Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Stranded with the Rancher

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Sheltered by the Millionaire

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Pregnant by the Texan

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Stranded with the Rancher

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Drew muttered.

She rested her forehead on his collarbone. “I have a few ideas.”

Her droll humor startled a laugh from him. “I hope we’re on the same page.”

Her answer was to kiss him sweetly. Breathing heavily, he stepped away, trying to elude temptation. “I think one of us is supposed to say this is going too fast.”

She shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “I’ve had a terrible crush on you for over a year, even when you were being an obnoxious, overbearing plutocrat.”

“Ouch.” His wince was not feigned. Hearing her description of his less-than-stellar qualities made him squirm. “I thought we called a truce.”

“Under duress and the threat of apocalypse.”

“Then I’ll say it again,” he muttered quietly. “For the moment, I’m not going to fight with you or try to make you see reason.”

She crooked a finger. He went to her like a kite on a string, hoping she didn’t recognize the hold she had on him.

* * *

Stranded with the Rancher

is a Texas Cattleman’s Club: After the Storm novel—

As a Texas town rebuilds, love heals all wounds …

JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.

Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job!

Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

To police, fire and rescue personnel who rush in

during times of chaos to keep us all safe…

Thank you for what you do…

One

Drew Farrell glanced at the sky. Storm clouds roiled and twisted, setting his mood on edge. He shoved the truck’s gearshift into park, jammed his Stetson on his head and strode across the road. Dust billowed with each angry step, coating his hand-tooled cowboy boots.

Deliberately, he crossed the line that separated his property from his neighbor’s. Beth Andrews. His beautiful, long-legged, sexy-as-hell neighbor. After two years of butting heads with her at regular intervals, you’d think he would be immune to her considerable physical appeal.

But no. Her naturally curly blond hair and green eyes hit his libido at a weak spot. Sadly, there was no twelve-step program for men wanting women who drove them nuts.

He approached Beth’s organic produce stand and ground his teeth when he saw she had multiple customers waiting. Cooling his heels, jaw clenched, he courted patience. But he wanted to lambast her with righteous indignation while his temper was hot.

Like every day recently, at least a dozen cars had parked haphazardly up and down the private lane, causing congestion and spooking Drew’s prize-winning thoroughbreds in the adjoining pasture. This morning, his men had been forced to move seven horses to a grassy field on the opposite side of his property, for no other reason than because Beth had started selling pumpkins.

Pumpkins, for God’s sake. The traffic she had created during the summer—selling squash and tomatoes and a dozen other vegetables—had increased tenfold since she’d put up signs all over Royal advertising fall harvest decorations. At least during the summer months the crowd was spread out. But come October first, it was as if everyone within a fifty-mile radius of Drew’s ranch had decided they had to buy one of Beth’s fat, healthy pumpkins for their porches.

As Drew waited impatiently, several of the patrons loaded up their purchases and drove away. Finally, only one woman remained—a young blonde. Very pregnant. From what Drew could tell, she had picked out the largest pumpkin she could find. Beth and the customer squatted to lift the pumpkin from its perch on a bale of hay. The big, orange orb slipped out of their hands, nearly rolling onto their feet.

Oh, good grief. Snapping out of his funk, Drew strode forward, determined to stop them before somebody got hurt. The thing must weigh forty pounds.

“Let me do that,” he said, elbowing them out of the way. “One of you has a baby to consider and you, Ms. Andrews, ought to know better.” The spark of surprise and irritation in Beth’s eyes made him want to grin despite his surly mood. The pregnant woman’s car sat only a few feet away in the handicapped parking spot. For Halloween, Beth had designated the space beside the shed with a sign and a skeleton holding a crutch. She was creative—he’d give her that.

Hefting the pumpkin with ease, he set it gently in the trunk. Fortunately, the base of the thing was pretty flat. Given its weight, there was little chance it would roll over unless the driver made a reckless turn.

The customer smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.” Unlike Beth’s sunshiny curls, this woman’s straight blond hair was so fair it was almost white. Her skin was pale as well. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she was thin, almost frail.

He dusted his hands on his pants. “No problem. Get someone to help you lift that thing when you get home.”

“I will.” She paused, one handing resting protectively on her rounded abdomen. “I always loved Halloween as a kid. I thought it would be fun this year to carve a jack-o’-lantern for my daughter and put pictures of it in her baby book.”

Beth glanced at the woman’s belly. “Are you due that soon?”

“No. I have another eight or nine weeks to go. But she’s already a person to me. I talk to her all the time. I guess that sounds crazy.”

“Not at all.”

Beth’s smile struck Drew as wistful. Maybe if her biological clock ticked loud enough, she’d meet some guy and move away. Then Drew could buy the land she had stolen from him. Oddly, that notion was not as appealing as it should have been.

Beth spoke up again. “Who’s your master carver? The baby’s dad?”

A flash of anguish darkened the woman’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Drew thought he might have imagined it. “I’m going to do it. I’m trained in graphic design, so this is right up my alley. I should go,” she said, as if suddenly realizing that the weather was going downhill fast. “Don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

Drew stood shoulder to shoulder with Beth as they watched the car disappear into the distance. “Did she look familiar to you?” he asked, frowning.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just an odd feeling that I might have seen her before.”

At that moment, a strong gust of wind snatched the plastic banner and ripped it off the top of Beth’s produce stand. The bright green lettering spelled out GREEN ACRES. Drew seldom had time to watch TV, but even he got the reference to the old sitcom where the wealthy Manhattan couple moved to the country and bought a farm. It was easy to imagine Beth wearing an evening gown and heels. She was tall for a woman, at least five seven. But Drew had half a dozen inches or more on her.

He helped her capture the surprisingly heavy sign and roll it up. “You might as well put it away for now,” he said. “The wind is not going to die down anytime soon.”

When they had stashed the sign beneath a plywood counter, Beth shook her head and stared at him. “I’d be happy to sell you a pumpkin, Drew, but somehow, I don’t think that’s why you’re here.”

The derision in her voice made it sound as if he were the most boring guy on the planet. “I decorate the ranch for fall,” he said, wincing inwardly when he heard the defensive note in his voice.

“Correction. You have people who do that for you. It’s not the same thing at all, Drew.”

He’d grown accustomed to her barbs. In fact, if he were honest, he occasionally enjoyed their heated spats. Beth gave as good as she got. He liked that in a woman. Now, when he didn’t shoot back immediately with a retort, she watched him with a wary gaze, her arms wrapped around her waist in a cautious posture.

The tint of her green eyes was nothing as simple as grass or emerald. They were an unusual mix of shades, shot through with tinges of amber and gold. The color reminded him of a prize marble he’d had as a kid. He still kept the little ball of glass as a good luck charm in his dresser. Perhaps that was why he had so much trouble getting Beth out of his head. Every day when he reached in the drawer to grab a pair of socks, he saw that beautiful marble.

“Earth to Drew. If you’re not buying anything, please leave.”

Every time she pursed her lips in that disapproving schoolmarm fashion, he wanted to kiss her. Even when he was mad as hell. Today was no different. But today he was determined to get a few things ironed out.

Glaring at her with his best intimidating frown, he spoke firmly. “You have to relocate your produce stand. The traffic jams spook my horses, block the road and besides....” He pulled up short, about to voice something best left unsaid.

Beth’s shoulder-length hair danced in the breeze, the curls swirling and tangling. It gave her a just-out-of-bed look that was not helping him in his determination to be businesslike and resolute.

“Besides what?” she asked sharply. “Spit it out.”

He hesitated. But what the hell... He and Beth shared the road. She might as well know where he was coming from. “My clientele is high-end. When they come to Willowbrook Farms to drop several million dollars on a thoroughbred that might have a shot at the Triple Crown, your little set-up here gives the wrong impression. It’s like having a lemonade stand on the steps of a major banking institution. Your business is frivolous, mine is not.”

* * *

Beth absorbed his words with a pang of regret. Virtually everybody in town liked Drew Farrell and thought of him as a decent down-to-earth guy. He was an important member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Membership in the TCC—an elite enclave where the wealthy ranchers of Royal met to broker deals, kick back, relax and count their millions—was a privilege and a lifelong commitment. Not that Beth really knew what went on behind those hallowed doors, but she could imagine. Which meant that Beth, who saw Drew as arrogant and self-important, was out of step with the rest of the county. For whatever reason, she and Drew were the proverbial oil and water.

But he’d just exposed the root of the matter. His lineage was impeccable. He was blue-blooded old money, while she came from near-poverty, part of a family line that was crooked on its best days.

“If the traffic is such a big deal to you, put a road in somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else,” he said, his jaw carved in stone. “My plan two years ago was to buy this land we’re standing on and put a beautiful white fence along both sides of the road. A Kentucky horse farm look, minus the bluegrass. But you stole it out from under me.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she said patiently, hiding her glee that for once in her life she had staged a coup. “You lowballed the guy because you thought nobody else wanted it. I merely had the good sense to make a reasonable offer. He accepted. End of story. I might point out that you’re trespassing.”

The wind had really kicked up now. Even so, the heat was oppressive. The sky changed colors in rapid succession...one moment angry gray, the next a sickly green.

Beth glanced toward Drew’s property, feeling her skin tighten with unease. “Have you listened to a weather forecast?” she asked. It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to change the subject. She was concerned. Normally, she would keep the shed open until four-thirty at least, but today she wanted to batten down the hatches and be tucked up in her cozy two-bedroom bungalow before the first raindrop fell.

In the time since she purchased the farm, she had updated the inside of the cute little house and made it her own. If Drew had bought the property, he probably would have bulldozed the place. The farmhouse was old, but Beth loved it. Not only was it a wonderful home, it was concrete proof that she had made something of her life.

She had a knack for growing things. The Texas soil was rich and fertile. She wasn’t going to let a self-important billionaire push her around. Drew had been born into money, but his horse breeding enterprise had added to the coffers substantially.

Now Drew’s gaze scanned the sky as well. “The radio said we have a tornado watch, but I doubt it will be too bad. We’re a little bit out of the usual path for storms like that. Haven’t had one in years. Even when we do, the ones that do the damage tend to happen in the spring, not the fall. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I hope not.”

“So back to my original point,” he said. “Your little enterprise here is adversely affecting my business. If we can’t come to some kind of amicable solution, I’ll have to involve the county planning board.”

“Are you actually threatening me?” She looked at him askance.

His wording made her heart race. In some perverse way, she got a charge out of their frequent heated arguments. Despite his suborn refusal to acknowledge her right to operate her produce stand as she saw fit, she was secretly attracted to him, much against her better judgment.

Although most days she would be more than happy to wring Drew Farrell’s wealthy, entitled neck, she couldn’t discount the fact that he was 100 percent grade A prime beef. That probably wasn’t a politically correct description, but seriously, the man was incredibly handsome. He wore his dark brown hair a little on the shaggy side. The untamed look suited him, though. And his bright blue eyes had probably been getting females into trouble since he graduated from kindergarten.

She knew he had been engaged once in his mid-twenties. Something happened to break it off, so Drew had been a free agent for the last six or seven years. He was a mover and shaker in Royal, Texas. In short, everything Beth was not.

She didn’t have a chip on her shoulder about her upbringing. More like a large splinter, really. But it didn’t take a genius to see that she and Drew were not at all suited. Still, it was difficult to ignore his physical appeal.

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not a threat, Beth. But I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect my investments. It’s worth it to me to restore peace and quiet to this road, to my life for that matter.”

“So mature and staid,” she mocked.

“I’m only four years older than you,” he snapped.

His knowledge surprised her. “Be reasonable, Drew. I have as much right to be here as you do. True, I may be David to your Goliath. But if you remember your Sunday school lessons, that didn’t end well for the giant.”

“Now who’s threatening whom?”

For the first time, a nuance of humor lightened his expression. But it was gone so quickly it was possible she imagined it. He was definitely spoiling for a fight. If it weren’t for her splitting headache caused by the change in weather, she would be more inclined to oblige him.

She really did understand his frustration. As a horse breeder, Drew’s reputation was world-renowned. He sold beautiful, competitive animals to movie stars, sheikhs, and many other eccentric wealthy patrons. Her modest organic farming operation must drive him berserk.

But why should she have to suffer? Her small house and a few acres of land were all she had in the world. She’d worked hard to get them.

“Plant some trees,” she said. “Fast-growing ones. You really should quit harassing me. I might have to get a restraining order or something.”

She was kidding, of course. But her humor fell flat. Drew was not amused. “I don’t think you understand how serious I am about this. There’s a road on the far side of your place. Why can’t customers come to the produce stand that way?”

Hands on hips, she glared at him. “It’s a cattle path, not a road. It would take thousands of dollars to improve it, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one with the silver spoon in my mouth.”

His gaze was stormy. “Why did you want this particular piece of land anyway?”

She shrugged, unable to fully explain the emotions that had overtaken her when she realized she could finally afford a place of her own. “It was the right size and the right price. And I fell in love with it.”

“You can’t run a serious business based on feelings.”

“Wanna bet?” His patronizing attitude began to get on her nerves. “Why don’t you tell your elite clients that I’m a sharecropper, and you’re doing your good deed for the year?”

“That’s not funny.”

Earlier, she had picked up an inkling of humor from him. Now he looked like he would sooner murder her in her sleep than make a joke.

“I have two whole fields of pumpkins ready to sell,” she said. “And a third bunch not far behind. I’ll make enough money this month to keep my books in the black during the winter. Lucky for you, a horse is still a horse in the middle of January. But my farm will be cold and dead until spring.”

“You’re fighting a losing battle. In this economy, you can’t hope to survive long term. And in the meantime, you’re creating enormous problems for me.”

Fury tightened her throat. She had struggled her entire life to make something of herself, against pretty long odds. To have Drew dismiss the fruits of her labor with such careless male superiority told her he had no clue who she really was.

“Maybe I’ll fail,” she said, her tone as dispassionate as she could make it. “And maybe I won’t. But I’m like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. I read the book when I was thirteen. Even then, I understood what her father told her. Land is what’s important. Land is the only thing that lasts.”

Drew rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, probably to keep from strangling her. “That makes perfect sense,” he said quietly, “if this had been in your family’s possession for generations. But it’s not Andrews land. And I freely admit that it’s not Farrell land either. It does, however, adjoin my property, Beth.”

“If you were so hell bent on having it, you should have outbid me.” They squabbled frequently about her supposed infractions of the “neighbor” code, but this was the first time he’d been so visibly angry. She knew that at the heart of the matter was his desire to buy her out, though he hadn’t mentioned it today. The last time he’d tried, she’d accused him of harassment.

“I’m merely asking you to see reason.”

His implication that she was unreasonable made her grind her teeth. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.”

“Will you at least consider selling your produce somewhere in town? If you think about it, the central location could increase your customer base and it would keep the traffic off this road.”

Darn him, he had a point. But she wasn’t willing to cede the field yet. Her involuntary mental pun might have made her laugh if she hadn’t been in the midst of a heated argument with her macho, gorgeous neighbor. “Part of the experience of coming to Green Acres is for tourists and locals to see the pumpkins in the field. They can take pictures to their heart’s content and post them on Facebook. If they want to, they can traipse around the lot and choose their own prize. The ambience would be totally different in town.”

* * *

Drew knew when to back off strategically. He had given her something to think about. For the moment. But he wasn’t going to give up. Horse breeding was a long-term venture. Patience and planning and persistence made the difference. Of course, a little dollop of luck now and then didn’t hurt either.

Beth was stubborn and passionate. He could respect that. “I tell you what,” he said. “If you think about my suggestion and decide you could sell in bigger quantities in town, my guys will help you get set up, including all the logistics of hauling your stuff. Does that sound fair?” He paused. “You can have as much time as you need to think about it.”

She tugged at a strand of hair the wind had whipped into her mouth. He couldn’t help noticing her lips. They were pink and perfect. Eminently kissable. He wondered if her lip gloss was flavored. The random thought caught him off guard. He was in the midst of a serious conflict, not an intimate proposition. Though the latter had definite appeal.

Beth stared at him, her expression hard to fathom. “Do you always get what you want?” she asked quietly.

Guilt pinched hard. His life had been golden up until this point. He had a hunch Beth’s had not. “It’s not a sin to go after what you want,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” she said. “And that’s what I did when I bought my home. You had a chance, but you made a poor business decision. You can’t blame me for that.”

Drew noticed in some unoccupied corner of his mind that the wind was no longer as wild. The air was thick and moist. Sweat trickled down his back. Beth, however, looked cool and comfortable in a navy tank top that hugged her breasts and khaki shorts that showcased her stunning legs.

What stuck in his craw was that she was right on one point. It was his fault that he had lost this property. If he had wanted it so badly, he should have made a generous offer and sealed the deal. Unfortunately, Drew had been in Dubai at the moment the land came on the market. His business manager, a smart, well-intentioned employee, had taken the initiative and made an offer on Drew’s behalf.

No one had imagined that the small farm would attract any buyers, hence the lowball offer. Drew had been as surprised as anyone to hear he’d been outbid.

Beth touched his arm. “Look at that,” she said, pointing.

He tried to ignore the spark of heat where her fingers made contact with his skin. But it was immediately replaced by a chilling sensation as he glanced upward. The clouds had settled into an ominous pattern. It looked as if someone had taken a black marker and drawn a line across the sky—parallel to the ground—about halfway between heaven and earth. Below the line everything seemed normal. But in that unusual formation above, menace lurked.

“It’s a wall cloud,” he said, feeling the hair on his arms stand up. “I saw one as a kid. We have to take shelter. All hell is about to break loose.”

As the words left his mouth, two things happened almost simultaneously. Warning sirens far in the distance sounded their eerie wail. And a dark, perfectly-shaped funnel dropped out of the cloud.

Beth gasped. “Oh, God, Drew.”

He grabbed her arm. “The storm cellar. Hurry.” He didn’t bother asking where it was. Everyone in this part of the country had a shelter as close as possible to an exit from their home, so that if things happened in the middle of the night, everyone could make it to safety.

They ran as if all the hounds of hell were after them. He thought about picking her up, but Beth was in great shape, and her long legs ate up the distance. Her house was a quarter of a mile away. If necessary, they could hit the ground and cover their heads, but he had a bad feeling about this storm.

Beth panted, her face red from exertion. “Are we going to make it?”

He glanced over his shoulder, nearly tripping over a root. “It’s headed our way...but at an angle. We have to make it. Run, Beth. Faster.”

The rain hit when they were still a hundred yards from the house. They were drenched to the bone instantly. It was as if some unseen hand had opened a zipper and emptied the sky. Unfortunately, the rain was the least of their worries. A roar in the distance grew louder, the sound chilling in volume.

They vaulted across the remaining distance, their feet barely touching the ground.

In tandem, they yanked at the cellar doors. The furious wind snatched Beth’s side out of her hand, flinging it outward.

“Inside,” Drew yelled.

Beth took one last look at the monster bearing down on them, her wide-eyed gaze panicked. But she ducked into the cellar immediately. Drew wrestled one door shut, slid partway down the ladder, and dragged the final side with him, ramming home the board that served as an anchor, threading it through two metal plates.

On the bottom was a large handle. He knew what it was for and wished he didn’t. If the winds of the tornado were strong enough, the simple cellar doors would be put to the test.

The dark was menacing for a moment, but gradually his eyes adjusted. Tiny cracks let in slivers of daylight. He turned and found Beth huddled against a cinder block wall. “Come sit down,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and drawing her toward the two metal folding chairs. Her fingers were icy as she resisted him.

“I don’t want to sit. What are we going to do?”

The storm’s fury grew louder minute by minute. He had a sick feeling that Beth’s property was going to take a direct hit. Given the angle of the storm’s path, it was possible that his place was in danger, too. The most he could do was pray. His crew was trained for emergencies. They would protect human life first, but they would also do everything they could to save the horses.

He ran his hands up and down Beth’s arms. She was wet and cold and terrified. Not that she voiced the latter. “Take my shirt, Beth. Here.” When he wrapped it around her and she didn’t protest, he knew she was seriously rattled. “I’m scared, too,” he said, with blunt honesty. “But we’ll be okay.”

The violent tornado mocked him. Debris began hitting the cellar doors. Beth cried out at one particularly loud blow. She stuffed her fist against her mouth. He put his arms around her and tucked her head against his shoulder.

For the first time, he understood the old life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing. It couldn’t end like this. But he had no illusions about the security of their shelter. It was old and not very well built.

How ironic that he was trapped with the one woman who evoked such a confusing mix of emotions. Though he knew her to be tough and independent, in his arms she felt fragile and in need of his protection. He held her tightly, drawing comfort from the human contact.

Regrets choked him as he inhaled the scent of her hair. If they were going to die, he should have kissed her first.