LITMIR.BIZ

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      To all the authors of the Montana Mavericks series, past and present, for creating a fabulous world that readers want always to return to.

       Prologue

      “Arriving at destination on right.”

      Clayton Traub turned and followed the long gravel drive until he saw a sign above the doorway of a two-story building that read Wright’s Way, confirming that the vehicle’s navigation system had been correct. Not that he’d doubted the device’s capabilities—not really. He just believed in covering all of his bases.

      In the case of following his brother, Forrest, on a three-hundred-mile road trip from Rust Creek Falls to Thunder Canyon, Montana, there were a lot of bases. Especially considering that Forrest had been more than a little … distracted since his return from Iraq.

      Clay parked his Dodge Ram Quad Cab and assessed the residence. The clapboard siding looked as if it had been recently painted, the windows shone in the late-afternoon sun, and there were pots of bronze-colored mums flanking the entranceway. The cursory perusal assured him that it didn’t look like a bad place to spend a few weeks, and he didn’t plan on staying any longer than that.

      He headed up to the main house, following the instructions of a ranch hand who’d told him that Tony would take care of the registration and give him the key.

      A housekeeper answered his knock at the door and directed him to an office. It wasn’t until Clay peeked into the room that he realized “Tony” was actually “Toni.”

      Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, except that along with the realization came an intense jolt of basic masculine appreciation.

      His first glimpse was of her profile, as she was seated at a desk and working at the computer. Her nose was straight, her chin slightly pointed and long, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. Slender, graceful fingers moved expertly over the keys and though those fingers never faltered, she must have sensed his presence in the doorway because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. And his heart actually skipped a beat.

      Toni Wright was very definitely female—and exquisite.

      “Can I help you?”

      It took a moment for her words to penetrate the fog that had suddenly enveloped his brain, and another moment for Clay to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d had such a purely visceral reaction to the sight of a woman. A very long time.

      “Clayton Traub,” he finally said. “I’m checking in.”

      “Welcome to Wright’s Way.” Her tone was pleasant, her smile natural, but there was more than a hint of reserve in the depths of her green eyes. “Do you know how long you plan to stay?”

      Focus, Traub. The reprimand was silent but stern. He was here because he needed a break and because his mother wanted him to keep an eye on his brother while Forrest was rehabbing in Thunder Canyon. The absolute last thing he needed was to let himself be distracted by a pretty face. On the other hand, this trip to Thunder Canyon suddenly promised to be a whole lot more interesting.

      “A few weeks, at least,” he finally responded to her question.

      “The rent is paid weekly, in advance.”

      “That’s not a problem,” he assured her, unfazed by her all-business attitude.

      She passed him a page with Rental Terms & Conditions noted across the top. “Please review this and sign at the bottom.”

      He scanned the document, nothing giving him any cause for concern—until he got to paragraph eight. He tapped a finger on the page, beside the relevant clause. “What exactly does it mean by ‘no overnight visitors allowed’?”

      “It means that only registered guests are allowed to stay overnight on the premises,” she told him.

      “That could be a problem.”

      She shrugged. “Then there’s a motel in town, The Wander-On Inn, that might be more to your liking.”

      “That wouldn’t please my cousin, Dax, who recommended your boarding

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