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Claim Me, Cowboy
Maisey Yates
Wanted: fake fiancée for a wealthy rancher!Danielle Kelly is perfect for Joshua Grayson’s scheme. He’ll pretend he’s marrying Danielle to keep his father from meddling. He won’t be tempted to touch her, to claim her…or to fall in love!
Wanted: fake fiancée for a wealthy rancher
Benefits: all your dreams come true
#1 Rule: don’t fall in love
The woman on his doorstep is brash, independent and holding a baby! His father won’t approve, which makes her perfect for Joshua Grayson’s scheme. He’ll pretend he’s marrying unsuitable Danielle Kelly to keep his father from meddling. He won’t be tempted to touch her, to claim her...or to fall in love.
MAISEY YATES is a New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing, she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: www.maiseyyates.com (http://www.maiseyyates.com).
Also by Maisey Yates (#ua1f8a811-e73c-5aa7-845b-669e96871dfd)
Take Me, Cowboy
Hold Me, Cowboy
Seduce Me, Cowboy
Claim Me, Cowboy
The Rancher’s Baby
Shoulda Been a Cowboy
Part Time Cowboy
Brokedown Cowboy
Bad News Cowboy
A Copper Ridge Christmas
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Claim Me, Cowboy
Maisey Yates
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07633-3
CLAIM ME, COWBOY
© 2018 Maisey Yates
Published in Great Britain 2018
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.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Jackie Ashenden, my conflict guru and dear friend. Without you my books would take a heck of a lot longer to write, and my life would be a heck of a lot more boring.
Thank you for everything. Always.
Contents
Cover (#ud0bb796d-cd23-5cad-b623-6e60780b41ff)
Back Cover Text (#u4bba4bd0-12e2-59d4-add7-3ddff2755917)
About the Author (#ufedaab4c-9540-51ed-8a10-07adfd7a7e2b)
Booklist (#u3593eee9-96d6-5e23-90dc-6f6e29f85f73)
Title Page (#u4445cd02-35f1-5c9c-bb1f-2f27c6827622)
Copyright (#u92bc1036-ac74-57f3-9d47-5af0e2393f6c)
Dedication (#u5b10f091-6ef8-5270-8be5-9889537c84f9)
One (#ulink_121ec779-61f0-55fa-8cb6-91881b272821)
Two (#uc3b8b302-1b8f-528f-a40a-33b604ab1e31)
Three (#uf785e36a-f582-5f3a-9ad9-87475a15c7c7)
Four (#u81f004e7-76a4-59a2-a582-434723ba6b86)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
November 1, 2017
LOOKING FOR A WIFE—
Wealthy bachelor, 34, looking for a wife. Never married, no children. Needs a partner who can attend business and social events around the world. Must be willing to move to Copper Ridge, Oregon. Perks include: travel, an allowance, residence in several multimillion-dollar homes.
November 5, 2017
LOOKING FOR AN UNSUITABLE WIFE—
Wealthy bachelor, 34, irritated, looking for a woman to pretend to be my fiancée in order to teach my meddling father a lesson. Need a partner who is rough around the edges. Must be willing to come to Copper Ridge, Oregon, for at least thirty days. Generous compensation provided.
One (#ua1f8a811-e73c-5aa7-845b-669e96871dfd)
“No. You do not need to send pics.”
Joshua Grayson looked out the window of his office and did not feel the kind of calm he ought to feel.
He’d moved back to Copper Ridge six months ago from Seattle, happily trading in a man-made, rectangular skyline for the natural curve of the mountains.
Not the best thing for an architect to feel, perhaps. But he spent his working hours dealing in design, in business. Numbers. Black, white and the bottom line. There was something about looking out at the mountains that restarted him.
That, and getting on the back of a horse. Riding from one end of the property to the other. The wind blocking out every other sound except hoofbeats on the earth.
Right now, he doubted anything would decrease the tension he was feeling from dealing with the fallout of his father’s ridiculous ad. Another attempt by the old man to make Joshua live the life his father wanted him to.
The only kind of life his father considered successful: a wife, children.
He couldn’t understand why Joshua didn’t want the same.
No. That kind of life was for another man, one with another past and another future. It was not for Joshua. And that was why he was going to teach his father a lesson.
But not with Brindy, who wanted to send him selfies with “no filter.”
The sound she made in response to his refusal was so petulant he almost laughed.
“But your ad said...”
“That,” he said, “was not my ad. Goodbye.”
He wasn’t responsible for the ad in a national paper asking for a wife, till death do them part. But an unsuitable, temporary wife? Yes. That had been his ad.
He was done with his father’s machinations. No matter how well-meaning they were. He was tired of tripping over daughters of “old friends” at family gatherings. Tired of dodging women who had been set on him like hounds at a fox hunt.
He was going to win the game. Once and for all. And the woman he hoped would be his trump card was on her way.
His first respondent to his counter ad—Danielle Kelly—was twenty-two, which suited his purposes nicely. His dad would think she was too young, and frankly, Joshua also thought she was too young. He didn’t get off on that kind of thing.
He understood why some men did. A tight body was hot. But in his experience, the younger the woman, the less in touch with her sensuality she was and he didn’t have the patience for that.
He didn’t have the patience for this either, but here he was. The sooner he got this farce over with, the sooner he could go back to his real life.
The doorbell rang and he stood up behind his desk. She was here. And she was—he checked his watch—late.
A half smile curved his lips.
Perfect.
He took the stairs two at a time. He was impatient to meet his temporary bride. Impatient to get this plan started so it could end.
He strode across the entryway and jerked the door open. And froze.
The woman standing on his porch was small. And young, just as he’d expected, but... She wore no makeup, which made her look like a damned teenager. Her features were fine and pointed; her dark brown hair hung lank beneath a ragged beanie that looked like it was in the process of unraveling while it sat on her head.
He didn’t bother to linger over the rest of the details—her threadbare sweater with too-long sleeves, her tragic skinny jeans—because he was stopped, immobilized really, by the tiny bundle in her arms.
A baby.
His prospective bride had come with a baby.
Well, hell.
* * *
She really hoped he wasn’t a serial killer. Well, hoped was an anemic word for what she was feeling. Particularly considering the possibility was a valid concern.
What idiot put an ad in the paper looking for a temporary wife?
Though, she supposed the bigger question was: What idiot responded to an ad in the paper looking for a temporary wife?
This idiot, apparently.
It took Danielle a moment to realize she was staring directly at the center of a broad, muscular male chest. She had to raise her head slightly to see his face. He was just so...tall. And handsome.
And she was confused.
She hadn’t imagined that a man who put an ad in the paper for a fake fiancée might be attractive. Another anemic word. Attractive. This man wasn’t simply attractive...
He was... Well, he was unreal.
