LITMIR.BIZ

      Melissa Jeglinski

      Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

      Wild in the Field

      Jennifer Greene

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      JENNIFER GREENE

      lives near Lake Michigan with her husband and two children. Before writing full-time, she worked as a teacher and a personnel manager.

      Ms. Greene has written more than fifty category romances, for which she has won numerous awards, including three RITA^® Awards from the Romance Writers of America in the Best Short Contemporary Books category, and she entered RWA’s Hall of Fame in 1998.

      To Lar—

       For letting me rescue even the impossibly ugly dogs, cats and critters over the years.

       Don’t worry, love.

       I’ll never tell anyone what a softie you are.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Epilogue

      One

      Once a month, Pete MacDougal braced for a full-scale rebellion. And once every month, he got it.

      Only the nature of the weapons and attacks varied. The look on the faces of his fourteen-year-old sons was always the same: A never-give-in-determination in the eyes, an unrelenting stubbornness in the chins, a cocky attitude written on their every feature.

      It was bad enough to have two teenagers in the house, worse yet to have twins, but the real insult was that the kids took after him. It just wasn’t fair.

      “Look, Dad. You just don’t get it. You’re missing the point of living without women. We’re supposed to be free.”

      “Uh-huh,” Pete said, and from his key position in the front hall, slapped a mop and bucket in Simon’s hands. His sidekick—and Sean was the absolute spitting image of his brother except for one errant cowlick—was trying to slowly back away from the vacuum.

      “Come on, Dad. Remember about free? We’re supposed to be free to be ourselves. Free to not eat vegetables. Free to not do dishes until we run out. Free to wear our boots in the house. Free to live how we want.”

      The vacuum nozzle was slapped into Sean’s hand—but Simon elbowed in front of him. “You always said we should think for ourselves, remember, Dad? Well, we finally got a day off from school because of the blizzard, so I think the last thing we should be doing is cleaning.”

      Sean accidentally let the vacuum nozzle drop. “And, like, what’s the point, you know? As soon as you clean, the dirt comes right back. What’s wrong with dirt anyway? I like dirt. Simon likes dirt. Gramps likes dirt. You’re the only one—”

      “Dirt keeps the women away, right, Dad? Like an apple keeps the doctor awa—”

      “Enough. I’ve had it with the lip.” Pete knew he’d lose his temper. He always did. The only question every month was when. “I don’t want to hear another word. Unless you both want to be grounded for the rest of your lives, the floors are getting washed and the carpets vacuumed. And the bathrooms—hell, the health department wouldn’t go near your bathroom upstairs. It stinks. Now move it—”

      “I’m not doing the bathroom,” Sean told his brother.

      “Well, I’m sure not—”

      Pete’s voice raised. “BOTH bathrooms upstairs. And I want all towels and dirty clothes down the chute—” He saw the bucket crash down on Simon’s head, followed by the mop cracking over Sean’s. Yowls followed—both of them sounded like tomcats auditioning for a back alley fight. The yowls inspired more blows, followed by desperate claims of pain, followed by pokes and giggles and more desperate claims of pain.

      “NOTHING is going to get you out of chores,

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