damn, but he had it bad.
Marsh leaned down and said something close to Hope’s ear. She tipped back her head and uttered a soft laugh that carried easily on the warm evening breeze. Jake’s gut tightened and he found himself fighting an urge to curl his fingers into fists and sock Marsh in that perfect nose he was so proud of.
“Think Marsh is tellin’ the truth about just being pals with Hope?” Zack asked.
Cal shrugged. “He’d better be. Poor Sandy’s been in love with him forever, and I don’t know how much more of this she’ll tolerate. Has he even danced with her yet?”
“Nope. And if he keeps on flirtin’ with Hope like that, he’ll be sorry.” Zack turned his chair sideways, crossed one booted ankle over the other and braced his forearm on the table. “Jake, you’d better get out there and cut in. Save that poor fool from himself.”
“Marsh’s a big boy.” Jake gulped half his drink. “Let him figure out his own love life.”
“Since when did this family ever let anybody do that?” Cal demanded with a disbelieving snort of laughter. “Think about it, Jake. The rest of us are all married. You’re the only one free to get Hope out of the way so Sandy can move in and get her brand on Marsh before he does something real stupid. Again.”
“That’s right,” Zack agreed.
Marsh smoothly twirled Hope as the song ended. The non-dancers applauded. Hope laughed and dropped into a graceful curtsey. Jake had never seen anything quite so appealing, but he forced himself to look away before his brothers caught him staring at her like a starving dog watching his master eat the last bite of a juicy steak.
“Besides,” Zack continued, “why don’t you admit you kind of like having Hope flirt with you? Hell, she’s young, rich and beautiful. If I was single, I’d be flattered as all get-out—”
“Forget it,” Jake grumbled.
“Why?” Cal asked. “She’s funny, she seems real nice, and she’s gotta be darn smart to write all those books.”
“Looks like a good breeder, too,” Zack said. “Wouldn’t hurt the family gene pool to add another pretty gal—”
“Jeez, Zack.” Jake tossed back the rest of his drink and banged his glass down on the table. “Stop talking about her like she’s a damn heifer.”
“Aw, lighten up.” Cal chuckled and faked a punch at Jake’s shoulder. “He’s just having a little fun—”
Jake put a snarl into his voice. “You’ve all had enough fun at my expense. I’m not interested in Hope DuMaine, so get off my back and leave me alone.”
The band struck up a sweet country ballad. Claiming he had to make sure the beer and food were holding out, Cal took off. Zack’s very pregnant wife Lori crooked her index finger at him and he hurried to escort her onto the dance floor.
Jake sat back, hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of the black slacks of his rented tux and uttered a deep sigh. A waiter delivered a fresh drink, compliments of Cal. Jake thanked him, stretched out his legs and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the kinks out of his spine.
The dancers shuffled slowly in time to the music, and he soon found his gaze drawn back to Hope and Marsh. Jake had to admit they made a striking couple and danced well together. The urge to hit Marsh returned, stronger this time than the last.
Jake didn’t understand the impulse. He had no claim on Hope. He didn’t want one, either. No matter how gorgeous she looked today, Hope DuMaine couldn’t be more wrong for him. It wasn’t rational for him to feel jealous of Marsh or any other man who charmed her.
But he did feel jealous, dammit, and the lack of logic to it irritated him no end. Almost as much as did his family’s teasing and Hope’s dogged pursuit of him. Dang stubborn little woman could drive a strong man to drink.
Heavily.
He ought to know. Lifting his glass, Jake took a healthy swallow, then looked up and choked when he saw Hope standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, looking his way. He took another gulp and felt the whiskey sear a path down his gullet. Confident as any supermodel, she smoothly negotiated the step down to the ground and crossed the grass between them, slim hips swaying gently, the long side slit in the skirt of her gown flashing glimpses of her spectacular legs with each stride.
A sultry smile played at the corners of her sweet full lips, lips painted a rich burgundy shade that reminded him of chokecherries. He’d always loved the taste of chokecherry syrup—the perfect blend of tart and sweet.
A twinge of alarm pinched Jake’s gut. Aw, nuts, he had no business noticing her lips. Or her legs. Or that her gown fit her like the peel on an apple.
Damn, but she had lovely shoulders and collarbones and…he didn’t dare complete that thought. Or look where his and every other man’s gaze had been straying all day. While it covered all the necessary territory, that dress just didn’t leave a guy much guesswork when it came to judging a woman’s breast endowment. Hope’s appeared more than adequate for his tastes.
He had no damn business noticing that, either.
“Hey there, Jake,” she drawled as she approached, still managing to sound more like Rodeo Drive than Sunshine Gap, Wyoming. Stopping beside his chair, she leaned down and held out her hands in invitation. “Dance with me?”
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he couldn’t have uttered a word if she’d pressed the barrel of a loaded .45 between his eyes. She leaned even closer. Her bosom swelled against that tight bodice, giving him an enticing view of creamy, rounded cleavage.
Damn, but he wanted more whiskey.
The scent of some subtle perfume wafted his way. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but it sure smelled good. Spicy and a little musky. Made him think of hot, rollicking sex.
His mouth went dust-dry. His heart banged around inside his chest like a cranky old truck engine in dire need of a ring job. His skin felt hot and tight, and his throat contracted on a hard swallow.
