LITMIR.BIZ

      Joan Marlow Golan

      Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

      The Rancher and the Nanny

      Caroline Cross

      CAROLINE CROSS

      always loved to read, but it wasn’t until she discovered the romance genre that she felt compelled to write, fascinated by the chance to explore the positive power of love in people’s lives. Winner of the prestigious Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award for Best Short Contemporary, she’s also been thrilled to win the Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Desire, as well as a W.I.S.H. Award. She grew up in central Washington State, attended the University of Puget Sound and now lives outside of Seattle, where she tries to work at home despite the chaos created by two telephone-addicted teenage daughters and a husband with a fondness for home-improvement projects. The Rancher and the Nanny marks her tenth book for Silhouette. Caroline would love to hear from her readers. She can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, Washington, 98006.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      One

      The shiny black pickup rocketed down the Bar M’s gravel drive, raising a plume of dust in its wake.

      Poised before the ranch house’s back door, Eve Chandler turned as the vehicle swept past. Her stomach did a quick somersault at the sight of the big, dark-haired man behind the wheel.

      It had been eight years since she last saw John MacLaren, but for an instant time seemed to melt away. All of a sudden she was seventeen again, and the way she’d felt whenever she was around him—hot, bothered, filled with yearnings that both enthralled and embarrassed her—came rushing back.

      She shivered and took a step toward the stairs as if to flee, only to freeze a second later as her common sense kicked in.

      Knock it off, Eve. You’re no longer an inexperienced teenager, remember? You’re twenty-five years old, the same age John was all those years ago. At least he doesn’t have a clue how you felt back then—you made sure of that. Think how much harder this would be if he had.

      The stark reminder of why she was here crashed over her like a breaker of icy water. And though she stubbornly refused to give in to the rising tide of panic that had been building inside her the past few weeks, she couldn’t deny the irony of the situation. If someone had tried to tell her six months ago that she, the privileged granddaughter of Lander County’s biggest rancher, would soon be forced to come begging favors from the sexy loner who once worked in the Chandler stables, she never would have believed it.

      Yet here she was.

      Thirty feet away, John pulled in beside the small red car she’d borrowed for the drive over. He switched off the pickup’s engine.

      She could hear her heart pounding in the ensuing silence. Determined not to let on, she deliberately struck a casual pose as he climbed out of the cab and shut the truck door. He began to walk in her direction, his long legs eating up the distance as he slowly yanked off his leather work gloves.

      If he was surprised to see her, it didn’t show.

      He stopped at the foot of the stairs and inclined his head a scant inch. “Eve.”

      Taking a firm grip on her unruly emotions, she summoned her most confident smile. “Hello, John.”

      There was a distinct silence as they regarded each other.

      Around them, the September day was much like any other. A pale yellow sun hung high in the vast blue Montana sky. The temperature hovered in the midfifties, while the summer-seared grass that covered the surrounding range waved gently beneath a light but persistent breeze.

      Eve paid no attention. Her focus was completely claimed by the tall man standing before her. Despite her little pep talk, the fluttery feeling in her stomach got worse as he slowly rocked back on his heels and gave her an unhurried once-over. His gaze touched on her sunny blond hair, then raked her ice-blue cashmere sweater, gray wool crepe slacks and Italian leather shoes.

      She’d chosen the expensive outfit deliberately. At the time, she’d told herself she merely wanted to look her best. Now, she realized that on some level she’d also hoped it would give her an edge, acting as a subtle reminder of their respective pasts. In the half second before his eyes hooded over, however, she caught a glimpse of something in their depths that seemed to be as much cool disdain as grudging appreciation.

      Stung, she lifted her chin and studied him in turn. She had to concede the years had been good to him in ways that had nothing to do with his newfound wealth. He might be dressed in scuffed cowboy boots, jeans whitened at the hips and thighs, a faded black T-shirt and a weathered Stetson, but nobody would ever mistake him for a simple ranch hand.

      Time had added muscle to his lean six-foot three-inch frame and

Скачать книгу