LITMIR.BIZ

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dreamed of finding: irrefutable proof not only of the mine’s existence, but of its location. Now all she had to do was convince the new owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch that she could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams.

      Knocking sharply on the scarred wooden door that appeared to be original to the house, she assured herself that convincing Buck Wyatt to work with her was going to be a piece of cake. After all, he was British, educated, and according to the gossip she’d picked up in town, quickly running out of money. He’d already had a fortune in property fall in his lap. Surely he wouldn’t turn his back on the gold mine sitting in the middle of it.

      Determined to make him see reason, she squared her shoulders and once again lifted her hand to knock, but a split second later, the door was jerked open and suddenly, she forgot to breathe.

      She’d done exhaustive research on not only the mine, but the Wyatt family, as well, and there was no question that the man who stood before her was a Wyatt. The Willow Bend library had worlds of data on the local ranchers, including pictures of the Wyatt family all the way back to the 1800s, and Buck had the same sharp eyes, the same rugged face and tall, rangy build as every Wyatt man who’d owned the ranch for the last hundred years. He might have been born and raised in England, but he had rancher written all over him.

      “Do I have a fly on my nose?”

      Jerked out of her musings, she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

      “As well you should,” he retorted, amused. “You’re staring at me like I have a bloody fly on my nose.”

      Mortified, she could do nothing to stop the hot color that bloomed in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Really. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Abruptly sticking out her hand, she forced a smile. “You must be Buck Wyatt. I’m Rainey Brewster. I was wondering if we might talk.”

      He did not, as she’d expected, take her hand. Instead, he studied her with midnight-blue eyes full of suspicion. “Obviously, you didn’t stumble up my driveway by mistake, and you’re not part of the welcoming committee. They were here four months ago, and you weren’t with them—I would have remembered. So why are you here, Ms. Brewster? What do you want?” His accent had turned clipped and very British, and for the life of her, Rainey didn’t know what she had done to earn his suspicion. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, dropping her hand. “I should have called first, but what I have to say to you isn’t something you discuss on the phone. If you have the time, I’d like to talk to you about the lost Spanish gold mine on your property.”

      “Really?” he retorted dryly. “And what business is that of yours?”

      “I’d prefer not to discuss it on the doorstep…if you don’t mind.”

      For all of ten seconds, Buck seriously considered shutting the door in her face. He didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, but he had no intention of discussing the mine or anything else that belonged to him with a stranger…even if she was the cutest woman he’d met in a long time. If she thought she could use her looks and that sweet, dimpled smile to talk him around, she was in for a rude awakening. He wasn’t so easily taken in.

      “Actually, I do mind,” he retorted. “I don’t invite just anyone into my home. State your business, Ms. Brewster, and be quick about it. I’m busy.”

      He was being a hard-ass and wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d called him a jerk and walked away. But the lady was tougher than that. When her chin shot up and her blue eyes glinted with irritation, he found himself impressed. She was a gutsy little thing.

      “My business, Mr. Wyatt, is the mine. I’m a treasure hunter and would like the opportunity to discuss the mine’s location with you.”

      Disappointed—God, another treasure hunter out to con him!—he groaned, “Not another one! Do you know how many people like you have knocked on my door over the last four months, Ms. Brewster? The family’s been looking for the mine for well over a hundred years. My office is full of yearly reports from geologists and archaeologists and even Indian shamans who swear they know where it is, and there’s no sign of gold anywhere. What could you possibly know about the mine’s location that all of the experts missed?”

      “More than you obviously think,” she retorted. “The reason they haven’t been able to locate the mine is because they’re looking in the wrong place!”

      Far from impressed, Buck laughed. “You know, for a moment, I actually thought you were serious. Nice try, love. Now that you’ve had your little joke, I suggest you leave. I’ve got work to do.”

      “Wait!” she cried when he started to shut the door in her face. “I’m serious!”

      “Mmm, hmm,” he said as he continued to shut the door. “You probably know where the Holy Grail is, too.”

      “Don’t be an ass,” she retorted. “I’m trying to help you! If you’d just listen—”

      “To what? Another half-baked story about where the mine is? I’ve heard them all. Did you have a dream or what? One lady told me an angel appeared to her and told her. Then there was the drifter who claimed he heard it on the wind. Wow. So, tell me…why should I believe you? Oh, wait, I’ll bet I know. You’re psychic! You looked in your crystal ball, and there was the mine, right there in front of your eyes.”

      Heat burned her cheeks, but to her credit, she stood her ground. “You’ll apologize to me in the future for that, Mr. Wyatt—”

      “I don’t think so, Ms. Brewster. But then again, I’m not psychic.”

      “Obviously not,” she said, her blue eyes glinting with triumph, “or you would know that I’m not, either. I discovered the whereabouts of the mine in some private papers in Spain.”

      Far from impressed, he just looked at her. “Really? And you expect me to believe that even though people have been looking for the mine for centuries, you found papers that no one else even knew existed?”

      Rainey couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. Her claim did sound outrageous. “If you’ll just take a look at what I have, you won’t regret it,” she assured him. “All I need is ten minutes.”

      For a moment, she thought she had him. He hesitated, studying her consideringly. Then his jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you found in Spain, Ms. Brewster, or what you paid someone to create false documents, but you wasted your money. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do—”

      Lightning quick, she stuck her foot in the door. When he gave her an arch look, she merely held out her card. “When you change your mind, call me. I’ll be in town for another week.”

      Making no effort to take her card, he just looked at her. “I have no intention of changing my mind.”

      Rainey rolled her eyes. God save her from stubborn men! “If people didn’t change their minds, Mr. Wyatt, they would still believe the world was flat.” Impulsively, she leaned forward and daringly tucked her card in his shirt pocket. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought with a grin, and winked at him. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

      When he just looked down his aristocratic nose at her, she almost laughed. But her intention was to spark his interest, not irritate him, so she turned and walked away, feeling the touch of his eyes on her long after she drove away. He would call, she told herself confidently. He had to. Her father had spent years looking for the mine, and since his death, she had vowed to keep up the search in his honor. Now that she knew where the mine was, she couldn’t let Buck Wyatt stop her. She would give him a week. If he didn’t call, then she would show up on his doorstep again. Sooner or later, he was bound to give in.

      Chapter 2

      Rainey Brewster, Ph.D, historian, treasure hunter.

      Scowling at the card she’d given him, Buck snorted. So now she was claiming to have a Ph.D. What kind of nutcase was she? Did she actually expect him to believe she’d tracked down some ancient papers in Spain

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