Kate Little - Husband For Keeps

“You don’t.” Carey dismissed his comment with a false laugh.

Luke took a very deliberate step toward her, forcing her back against the edge of the counter. “What are you worried about?” Luke asked quietly. “Afraid I might demand my conjugal rights? Being it is our wedding night and all?”

“Of course not,” she said flatly. “Besides, we have an agreement, and I expect you to respect it.” Then, bolder, she added, “While we’re on the subject…that kiss at the ceremony? Totally out of line.” Luke’s expression was a perfect picture of smug male superiority.

“Funny how I didn’t hear too many complaints at the time. In fact, if I didn’t know better,” he added, trying not to grin, “I would have sworn you enjoyed it.”

Dear Reader,

In keeping with the celebration of Silhouette’s 20 thanniversary in 2000, what better way to enjoy the new century’s first Valentine’s Day than to read six passionate, powerful, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Beloved author Dixie Browning returns to Desire’s MAN OF THE MONTH promotion with A Bride for Jackson Powers, also the launch title for the series THE PASSIONATE POWERS. Enjoy this gem about a single dad who becomes stranded with a beautiful widow who’s his exact opposite.

Get ready to be seduced when Alexandra Sellers offers you another sheikh hero from her SONS OF THE DESERT miniseries with Sheikh’s Temptation. Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION continues with The Daddy Salute—a marine turns helpless when he must take care of his baby, and he asks the heroine for help.

Kate Little brings you a keeper with Husband for Keeps, in which the heroine needs an in-name-only husband in order to hold on to her ranch. A fabulously sexy doctor returns to the woman he could never forget in The Magnificent M.D. by Carol Grace. And exciting newcomer Sheri WhiteFeather offers another irresistible Native American hero in Jesse Hawk: Brave Father.

We hope you will indulge yourself this Valentine’s Day with all six of these passionate romances, only from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

claims to have lots of experience with romance—“the fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romance fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couple disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives in Long Island, New York, with her husband and daughter.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Storm clouds, heavy with rain, swiftly moving across a wide sky. The ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. Wind rising, blowing dust and brush across the front yard.

A woman in a doorway, a wedding bouquet in her hands, anxiously watching the distant road for an approaching car.

A jagged bolt of lightning cutting across the sky.

The hands of the clock moving quickly toward high noon—the showdown hour….

It was all too much like a scene from a bad movie, Carey Winslow reflected. And she’d acted in enough of them to know.

She watched as the first heavy drops darkened the ground and splashed on the porch railing. Then the wind picked up, the rainfall gusting into a heavy, wet curtain.

The predictions she’d heard this morning on the radio had come to pass, and Carey knew from the forecast that a front of severe storms was going to sweep across the entire state. Including the airport, several hours away by car.

Kyle would never get here in time now. Carey felt her stomach clench at the hard truth. His car—some cheap rental with no pickup and even less traction—will slide off the side of the road. Why did he have to time it down to the very last minute? Wasn’t that just like a man?

She sighed and stepped back from the front door, setting the small bouquet of white sweetheart roses on the hallway table.

“Your fiancé here yet?” Ophelia’s calm voice echoed down the hallway of the gracious old house. “The judge is getting antsy. Says if the fellow doesn’t come soon, might as well not bother. Being as the rain’s started and all….”

“Yes, I know. I won’t wait much longer.” Carey smoothed down the sleeveless white chiffon dress with a scattered print of green and red blossoms. Her only jewelry was a cameo broach, a treasured remembrance of her mother. A garland of miniature white roses and baby’s breath in her hair completed the outfit: her wedding outfit.

Not the traditional gown and veil, but she was certainly not the conventional bride. The outfit—as were the rest of the preparations—was makeshift. Less than traditional, yet enough to keep up appearances. Just enough to fulfill the terms of her father’s will and gain her inheritance.

But nothing would be gained without a groom, Carey despaired. And time was running out.

“Ask the judge if he wants some lunch while he’s waiting. I’d better go out and look for my betrothed.”

“In that weather?” Ophelia squawked. “You’ll make your clothes a mess. Why don’t you wait till Willie gets back? He’ll find the fella for you.”

The confident tone she used to volunteer her husband’s aid tugged at Carey’s heart. Her mother had died when Carey was only seven years old, and her father had never remarried. Ophelia and Willie, who had been indispensable in the running of Whispering Oaks for over twenty-five years, had supplied Carey’s only example of what a loving lifetime bond between a man and woman could be. It was the kind of relationship she’d always hoped for, imagined she would begin on her own wedding day. But, like so many childhood hopes and dreams, it was sadly not to be.

If he’d been present, Carey knew Willie Jackson would have eagerly braved the rain and wind to help her. But Willie, who was filling in for the ranch’s missing foreman at the moment, was out in the heavy weather, checking on the stock.

“I can’t wait for Willie. Like the judge said, if I wait any longer I might as well not bother.”

Carey pulled a bright-yellow rain slicker off the antique coatrack in the hall and slid the rough clothing over her formal outfit. She kicked off her dressy pumps and dashed back to the mudroom off the kitchen to grab a pair of high rubber boots, mostly used for tramping around the barnyard and horse stalls.

“You’re a sight in that getup.” Ophelia waved a dishcloth at Carey as she passed through the kitchen, heading back to the front door. “You’ll scare the poor guy off, if you ever do find him.”

“Not likely.” Carey grunted as she yanked on the high boots. The only thing that would scare Kyle Keeler off at this point, Carey reflected, was a cut in his fee.

Besides, Carey knew that Kyle—who fit into every stereotype of a vain actor—would be too mesmerized by his own looks to spare her a glance. And, of course, he’d be fantasizing about how he’d spend his payoff.

Kyle Keeler, struggling actor, longtime friend, was in it for the money; specifically, the generous sum Carey had promised him to take on the role of husband-in-name-only for a suitable period of time. During which, she would receive her inheritance, the Whispering Oaks Ranch, which she planned on selling as quickly as possible.

After six months or so, they would divorce. Kyle would get his loot and return to sunny Hollywood. Carey would get on with her life, sell the ranch and maybe return to school for a college degree, leaving her less than notable screen career behind her.

Ophelia knew all this. Ophelia knew everything. But somehow, she couldn’t help but act as if this whole charade was a love match. She’d even baked a grand-looking, three-tiered cake and mixed a champagne punch. Well, Ophie always loved a party, Carey knew.

Carey glanced fondly at her housekeeper, who now stood scowling with arms crossed across her ample chest.

“If Kyle calls, tell him I’ve gone out looking for him and I’ll be back in an hour,” she instructed. She grabbed the keys to the pickup off the foyer table, then checked her watch.

While Ophelia tisked and shook her head, Carey gathered up her skirt and made a run for the truck, fat drops of rain pelting her face and clinging to her long, golden brown hair.

She jumped inside, jammed the key into the ignition and prayed under her breath. “Just turn over, please,” she begged the old truck. “Just this once, don’t give me a problem.”

In his final years her father had let just about everything on the place go, including the vehicles and equipment. Carey had no idea how bad things had gotten. Her relationship with him had been strained ever since Carey had left home at age eighteen. There’d been little contact and even fewer visits.

The old truck sputtered ominously, and Carey nearly lost heart. Then suddenly the engine turned over with a roar.

She carefully put the truck in gear and headed down the long ranch road, the wipers and weak defogger doing only a passable job on the rain-drenched, fogged-up windshield. The truck bounced along through the ruts and holes, giving Carey a ride like a rodeo bronco. But despite the punishment, she didn’t slow down.

When she reached the main road, she turned left. If her groom had followed the careful directions from the airport, she knew he would be approaching from that direction.

Carey spared a quick glance at her image in the rearview mirror. Ophie, bless her soul, had been right. She did look a sight.

Some bride. More like the bride of Frankenstein!

If only this was a real wedding day, with a man I could truly pledge my heart to, could lovingly promise to honor and cherish, Carey thought wistfully. It would certainly make Ophie happy.

And my father, rest his soul.

She shook the errant thought from her head. As if she had ever met a man she would want to marry—truly. Oh, she’d had some romances, some that even seemed serious for a time. But when it came down to the question of marriage, the very idea of a pledge so permanent, so all encompassing, scared her silly. She wasn’t quite sure why, when part of her seemed to yearn so for such a union.

Perhaps it was the idea of giving up so much of the independence she’d struggled so hard to win and preserve, but which lately had provided little more than cold comfort on a long lonely night. Especially here, out on the ranch, where there were far fewer escapes and distractions from that empty, aching feeling than there’d been in Los Angeles.

Still, she wasn’t ready for marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever—though she did love children and often felt an urge toward motherhood. But a woman didn’t necessarily have to be married these days to have children. Hollywood stars were going the single-mom route every day. And once she sold the ranch, Carey reflected, the money would give her the freedom to do as she wished. To map out a whole new plan for her future.