LITMIR.BIZ

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       One

      Kel was still riding a tidal wave of righteous anger when he pulled up in front of the ranch house. Blackwood Hollow was a six-hundred-acre working ranch but the main building looked like a five-star luxury hotel. Sprawling twin wings spread out across the land and climbed to two stories. Lights shone in every window, making the whole place sparkle in the darkness. And with the white Christmas lights strung along the outline of the ranch house, it looked magical.

      It was a mammoth place. His little sister, Sophie, sometimes stayed there, but they’d all gotten into the habit of avoiding Blackwood Hollow because they hadn’t wanted to see Buck. A part of him wondered if that would change now that Buck was gone.

      For Kellan, the memories in Royal were too hard, too painful to welcome him back for anything longer than a short visit to see his siblings even if that meant an extra trip into Dallas to see Vaughn.

      Frowning, Kel looked past the main house to the guest quarters. Just as luxurious, the stone-and-glass building held four guest suites, a massive great room and a four-car garage.

      “And,” he murmured, “not a chance Miranda’s staying there.”

      His father’s ex wouldn’t settle for anything less than the big house. Especially now, since she apparently owned it.

      Okay, there was the rage again, in a fresh wave that nearly stole his breath. Shaking his head, he got out of his black Range Rover and headed for the main house. A couple of the ranch hands nodded or lifted a hand in greeting, but didn’t try to stop him to chat. Good call.

      He was here only because he knew the Step-witch wasn’t. His sister, Sophie, had called him to say that Miranda was in town, shopping. Naturally. When you inherit several billion dollars, you want to spend some of it.

      Muttering under his breath, Kellan entered the house, crossed the foyer and walked into the great room. He gave a quick look around, to assure himself she wasn’t there. He hardly noticed the blazing fire in the hearth or the dark brown leather sofas and chairs clustered in conversational groups.

      Deliberately, he kept his gaze off the damn Christmas tree in front of the bank of windows overlooking the front yard. It glittered and shone with multicolored lights and ribbons of silver and gold. The scent of pine hung in the air and stirred more memories, whether he wanted them or not. As a kid, he’d loved this house during the Christmas season because his mother had always gone all out on decorating.

      The holidays were always opulent at Blackwood Hollow. It was the one tradition even Buck had kept after Kel’s mother and he had divorced. Donna-Leigh had died a few years ago, but here at Blackwood Hollow Kel could still feel her influence. Tiny lights were strung around every window and there were decorated trees in almost every room of the house. The whole place smelled like evergreen, and as the memories rushed into his mind, Kel fought to keep them out.

      He reminded himself that almost before the ink on their divorce decree had dried, Buck had married Miranda DuPree and brought her into the house that had been Donna-Leigh’s. So the old man keeping Kel’s mother’s decorating traditions alive didn’t mean squat.

      Quickly, he took the stairs to the second story, ignoring the decorated tree on the landing and the twinkling white lights strung along the hallway. He checked the first of the guest rooms. Empty. No sign of anyone staying there. He moved on down the hall, his footsteps muffled on the dark red runner laid out in the center of the gleaming oak floor. Next room. Still nothing. He was down to two now. He didn’t know how long Miranda would be in town, though according to Sophie, the woman was being trailed all through Royal by the camera crew that worked on the ridiculous TV show she was on.

       Secret Lives of NYC Ex-Wives.

      He snorted. So she’d found a way to make even more money out of her divorce from a rich man. And now her costars and the film crew were in Royal, helping to make the Blackwood family even more of a sideshow.

      Pushing those thoughts aside, he hurried. He needed time to go through her things and look for this special letter his father had sent her. He wanted to see for himself what Buck had had to say. How he explained cutting his own children out of their inheritance.

      Kel had never had much of a relationship with his father. Buck had always been too busy swooping down on failing companies to buy them out and sell them, adding to his millions. But none of that mattered now. The family legacy, the ranch, the business, should stay in the family. Blackwood Hollow alone was valued at more than $60 million and that wasn’t even counting Blackwood Bank and Buck’s personal fortune.

      Why would he leave it all to Miranda? Hell, they’d been divorced for years. Kel needed to know what was going on and the only way to get those answers was to pry them out of Miranda—even if she didn’t know about it.

      He opened another door and smiled. Another Christmas tree stood resplendent in front of the windows overlooking the back of the house and the swimming pool. Women’s clothes were strewed across the bed, there was a hairbrush on the dresser and, in spite of the tree, even the air smelled feminine.

      In a rush, Kel pushed that thought aside and headed for the closet. It was filled with clothes that he absently noted looked a lot more conservative than what he was used to seeing Miranda wear. He dismissed it when he didn’t find anything and went to the bedside tables. Nothing. Then he hit the dresser where he found drawers of sweaters and shirts and yoga pants. Also very un-Miranda-like. No letters, no papers. Nothing.

      “Damn it,” he muttered, reaching for the next drawer. “Where the hell did she put it?”

      He tugged on the drawer pull and saw a collection of delicate bras and panties. Black, pink, red, blue—a rainbow of lace and silk. Gritting his teeth, he ran his hand through the silky fabric, tumbling them all, looking for an envelope that wasn’t there. Frustrated, he stopped dead when sounds erupted from the adjoining bathroom. Was she here after all? Was Sophie wrong about Miranda trotting around town spending his father’s money in front of an audience of cameras?

      The door opened, steam poured out—and through that misty fog, a woman appeared as if from a dream. It wasn’t Miranda.

      It was the one woman Kel hadn’t wanted—or dared—to see again.

      Her long strawberry blond hair was damp, lying across her shoulders and draping onto the towel wrapped around what he knew from personal experience was a hell of a body. Her dark green eyes were wide and those long legs of hers were displayed like living temptation.

      “Irina Romanov.”

      She actually tightened her grip on the towel she wore. “Kellan? What are you doing in my room?”

      God, that voice. Husky. Tempting. With just the slightest tinge of a Russian accent. In an instant, he was thrown back in time seven years. It had been Christmas then, too. For a week, the two of them had spent nearly every waking moment in bed together. Or anywhere else they’d found a flat surface. And then he’d realized what he was doing and he’d left Texas—and Irina—behind him.

      If he allowed it, even now, he could hear her whispers in the dark. Feel her hands on him. Taste her hard nipples as he slammed his body into hers until they were both screaming with need. That long, unforgettable week had seared his soul and stirred a heart he’d believed dead.

      Still clutching that too-small towel to her like a shield, Irina looked him dead in the eye and said, “Get out, Kellan.”

      Probably best, he told himself, since at the moment, all he could think about was tearing that towel off her and tossing her onto the bed. Or the floor. Or against the wall. His body didn’t care how he had her—just that he did have her. His dick felt like stone, his breath was caught in his chest and the slow, hard hammer of his heart thundered in his ears.

      Kel took a long, deep breath in an attempt to find steadiness. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not leaving the house. I’ll be downstairs when

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