

##

Second Chance Cowboy

2013 Rhonda Lee Carver

Copyright © 2013 by Rhonda Lee Carver

All rights reserved.

Published at Smashwords

Published in the United States

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

##

## Chapter One

CARLY TAYLOR SNUGGLED closer to the warmth behind her as a muscular arm curled possessively around her waist and one powerful leg draped easily over the curve of her smooth calf.

The second leg, nestled between her inner thighs, pressed against her moist, sensitive core. Heat oozed from the pit of her stomach, spreading downward like honey and settling in her most intimate part.

It reminded her of a long lost feeling—one that she'd missed, but had stored into a forbidden area of her mind. Every now and again, she got a craving to ride a cowboy, to have a man deep within...

The thought was misplaced when something hard stirred against her bare bottom. Granite, warm and smooth...and easing against her moist folds as if searching for home.

Carly purred and circled her hips, rubbing the steely length with her ass in silent invitation. Her deep, needful moan spliced the silence.

She ached to have him inside—

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Carly froze. She knew that voice. _Knew it well_. Husky, rich, laced with a Texas drawl. Her heart pounded and her stomach did somersaults.

Shit! What had she done?

Last night's events wriggled into her consciousness, plowing through her anesthetized, hungover brain. She forced herself to face her actions, one-by-grueling-one.

Carly remembered feeling sorry for herself.

Her mind journeyed to the night before...

She'd planned a quiet evening in front of the tube with a chick flick and a good vintage wine. The remote control had dropped to the floor, and as she reached for it, she came across something she'd hidden there two years before and had intentionally forgotten it. _The box._

Opening the flowered container had been a big mistake. The box was like a treasure chest containing mementoes from the past—pictures of her and Chance, a locket he'd given her that had belonged to his mother, and movie stubs from their first show together. The memories had sparked an ache deep in her chest. She'd tried to drive the pain away, but there were some things a person could never forget.

As she'd thumbed down memory lane, her self-pity had grown to enormous magnitude. Wallowing in emotion wasn't something she did often, but this one time she hadn't had the strength to fight the demons. So, she'd drank a glass— _or two, maybe three, a bottle—_ of wine.

Stopping after the first would've been enough if all she'd wanted was a good buzz. Not only had she overshot her intention, but she'd descended into oblivion and lowered to stupid actions. _Real stupid._

Somewhere along her journey to insensibility, she'd made a phone call—six numbers to insanity. She hadn't planned a booty-call, yet with the proof poking her, that's how it seemed to have turned out.

"Cat got your tongue?" The whisper tickled her ear and all she could do was gulp a mouthful of air. He should have just licked her from thigh to shoulder, because each time he spoke, it evoked the same slice of heaven.

_Stay on track, Carly_.

She couldn't muster up the gumption to turn around and face the imp. She counted to ten...backward, forward, upside down. No help.

Out of all the men in Shelby, how could she have picked him, her _husband,_ to sleep with!

His hand clung to the curve of her thigh and the tenderness of his touch seeped inside her skin. Carly wanted to pull away, but God help her, revulsion was the last thing her body experienced. He'd made love to her thoroughly, all through the night. Now her treacherous body longed to have him again.

Her mind was convinced she'd made a mistake. However, it took a good ten seconds to convince her heated core that she wasn't going for another helping. No matter how good his hands felt along the contour of her hip, she wasn't succumbing to the emotion. They'd been there—done the relationship bit—and it hadn't worked.

With that thought in mind, she took a deep breath and moved off the bed, pulling the red silk sheet along with her. She clutched the soft shiny material to her body as if it were her lifeline. It seemed pointless to hide her nakedness considering he knew, probably with eyes closed, every inch of her. After all, he'd discovered her like a treasure. A stinging sensation burned her cheeks.

Tilting her chin in determination, she turned. Chance Taylor, all six feet, two-hundred pounds of ribbed muscle and beautiful flesh was lying in her queen-sized bed.

A smug smile kinked one corner of his mouth and her muscles quivered. He moved a knee and her gaze slid to his stiffy positioned against his stomach. Damn the man. He could at least pretend he wasn't showing off his package...and what a nice package it was.

Feeling her cheeks flush deeper, she turned away. A fraction of shame swept through her. She'd had sex, sultry mind-blowing sex, in her childhood room. This was where she used to have tea parties with her dolls. Where she'd play dress up. Where as a teenager, she'd listen to the music too loud and hang posters of boy bands. And last night, she'd christened her room as an adult.

Thank goodness her father had gone to the cattle auction for the weekend. Harry would have jumped to the hopeful conclusion that her and Chance were getting back together. Harry McAllister was a huge fan of the cocky man sitting in her bed.

Chance's usual conceited smile was in place.

He was a perfect specimen of a virile man. Not an ounce of fat existed on his lean frame. His hair, shorter now than when they were together, was as dark as coal with only a few streaks of silver, which enhanced his looks instead of aging him. His penetrating green eyes managed to set her on fire, every time.

Her gaze sank to his erection of its own accord. He saluted her, as if teasing her. She knew the man had never-fail stamina. Dragging her attention back to his face, she focused on the thin white scar on his forehead to keep from staring at his hard body.

Parting her lips, she wanted to say something, but couldn't get her voice to work.

"It's too late to get all bashful now, sweetheart."

Chance's voice tormented her sensitive nerves, and tore open every memory of the fervor they shared during the night. She'd called out his name repeatedly during their lovemaking. Her legs stretched in angles she didn't think possible. The heat of her blush burned its way from her dark hair roots to her red-painted toenails.

A warning shot off like the crack of a gun inside her head. Chance equaled uncontrollable, raw desire. She fought the reckless screaming inside her mind that urged her to pluck what was there for the taking. She searched her emotions for the downsides to Chance's love.

His masculinity was her weakness. She wanted to fall into his arms and allow his powerful energy to consume. Being with Chance came with a price and she wasn't willing to pay. He wanted her to move on, to forget their painful past, but Carly owned her heartache. She desperately wanted to hold on to it. It was much easier to harbor guilt than face the truth.

"Look, Chance," she started and stopped. She scrambled for the right words. "We made—no, _I_ made a mistake in calling you last night. If I hadn't called you then this—" She glanced at his irresistible form again. _Bad idea_. "This wouldn't have happened."

Chance smoothed his hand over his disheveled hair. He showed no sign that her words reached or moved him. His attention dropped to the sheet clasped to her body and her mouth went dry. A tingly sensation swirled her nipples. She didn't need a mirror to know they peaked like pearls.

His tongue slipped out and moistened his bottom lip as his sugary gaze glided over her in a visual caress. He held his jade stare at the apex of her thighs and she resisted the urge to squirm. His look of confidence and command triggered naughty thoughts inside her.

The phone on the bedside table rang and Carly jerked. The shrill ring was a cold dousing to her desire. She knew she should answer it. Her mind commanded her to, but her feet wouldn't move. She stood statue-still, her breathing loud in her ears.

The sound stopped. She told herself it was the time for closure; destroy any remaining connection between them.

"I drank a little wine, maybe more than I needed, and I felt a bit lonely. I only meant to call you and...." She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. "I don't know why I needed to talk to you." She sighed. _Where was the self-confident Carly?_ "I allowed you to come over but it wasn't an invitation into my bed."

Chance propped a shoulder against the sleek black headboard and pinned her with his intense gaze. Carly squirmed under his penetrating stare. Butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach.

"Don't freak out, Carly. We're married. Married people have sex."

Her gut clenched. His calm words and the casual disposition of his body trickled enjoyment. He seemed so nonchalant about the situation, and it made her furious. It always did. This was his mode of operation. He was calm, cool, collected, even in a position where some level of anxiety was courteous.

"Not two people separated for two years. And especially not when divorce papers were filed. You signed the papers, remember? The divorce is final this morning."

He winced.

There, she'd said the chilling "D" word aloud. _Divorce._

His expression turned cold. Had he forgotten? She'd expected to get some sort of pleasure out of saying the word, but it wasn't delight that clasped her chest. She wasn't quite sure how she felt.

"Okay, Carly. I'll let you use alcohol as an excuse for the first time we hit the sheets, although we both know you were sober when I walked through your door. What about the second and third, or the fourth and fifth time?" His thick eyebrow popped up in silent accusation. "You weren't thinking divorce when your legs straddled me."

Carly opened her mouth, and immediately snapped it shut. She had no defense. There were no justifications for last night, so why try? She'd only embarrass herself more.

When he'd shown up at booty-call-midnight, the part of her brain housing logical reasoning didn't exist and the only thing she'd cared about was satisfaction.

Once he'd gotten near, she was lost in his magnetism. The draw was like silver chains holding her, making her powerless to run like hell. His allure beckoned her to him like a magnet to metal. He'd always held an invisible force over her emotions. Being alone in the same room with him after years of sexual dehydration had been an erotic wreck waiting to happen.

Chance's jaw tightened and his eyes flashed impatience. She knew his aloof attitude slipped a bit.

"I'll go out on a limb, but maybe this—" He swept a hand through the air encompassing the bed. "—proves we belong together. You know it's not too late."

Carly dug her teeth into her bottom lip. She had to wonder why he waited to say those words until after they were divorced. He appeared so arrogant and composed, but she saw the signs of his thinning patience. A need to provoke him swept over her. She wanted him to feel the icy fingers of hurt as she had over the years. The culpability of the past ate away at her insides and now the pain had the intensity of a blazing fire.

"Do you actually think one night of sex can change two years? We could make love everyday for a month and it still wouldn't change the truth."

"Can we test that theory?" He grinned and Carly's heart skipped a beat. He engaged what she called the 'Taylor smile,' an act that could melt glaciers and barricades surrounding a cold heart.

She wouldn't fall, not this time. She couldn't go back. The pain had run far too deep.

A tear crept from the corner of her eye as the thought processed.

She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with a needed breath. "I've been seeing someone. I happen to care for him a lot." When his jaw tightened, she knew she'd hit bull's-eye.

The cowboy wasn't so calm and collected now, was he?

"That makes you an adulteress." He slid to the side of the bed and placed his feet on the floor.

Red flashed before her eyes and her blood boiled. "Kiss my ass, Chance. Chris and I haven't—" She stopped abruptly. She didn't owe him an explanation. He could believe what he wanted to. After all, she made him angry and that's what she'd hoped for. "Isn't that the kettle calling the pot black?"

"I believe the phrase is 'the pot calling the kettle black' but okay, I get it. And no, it's different for me."

"Why? Because you and Leslie never publicized you're seeing each other?"

His bitter laugh cracked the air like a whip.

She slanted a hip. "There are no secrets in a town this small. How long did you think it would take before I learned you and my veterinarian are an item?"

Chance's amusement disappeared and he remained quiet.

Carly squeezed her hands into fists. "She came here yesterday morning. While she gave the mare a rectal exam, I should have inquired how the other horse's ass was doing. My poor husband. How difficult it is for him to manage his inflated ego and keep his zipper closed."

"We're divorced, remember?" His voice reeked of sarcasm.

She groaned in irritation. Her pulse pounded in her ears like the beating of a drum. Her claws were showing, even though she suspected his relationship with Leslie was nothing more than his way of getting under her skin.

Sadly, it worked.

Chance didn't blink an eye as he gazed at her across the room. "Honey, I can keep my pants zipped just fine. Problem is, you can't keep your fingers off my zipper." He rubbed his palm down his face. "What a shame it came to this. I would have liked to recap last night's events, one slow move at a time. I guess it's out of the question, right?"

Carly's palm itched to slap him, but she restrained herself and tightened her hold on the sheet. "How do you think it's possible we haven't run into each other more than three times in the last two years?" She cocked her chin. When he didn't answer, she continued, "Let me fill you in. I've done everything in my power to keep from bumping into you. Do you realize how difficult it is to plan my schedule weeks in advance so I don't have to see you? Is that a description of a woman who can't keep her fingers off your zipper?"

"No, more like a woman who's afraid she'll forget what screwed up our marriage in the first place, realize she's made a huge mistake and get her ass back home."

"Humph, fat chance that'll ever happen." She fumbled with the sheet in irritation and gave her hair a toss over one shoulder.

Damn, he did have a point, although she'd never admit it to him.

"Yeah, right, Carly, because you can't ever forgive and forget, can you? You think you're the only one who has lost, don't you?" His eyes became steely pools of green. His voice turned low and controlled. "I lost Devon, too. He was my son— _our_ son _._ How long are you going to keep blaming me for his death?"

Carly swallowed the painful lump in her constricted throat. "I don't blame you."

"Could have fooled me."

He moved off the side of the mattress, not even slightly self-conscious of his nudity. But what man would be insecure with a body like his? Her body filled with unbridled need.

Battling the ache in her loin, she watched him pull on his wrinkled boxers and then tug on worn jeans. Then she said, "We both know why I left."

"We do?" His bitter laugh split the air with its razor-sharp intensity. "I know you want to hold on to the belief that I'm the bad guy who drove you away, but isn't it time you took half the responsibility for the failure of our marriage?" A trace of compassion softened his expression. He tugged on his shirt and finger-combed his hair.

"It wasn't my fault you cheated." Once she said it, she wanted to yank the words back. Too late, just like their relationship.

"You're a broken record, sweetheart. It's not worth denying the accusation any longer. Maybe eventually you'll believe your words and feel justified in leaving. "

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks and dusty cowboy boots. Dropping his booted feet to the floor with a thump, Chance then looked at her, his face hard and blank of any emotion.

"Devon died, Carly. He's gone and we can't change the truth. One of us needed to make the decision to let him go and I made it. I held out hope you'd ultimately find a sliver of forgiveness in your cold heart. I guess I was wrong."

The old wound broke open and her lungs emptied of oxygen. She wanted to lash out at him, tell him to go to hell, but the words didn't come. Instead, she whispered, "I'm going to the bathroom. When I get back I want you gone."

"Carly, you've become an expert at sucking all the joy out of your life and pushing away anyone who reaches out to you. You're living in a self-made prison, founded on guilt and pain, and there is no key to unlock the cell door."

She watched him get up from the bed, cross the room in four quick, troubled stomps, and come to stop directly in front of her. Rolling her head back to meet his glazed eyes, she bit back tears.

"I'm leaving now, _sweetheart._ I want to thank you for last night. It was..." He seemed to search for the right word. "Enlightening. My last wish is you'll realize, before it is too late, what you're letting go."

"I do, Chance." With lowered voice, plagued with emotion, she said, "I know exactly what I'm letting go."

Chapter Two

CARLY JETTED AROUND the bathroom in haste. She took a three-minute shower and dried her shoulder-length hair. She applied a coat of basic makeup and dressed, all in record time.

If she didn't hurry, she'd be late for a meeting with the buyer for her peaches. She hated being delayed and wanted to appear polished and professional. The sell would prove not only to herself, but to everyone else, that she'd evolved into a successful businesswoman.

She swept past the unmade bed and darted a glance at the messy sheets. The crumpled linen reminded her of her deteriorated marriage. Sadness crept over her. She wanted to deny the truth, but it was stark and blaring inside her head.

Chance's final wish bombarded her thoughts.

His last wish could screw itself.

Why did she feel like her heart exploded into a million pieces? She wanted to deny the truth, but it was stark and blared inside her head. The love she had for Chance remained.

From the moment Chance Taylor walked into her life, she'd been caught in a whirlwind. Love, marriage, family.

She allowed her thoughts to travel back to the day they'd met...

Carly stood by the punchbowl with her friends at the Fourth of July picnic when in walked _the_ Chance Taylor. Muffled whispers and girly giggles echoed from the female partygoers, married and single.

Not one woman in Shelby could resist Chance's good looks and charm. They flashed pretty smiles when he walked past, hoping he'd glance in their direction. Carly's body heat rose when he crossed the grass toward her. He looked mighty fine in a long-sleeved blue button-down, dark denims and black boots.

The afternoon sun glinted off his coal locks and his granite gaze warmed her skin. She couldn't take her eyes off him. A drop-dead smile curved his lips and masculinity oozed from him. It was hopeless to resist a man who exuded virility from every pore.

Her friends' oohs and aahs filled the air as he approached their circle. He gave each a nod of acknowledgement before he'd focused his full attention on her. He'd made a heady path down her white silk top, tight-fitting jeans, to the cherry red points of her toes visible in the open-toed heeled sandals she wore.

When his eyes had made it back to her face, he'd held out a hand for her taking. "You said if I came you'd save a dance for me."

Carly remembered staring at his open palm for the longest time while her girlfriends encouraged her with words of anticipation. "I did?" She hadn't forgotten, but she'd wanted to play hard to get, at least a little.

"That wasn't the only thing you promised," he'd teased.

"So, you want to learn to line dance, huh?" She'd laughed when her friends' collection of sighs and laughs echoed. She knew what indecent thoughts spun through her friends' minds. Probably the same naughty ideas she'd been thinking at that moment.

They danced every dance. Made love under the stars that night. And a week later, they married. They were known among their friends as the 'bed to wed' couple. She'd been the envy of many brokenhearted women in Shelby.

She caught the cowboy.

* * * *

Carly needed to push all thoughts of Chance Taylor to the back of her mind. They were divorced now. No more midnight calls. No more stimulating images of him naked in her bed, delighting her with his magical touch.

Adjusting the straps on her mile-high heels, Carly rose to her feet. She wobbled slightly, her limbs still weak from the night of wild sex, and strode across the bedroom. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall and stopped.

Her eyes twinkled with a light that wasn't there yesterday. Forget anti-aging creams and repairing serums. She'd found the fountain of youth in the shape of a brawny cowboy. The night of passion did wonders for her pale features.

Carly frowned. She'd have to get used to the idea that her and Chance were now divorced.

She glanced at the clock with a grimace. Damn.

Heading out of the room, she grabbed a slender gold bracelet off her dresser and fumbled with the delicate clasp as she walked toward the stairs.

Distracted, she stepped onto the edge of the top rung, and the heel of her shoe snapped in half. She grasped frantically for the banister, but her hand slipped on the polished wood and her body lurched forward.

Her scream echoed off the white walls while she bounced and rolled down the steep hardwood stairs. The tumble brought her shoulders hard against the steps and her body involuntarily plunged downward.

She landed in a heap at the bottom. Her breath swooshed from her lungs. Her groan came from deep within and she slowly opened her eyes.

Staring up at the antique chandelier, the shiny teardrop crystals twinkled and vibrated. The brightness reminded her of Devon's pale eyes and his toothless grin.

Her heart pounded a heavy tempo against her ribs until it paced. Amazingly, her anger, confusion and guilt dissipated and her mind cleared. She still loved Chance. She swore that if she lived, she wouldn't waste another minute on sorrow. She'd make her cowboy her husband again.

A flash of white caused her to blink.

She attempted to rise but stopped when a sharp pain shot through her head. She reached around and gently probed the lump forming at the base of her skull.

Her stomach twisted and nausea crawled through her intestines. A last image bombarded her mind before everything faded to black. "Chance," she whispered.

* * * *

"I'm glad you came, Chance."

Chance's mouth spread into a tight smile. He wasn't sure why Harry McAllister called and asked him to come, but Chance could be damn sure Carly wasn't home. Invitations inside the house didn't come with her there.

He followed Harry through the tastefully decorated foyer with sleek oak flooring and expensive framed art. Carly once told him the name of the famous artist, but art wasn't his interest, not like it was for the McAllisters. The vase of colorful flowers filled the room with a sweet, strong smell.

Harry's office was right off the hallway and Chance stopped in the doorway, a strong whiff of smoke accosted his nostrils. How many cigars had Harry smoked before he got there? Evidently, the man wasn't himself.

Chance shot a look around the room. Some of Harry's greatest loves lined the walls. The older man called this room his open scrapbook. Antique guns, dating back to the Civil War, were on proud display in glass cases. Bookshelves with works of famous writers, many autographed, filled the wooden shelves, and an expensive collection of limited edition fountain pens held a special place in a container on a small table.

The man liked precious and rare finds.

His first memory of coming to the McAllister ranch involved Harry's valuable collection of souvenirs. Harry had given Chance a tour of the many exquisite items he'd collected over his lifetime.

Pain developed deep in his chest each time he thought about the past.

Being divorced took some getting used to.

He hadn't wanted to come see Harry. However, the sense of urgency in the man's voice made it difficult for Chance to dismiss the seriousness.

Chance wondered if he was going to get his balls busted by his ex-father-in-law. He hoped the guns weren't loaded. Harry had a temper and wasn't afraid to flaunt it if the need arose.

Did Carly tell her father they'd spent the night together two nights ago and about the argument that followed?

Rejecting the thought, Chance knew that wasn't like Carly. She wasn't the type to kiss and tell, but how well did he know her now? He hadn't sat and had a conversation with her in two years. When he'd met with her the other night, talking wasn't of importance. They'd been too busy exploring one another for words.

The part of his anatomy behind his zipper twitched alive with the memory.

If Harry knew and planned to unleash his anger, Chance wouldn't have a problem telling him to mind his own damn business.

Carly had opened up to him two nights ago, only to turn around and slam his ass right out the door, all in a course of eight hours. He didn't need Harry's input added to the unpleasant mix.

Uneasiness crawled down Chance's spine. Sweeping his glance around the lustrous space, he looked for the changes he knew Carly would have made, and then he spotted a big one.

Missing photos.

Once upon a time, one wall of shelves held a row of framed photos of Chance and Carly from their wedding day. Now the only pictures remaining were of Carly, a stepstool arrangement of each of her birthdays, from her first to her thirty-second, which she celebrated only a few weeks ago.

The top shelf stretched arms-long with Devon's smiling, dimpled baby face. Several from the smoldering July afternoon when he'd made his entrance into the world and a couple taken with Carly holding him. Only a few more. Too few.

Harry's gray eyes followed Chance's line of sight. His sigh of displeasure sounded vast. He went to the aged box on his desk, took out a Cuban cigar, and lit it. Chance knew he'd tried to quit numerous times, but after his sixty-seventh birthday, he said his greatest gift to himself would be to enjoy life, one cigar at a time.

"Carly took the wedding pictures down a while ago," Harry explained through a cloud of smoke.

Chance shrugged. "Makes sense. We're divorced now."

Heading to one of the overstuffed, brown leather chairs by the window, Chance sat and positioned his back to the pictures. Being there was difficult enough, but to have to stare into the faces of his lost loved ones would send him over the edge.

Harry followed suit, sitting on the matching chair across from Chance, separated by a small glass-top table that held a frayed-edged copy of _Horse Illustrated_. The deep worry lines around Harry's eyes and mouth and his pale color concerned Chance. His age showed.

"I came when I could," Chance said and he removed his hat and hooked it on his knee.

"I'm glad you did, son." He took a long hit of the cigar before continuing. "I told you it was important. I wouldn't have called you away from the Swift Wind otherwise."

Harry, normally a man who displayed a cool exterior, seemed different, anxious.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." He waved a hand to blow off the question. He glanced out the window before turning back to Chance, like he'd needed a moment to gather his thoughts. "I'm going to be perfectly honest here today, son. When you and my daughter separated, I thought you both made a big mistake. The two of you were in love. You reminded me of myself when I met Carly's mom." A sparkle lit his pale eyes. "Boy, I loved her." He smiled at the memory. "Shame we can't turn back time. Then the divorce," Harry continued with a sad shake of his head. "I thought I'd died and gone straight to hell when that poser Chris Whitfield started coming around and flashing his fake smile and deep bank account. If my guess is as good as I believe it is, the man will be all over Carly now, asking for her hand in marriage."

"She has to make her own choices." Chance clenched his fist against his thigh. He didn't quite believe his own words.

He'd worked his ass off at the ranch the last two days hoping to ease the pent-up anger from the argument that sent him charging out of the McAllister house. It hadn't worked. None of his ranch hands wanted to be near him for fear he'd blow up at them.

It wasn't like him to lose his temper, but when he did, people knew to clear a wide path. He'd been pickling in his bitter juices since he'd spent the night with Carly.

Harry shrugged a thin shoulder, bringing Chance's attention back. "I guess." He slid forward until his knee grazed Chance's thigh. "Let me ask, son. Do you still love my daughter?"

Wow, he hadn't expected a bombshell.

Chance knew he could lie, but Harry would realize he wasn't being honest. So he attempted to sidestep the question. "Harry, we both know what Carly and I shared is over."

"That's not what I asked, boy," Harry retorted crossly. He seemed to be growing impatient in his later years.

Chance slanted his chin. Time seemed to rewind itself to when Harry, the well-meaning father, interrogated the twenty-six-year-old man who asked for his daughter's hand in marriage.

Sweat beaded on Chance's upper lip. "Harry, why did you ask for me to come here?"

"Carly was in an accident."

Chance lurched forward in the chair. The oxygen seemed to zap from the room and he couldn't breathe. His heart missed a beat. "What? Is she okay?"

A smile spread over Harry's wrinkled face. He flipped the ashes off his cigar into a crystal ashtray and relaxed back in the soft chair. "I suspected that you do still love her." He seemed proud of the discovery.

Chance sighed and palmed the arm of the chair in frustration. "Is she okay or were you making it up? Damn nasty trick, Harry."

"I don't lie, especially not where Carly is concerned." Harry scowled. "Two mornings ago, while I was up at the cattle auction, I got a call from Sam telling me he found Carly lying at the bottom of the stairs. She'd fallen and hit her head." He stopped a moment and sucked in a breath. Tears were visible in his eyes but he blinked and the mist vanished. "She was conscious and sitting up on her own but he took her to see Dr. Maxwell. The sawbones ran the usual battery of tests. Besides a huge lump on her head, she seemed fine." He took one last puff of his cigar and snuffed it out.

"Why didn't you call me?" Chance asked. He laid his hands on his legs to control the shaking.

"I did."

"Why not when it happened?" Guilt sliced through him. The accident must have occurred right after he left.

"Besides a few bumps and bruises we thought she'd be fine. I brought her home and she slept most of the day. When she awoke late yesterday, I realized something wasn't right."

"What is it?" Chance frowned, raking a hand through his hair. Anxiety tunneled its way from his chest and through his stomach.

Harry actually laughed. "Hold on to your worn boots, son. Carly thinks she's still married to you." He slapped his knee in humor.

The words were like a hammer smashing into Chance's brain. If this was a joke, he didn't appreciate it.

"I get it. Carly told you what happened between us the other night so you're jerking me around. Fine, I deserve it, I guess," he said through his laughter. Work needed to be done back at the ranch.

He started to get up but Harry's leather-skinned hand on Chance's knee stopped him. He relaxed back into the chair and sighed.

Harry wasn't laughing anymore. "Carly hasn't told me anything concerning the other night." He seemed to toss it around in his mind before saying, "We'll discuss that later. The doctor said she has amnesia, the type you get from a head trauma. We've told her she has some memory loss, but she doesn't know the extent of it."

The trace of humor disappeared from Chance. His blood pumped faster through his veins. "Amnesia?"

"Parts of Carly's memory is missing, like the divorce. She woke up and asked where you were. I told her I didn't know and she broke into tears. She believes you two got into an argument and she came here to stay for a few nights, and she's waiting for your apology. She mumbled something about pink curtains and a horse's ass." Harry shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me why you'd argue over pink curtains and the ass of a horse."

Chance swallowed loudly. Pink curtains? He didn't know... _Oh hell!_ He remembered. She'd wanted the girly curtains in their bedroom. He told her the truth from his perspective. They were ugly. She made some outlandish comment, accusing him of having a masculine complex, making him dislike the color pink.

He'd eventually given in, like he always did. In fact, the frilly things still hung on the windows.

"Is it permanent?" Chance asked through tight lips.

"Don't know. Doc Maxwell said amnesia is a tricky thing. It may be lasting or temporary, depending on the degree of damage to her memory storage."

"I'm confused. She can't remember everything that's happened in the last four years. You say it's just certain facts that are gone?"

"I'm not sure what she recalls," Harry replied dryly. "Maxwell asked her simple questions in regard to her name, age, the basics, and she remembers those things. But when it comes to the facts regarding your marriage and family, she's lost."

"She can't remember Whitfield? What about the divorce? What about Devon's death?" His voice cracked.

"None of it, son." Sadness swept over his eyes. "I've had lengthy conversations with her and she doesn't remember any events this side of the curtains. The pain of your son's death is gone, like it never happened. You two separating and living apart? All vanished. You know her killer smile? It's back." His thin lips curved at the corners.

The shock seeped into the marrow in Chance's bones. "Aren't you going to tell her the truth?"

"Tell her what?" Harry's silvery-gray head snapped up.

"We're not married any longer."

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "No."

"But she has the right to know." Chance couldn't believe his ears.

"Chance, I love my daughter, you know I do. I'd do anything in the world for her. Lord knows I've tried to give her everything I could." A long break spaced his words. "I think I felt sorry for her after her mother died. I sheltered her. It killed me to see her heart breaking when Devon got sick." Harry scratched his smooth chin. "You know how she'd sit by his crib, never leaving his side. It'd been obvious to everyone, but her, that he was gone. The choice you finally made was the right one."

Chance kept his eyes glued to the window, not seeing anything but Carly's panic-stricken expression three years ago. He told her he planned to sign the papers to have Devon's life-support machine unplugged. Carly had fought him, but in the end, she'd walked away and let him make the decision alone. "Was it, Harry? Sometimes it feels like I signed my life away that day."

The older man didn't answer.

"I thought it was the right choice." Chance shrugged in defeat. "I couldn't bear to watch machines force air into his lungs another day. I wanted him to live, dammit." His heart broke all over again. Chance swallowed hard to force back the pain. "Maybe if I'd given Carly more time to come to grips with what needed done. Maybe if I'd waited another few weeks before I signed those papers." His voice caught on an uneven sigh. "Maybe things would've been different."

"You could have waited, but she'd fought you no matter what. She'd have stayed at his bedside mothering his lifeless body until someone got the guts, like you did, to say the time had come."

Harry was always levelheaded. His wise words touched Chance.

"Chance, what could you have done? Once the doctors told you he'd never recover from the damage to his heart the choice was already made."

The loss of a child was unexplainable. He'd shouldered the guilt. "I've always been a healthy man, Harry. I can run a mile without breaking a sweat, but even if Devon were still alive, he'd never play, let alone run. How could he have been born with congenital heart disease? His tired body gave up before his spirit had. Even moments before he went into a coma, he was smiling." Chance rubbed his jaw and sighed. He wanted to cry. He wished he could, but no tears came. When Devon died, the ache had torn through him, ripping his heart out. "She thought I killed him by signing those damn papers. Hell, sometimes I feel like I did."

"Chance, Carly went through depression. When one is hurt that deeply, they can't be blamed for lashing out at those closest to them."

Chance dragged his hand across his face. "She tortured me," he said without remorse. He'd been to hell and back over the last three years.

"And you don't have any blame in this?" A wired brow popped up in challenge.

Meeting his gaze dead-on, Chance shifted in the chair. "Are you saying I deserved her animosity? You above everyone else know how she blocked me out. She wanted to cut me into small pieces."

"I'm saying maybe you had a part to play in the demise of your marriage. If my memory serves me you hung out at Maloney's bar more nights than you were home there at the end." Throwing up his hands, Harry groaned with a shake of his head. "You're both to blame for the mess. What happened is in the past and who knows what I would have done in your shoes, or hers for that matter."

"Carly doesn't want to be married to me, so she deserves the truth," he stated quietly. Chance would want to know the truth.

"And put her through the anguish all over again?" Harry demanded earnestly. "You want to tell her she not only has lost you as a husband, but a child, too? Don't forget, she's living in the past, a time when she was happy and in love."

"Damn, Harry, you know I wouldn't want her hurt."

"Then don't tell her." Harry's eyes searched his face. "I've been over this again and again, Chance. You two belong together. She's still in pain and I'm afraid, unless someone can reach her, she's going to hurt for a very long time."

Chance rubbed his forehead with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. "If I thought this could be an opportunity for a new beginning, but she's seeing Whitfield."

"Whitfield is pointless." Harry shrugged with indifference. "Let me take care of him. Same with Doc Maxwell. He's one of my closest friends and he understands Carly isn't just any patient, but one with a sensitive past who deserves a special hand. He too thinks we need to be careful. If those painful memories come crashing in at the same time—" His shoulders slumped. "She could drift into depression again."

Chance eyed him in bewilderment. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Dead serious." There was no hint of uncertainty in his seasoned face. "We can find a gentle way to tell her the truth. Maybe throw in bits and pieces to help her adjust. Once Maxwell clears her physically, we'll bring the truth to light if her memory hasn't come back yet. But what I do know is, my daughter wants to be with you. I believe this is fate's way of a second chance at happiness for my girl."

"What am I supposed to do? Pick up where we left off and pretend nothing has happened?" Chance knew the other man had no qualms, but he certainly did. Pulling the wool over Carly's eyes held a depth of risk. If her memory came back and she realized what they'd done, there would be hell to pay. But again, a good argument might jar her memory.

Chance wanted to help her and take care of her.

"Exactly, Chance, but this time, if you don't mind my advice, don't let your stubborn pride keep you from telling her how you feel." He smiled. "A real man isn't afraid to grovel when it's important enough."

Chance didn't say a word.

"Now, why don't you explain to me what happened two nights ago between you and my lovely daughter?" Harry got up and headed for his desk.

"Good try, but it ain't happening. My lips are sealed."

Harry lifted a brow. "Shall I ask Carly?"

"You'd have to wait until she got her memory back," Chance replied with a cocky tilt of his chin.

"You're right." He shrugged it off. "I'll forget by then. Anyway, we need to make a mental list of the preparations necessary to make this work for Carly. Then you will be ready, Chance."

"Ready?"

"Ready to go upstairs and greet your wife."

Chapter Three

CHANCE CHECKED THE missed call on his cell and dropped the phone into his shirt pocket. He should never have agreed to this scheme. He'd spent the last hour preparing to make the plot seem true.

Sadly, the mess him and Carly had made of their relationship would take longer than an hour to clean up.

The longer he planned the less real the ruse became. Everything needed to be right. Any blips in the plot and hell, he could lose her again. He loved Carly and he wanted this to work. If he could help her memories come back in a safe way, he would try. He'd made a call to Thelma, his housekeeper, who'd been with the Taylor family for twenty-five years, to inform her of the strange situation. After screaming hallelujah, Thelma had burst into tears.

Harry took clothes, beauty products and favorite personal items of Carly's to the Swift Wind. He had snuck them out of her room while she zonked on pain meds. They should be okay on that aspect. Would she even remember what her favorite things were?

Everything in the house remained unchanged. The furniture, pictures on the wall, down to the rugs and the throw pillows on the couch. He didn't give a rat's ass about domestic things, he never had. It wasn't like he spent much time inside the house anyway.

Carly had worked hard on the house to make it a home for them.

Home sweet home. At least he hoped.

With that thought, he marched up the staircase, feeling his shoulders tighten. Each step carrying him closer to Carly's bedroom was more like a stake being driven in his heart.

He wanted her and he cared for her well-being, but he didn't like feeling that he was on the wings of a losing situation.

Hell, what was the alternative? He did have choices, didn't he?

He could go into Carly's bedroom and tell her the truth. He could lay it all out. He could explain they were divorced and she hated him. He'd be doing her a favor, wouldn't he?

Chance could only imagine that conversation. " _And by the way, we had sex two nights ago—_ not once, but five times _—and you were on fire, until you woke up with claws bared and hellcat etched across your forehead."_

Yeah, that'd go over well. While he was at it, he could drill the nail further into his coffin by reminding her of the day she left him. Her exact words were, "Hell will freeze over before I step foot on the Swift Wind again."

He took off his hat and slid his fingers into his hair.

Hell hadn't frozen over, but the devil knocked at his door.

* * * *

Carly sat up in bed when she heard the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Time seemed to stand still until the door creaked open. Anticipation slithered up her spine when Chance walked through the doorway.

He was a breath of fresh air.

Her chest tightened. Something wasn't right. He looked...different. Was it his eyes? They were deeper in color. Could it be the lines of stress around his mouth?

His gaze met hers. "I'm sorry, Carly."

"What can I say, Chance? I'm a clumsy person. I knew the stairs mixed with three-inch heels would eventually make me pay." She laughed and pushed her hair behind her ear.

Whether Chance was different or not, she'd never been happier to see him. She wanted to jump out of bed and fall into his arms, but Doc Maxwell warned her to relax. She'd heed the man's words for now, not wanting another dizzy spell to wash over her.

"It's all so silly." She waved a hand through the air. "I wasn't sure you'd come. You've been so busy on the ranch, and you've been away on business and after our argument... I'm sorry I left, Chance." She bit her bottom lip and played nervously with the edge of the sheet.

"I came when I heard."

Carly narrowed her eyes when he shoved his fists into his pockets and shuffled his feet. He acted like a thief caught with stolen diamonds. This wasn't like Chance. An invisible barrier loomed like a dark cloud between them.

"You're still angry about our argument," she whispered.

"Argument?"

"Over the pink curtains."

"Ah, right. The curtains."

Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, Carly suddenly had a feeling of wanting to hide under the covers. She wasn't sure why it seemed that she was at a standstill, suspended in time, while the world passed by.

"No, I'm not angry. I promise."

"You seem disconnected."

She shouldn't be surprised. She'd left him out of anger, disappeared to the McAllister to cool off and to wait for his apology. How could she have been so ridiculous?

Their separation had only been two days, and yet, it had felt like a lifetime of loneliness.

"I'm not sure what I should do." Chance shrugged.

"You could start with a proper hello." She couldn't hide her eagerness. She lifted the corner of the blanket in invitation and her toes wiggled in anticipation.

"Hello."

She dropped the cover in rejection.

"I meant a kiss, Chance, and some fondling would be nice." She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Was the man playing hard to get? Okay, she'd play along. "I think make-up sex sounds great. How about you?"

He made no move to act upon her provocation.

"Fine, Chance." She flung the coverlet off her, not able to hide her irritation. Sure, he had reason to be annoyed with her for leaving, but why hadn't he come to get her? Carly started to get up, but Chance stepped closer to the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder lightly. The warmth soaked into her skin. She wanted to pull him into bed and make up for the last two days, but the concerned lines on his forehead deepened, stilling her from following her desire.

"I'm sorry, Carly. I know I'm not acting myself. You're bruised up and I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm hurt, but not an invalid." He blocked her from moving, cupping her elbows in his palms. His expression changed. Was he frightened? Why? Had he believed she wasn't coming home?

"Shouldn't you stay here for a few days, until you're stronger?"

Carly wouldn't have been more jolted if he'd slapped her in the face.

Tilting her chin, and with a wave of her hand in dismissal, she jumped out of the bed before he could stop her again. Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and planted a kiss on his smooth cheek. Breathing in the smell of soap and musk cologne on his skin, her frustration melted away.

"I've missed you," she whispered against his lips.

Carly swore she'd never leave him again, not even for a day, even if she needed to hog-tie him and whip him into submission.

Pressing closer into his body, she nestled into his solidity. Her cotton gown became an irksome obstruction between their bodies. She wanted to be naked in his arms, to have his mouth inflicting pleasure to her senses.

He stood statue-still.

"They're only bruises, Chance. I won't break if you hug me." She stared up at him and did her best impression of a seductress.

Her mouth met his. He tensed when she swept her tongue across his bottom lip. An instant heat started in the pit of her stomach and slid downward. Her core twitched with desire and her nerve endings became tingly receptors.

Rocking against him, Carly rotated her hips in silent summons. She smiled when he grew hard against her stomach, stretching his jeans to their limit.

Did he want her like she wanted him?

Pulling back enough to peer up at him, she moistened her lips. She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of using the bed when the door opened. The unwelcomed interruption drenched her in cold water. The heat between her thighs fizzled. Carly peeked beyond Chance's shoulder in irritation. Lila, her best friend, strolled into the room and came to a dead stop when she saw Chance. Carly managed a tight smile. She loved Lila, but the woman had awful timing.

"Well, well." She cocked a thin brow. "Look what the cat dragged in. Did I barge in on something?"

"Good to see you, Lila." Chance's rugged expression belied his words.

Carly sighed. Her husband and Lila had never hit it off. She'd been the referee more times than she could remember.

"Do you seriously mean you're glad?" Lila's reservation tinged her tone.

Carly moved away from Chance and positioned herself between the two. "I didn't know you were stopping over, Lila."

"Apparently." Lila flicked a heated gaze at Chance.

"I'll step out while you get dressed." Chance crossed the room toward the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and help?" Carly teased. She wanted to continue what they'd started after Lila left.

Chance's mouth kinked at the corner. "I'd like to stay—"

"But I need to speak to him," Lila interjected. "I need his opinion on a horse I have my eye on. Is it okay if I steal him for a minute?"

Carly looked from Chance to Lila cautiously. Together they were like oil and water. "Sure, but only for a minute. If I hear one raise in tone, I will not be happy and the two of you will be in big trouble. All that I want to do right now is get out of here and head home. My place is at the Swift Wind."

Carly reached inside her closet and sifted through clothes on metal hangers. She pulled out a flowered, sack-shaped dress and wrinkled her nose. She gave the conservative number a toss onto the bed. She dug out a silk pants suit and read the still-attached price tag. The astronomical number made her shudder and shake her head. The outfit was something she'd wear to a meeting at an office, not on a ranch. Not her taste at all. "No wonder I left these clothes behind when I moved out."

Giving up, she settled for the only decent clothing she could find that didn't scream old maid. A worn Aerosmith concert t-shirt left over from college and a pair of jeans with more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. She loved those jeans. She checked her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Had she been working out? If she had bragging rights, she thought she looked better than ever.

* * * *

Chance followed Lila into the hallway and caught a glimpse of the framed oil painting of a horse Carly did when she was eight. He smiled. He loved that painting.

Lila cleared her throat and he turned his attention to her. The woman looked like a ticking time bomb ready to blast him to hell.

He hoped Harry had the opportunity to explain the situation to her or else this plan was doomed before it got off the ground.

Once the door clicked shut behind them, Lila shook her head in disbelief, sending hoop earrings bouncing. "What are you doing?"

Chance answered in a steady, sure voice. "I was kissing my wife."

"She's not your wife, not anymore," Lila stated prissily.

"You don't understand."

"Yes, I do. Harry told me Carly thinks she's still married to you." Her lip curled in disgust. "So, I'll ask again. What are you doing?" Folding her arms over her chest, she tapped her shoe in irritation.

Chance cut Lila some slack for showing her claws. She and Carly were sisters without DNA. When one was in a bad way, the other stepped up. However, he wouldn't stand by and allow Lila to run him over the coals. "I'm doing this to help her."

He expected a tongue-lashing, but instead, she flashed him a smile. "Chance, I've got to say, this may work. I'd like to believe she should get over you and move the hell on, but the simple fact is, you two have a connection, a past, and whether she admits it or not, she still loves you. It's about time you got your lazy, hassle-free ass in gear and made an effort to get her back. I don't know what went on in her head, but for some reason she was happier with you."

He slanted his eyes. "Correction. This is not an effort to get her back, Lila. It's only until her memory returns." A big part of him hoped Carly would see this as a chance for a new beginning, but he feared if he put too much into believing, he'd have his heart trampled on.

Lila's smile disappeared and she gave a toss of her ponytail. "What if this is permanent? Sometimes an amnesiac doesn't get their memory back. Look, you need to figure out why you agreed to do this."

His cotton shirt suddenly shrunk two sizes. He rolled his shoulders and tugged at the collar. "I told you. She thinks we're married. Harry and I are protecting her from the truth, at least until she can handle it." He rubbed his jawline. "Dammit, Lila, I never stopped loving her."

"Okay, I get that. Telling her the truth may send her spiraling back into depression." Lila shook her head in frustration. "However, I need to know you're in this for the long haul. It's likely she'll find out the truth. So, you need to ask yourself what you plan to do when, or if, that happens. You can't keep her holed up forever."

There wasn't a chance to answer. Carly's bedroom door opened and she stepped out into the hallway, her blue eyes curious. "Are you two knocking heads?"

Chance smoothed his gaze over her in admiration. Dressed now, her hair brushed, she looked good.

He remembered the worse-for-wear jeans and the snug tee all too well. They were remnants from her wardrobe when he first fell in love with her.

The jeans hugged Carly's shapely body like they'd been tailor-made for her tight curves. He could easily forget that he and Carly weren't alone and divorce papers separated them.

"No, of course we're not butting heads," Lila spoke, ruining the moment again. "I've learned how to deal with his type a long time ago, Carly." With a glance at her thin silver watch, she moaned. "Oh, I've got to run. My shift at the hospital starts in an hour."

Carly and Lila hugged.

Lila passed Chance. She smiled and said pertly, "I hope you can manage taking care of your wife. I can write directions in simple terminology if you need."

"I can manage. Should I tell Duke you said hello?" She gritted her teeth and he smiled. He knew it was a low blow, but he couldn't resist. She deserved it.

"If I wasn't afraid the words would rot my mouth, I'd tell you exactly what message to give your pal." She disappeared down the stairs.

Chance's smile quickly disappeared when he saw the discontented expression on Carly's face. "Chance, you shouldn't tease her about Duke. You know how she feels."

"Let's get out of here," he said.

He didn't want to talk about anyone else's troubles at the moment. His shoulders were weighed down enough, and the stiffness behind his zipper made thinking difficult.

Carly took a step closer to him, stood on tiptoes and kissed him fully on the mouth. She pulled back and caught him with a tempting gaze. "Yes, Chance, let's get out of here. I miss my cowboy and can't wait to show him how much."

Chance's pulse quickened and he tugged at the collar of his shirt. He watched her walk away. She had the sweetest sway to her ass and it set off warnings inside his head. He didn't think sex was part of the bargain, but damn he was on fire. He had a feeling he'd be taking a lot of cold showers—lots and lots of icy showers.

Chapter Four

CARLY STAYED QUIET on the drive home. Her mind raced with missing pieces of her life and the steady pounding at her temples made her vision fuzzy. Her headache had grown since they left the McAllister. Her memories played like a low-budget movie.

Dr. Dan Maxwell said everything would be fine in time and the headaches were a normal side effect of a bump to the head.

She trusted him. He'd been her doctor since childhood and a good friend to her family. Dr. Maxwell had been gentle in his description of her problem, yet her uneasiness remained. He'd explained that she had the most common form of amnesia and only parts of her memory were gone. Although as slight as it was, there was a chance the loss would be permanent.

Because she wasn't sure what she'd forgotten, the lines between fact and fiction were unclear, if not completely indiscernible.

Carly remembered waking up at the bottom of the stairs, her mind blurry and aching. Sam had found her and helped her, but everything remained vague after that.

Now things seemed different, changed somehow. The trees seemed taller. The sky bluer. The grass greener. Even Chance, her forever man of strength and support, seemed unlike himself. She glanced across the cab of the truck at his profile. Chewing on the corner of his mouth, he gripped the steering wheel with such force his knuckles turned white under his tanned skin. Definitely signs of stress.

Carly pulled her stare back out the window. They drove through the open gate onto the property of the Swift Wind. Had the gate always been blue?

The swinging sign of the Swift Wind Ranch caught her attention _._ She exhaled a heavy breath. _Home._

After entering the property, the narrow road led them past modern buildings and two red barns where ranch hands tended the livestock. Lush green fields extended for a thousand acres of spectacular farmland.

The purple wildflowers swayed in the light breeze and tall ornamental grass waved wheat-colored tops.

The tranquil beauty relaxed her.

The Swift Wind held an esteemed reputation in the county. There wasn't a rancher in these parts who wouldn't wish for the opportunity to buy the thriving business and property. Under Chance's care and supervision, it had tripled in value and livestock.

Prestige didn't come without a hefty price, though.

Running a ranch wasn't a nine-to-five, but a twenty-four-seven obligation. With over ten-thousand head of cattle, a barn full of horses and numerous employees all relying on him, a lot rested on Chance's shoulders.

Gazing out toward the pasture, Carly watched the horses gallop across the field. Their long silken manes flowed in the wind. With the window down, she could hear their hooves pounding hard and confident against the ground in greeting.

The white fence curved alongside the roadway like a sweeping divider between the perimeter of the house and the fields. The group of horses came to a sudden stop at the enclosure's edge and hung their long, flexible necks over the top rail, craning to watch the black truck disappear beyond a three-layered row of sweet-smelling pine trees.

Once they turned the bend, her heart soared. Her beautiful home came into view. The pristine white two-story welcomed her in familiar comfort. Grand columns lined the wraparound porch and the red steeple rooftop appeared stately against the backdrop of the pale blue sky and abundant green countryside.

The flourishing flowerbeds with their vibrant colors added to the house's splendor. An early abundance of purple pansies, golden marigolds and Mexican feather grass stirred in the gentle wind. She didn't remember the flowers, not like this. The yellow rose bushes along the trellis, which lined the house, crept up the spindled wood. It seemed like she'd just planted them.

She remembered enjoying sinking her hands into the flowerbeds and vegetable garden. She had a feeling she'd stopped gardening and she wasn't sure why. Possibly she didn't have the time any longer. Perhaps she simply lost interest. Tending to a garden was a never-ending chore.

Carly moved her thoughts back to the house.

The Taylor family could have easily afforded an elaborate abode, but when Chance's great grandparents built the house over one-hundred-and-fifty years ago, they wanted a home that portrayed their lifestyle. They were easy folk, comfortable and welcoming. They'd built this place with three equally important things—wood, nails and love.

The Taylors birthed their kids here and molded a reputable legacy. Over the years, Taylor descendants remodeled the house to suit their growing needs and the three-hundred-acre ranch tripled under smart business dealings.

Chance parked in the circular gravel drive and the two sheep dogs, Coach and Mimi, jumped up from their sprawled resting position on the porch steps and greeted them.

Shutting off the engine to the Chevy, Chance slid out first. He gave each dog a customary scratch behind the ear and received a wagging tail of thanks.

"Have the dogs been sick?" Carly asked. She curiously watched the dogs slap their tongues in the air and wave their tails. They were thin and their fur scruffy, but their cheerful disposition remained.

Chance examined the dogs with a long look, pondering her question. "Coach did just get over a bad case of worms and Mimi got into the briar patch past the edge of the woods. We had a helluva time getting the burrs out."

The squeaking screen door caught Carly's attention. She smiled seeing Thelma step out. In a booming voice, the woman said, "Hallelujah."

Thelma looked grayer. She'd aged in the last few days. Her cheeks appeared chubbier and rosier, yet her welcoming smile remained.

"It's about time you brought my baby home." The older woman marched toward Carly and pulled her in for a tight hug.

The scene reminded Carly of mama bear and baby bear. She seemed to sink and disappear into Thelma's protection and it warmed her. Carly pulled back and saw the tear stains on Thelma's cheeks. Thelma was known for her sentimental heart, yet seldom did her emotions lead to crying. "It's only been two days, Thelma. You'd think I've been gone for years."

Thelma held Carly at arm's length, staring her up and down in serious examination. Thelma's breath caught right before she said in her deep Texas strum, "Oh my dear child. Didn't they feed you? A brisk wind will come along and carry you off to the next county. We better get you inside."

"I think they did." Carly had no idea who 'they' were, but she wasn't starving. "I don't feel like my stomach is empty."

* * * *

Chance stayed behind brooding over his befuddled thoughts, watching Thelma whisk Carly inside the house, treating her like a homeless kitten. Knowing Thelma, she'd been in the kitchen cooking and baking all of Carly's favorite foods.

Thelma loved feeding people, and was even happier when she thought she could 'fatten' them up.

He dropped his keys and hat off on the table in the foyer. He'd suspected he'd find the two women in the kitchen with Thelma hovering over Carly.

"I've got the kettle on. I'll fix you a cup of your favorite tea, cranberry-apple. I made up a fresh batch of buttermilk biscuits to go with it." Thelma's softer tone seemed to calm Carly. Her features relaxed and she eased into a cushioned seat.

Chance peeked into the basket at the warm biscuits and reached for one. A swat on the back of his hand stopped him. "Mind your manners, young man. Ladies first." Thelma scowled at him in reprimand.

Nothing had changed.

"I see how it is." He slid Thelma an exaggerated hurt expression.

She wagged a chubby finger his direction. "You behave yourself."

Chance looked at Carly who sat at the counter, watching them quietly. His chest filled with...what? Love and joy? "Thelma will take good care of you." He snorted a laugh in Thelma's direction. "She'll have you wearing a bigger size before you know it." Damn, he liked her just the way she was.

"Tea sounds great, but I couldn't eat a bite. And no one needs to give me preferential treatment. I have a few bumps and bruises, and I'm missing a few facts up top, but I'm fine. Don't coddle me."

Chance heard Thelma's gasp, but thankfully, Carly paid no attention. Although he held his reaction, he inwardly cringed. A few facts? She had no idea how many details she was missing.

"Don't I know how it is, baby. I have the same problem. I can't remember a thing these days." Thelma laughed and rubbed her hands down her neon pink apron. "Last week I forgot to set the timer for my apple pies. By the time I got to the oven they were burnt to a crisp. The church bake sale got store bought pies instead."

"These days, Thelma? You've been forgetful for years." Chance lifted a brow, biting his lip to keep from laughing. He sidestepped a wooden spoon aimed toward his arm and came back to kiss the woman on her plump cheek.

Carly laughed now. Chance hadn't heard the sound in so long, literally years long, and it brought him around to look at her. He couldn't hide his shock.

Carly's laughter faded. "What is it, Chance?"

"Nothing." He averted his eyes. "I should check my office for messages." He forced a smile. He needed to get away for a few minutes before he started to think he'd been transported back four years ago along with Carly.

"I almost forgot." Thelma threw up her hands. "Duke wants you to call him. He says he needs to ask you a question concerning the hay shipment."

Chance looked at Carly across the short distance and saw her panic-stricken expression. Her eyes steadied on him and his heart clenched at the vulnerability he saw in her. He wanted to run away. The confusion whirled his brain like a tornado. She believed they were still married and things were okay.

Truth was, everything was different.

Could this be too much to handle?

"Go on, Chance, go to work. Don't let me stop you."

Disappointment laced her voice. Subtle, but he heard it. He dragged a hand through his hair.

_Dammit_. She might be home, but it didn't mean he could drop his responsibilities. If her needs came to a point where he needed to make a choice, no doubt what he'd do. He'd give up everything like yesterday's news to give her what she needed.

For now, though, he required a break. The longer he stayed near her the more his emotions surged.

"I'll only be gone for a short while." He ran a hand through his thick hair again. "You can call me if you need me," he told her, hesitated, and then slowly started toward the door off the kitchen.

Carly's narrowed gaze burned a hole in his back. He stopped with the door swung partly open, one foot on the step. "Are you okay?" Double damn. He knew he could only ask if she were okay so many times before she grew suspicious.

He needed a brisk walk to clear his brain.

Chapter Five

CARLY DIDN'T WANT to feel hurt when Chance left, but she did. Home a mere ten minutes and business as usual.

What had she expected?

Falling down the stairs wouldn't require special treatment from her husband. Didn't she say herself only moments ago she didn't want coddling? However, she'd said no to biscuits and cranberry tea, not kisses and closeness from Chance.

She knew she could have asked him to stay and he would have, but Carly wanted him to spend time with her because he chose to, not because he felt an obligation.

So she looked at Thelma and slapped on a bright smile.

At least she wouldn't have to hear him ask her for the umpteenth time if she was okay.

Carly noticed Thelma's cautionary gaze. The lines around the older woman's mouth deepened in concern.

"He's different," Carly said in a hesitant tone.

Thelma handed her the cup of steaming tea and her hand covered Carly's. "He's been worried, Carly. He loves you a great deal."

"Worried?" Carly asked. Her head started to ache again. He must have thought she planned to never come back.

"He's not good at putting emotions into words." Thelma clicked her tongue. "It what makes you special, dear. You can see right through him without a word spoken."

Carly's mind raced. Her head went from a dull ache to throbbing.

She slid off the stool, finger pressed firmly at the bridge of her nose. "I'll be upstairs resting."

She headed for the stairs off the kitchen and Thelma's words followed her. "Don't you worry, Carly. All will be fine."

Carly stepped into the bedroom and inhaled Chance's musk cologne. It twirled around her senses and heated her skin. She glanced over the cherry wood dresser with the collection of antique cats lining the top.

She picked up her favorite, a glass Persian with pale blue eyes and a feather hanging from its mouth. Chance had bought it for her on their first Christmas together.

Her heart filled with joy remembering waking up with her husband that extraordinary morning. They'd dashed down the stairs, sat on the floor, and tore open the wrapped presents like two excited kids.

Carly put the cat back down and straightened several other trinkets.

Yawning, she focused on climbing into the king-sized bed, anticipating the warmth of the chenille blanket, when something gave her pause. The lowered blinds cast the room in shadows but a pink hue caught her interest. The curtains, the ones they'd argued over, were in the large windows. Her chest swelled to huge proportions.

Chance had hung them after all.

The gesture touched her deeply. All couples argued over superficial things. This was Chance's way of saying sorry.

The argument hadn't really been about the curtains, though. Pride and disappointment made them act stupid. They were learning marriage took work. A sweet smile and a batting of eyelashes no longer cured their issues. Too bad make-up sex, no matter how mind-blowing, couldn't mend every broken fence.

She lay in the cool sheets, tossing and turning, thinking of Chance and wondering where their relationship stood.

Chance worked non-stop on the ranch. The stress was taking a toll.

Carly knew she'd have to devise a plan to get her husband to let go some of the responsibility at the Swift Wind. By the same token, she'd do her part to show interest in his day-to-day activities and not say yes to every charity organization or volunteer service coming her way.

She'd be damned to let the snags of life wedge themselves between her and her husband.

* * * *

Chance found Duke in the red metal barn discussing the horses with one of the younger hands, Martin Kincaid. As Chance approached the twosome across the cement floor, Duke told the other man they'd finish later. Martin gave Chance a nod in greeting then disappeared out the wide, double doors into the horses' training yard.

"We got our shipment from the Feed and Grain Supply Company this morning. The last dozen bales we unloaded had mold." Duke pushed his cowboy hat back on his forehead. "I know Jimmy's a good friend to you but business is business and moldy hay is dangerous to our livestock."

"Damn." Chance didn't want to worry about hay. Carly filled his mind and one major problem at a time was enough. "Give him a call. Tell him to get his ass over here and pick up the ruined bales. We expect credit for the bales we're sending back and we want a five-percent discount on the next order. Let him know if it happens again, friend or not, we'll take our money elsewhere."

"I'll call him."

"Good." Chance nodded his head. "New guy working out?" He cocked a leg up on the bottom rail of the fence and relaxed his elbows on the top board. From where he stood, he could watch Martin lead a beautiful mare around the enclosed fence.

With a roll of a broad shoulder, Duke answered, "After you talked to him he seemed to buckle up."

"He'd better or he's out. There's no excuse for being late two days in one month." Chance rubbed the back of his neck to release some of the tension. "Is Leslie still coming out later to check the mustang?"

"Yeah. You want me to call you when she gets here?"

Chance shook his head. "I'll let you handle it."

"Why don't you spit it out?"

"Spit what out?"

"Something has you meaner than a horse with a bumblebee under its saddle. Not to mention you have me handling the hay issue and now the mustang. That's business you usually handle yourself."

"Are you complaining?" Chance asked.

"Does it sound like I'm complaining? I'm just asking what the hell's wrong."

Chance wasn't sure if he should discuss the issue with Duke, but his friend would find out eventually. "Carly's back."

His friend's head rotated around. A flash of uncertainty skimmed his eyes before he smiled. "I thought I heard you say Carly's back."

"And what if I did?" Chance challenged his friend.

"I'd say you woke up in crazyland this morning, bro," Duke stated bluntly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Chance grinned. Yeah, crazy was an understatement. She believed in something that no longer existed and she came back only for that reason. Although, he'd noticed the way her eyes lit up when they drove onto the Swift Wind and her beaming smile when the house came into view.

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe Carly did want to be home.

"Is she really back?" Duke asked.

Shit! On second thought, he wished he'd kept quiet about Carly's return. He wasn't ready to answer questions because he wasn't sure how to answer them. He was as confused as Carly, and he didn't have the excuse of amnesia.

Chance ran his palm down over his gritty eyes and yawned. Exhaustion numbed the cells in his brain, but that was what coffee was made for. He'd grab a cup or two--or a whole pot--when he went back into the house.

"Yeah, she's back."

Chance got an affectionate slap on the back. "I'll be damned. Did she forget you're an ass and decide you're worth another chance?" The joke fizzled. Chance grimaced. "Hell, Chance, if she's back why so unhappy?"

He drilled Duke with slanted eyes. "Why am I the ass? If you remember, she left me, not the other way around." He didn't have to defend himself, but wanted to.

Duke took off his black Stetson and hooked it across the fence. "Because, buddy old pal, any man blessed with a woman like Carly shouldn't have let her leave in the first place."

Chance went still. He usually didn't mind his friend's no-restraints-approach to conversation, but this was a sensitive subject and it deserved a gentle touch. "What should I have done? Tied her up and kept her hidden in the basement? You can't hold on to someone who doesn't want to be held."

"Look, Chance, you know I'm not one to sugarcoat the truth so you may not want my opinion. We've been through this before. Everyone makes mistakes and some are bigger than others." Duke turned his face away from Chance, scratching the neck of a chestnut in the stall. "You made a few—"

"I didn't sleep with her, Duke." Chance's voice leaned close to a low growl. His stomach tightened and he clenched his hands into fists. "I would never have slept around on Carly no matter how bad our marriage got."

"I know you didn't. You're a loyal son of a bitch, and I think Carly knew. She recognized you'd never meander into another flower garden, no matter how pretty the tulip."

"I never wanted another woman. I held my marriage vows sacred."

"But friend, you made it too easy for the shit to happen. A married man hanging out at a bar leads to nothing but a kick in the backside and divorce papers."

Chance couldn't argue against truth. He had realized his mistakes, but by then, things had already taken a bitter turn.

He hadn't told Duke that he slept with Carly two nights ago. Would it make him more or less of an ass in his friend's eyes?

"Let me ask you a question, Duke. If you lost your memory and forgot years of pain and anguish, even if only for a short while, would you want someone to tell you what you've forgotten?"

Looking off into the distance, Duke scratched his chin. "Someone keeping the truth could be considered cruel." Chance winced. Duke's intense gaze drilled him. "But you know what I think would be worse?"

Chance sighed. "What's that?"

"Someone snatching away another person's happiness would be worse. That's for damn sure crueler because telling the truth isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

"There's more to the story with Carly." Chance kicked the toe of his boot against the wood. "Hang on to your hat for what I'm about to tell you."

Chapter Six

CARLY AWOKE, STARTLED and confused. She sat up in bed and swiped the sleep from her eyes. The cool air of the room washed over her heated skin. Her heart beat fast against her ribs. Her stomach churned and she glanced around the darkened room. Fright burned its way through her body.

Where was she?

She reached over and clicked on the lamp and the golden light filled the room. Her eyes focused on the framed picture of her and Chance from their wedding day. Her tension eased and relief spread over her. Home.

A nightmare had haunted her sleep. She left the Swift Wind and never came back. Chance was lost to her and their marriage doomed. Tears filled her eyes at the pain of the thought. She buried her face into her palm and pushed back the strong, terrifying emotion.

After several deep breaths, her heart slowed.

Sliding out of bed, she stretched her achy muscles, then padded barefoot across the plush carpet and into the adjoining bathroom, switching on the light. The brightness caused her to blink and it took a few seconds before her vision cleared.

Reaching for her toothbrush, she stopped when she caught a glimpse of herself in the large oval mirror above the sink, horrified by her pale reflection. The atrocious blueberry bruising around her eye and cheek appeared hideous.

Fortunately, her wounds would heal. She was alive and that's what mattered.

After brushing her teeth and hair, she patted on creamy concealer and followed it with a healthy dose of face powder, only because she didn't want to scare anyone.

Going downstairs, she found the house quiet and in the shadows as the sun started to lower. Making her way into the kitchen, a bright flash distorted her vision. She clutched the doorway, waiting until the feeling subsided and she regained her equilibrium.

The feeling had caught her off guard, and a bit frightened.

Taking a glass down from the pine cabinet, she held tightly to the cool tumbler, afraid she'd drop it from her trembling fingers. As she was pouring water from the sink into the cup, she saw a note on the refrigerator. She took the paper from the ceramic bear magnet and read Thelma's hurried penmanship.

"Headed to a church meeting. I'll be out until late. Dinner is in the oven and I expect to see no leftovers."

Carly laughed and her stomach growled at the thought of Thelma's cooking.

The woman's thoughtfulness always made Carly feel better and she went in search of Chance to check if he'd eaten. The light was on in his office, but it was empty.

She glanced across the mahogany desk and the scattered papers with a disgruntled sigh. Apparently, looking at the buried desktop, it'd be some time before he finished business for the day. His cellphone sat on the corner and the missed call light blinked rapidly.

Carly stepped further inside the masculine room and glanced at the simple decor, inhaling the smell of Chance's cologne. Two black file cabinets stood against one wall and an old cloth chair, which had belonged to his father, sat by the window. _Chance's thinking spot._ Images of him sitting there and staring out the window pondering his serious thoughts popped into her mind.

When she moved into the house, he gave her free rein to redecorate any room of the farmhouse, except for his office. Although she would have loved to hang a few paintings, paint the wall a bright color and add additional furniture, she respected his request.

In fact, she'd grown to love his office. On late nights, when he was out on the ranch, she'd cuddle up and wait for him there.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the dinner waiting.

Starting back through the door with her mind on food, something struck her as odd. Carly turned, glanced across the top of his desk and knew instantly what she'd missed. Her heart sank.

The custom framed photograph of their wedding day wasn't there. It'd sat in the same position on the corner of the desk since she gave it to him on their first anniversary. She'd had it engraved with the word _Forever._

Carly scanned the room, but didn't find it displayed on the shelves or wall. She started to open the top drawer to the desk.

"You're awake."

Carly jerked at the sound of Chance's voice. She lifted her gaze and found him standing in the doorway. His powerful body leaned against the frame like he found entertainment in watching her.

His eyes dropped over her, visually caressing her. A warm tingle slid down her spine in eagerness. "I came looking for you," she said.

"I went out. We're having trouble with the new water irrigation system. One of the pipes is broken and needs repairing. I had hoped I could fix the problem." He stayed near the door. "Anyway, are you feeling better?"

She nodded and released the drawer handle. "Much."

"Great. Thelma went to her Monday night meeting at the church. She asked me, or rather warned me, not to bother you while you rested."

Carly sighed heavily. She swept around the corner of the desk and leaned against the edge, bracing her fingers on the glossy top.

"Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

"No, not really." She'd hoped she had imagined the invisible fence between them, but it was there, she could feel the distance. She hated it. "I guess there is something wrong and we need to talk." She pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and went to sit on the cushioned chair close to the window. The inky darkness of the night allowed her to see the clear sky and twinkling stars.

Chance's frown lines resurfaced. "What is it?"

She lurched forward in the chair, her bare feet braced the floor. "Are you freaking out because of the bruises or is there something you're not telling me?" She ran her clammy palms down her faded jeans.

Chance stepped into the office. His brawniness made the room seem undersized. He'd always been a man who towered over everyone else, in size and in character.

"I feel guilty," he told her.

"Because?"

"You and I...well..."

"Argued and I left for the McAllister?"

"If you hadn't been there, or if a lot of things, you wouldn't have fallen." His intense gaze steadied on her. "Maybe a talk is exactly what we need. You left me, Carly. Plain and simple."

"I did." She swallowed the dryness in her throat. "Why do I feel like a huge dark cloud has descended upon us? I need you. I want your help in understanding what I'm missing." The sting of tears burned her eyes, but she managed to blink them back.

He crossed the room, his boots thumped against the pinewood floor and he leaned against the window, staring out. He seemed far away. His long sigh echoed off the walls. "Hell, Carly, I'm confused, too. You don't remember everything."

Her eyes followed every masculine curve, every line, every inch of his profile. The worried expression made him appear older and she wanted to ease the tension. His skin glowed with a healthy tan, but there was a lot to his features that warned her he was hiding something. She couldn't force him into anything. "The curtains, you hung them."

He gave a quick nod. "You were right. They look good in the bedroom. What can I say besides I'm not always right?"

She smiled, but it hurt. "What has happened to us?"

"What do you mean?" He kept his gaze outside.

"You've been working hard, too many long days without a break, but we both know the argument wasn't about the curtains."

He turned his gaze to her and one brow popped up. "It wasn't?"

Cocking her chin defiantly, she shook her head. They needed to open a window to the truth. "No, it wasn't. You were jealous."

He snorted. "Whoa. Me? Jealous? _No._ Maybe you're not the only one with memory loss."

Carly tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and pondered his words. "Are you going to deny it?"

"Hell yes."

With a dramatic flip of her hair, she wagged an accusing finger. "Chance, you want to forget, I'm sure, but you blew up because you walked in while Duke had his arm around my shoulder. You didn't even allow me the opportunity to explain. Do you distrust me so much?"

The self-assurance drained from his face. "Why would Duke have his arm around you?"

"Friends do that, Chance. It was an innocent hug. You were tired and saw what you wanted to see," she blurted and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You should know Duke is the most loyal friend, to you and me. And you could never get rid of me, even if you tried."

He frowned. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. Maybe I was tired and just needed to let some steam off. But please know, I've never doubted your loyalty."

"I would have come back you know. Eventually."

"I wonder."

Carly stood up from the chair and sauntered over to him, swaying her hips smoothly. Her toes met his boots and her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. "I _may_ be able to forgive you for not coming sooner to get me." She kept her voice low and seductive. She knew he liked it, always had. Her heart raced and her body temperature skyrocketed as she hoped he'd show her his naughty side.

Drifting her gaze over him, he looked sexy in his green button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up his muscular arms, worn jeans--so worn she could see the bulge behind his zipper. How could one man have so much sex appeal? A man with calluses on his hands may turn some women off, but to her, he was a man above all men. The rough skin of his palms was heavenly against her skin. She had never tired of their long nights, exploring one another, trying new positions.

"How about we have awesome make-up sex?" She slid the tips of her fingers over the back of his hand.

Ring.

She glanced at his cellphone.

Carly waited. Would he answer? Her mind repeated in silent hope, "Don't answer the phone. Don't answer the phone. Don't answer the phone".

He answered it.

Her stomach dropped and the heat in her loins cooled.

She half-listened to his rushed conversation. Water...pipes...prices. All she could think about was sex...sex...and more sex.

What had come over her? When had she ever been so needy? So horny? She should feel a sense of shame, but instead she wanted to rip off Chance's clothes and claim her man. She knew how he liked it, where he liked it, and she could almost taste the fervor.

Hearing him chuckle, she watched him, but he turned his back to her.

With his distant behavior, she had to take matters into her own hands. She couldn't remember a time when Chance had walked away from her for any reason when she so blatantly threw herself at him.

Carly ignored his conversation and stared at the black framed picture hanging on the wall by the door. A feeling of raw emotion rippled through her.

In the photo, she was standing in front of Chance, his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, and he was kissing her cheek. They were smiling, and happy, and...

Her mind came to a sudden standstill. She couldn't finish her thought. Were they celebrating? Her mind fabricated unclear images of balloons and cake and people surrounding them.

Bringing her fingers to her temples, she pressed. She tried to force her brain to function. She wanted to remember, but her mind went blank.

Chapter Seven

CHANCE HUNG UP the phone and looked at Carly. She stared up at the picture taken during a celebration party.

He wondered what was going through her mind. Did the photo bring back any memory of that wonderful day? He wanted to ask, but he didn't know how without pushing.

"This is my favorite picture. Look how beautiful and carefree your smile is," he said the words and emotion clogged his chest.

"Tell me the events of that day, Chance. Help me remember."

He wished she'd memorize the happier times. She could barely contain herself that day while she had divulged the news that she was pregnant. "It was your father's birthday and we had a small party with friends and family here. We were ecstatic. We had news—"

"I recall the feeling of happiness." She turned and caught him with a smile.

"You do?" He flipped up a brow.

She nodded. Her smile grew wider. "You told everybody you bought three-hundred acres of neighboring land from Mr. Dates and planned to buy another four-hundred head of cattle."

His heart clenched. He'd forgotten that. He opened his mouth to explain further, but she cut him off.

"Is work taken care of now?"

"I'm sorry, Carly. Duke needed to speak to me regarding the irrigation system. He's working late tonight."

She hooked him with an intense blue gaze and a luscious pout. He sucked in a deep breath. He knew the look well. She was inviting him to have his way with her.

Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Hestiffened and adjusted his fly.

Message received.

"Shall I beg for your forgiveness for taking the call?" Chance wasn't the groveling type, but he realized he'd be willing to go to great lengths to please her.

"You won't get off so easy." She shook a finger teasingly.

"Oh yeah? You know I never liked it easy." He enjoyed the verbal foreplay. The old Carly, the one he couldn't keep his hands off, looked up at him in challenge.

"I have a problem—a big one. And it seems you have one too." Her eyes dropped to the zipper of his jeans. He knew he bulged and his erection threatened to pop a seam or two. "I don't think those Wranglers can take much more pressure." She chuckled and the raspy tone sent a shiver down his spine.

"What's it going to take, sweetheart?" He forced the words through his tight throat.

"The last time we did it on the desk I wore those slinky red stilettos you love and nothing else but a smile." A slow, sweet smile curved her pink lips.

"You're making an offer that's hard to refuse."

"So don't." Her tone fit the allure in her gaze.

And the phone rang again.

"Hell. Damn technology." He raked his hand through his hair.

Carly threw up her hands in frustration. He wanted to apologize again, but before he could, she turned and marched out of his office.

Fifteen minutes later and off the phone, Chance went in search of Carly and found her on the patio. The evening sky was dark. The strings of globe lights surrounding the outdoor space were aglow and a row of lit candles twinkled from the table. Carly sat in a lounge chair close to the rose trellis.

Her eyes were closed, her cheek was pressed against the cushion and her bare feet were tucked underneath her bottom. She looked in deep thought, or asleep.

He should never have answered the call. _To hell with responsibility._

Before the interruption, he'd been determined to give in to the deep need surging through his veins. She made him hot enough to come in his jeans and he'd held back. He hadn't been this needy since he first met her.

His excuse was the beautiful woman before him, who not only held his heart in her hand, but also reminded him of how good life was for them, in and out of bed.

He needed to think clearly. His dick couldn't occupy the driver's seat.

But was he strong enough to deny the intense yearning? Should he admit defeat and give in to his desire?

"Carly?" he said in a soft voice. If she slept, he didn't want to wake her. He glanced over her soft features and his gut clenched. He could stand there the entire evening watching her.

She barely lifted an eyelid. She didn't say anything, but shot him with a look that ripped through him. Did he have a bull's-eye on his forehead?

"How about dinner?"

"Sure," she answered softly.

"I'll be back. Don't go anywhere." He shifted slightly from one boot to the other like an anxious kid. A part of him wanted to drop down on one knee in front of her and confess his eternal love. Tell her he didn't want to lose her again.

Damn, when had he gotten so sappy?

An hour later, Carly pushed her empty plate away and dropped a hand to her stomach. "If Thelma's plan is to put weight on me, it's working. I think I gained five pounds in eating the chicken alone."

"Thelma's specialty," Chance said, feeling his own weight gain. Thelma could lay out the dinner table with delicious, homemade goodness. Tonight's meal of fried chicken, cornbread, green beans and chocolate mousse pie was a spread fit for Thanksgiving. Was she reminding Carly and Chance of the many things they should be thankful for? Chance knew Carly watched him. He didn't look her way as he relaxed into the cushioned patio chair, hooking his feet at the ankles. "She ain't happy unless she's got someone to feed and mother. She's like a mama cat that lost her kittens."

"What would we do without her? We'd get sick of my two specialties, mac-n-cheese and hot dogs."

"Starve." He had learned the hard way that Carly couldn't cook. "I still have the burnt lasagna taste scorched in my brain and an ulcer in my mouth from the Chicken Piccata you made for the first time."

"You better watch yourself, mister. I may have to give Thelma a week off."

"We'd think of something to do to ease the hunger," he teased.

They laughed, but the moment quickly passed.

She sighed. "Ok, Chance, let's have a talk. Is there something going on with the ranch and you're not telling me? Or is it me?" She toyed with one silver hoop earring. "I know I won't win any beauty contests with these bruises, but am I so hideous?"

"Sweetheart, you could have warts on your face, the front row of your teeth missing, and a bald head and you'd still be the best looking thing this side of Texas."

"You're a bad liar, and have a biased viewpoint. I guess it's the thought that counts. Then is it the ranch?"

He shrugged and scratched his cheek. "Same everyday issues. We hired on some new hands, repairing this water irrigation system has cost us a fortune and one of the new horses is sick."

While they were married and Carly lived at the Swift Wind, he never discussed ranch details with her. She never seemed interested. Harry had told him she'd become quite the businessperson at the McAllister Ranch.

"Why don't you let me give Leslie Bakerfield a call? Father hired her on for the McAllister stables and he says she's amazing with the horses. You know, Doc Sheffield, although good in his time, needs to retire. He refuses to wear his glasses most of the time, and nine times out of ten, he mistakes the horse's head for its rear."

Shit. Big problem.

"You're right, Doc Sheffield is too old." _Not to mention dead and buried from heart failure two years ago._ "I've already hired Leslie."

* * * *

Carly stared, confused. Had she forgotten Doc Sheffield no longer came out to the Swift Wind? Or did this change happen recently and Chance hadn't told her?

She certainly couldn't remember him telling her he'd hired Leslie Bakerfield.

Something else caught her attention, possibly the bigger issue. Why did he call Dr. Bakerfield _Leslie_? The vet had only lived in Shelby for three years and his acquaintance with her was minimal, not enough to be on first-name basis.

Chance using the woman's first name held a certain amount of friendliness, or rather, intimacy, which didn't settle well at the pit of her stomach.

Now who was jealous? Her own words bounced back. She could trust Chance. He'd never stray. She knew that.

She waved off the silly thought.

"I'm sure she'll work out fine." Carly got up and went to him. "You look tired, Chance." She touched his cheek, sliding along the warm skin, and dipping across his prominent jawline.

"What's new, right?" His husky voice trailed up her spine.

Dropping down onto his lap, she nestled her bottom in the spoon shape of his hips. When she placed her palms on each side of his face, his muscles tightened. His eyes turned a shade darker, reflecting inner turmoil.

"I'm putting a stop to this, Chance. You are going to learn to trust the hired men to do their jobs. You employ them for a reason, now let them prove to you they are worthy of your confidence. I refuse to allow the man I love to work himself to an early grave like his father did. I want my husband back. Got it?"

He didn't answer.

Snuggling her cheek to his chest, she played with the top button of his shirt. She slid her finger into the opening and touched the splattering of crisp hair. His heart beat fast and strong, she found herself following its pattern. Thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump.

A memory flashed through her mind...hospital monitors beeping wildly, wires everywhere, a suffocating feeling. A sensation so overwhelming, it shook her to the core. She grasped the material of Chance's shirt in her fist and her eyes swelled with tears.

"Carly?" His hands clutched her shoulders.

She brought her fingers to her lips for a lingering moment then dropped them back into her lap. "I'm fine. My mind is tired." She tugged her lips into a smile. "I have you and everything will be okay, right, Chance?"

Why did she suddenly need his reassurance?

Chapter Eight

WHAT WAS GOING on?

Chance's mind wasn't functioning, not with her sitting on his lap and his cock tucked between her thighs. His body turned stiff as a board. How did she expect him to think and to answer logically?

_Dammit!_ Why didn't he give in to the damn need tormenting him and bury himself in her? She'd like it. He'd make sure she enjoyed it. He knew how she wanted him. Her taste still lingered in his mouth and he wanted more.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her head to his shoulder, he knew she could turn him to putty. She had a way of wrapping him around her finger and he was happily submissive.

Chance mentally shook himself to get the hell out of the forgetful mode. Had he completely overlooked the last two years? He needed to help her remember, and then, maybe, they would have a chance at working things out.

After all, Carly dwelled in a vulnerable state and needed his support. She didn't need him spreading her thighs, sliding himself into her until they connected at the hips.

"Everything will be okay, I promise." He brought his hand up and touched her porcelain skin, running the tip of his finger softly along the ragged line of bruising on her cheek. It tore through him. "If you could look inside me you'd see I'd go to the end of the world to keep you from being hurt." The words left his lips and he knew he promised the impossible. He'd told her those same words before, and what happened? They split up and divorced.

"In a few days I'll be okay."

His exhale weaved with a growl. When she turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm, he thought his heart would beat through his rib cage. She didn't stop there. She trailed kisses along his wrist, her tongue swept out and licked the pulse point.

"You little vixen." The air flew out of his lungs. "It's taking every bit of control I have not to rip those jeans off your sexy body and take you right here, right now."

"I wouldn't complain," she teased.

"And give my men front row seats to your tight ass? I don't think so." He buried his fingers into her silky hair and brought a handful up to his nose. Vanilla. "You still smell the same."

"Of course I do. What were you expecting?" Her eyes were questioning.

Uh-oh. Slip up.

He didn't answer.

"Chance, I was only gone for a few days, not years."

She undid his top button and his pulse beat faster.

"It felt like years, sweetheart." Two, actually. And three if he wanted to be specific.

"You're different, Chance." Her words floated against his ear, her breath tousled the length of his hair.

"Different?"

"You seem distant. I feel like you're pushing me away. And you act terrified of making love with me. I won't bite. Not hard anyway."

Her hand dropped to the crotch of his jeans and lightly squeezed to emphasize the meaning of her words. He winced. What could he say? "I'm sorry, babe. I've been an asshole." He thought he'd burst.

"You know what I think?"

His eyes caressed her lovely face. Her skin reminded him of satin against his callused hands. Her eyes were innocent blue, reaching into his chest and doing funny things to his heart. "What's that?"

"It's time you told me what I long to hear." She kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck.

He knew what she wanted, and he couldn't do it. Not yet anyway.

When the time was right he could tell her how he felt, again. Just not right now.

The first sign of anger came with the tensing of her body. The second, her chilly expression. Her eyes turned to cobalt ice cubes.

"Don't tell me." She pushed off his lap and placed her fists on hips.

"Come on, Carly."

He reached out and she pulled away from his grasp. "Don't 'come on, Carly' me." Her arms went up. "I don't know what in the hell is wrong with you, but I'm slowly losing my patience. Not only are you walking on eggshells around me, you've shot me down twice. _Twice!"_ Her tone dripped acid. "You barely kiss me and now you refuse to tell me you love me? Did I hit my head so hard that I've gone loopy, or am I right? You're avoiding me like the plague. And another thing, what about our wedding picture mysteriously missing from your office?" Her eyes were like lasers, ready to shoot him down. "I've never felt so lost. What are you not telling me?"

He didn't get the chance to defend himself. On cue, Duke came out onto the patio. "Is that Thelma's cooking I smell?" Halfway to the table, he realized he'd stepped onto a minefield. "I'll turn around and let you both pretend I wasn't here."

"No, Duke, it's okay. You can stay. I was just going inside."

Chance watched Carly disappear into the house. He turned to Duke and shook his head. "Do you have any sense of timing?"

"Can't you do anything except piss her off, pal?" Duke asked.

"Can't you mind your own business?"

"I would mind my own business, but yours is always a helluva lot more interesting." Duke sat in the chair across from Chance and relaxed back into the cushions with an exaggerated sigh. "Anyway, I'm good at givin' advice."

Chance eyed him in irritation. "Are you married?"

"No."

"Case closed."

Although their bantering was always in good fun, Chance knew Duke realized what lines not to cross. Carly happened to be one of those lines. Duke was a friend to Chance and Carly, and he above everyone knew they went through the wringer after Devon died.

A friend knew when to shut the hell up and listen. That's what made Duke a great friend.

"Tell the men we won't be having the staff meetings here at the house any longer. It's too risky for Carly to be around them. I don't want them to get wind of what's going on. Have any of them started asking questions?" Chance kept his eyes fixated on something, but nothing, in the distance.

"The men who've worked here the longest know their limitations. The others, well, they know to keep their mouth shut and do their work," Duke answered.

"And, FYI, you're not off the hook, buddy." Seeing his friend's questioning glance, Chance chuckled. "To Carly, this is four years ago and tell me, what were you doing four years ago, if you can think back that far?"

"I had broken up with Lila."

Chance laughed and it felt good. It eased his tension, a bit. Felt good not to be on the shit end of the stick for once. "Good luck, pal."

They both remembered how angry Carly was when Duke broke off the relationship with Lila. Carly eventually forgave him, but four years later Lila still spit fire at the mere mention of Duke's name.

After a long moment of silence, Chance looked at his friend in curiosity. "Did you have something to tell me? Is it regarding the pipes?"

Duke anchored his boots at the ankles and hooked his hat on the armchair. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"I don't care." He rolled a broad shoulder.

"Doc Bakerfield was here and she examined the new mustang, Wildfire. She said he has spasmodic colic."

"Figures." Chance shook his head. "What does she suggest?"

"She administered an anti-spasmodic drug. She said he should be fine after a few weeks with special care."

Chance wasn't sure why he bought the stallion. He was wild and enjoyed being alone. He'd never be any good for riding. He guessed he'd felt sentimental when the owner told him they'd have to put him down if they couldn't find him a home.

"If that was the bad news, what's the good news?"

"Doc Bakerfield said she'll be back tomorrow. She headed up here to speak to you and I cut her off halfway. That would have been an interesting scenario. Ex-wife, now wife again, meets girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend." Duke chuckled at the humor of the circumstances. "She was pissed, talking about how you haven't returned any of her calls."

"You call that good news?"

"No, I guess I don't have any good news to share."

"I have a feeling I'm not going to be happy when you tell me the answer, but what did you tell Leslie?" When one thing blew to hell, they all tended to. He hadn't spoken with Leslie in a week and she certainly didn't know Carly was back. It wasn't like Chance and Leslie had a serious relationship, but enough of one that he did owe her an explanation. Leslie, a good friend, was an even better doctor. He didn't want to lose her on a professional level.

"I told her the truth. I told her Carly is back."

Later in the evening, the dark shadowed his office. The way Chance liked it when he needed to think. Sitting at his desk, he propped his feet up on the corner, and relaxed his head back on the leather chair. He glanced at the clock across the room, surprised it read one-thirty.

His eyes moved unthinkingly to the spot on his desk where the framed wedding picture of Carly and him now sat. Shoved in his desk drawer along with old letters, it'd been under lock and key since the gloomy day she left the ranch.

Every now and then, he'd pull it out of the hiding place, glance at their smiling faces, and allow himself the pleasure of feeling sorry for being in a shithole position.

He should have chased after Carly when she left. He shouldn't have been so smug. Damn Taylor pride _._ Not the first time genetics screwed him.

Hell, it was too late to dish out the shoulda-woulda-coulda song and dance. He could write an arm-long list of things he should have done in his adult life.

The picture was home. So was Carly, right where she belonged. How long could he keep things where they needed to be? He wasn't sure.

His mind raced with the day's events. After Carly left him sitting on the patio, she'd gone inside to bed. He had checked on her when Duke left and found her sound asleep.

It was probably for the best.

If this were the past, he would have climbed into bed with her, woken her up, and they would have turned each other inside out. Nothing compared to a spectacular apology played out in bed. But the only thing living in the past was Carly's mind.

Chance wavered at a crossroads between what was right and what he wanted to do most.

Restraining from any sexual contact with Carly, at least until the time came when she knew the truth, could be considered appropriate. He couldn't deny he wanted to say to hell with prudence and live life for the moment. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to make her his once again.

Maybe this insane scenario was simply fate. Maybe this was his and Carly's last chance to make everything right. Fate had a way of working mysteriously, especially in his life. Had he ever thought he'd get an opportunity for a new beginning?

He could sit back and wait for her memory to return and allow the chips to fall where they may.

Sitting back and waiting for life to transpire didn't sit well with him. He'd always been a man remaining in control of his existence, steering his mustang across the uneven plains of life, and maintaining a firm grip on his future.

He had wanted to believe Carly still loved him, somewhere deep inside. He believed fear and guilt kept her from coming home for two years.

Then the divorce papers had arrived and he had given up on his wish.

How could he help her mind bring back the memories of the divorce and Devon?

Chance got up from the desk and moved across the shadows. He went to the window and stared out at the stunning night sky. Not one cloud blocked the twinkling stars. The full moon's pale beauty offered hope.

Carly would be devastated when she remembered their precious son who died.

It'd be like reliving that horrible day over again.

The doctors had sat with him and Carly those awful years ago. Each specialist had discussed the situation and the outlook became more dismal. Devon would never breathe without a ventilator and his brain wasn't functioning properly. Countless machines had kept his boy alive.

Carly had stormed from the room, refusing to listen to the truth. Chance, alone, decided what was best for their son.

His eyes misted with tears. The pain of his choice remained.

Carly had drifted deeper into depression, to a place where Chance couldn't reach her. He gave up on everything. He had lost his son. His wife had pulled away physically and emotionally. He had lost all power over the heartbreak.

And then she'd left him. Desolation enveloped him. His damn anger and pride kept him from chasing after her. He'd grown tired, fed up, of being the crux of her bitterness. Deep down he'd thought she'd be back.

It didn't happen.

Until now.

She wasn't actually here on free will, and it dulled the shine of the reconciliation.

He had one shot to prove to her that they could make it work. If he failed, and it was possible, at least he could say he gave it his best try.

Chapter Nine

THE MORNING SUNSHINE that had streamed through her bedroom window that morning had seeped into her bones. She had a new bounce to her step as she went down to the kitchen.

Feeling much better, Carly physically had the energy to run a marathon, although mentally, she knew she needed some tweaking.

She stopped when she saw the mountain of food that filled the bowls and plates covering the counter. Thelma had prepared a meal for an army.

Carly said hello and the lively woman popped her head up from her vigorous stirring of the contents in a mixing bowl. "You look much better this morning, honey."

"I'm feeling better." Carly slid onto a barstool.

The savory smells enfolded her and made her mouth water. Stacks of pancakes, loads of crisp bacon, a large bowl of scrambled eggs, and a pot of steaming coffee called to her growling stomach.

"If this is for me you're taking this weight issue a little too far." Carly gave Thelma a wink and a grin.

"Oh dear, a couple of pounds would do you wonders, but all this would put you out of action. We don't want that, do we?"

Thelma poured hot homemade syrup into an antique container. The sweet smell of brown sugary goodness floated to Carly and a strange thought crossed her mind. She hadn't eaten the real stuff in years—or had she?

"Chance's workers act like they haven't eaten in weeks." Her dark eyes brightened. She wiped the rim of the syrup container and placed it on a tray. "They can't resist my cooking."

"You are the best cook, Thelma." Carly reached and grabbed a piece of bacon. Still warm, the smoky flavor brought her taste buds alive. "This isn't turkey bacon?" she asked without reflection. She wasn't sure why she expected turkey instead of pork.

Thelma's eyes popped open in alarm. "Turkey bacon? Bite your tongue, child."

Carly shrugged at Thelma's look of disbelief. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. I don't know what I was thinking."

Finishing the strip, she wiped her fingers on a napkin, and glanced outside the French doors. She expected to find a clutter of cowboys gathering, like any normal weekday morning, but the patio was empty.

"Where's the masculine brood this morning?"

"They've moved the staff meeting to the conference room off the new barn." Thelma didn't take her eyes off her vigorous stirring.

"Chance moved the meetings?"

"Chance didn't want those men up here disturbing you, Carly. They can be a loud group. He thinks you need rest, and I happen to agree," she added steadfastly.

Carly waved a slender hand through the air. "Everyone needs to quit babying me. I fell down the stairs, and the last I heard, amnesia isn't fatal."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, commanding the dull ache to go away. "Thelma, I'm starting to think everyone around here is hiding something and they are going overboard to protect me." She glimpsed at the older woman. "That wouldn't be true, would it?"

Thelma continued whipping the eggs with exaggerated force. "Hiding? No, child. Protecting, maybe."

Carly dropped her palms to the table. "Why, Thelma? What am I forgetting?" she pleaded.

"That's a question I'm afraid you must answer. Only you can see inside your mind and your heart."

"But the heart and mind are two different parts of the human body, Thelma. My heart feels love, my mind tells me something isn't right. They are at a tug-of-war."

"Let one win, honey." Thelma shrugged a wide shoulder. "It's all you can do, let one win."

Carly sighed. "Have I changed, Thelma, because I have no idea what is right anymore? Chance slept on the couch in his office last night."

"People change, but the two things that always stay true is our heart and our home. The heart always knows when it feels love no matter what happens in our mind. Home isn't just a place. It's a feeling. It knows where you belong."

Carly soaked up the words and filed them away safely in the working part of her brain. She always felt at home at the Swift Wind. It welcomed her with its peace and serenity, and the people inside were her world.

She wanted to see Chance. No, needed to see him.

"I'll help you carry the trays down to the conference room." Carly slid off the stool and started to grab one of the loaded trays when Thelma placed a pausing hand on hers.

"I don't think going down there is a good idea," Thelma interjected.

"Why not?" Carly asked.

"The trays weigh more than you when you're soaking wet. I don't think you should be lifting anything, not even a finger. I'll call down and have the boys come and get them." Thelma reached for the phone. "Those strapping young men shouldn't let their muscles go to waste."

Five minutes later, Duke strolled into the kitchen. He didn't see Carly who was intentionally standing behind the door and went straight to Thelma, placing a sound kiss on her rosy cheek. "Well, well, well, you've gone and outdone yourself this time, hot mama."

"Go on and tease. You plan on carrying these two trays there yourself?" Thelma pointed a finger at the laden trays.

"Do you doubt my capabilities, woman?" Duke stated.

"One of these days, Duke McGraw, I'm going to turn you over my knee and give you the spanking you've needed since you were a boy in kid britches." She wagged a finger warningly while she fought the smile turning one corner of her mouth.

"Is that a promise?"

"I'll help carry one." Carly made her appearance. She rounded the counter, her eyes on Duke. He twisted around and there was a hint of something—grief maybe.

"Hey, Carly," he said, his eyes skimming her bruised face. "I'm pissed now."

"Oh yeah?" Carly's finely manicured brow lifted.

"Thelma said those bruises were god-awful." Thelma's gasp of disbelief cracked the air. Carly instinctively reached up and touched the side of her face. "You don't look terrible to me. You look like you've had a fight with a moving vehicle and won. Now that's hot." He slid Thelma a wink and grabbed a piece of bacon, popping it into his mouth. "Chance is one lucky guy. Two hot women under one roof."

"Duke, when are you going to stop wasting your charm on the two of us and get yourself a woman who will appreciate it?" Carly asked, and not one second later added acerbically. "Oh, that's right, you did have a good woman, and you broke up with her." She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin.

Thelma went back to wielding her utensils.

"You'll eventually have to forgive me, Carly."

"Really?" She looked at him in bewilderment, curious that he would dare suggest such a thing.

She shook her head. His dazzling eyes and smile could knock the socks off most women, and he knew it. That's why he used them to his benefit.

They were lost on her.

"Lila has."

"What?" Carly and Thelma said the word in unison.

"You can ask her yourself," he said confidently.

Carly wasn't convinced. Duke was a kind man, but when he dropped Lila with a cold note on the nightstand, her friend had been confused and hurt.

Nope, Carly wasn't ready to forgive him. She had a hard time believing her friend would either. Lila still got angry at the mention of his name. No, it wasn't possible she could have forgiven so soon.

Carly decided she'd drop it for now.

She started to grab for the tray when Duke laid a hand on her wrist. Sliding him a disparaged look, she sighed. "Not you, too." She moaned loudly. "I'm not incompetent. I can carry a tray." She felt her blood pressure rise.

"Hold up there, Carly." He held his hands up in a defeated gesture. "You should carry the heavier one. My shoulder's been causing me some problems." He rolled his left shoulder and winced dramatically, but a smile broke out over his handsome features.

"Carrying around a load of bull can strain the muscles."

His mouth opened in imaginary shock. He cocked his chin in Thelma's direction. "Are you gonna let her get by with talking to your man like that, hot mama?"

Thelma laughed and winked. "On this one, you're on your own."

* * * *

Chance was detailing the information to his crew regarding the new mustang, Wildfire, when his words dropped off into a sputter. He couldn't believe his eyes when Carly walked in. Over her shoulder, he saw Duke and cast him a narrowed expression. Duke shrugged in apology.

Chance clenched his hands into fists. What in the hell was Duke thinking bringing her here?

The men sitting around the oblong table looked up at Chance and followed his path of vision. The room grew silent when all eyes settled on Carly.

Hadn't he been trying to prevent this?

The men continued to stare at her in question. Some even dared to sweep their gaze down her in manly appreciation. Chance made a snarling sound low in his throat.

Damn, how could he blame them?

Carly was like the first flower blooming in spring. One couldn't help but be in awe of her beauty. Her long chestnut hair with gold streaks brought out the blue of her eyes that would put the summer sky to shame. The bruising had already begun healing and with a skilled application of makeup, the injuries disappeared completely.

The simple yellow dress seemed anything but casual. The spaghetti straps gave ample view of shoulders and arms. She was still on the thinner side, yet it didn't take away from her exquisite shapeliness. His stimulated gaze fell to the hem falling an inch above her knees, giving a teasing view of long, lean legs.

He looked up in time to see her glance warily across the sea of stunned faces until her pretty blues stopped on him. His mouth went dry. He hoped he did a good job keeping his expression uniform. On the inside, he was a bundle of fury urging for release.

She turned on her heel and started for the door, apparently for a quick exit, but Chance rounded the table in long strides and caught her before she could disappear. "Can't run away now," he whispered close to her ear.

Without modesty, he reached up and touched her face, below the fading purple bruising. Dropping his hand to her chin, he lifted slightly so that she looked at him when his lips descended.

Although it took great control, the kiss was swift, but brimming with latent meaning. He wanted everyone in the room to recognize, without a scrap of uncertainty, that she owned his heart.

Taking her hand into his, her fragility and subtle shudder moved him, and he gently squeezed her fingers in reassurance. He kept his eyes on her when he said to the crew, "Men, clear the deck."

A few of the men could have caught flies with their gaping mouths. In record-breaking chaos, one by one, they grabbed their things and emptied the room.

Duke carried the end of line and had a foot out the door when he suddenly stopped. He backed up, went to the table where the trays of food sat untouched, and grabbed a serving dish of eggs and bacon. "I wouldn't want this to go to waste." He winked before making his exit.

"I'm sorry I broke up your meeting. I'm not sorry that your kiss knocked the polish right off my toenails," her voice rasped.

He chuckled. "Best interruption I can think of."

Alone now, he pulled her into his arms and buried his lips against hers for a longer, more passionate kiss. She immediately responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and parting her lips to allow his tongue complete passage.

When he lifted his face a hair's width, she smiled. "I guess you're not mad at me, huh?"

"I'm angry all right. Not in the way you might think though. Did you wear this—" He traced one slim shoulder strap with the tip of his finger. "To drive me crazy?" He found it difficult to speak when all the blood drained from his head and surfaced into the muscle behind his zipper.

"I pulled it on and I could remember the first time I wore it. Do you remember?" Her brow lifted and a playful smile teased the corner of her lips. "You wasted no time in pulling it back off."

Yeah, how could he forget?

She came downstairs dressed in the yellow number asking if he could zip her. He zipped her all right. He took her on his desk, his chair, and because it was so good the first time, back on the desk. The yellow dress never made it back onto her body that evening.

"Let's get out of here." He wanted to get away with her. He planted warm kisses along her jaw, keeping his hands from diving underneath the material of the dress to see if she wore sexy underwear. She'd always been good at surprising him with amazing silks and laces. Sometimes he'd have to apologize because in his hurry to get her naked he used his teeth to tear the pieces off her body. She never seemed to mind.

"Leave the room out, or leave the Swift Wind out?" Her breath spilled across his cheek.

"Let's leave the Swift Wind."

Questions marred her expression. She didn't seem to believe what she heard. "You do realize it's nine AM on a weekday, right?"

"I also realize I don't give a damn." He stretched his fingers through her hair, loving the feel against his rough hands. "There's nothing needing done which can't wait until later."

"Who am I to argue?"

"There's someplace I'd like to take you." He breathed in her vanilla scent. "Make that two places." He wiggled his eyebrows to give her a hint what he thought.

She laughed and it sounded sweet. He could listen to her all day.

"Surprise me."

Chapter Ten

"WHERE ARE WE going, Chance?" Carly asked. They entered the highway toward San Antonio and her curiosity grew. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts. The sun's rays beat through the window. She flipped the vent on the dashboard sending the crisp air directly on her. The AC cooled her skin.

"You said to surprise you."

"I can't wait any longer." Excitement washed over her. She resisted the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

"I know it's been a while, but do you remember where I took you on our first date?"

"Our first date was at the McAllister." She looked at him in accusation. "I know we're not going there since we're heading in the wrong direction. Do I need to remind you of that Fourth of July picnic? It changed our lives forever. That evening left a few broken hearts in Shelby because I stole the cowboy." She smiled in conceited pleasure.

"You don't sound a bit sorry for those women." He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm to the Tim McGraw song playing on the radio.

She couldn't resist swaying her shoulders to the tune. "Not even in the slightest. Let them find their own handsome cowboy." She dropped her hand to his muscular thigh and rubbed the pads of her fingers across the soft denim. "You're mine."

His fingers stilled on the vinyl. He squirmed and adjusted in the leather seat. "Okay, the place I took you on our second date."

Turning in the passenger seat, she slipped off her sunglasses to get a better look at him. His black Stetson hung low on his forehead, hiding his expression.

"Are you kidding? How could I forget?" She laughed at the unintentional joke. "I can't forget our second date, the third, the fourth and so on... I walked on cloud nine being with _the_ Chance Taylor. You were bachelor of the year two times running."

"Are you making fun of me?" He shook his head, rubbing his smooth chin. "Do you have to remind me?"

"You should be proud. Think of the money you raised for the charity event that year." The auction was for the San Antonio Elite Club and the proceeds benefited various local non-profit agencies.

Looking back, she remembered making a call to a friend chairperson. Carly had asked for Chance Taylor's seat, by mere fluke, of course, to be assigned to the McAllister table. She'd heard through the grapevine that Chance would be attending the event, alone, and she had every intention of re-introducing herself to him. She'd had a crush on him since she was a girl playing with dolls and he was a hunky teen that didn't even glance in her direction.

Carly thought back and the heat of blush shimmied across her body. She'd planned to smoothly snare Chance's attention with her expensive, low-cut gown and deftly applied makeup, but instead she'd spilled red wine down the front of his nice tuxedo. Embarrassed by her clumsiness, she had wanted to crawl away, but she'd been shocked when he had started talking to her.

Now, one corner of his mouth kinked. "You winning me in the bachelor auction could only be described in one word—fate."

She skimmed her fingers along his inner thigh. "You should have seen the killer looks I received from the women who'd brought their entire savings in hope to bid and win _the_ Chance Taylor, bachelor of the year."

He rolled a broad shoulder underneath the chambray shirt. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you. And the dress you wore, _wow_." He swiped his hand low on his chest and tapped his hand rhythmically over his heart. "Smoking hot. I couldn't believe you were the same girl grown up into a lovely woman."

"You know, I put a lot of planning into that evening. The wine had ruined your white shirt and I thought I'd screwed my chances. Every time you looked my way my blood pressure skyrocketed."

"Baby, I thought the way you attempted to wipe the wetness from my clothes was the sweetest thing, not to mention the sexiest. Each time you moved I got a glimpse of your cleavage."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "So, you did notice."

"How could I have resisted?" He tilted his chin and laughed.

The banter would have continued if they hadn't arrived at their destination. Chance parked the truck along the street of The Riverwalk and helped Carly out.

The Riverwalk held warm memories for Carly. Chance had proposed to her one balmy evening in July while they rode in the private gondola. Fireworks had lit the sky above them yet they couldn't take their eyes off each other to watch the spectacular show. Every time she strolled along the brick walkway encompassing the narrow waterway a rush of emotion enveloped her in its clutch hold.

They walked down a set of stairs and Carly stopped on the path to watch a boat float merrily on the water. The soft sounds of a local band playing handmade stringed instruments wafted across the slight breeze. She glanced further in the distance where the group lounged and played on the stone steps leading to the busy street above.

The tourist attraction was a shopper's paradise and restaurant lover's heaven, sure to please the appetite of any visitor.

She and Chance walked hand in hand, stopping along the curved path where a waterfall glided serenely over a jagged rock wall. Chance pointed in the direction of a gelato vendor. "Would you like some?"

"Sounds delicious."

Chance went to get their gelato and Carly sat on a nearby bench. Resting, she watched the gondola pass down below. Craning her neck over the black wrought iron fence, she smiled at passengers who intertwined arms and sang _Amazing Grace_.

In the last bench seat, a young man and woman sat with heads touching in a gesture of love and intimacy. A transparent veil covered the woman's dark flowing hair and the handsome man next to her held the corner of a poster board, reading _Just Married._

The scene touched her. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she fought them down. She should be smiling, not allowing sad emotion to carry her away in its whirlwind.

Carly turned her head away from the water and she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A woman stopped next to the bench and leaned into the fence. She palmed her pregnant stomach, holding it protectively and lovingly. The lovely mom-to-be smiled and relaxed into the pair of arms that wrapped around her extended midsection. A contented expression flooded her face. The woman rested her head back onto the man's shoulder, in complete trust and happiness.

A pain shot through Carly. An indescribable twinge rushed over her, making her heart beat in ragged tempo. A flash of bright white encased her mind in its tight grip and pressure clutched her temples. She squinted against the pain. She dropped her forehead into her palm. Loud beating... Machines everywhere... White... Everything was snowy.

Nauseated, she bit back a rumble of bile.

"Here you are." Chance's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

With great effort on her part, she smiled. She took the chocolate cone he offered and licked the creamy sweetness. She didn't want Chance knowing she had a wash of illness. He'd want to leave and she didn't want to ruin the beautiful day.

"Are you okay? You're pale." Concern crinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"I'm fine, honestly. It's getting warm sitting here in the sun." She swiped the sweat droplets from her forehead. It very well could have been the brightness of the sun and heat causing her to feel unwell. Although instinct told her it was more.

"Let's find a spot in the shade."

She laid a hand on his arm. "I'd rather walk, if it's okay with you."

The frozen treat cooled her insides and the breeze coming off the water was nice against her skin. Walking did help.

The morning passed and the sun lifted directly overhead. The crowd lessened. Visitors found refuge from the sticky heat of the afternoon and disappeared inside to shop.

"Are you hungry?" Chance asked.

She hadn't thought about eating until now and her stomach growled in exclamation. The only food of substance she'd eaten was the piece of bacon that morning.

They decided on a Mexican restaurant known for its outstanding fare of soft tacos, spicy burritos and Spanish rice. The perfect spot for an afternoon meal and break, the white tables lining the courtyard overlooked the waterway and nearby the musicians played a soft melody. Bright blue and red colored umbrellas topped the tables, sheltering patrons from the sun's rays. Chance chose a table in the corner, away from the others.

When the waiter came, they ordered their meals and Carly initiated the subject which had bothered her since she came back to the Swift Wind.

"Chance—"

"That's a serious expression."

"It's a serious subject." Carly breathed in deeply. A frown appeared on his face. Had he expected this topic to come although he couldn't possibly have known what her thoughts were? A loud clang sounded from inside the restaurant and Carly jumped.

"Hey, are you okay?" The gentle kindness in his eyes soothed her.

"When I fell, the accident... I don't know. It may be my imagination..."

Chance leaned closer, placing his elbows on the table. "What is it, Carly?"

"Have we been trying to get pregnant?"

He popped back into his seat as if he'd been splashed with a bucket of cold water. "No, we weren't. Why?"

Her gaze connected with his. He seemed edgy, not like him at all. Emotion bubbled inside her. She uneasily swept a tendril of hair behind her ear.

"My mind, my memory, it plays like a movie. Sometimes it's on play and running smoothly, then sometimes it fast forwards or rewinds. I'm overcome with a vision or a feeling. I can't seem to place it." She took a sip of water and was grateful for the wetness in her dry mouth. "I saw a woman, earlier, she was pregnant, and well, I associated with the feelings of a baby inside my stomach."

"Do you know the woman?"

Shaking her head, she sighed. "No, I didn't recognize her. It wasn't concerning her. It was the unborn child." She flicked him a glance, trying to decipher his blank expression.

Chance didn't speak right away. When he did, his voice came low and sympathetic. "Carly, you have wanted a child for a long time."

"Is that why I stopped taking the Pill?"

His tan turned two shades lighter. "You stopped taking the Pill?"

"I can't find my Pill packet anywhere. I've always kept it in the nightstand drawer, yet when I looked there yesterday morning, it was gone. I searched and couldn't find it. So, my question is, was I taking the Pill before the accident? Wouldn't I have told you if I stopped?" A tightening sensation developed in her chest. Was it possible she discontinued birth control without his knowledge?

She couldn't remember.

"I believe you would have told me, Carly." He drank thirstily from his glass and set it down with a clink. "No problem. You can call the doctor and get another prescription."

She hesitated. "What if I don't want to?"

* * * *

The air pulled from Chance's lungs. He took another gulp of his ice water and, in his haste, sucked it down the wrong pipe. He broke into a coughing fit, gaining an inquiringly eye from the watchful couple two tables over. He shot them a look of apology and then brought his attention fully on Carly. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't want to start taking the Pill again. I'd like for us to try and get pregnant."

"Pregnant?" The word fell from his thick tongue.

"A baby. A little extension of ourselves. A mini Chance or Carly." She gazed at him in perplexity.

Apprehension shot through him and his vision distorted. Oh hell, he hadn't expected this conversation. "Are you sure? This may not be the best time."

"I'm sure. What time would be better?"

"When you have your memory back," he blurted.

She hesitated. "Sure, I'm missing memories, but what I do know is enough and we can fill the voids with new ones. Is it my memory loss or is it something else?" Her disappointment came with lowered eyes. "Are you still not ready?"

Still? Damn right, he wasn't ready. This was déjà vu. They were having the same conversation they did before she got pregnant with Devon, but his hesitation now wasn't because of first-time father jitters.

He wasn't saintly by a long shot, but he supposed there must be some cardinal rule against impregnating his ex-wife while she suffered from amnesia, especially since earlier in the week, she loathed the ground he walked on.

Yeah, this was complicated.

"It's a big step." Bigger than she could imagine _._

"But exciting, right?" she interjected.

He shrugged. Exciting wasn't the word he'd use. He couldn't tell her what he actually thought. "So my heart palpitating, hands sweating and stomach knotting is from excitement, huh?" He began toying with his silverware.

Chance scanned people passing, anything to keep from looking at Carly. He brought his gaze to her. She watched him with such deep vulnerability. Pain tore through him like a dull knife.

"Chance?" She pointed to the butter knife he held tightly in his hand. "Maybe you should put the knife back on the table before someone calls the police thinking you're holding me against my will."

He dropped the knife and it made a loud ding. He didn't care if the couple two tables over looked again. In fact, he couldn't think of anything or anyone but the spinning in his mind.

"You know, it's okay to be apprehensive when thinking of having a child. I'm scared too, but most couples are when they decide it's right."

One thing he knew, if her memory came back, they'd not only have to deal with their broken marriage, but an innocent child would be in the mix. How could he do that to an innocent child?

After Devon's death, they hadn't talked about having another. He wasn't even sure she wanted to. Her feelings now were not those of the brokenhearted woman grieving the death of her child. Could he hold her off? He had to somehow.

"I think we can discuss it further, but first you have to get a clean bill of health. Once the doctor gives you the go-ahead, we can talk about things later."

She smiled widely and her eyes brightened. "You're right. I will need to speak to Dr. Maxwell. Tomorrow is my appointment."

Hell, when he used the word later, he meant months, maybe years. Not days.

Chapter Eleven

CARLY SMOOTHED HER hands down the legs of her jeans and looked at Dr. Maxwell across the sterile, white examination room. She usually hated coming to the doctor's office, and wasn't sure why, but this time she had personal motivation making it bearable.

"Tell me, Doc Maxwell. Is it safe for me to get pregnant?" The Doc eyed her through thick glasses.

The older man, seasoned in his medical knowledge, only hesitated a moment. "The bruises are healing fine. You told me you're no longer taking the pain medication that I prescribed. I don't see any underlying condition that would interfere with a healthy pregnancy. Not physically. However, your memory hasn't returned."

"But that wouldn't be a reason to not get pregnant. You said yourself, all of my memories may never return so then the opportunity would be lost."

"That's true. And as I'm saying now, there is no reason why you can't carry a baby to full-term."

Smiling, she sent Chance, who sat silently next to her, a promising look.

Maxwell jotted down a few words in her file, shut it, and sat down on his swivel chair. His expression seemed pensive. "Carly, have you had any new memories pop up?"

Unease washed over her. "Everything's a little vague. I have thoughts flash in my mind, but I can't differentiate between real and fantasy. It's frustrating. The explosions of thought are quick and confusing, dreamlike."

He nodded and slid his glasses off. "Your memories are trying to work back into the conscious mind."

"Her memory is coming back?" Chance shot forward and Carly glanced at him inquisitively. He'd been on edge all morning.

Maxwell nodded. "That's what we're hoping for." He scratched his head, appearing to mull over his next words. "Are you serious in starting a family right away?"

Carly glanced at Chance then back at the doctor. "I know I'm sure."

She wasn't so certain Chance felt the same regarding anything. She'd hoped last night after their wonderful day together at The Riverwalk, they could have continued the intimacy in bed. When they arrived home, Chance excused himself for important business and didn't come to bed until after she'd fallen asleep.

"I suggest to all my patients who are considering parenthood that it doesn't hurt to be vigilant. I'll write a lab order for a blood draw and a urine specimen. It's a normal work-up to check for iron and glucose levels, but you'll have to fast for twelve hours before the test. It wouldn't hurt to start on prenatal vitamins. Once we get the results, I'll have my nurse call you and set up an appointment so we can discuss where we go from here. I'd recommend using birth control for the time being." He swiveled around to say specifically to Chance, "The tests should come back within the week. In the meantime, relax." She was glad that someone else could see that he was uptight.

"Dr. Maxwell, when did I stop taking my prescription for the Pill?" she asked.

The doctor opened her file, skimmed the information and nodded. "That would be a good question to ask your gynecologist when you see her, but I do have a note here, when you visited me a year and a half ago, you were on oral contraceptive."

"I have a feeling that I wasn't taking anything, but I can't put the puzzle pieces together." She rubbed her temples, wishing her thoughts were clearer.

"Maybe Chance can answer those questions for you," Dr. Maxwell said.

She glanced at Chance, who was staring straight ahead. "It seems my husband and I are unclear on several things."

****

"Are you upset because I told Dr. Maxwell that things are unclear between us?" she asked on the ride home. The tension had become a suffocating cloud.

He shook his head, but didn't look at her. "No, not at all. But Carly, I need to be honest. I'm not ready for us to have a child. I know that may make me look like a jerk."

She could see the cords in his neck tighten. "I was getting that feeling. I'm starting to realize our marriage may not have been as stable as I've assumed."

"Let me explain—"

"No, Chance. I need to explain. I know I've been putting a lot of pressure on you about work, having a child and making changes. All along, I've forgotten that I have been excessively busy myself and neglecting our marriage. I'm always volunteering for one charity or another. I've ran myself ragged. If I'm expecting you to do better, so should I."

He glanced at her, one corner of his mouth was turned downward. "We can take this day-by-day," he said.

"And we will." Carly realized that not only would she need to work on her marriage, but also on the memories that she'd lost. Instinct warned her there were things her min didn't want to remember.

The rest of the ride back to the Swift Wind was quiet. When they arrived, Carly saw Lila's red convertible and spotted her sitting on the porch. When she saw them pull in, she stood up.

Carly slid out of the passenger side of the truck and approached her friend. Lila's long hair was piled into a messy bun, as if she'd crawled straight from bed. However, she was wearing her work scrubs and they were spotted with blood.

"Hard day in the emergency room?" Carly asked.

"I hope it's okay I dropped in." Lila appeared uncomfortable, which didn't happen often for the confident woman.

The hairs stood up on Carly's neck. "Of course it is." She wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulders. Something was wrong. Lila's furrowed brow and thin mouth spoke volumes.

Carly glanced at Chance over her shoulder, in silent request. He nodded his understanding. "I've got some work I need to do in the office," he said. The screen door slammed behind him.

Lila nervously played with a tendril of hair that had come loose from the rest. "I came right from work. I wasn't sure I should bother you. I needed, well, I was hoping for a girl chat."

They sat together on the swing. Carly lifted her friend's trembling hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Honey, you're always welcome here. Friends are good at listening. Tell me what's wrong?"

Lila lifted her dark eyes. Unshed tears made them glossy. "I...Duke and I had sex last night, and the night before."

"Sex? With _Duke_?" The words dashed off Carly's tongue. She never thought she'd link Lila's name with Duke's ever again, at least not intimately.

Lila averted her eyes into the distance and whispered, "Yes, Duke and I slept together."

"How did this happen? I mean, I know _how_ it happens, but you hate Duke, right?" Carly's words broke off into silence. Maybe Duke hadn't been so wrong when he said Lila had forgave him.

She lowered her eyes. "I hate Duke, somewhat anyway, but being with him is great. God, Carly, he is irresistible and the moment I saw him standing on my doorstep, every ounce of reasoning melted away."

"Did he come to your house for a booty-call?" Carly's eyes narrowed. Friend or not, Carly wouldn't sit back and watch Lila be used again.

Lila chuckled nervously. "I hadn't seen him since he left that morning when he broke things off. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he shows up at my front door. He had, umm...he said he was in the neighborhood and stopped by on a whim. One thing led to another and, _oh_ , he has, if possible, gotten better between the sheets than back when we were in a relationship."

Carly shook her head in confusion. "Lila, you two have only been broken up for a couple of months. You act like it's been years." She sighed at Lila's quandary. "It's normal to still have feelings for him."

Lila nodded in agreement. "Right. Although, it sure seemed like it had been years."

Carly scanned the yard for prying eyes or ears. She guessed Duke was somewhere working on the ranch. "So what's the verdict? Are you two together again?"

"Are you kidding?" Lila's mouth bent into an awkward angle. "Sex is one thing, but a commitment is another. Duke McGraw could drop to bended knee and pledge his love for me, and still, it wouldn't change a thing. My emotional attachment for him is long gone."

"You cut the emotional connection awfully quick." Carly looked at her friend with uncertainty. She remembered how deeply Lila cared for Duke, and how hurt she'd been when he abruptly broke it off. Carly wasn't entirely sure Lila had gotten over it. "I'm worried about you, honey."

Lila turned wide-eyed and pale. "Don't be."

She narrowed her eyes. "Please tell me this isn't for revenge."

Rolling a shoulder, Lila sighed. "Not revenge, Carly. The sex is good. Actually, it's fantastic. So why shouldn't I indulge? When it's over, it's over. No one will get hurt."

Carly sighed. This didn't sound like the Lila she knew. "Have you two made plans to meet again?"

"Tonight." Excitement sparkled in her voice. "You warned me to be careful with him and I didn't listen the first time. This time, I'm going into this with eyes open wide and heart protected underneath three layers of steel."

"I did warn you, but not because I think Duke is a bad guy. He's not, but he is the dictionary definition of a bachelor. For him to show up on your doorstep unannounced, maybe he has rethought your relationship. Maybe he's regretting breaking up."

Lila laughed crudely. "Not possible."

"Have you asked him?"

With a quick shake of her head, Lila answered assertively, "No, I haven't. You have to promise me you won't say anything, not to Duke and definitely not to Chance. _Promise me._ "

Carly stiffened. She didn't like to keep secrets from Chance. Yet, she didn't think Chance would get offended if she didn't tell. He never liked getting involved in the details of Duke and Lila's love affair. "I won't, but Duke may."

"I don't think he will," Lila said. "And right now, I'll take one day at a time. I don't know the answers, but I sure as hell will enjoy the ride." Lila's eyes glowed.

"You know I want you to be happy. I could think of worse ways to spend your night than having hot sex with a cowboy."

"You should know. You and Chance are probably tearing the sheets up."

Carly shook her head.

Lila's silly grin faded. "What? No sheet ripping? No steamy escapades like before?"

"Chance is different. He acts like he's afraid he'll hurt me."

Lila's expression became softer. "Come on, Carly, you can't blame the man. You fall down the stairs, crack your head, almost killing yourself, and you're having a bad case of absentmindedness. Damn, I'd be afraid, too."

"I didn't almost kill myself. I took a tumble down the stairs and bumped my noggin. What does he have to be afraid of? Unless I've forgotten something important that I should remember." She sighed in thought. "He's hiding something. You'd tell me if there was something I needed to know, right Lila?"

"If there was something I thought you _needed_ to know, sure, I'd tell you." Lila winked. "Why do you think Chance is hiding something?"

Toying with a loose thread on the hem of her shirt, Carly shrugged. "I know him well enough to understand when he's keeping something under wraps, but I don't have a clue. I'm beginning to think our marriage was heading south." Her vision blurred. "I can't imagine my life without him." She sniffed loudly.

"Let's say, in theory of course, if you and Chance's marriage was in a bad way, do you feel at this moment that you'd want to leave him, or stay and fight for what you both have?" Lila asked.

Carly tossed around the question. "Without a doubt, I'd want to stay and start again."

"Then, sweetheart, don't focus on what you've forgotten about your marriage but concentrate on how sure you are that you love Chance."

"You're right, Lila. Whatever it is that my mind doesn't want to remember then I shouldn't force them. Chance and I have something special. It's possible we both have realized just how so when I went to the McAllister for a few days." She moved her gaze to the horses in the pasture. "Having amnesia is scary. I keep wondering if suddenly I'll have memories crashing through and won't have a hint what I should do with them."

Lila laughed. "Oh dear, someone with a more sorrowful life than my own."

"Thanks. By the way, when did you start seeing Chance's way of thinking? Any other time you'd be offering him up for prosecution." Carly brushed her bangs back with her fingers.

"My dear, if I could be so lucky to find a man who looks at me the way your cowboy looks at you, I'd be happy."

Carly smiled when realization came to her. Her stomach twisted. "Lila, what did you mean when you said 'like before?'"

"What?"

"Chance and I not having sex _like before._ What did you mean?"

Lila shrugged. "I don't remember saying it. I guess I meant before the accident. You know, Carly, I think you should help Chance realize your body is bruised, but the goods are A-OK. Maybe he needs a push to help him get over the fear. If that doesn't work, tell him you'll have to find another cowboy to tame your heat." She laughed. "A hint of jealousy will do him good."

"Chance isn't the jealous type."

Lila waved a hand through the air. "All men are jealous if given a reason."

She arched an eyebrow. "He's never had a reason."

"Put on a sexy number, light some candles, and trust me, he won't be dragging his heels another second."

"I may be injured on the outside, yet on the inside, I'm craving my husband's attention. I miss him," she admitted.

"Miss him?" Lila questioned. "He's right here, sweetheart. He's here for you."

"I know it sounds odd, but I've got this crazy feeling if I don't hold on tight to what I have I could lose everything."

"I'm not the best person to give advice. Look at my situation. It isn't the best. What I do know is, you should enjoy each day like it's a new beginning. Happiness is a gift, not a given."

"Those are awesome words," Carly said.

"I'm glad you think so since you said those very same things to me when Duke and I broke up."

"Wow, you're one lucky woman."

Lila's brow lifted. "I am?"

"Yes, to have such a smart friend like me."

Their laughter was carried to the man who skulked nearby.

With a bitter scowl, he turned and marched back toward the barn.

Chapter Twelve

CHANCE PUSHED HIS hand through his hair as his blood pressure rose. He looked across the yard at Duke who was appeared angry also. "Where's he at now?" Chance asked.

"He hasn't wandered in yet. This is the second time he's been late this week." Duke locked the gate to the stall.

"Second time? Why didn't I know about the first?" Chance grumbled the words. Knowing that Martin went against the steadfast rules of the Swift Wind tore through him like a hot blade.

"Chance, it ain't like you've been around lately, mind or body," Duke reminded him.

Chance stomped his booted foot in the dust. He guessed he deserved that. Since Carly's return, he'd been a wreck. He hadn't wanted to leave her side and when he did, he couldn't think clearly.

He never once stopped loving her, even during the divorce. Somehow, over the last two years, he'd grown a thick skin and a hard shell of protection. Being without her had finally become bearable only to have her thrust back into his life. Now, his thick skin thinned, his hard shell cracked, and he was chin deep in fire.

How had she done it? How had Carly crawled under his skin again, to gain the upper hand?

He wasn't the vulnerable one in this scenario, he needed to remember that she couldn't remember anything. But he'd like to forget a few things too.

Carly could always work her magic with him. She stroked him with one hand, and with the other, she grabbed his heart and twisted—a bittersweet way. She reminded him of the things he enjoyed in life. Fresh lemonade when he was thirsty. A fast run on his stallion, catching the rising sun in the morning sky. A dip in cold water on a steamy, hot day. And his beautiful ex-wife.

"Send him up to the house when he gets here."

Chance was in the mood to kick some ass.

No, he'd never lay a hand on another human being, except in self-defense or to protect someone he loved. Yet, he was as mad as a hornet.

He didn't need to resort to violence when the power tipped on his side.

_His ranch, his rules._ It would be his decision. Today, some jokester would get the axe.

* * * *

Carly stretched her arms and yawned as she moved down the stairs. Chance was already out of bed, probably out catching up on the ranch details.

On her way past his office, she heard muffled voices through the closed door. She stopped and listened. The deep tone from the men inside suddenly came to a jarring silence.

The door swung open wide. It caught her by surprise and she quickly straightened. She didn't have time to react or pretend she hadn't been snooping. A young man with dirty blond hair and thin features stormed toward her, scowling. Carly jumped back before he slammed into her.

His head came up and their eyes met. Carly shuddered in response. If looks could talk, his would be screaming bloody murder.

He pushed past her and marched out the front door. To prove his anger, he kicked a large terracotta pot, sending it and its flower contents flying across the porch.

Carly glimpsed inside Chance's office. Her heart pounded a hard rhythm against her rib cage. He was leaning against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed solidly over his broad chest, and wicked tension marked his jaw.

"Who was that?" she asked.

When his blazing eyes met hers, she could see rage. His slanted eyes and thin lips told her he battled a tornado of emotion. "Martin Kincaid. One of my ex-staff."

She stepped closer. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged. He wore a red button-down and the crimson in his skin matched the shirt. "Just peachy." He pushed himself away from the desk and rounded it in three quick strides.

"That great, huh?" She frowned. She couldn't remember him looking so disgruntled. He was a man who had more patience than anyone she knew, but she saw none of his tolerance this morning. "You said an ex-staff member?"

"He's a pathetic resemblance of a hand. I fired his lousy ass. I gave him chance after chance." His words were close to a growl. "Hell, no reason to talk about it."

He hid his emotions behind a lock and Carly wanted to find the key. "Talk to me, Chance." She wanted to help. He needed to stop shutting her out of the ranch business. " _Maybe_ I can help."

"I don't like firing employees, yet this time it was a real pleasure." He ran his palm over his face.

"He seemed like a real prize." She strolled over, sat down on the edge of the desk where he'd been, and lowered her body slightly toward him. "What'd he do?"

"He broke the rules. He was late."

"Hmm." He wasn't telling the whole story _._ She knew Chance, and although he demanded a lot when it came to business, tardiness would have him dishing out a warning, not walking papers. "And? What else did he do?"

"He got angry with the new mustang Wildfire and used a strap on him. Bastard should have a belt used on his ass. Doc Bakerfield hadn't even cleared him yet from his illness." His voice grew thick.

"When are the hands allowed to discipline the horses?"

"Never."

Now she understood. "Hey, I can see why you're angry. Did you pay him his last wages?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"He should consider himself lucky. You could have kept his wages until Leslie Bakerfield checked the mustang for any serious problems caused by his carelessness." Feeling professional and confident with the advice, she winced, noticing Chance's astonished expression. "Too cutthroat?"

Shaking his head, admiration became evident in his deep eyes. "I'm thinking you've become quite the businesswoman."

She squirmed in delight. "And I'm thinking you like it."

His voice lowered. "I think it's hot."

Carly's temperature spiked and her desire took on a climbing pattern. His eyes asked, "Can we play?"

Her mind conjured up an image of her upper body leaning across the desk, Chance standing behind, buried inside of her. They'd made love there before. In every spot of the room. Many times. They'd spent hours exploring one another, licking heated skin, touching places no one else would ever know the pleasure of.

He'd taken her places she'd never known existed.

Her panties moistened as desire spiraled through her in waves of bittersweet pain.

Since the accident, they hadn't gotten further than a hand to her breast and his erection rubbing against her hip, neither done without clothes on.

She wanted to touch him now, to slip her fingers over rock hard muscle, kissing every inch...

_Damn, she had an appointment._ On she couldn't reschedule.

She slid off the desk and straightened her shirt. "I've got an errand to run."

"What?" His eyes widened.

"I said I have an errand to run."

"What errand?"

"Chance, you're acting strange."

"And you're being vague."

She rounded the desk and bent to kiss him soundly on the lips. "I won't be long."

* * * *

Chance read the clock on his desk. Four-fifteen. Carly had called him an hour ago and asked him to meet her. Her voice had sounded thick and he knew seduction when he heard it. She had warned him to be prepared—whatever that meant, although he did have a clue.

Damn, he could only extinguish one fire at a time, and now, his body soared off the charts and his groin ached for Carly. It wanted release with the woman he loved. With Carly underneath his nose, sexy and ready, he teetered on insanity.

Chance shut down his laptop and grabbed his cell, shoving it into his pocket. He walked outside and headed in the direction of the pond, following the worn path. He couldn't imagine why she wanted him to meet her there.

His neck ached and he rubbed the tense muscles with his fingers. Each step he took his boots thumped against the dirt and his heart pinched. His mind moseyed to the phone call he'd gotten from Leslie earlier. He hadn't answered it, but she left a descriptive, and annoyed, voice mail.

Chance messed up, plain and simple.

Apparently, he'd given her reason to think they could be more than friends. He never intentionally led her on, but sharing intimate conversation over late-night dinners didn't help. He'd never taken the friendship beyond dinner.

He didn't deliberately ignore Leslie. His preoccupation with his wife held priority. However, he reminded himself, Carly was no longer his wife. They played house and so far, her memory hadn't resurfaced.

Dammit! He found it easy to get lost in this scheme. Beautiful, sensual, and ready for his taking, Carly had him in the palm of her hand. Old emotions were at a head. Revived lust had him cocked and ready to fire.

His tension wasn't only about sex, or the lack of. He wanted every part of Carly. He wanted her to be his wife again. If she wanted a baby, they could have a house full, as long as she was ready.

Problem was, he wanted those things with the old Carly, before Devon's death. The sweet, breath-of-fresh-air, fun Carly, the one who could smile and melt his torment. The woman who had talked to him into the wee hours of the morning, about everything from hopes and dreams to their plans for the future.

The post-trauma Carly had him clenched between hot and cold. One second she was attempting to move on from the pain, and the very next she was yelling at him to leave her alone. Not only had lovemaking been out of the question, but intimacy entirely. He'd become lost in his own misery.

When her memory returned, which side of the fence would she fall on?

Where in the hell did that leave him?

Screwed.

His days were numbered. How long could this charade continue? Would her memory suddenly come back and if it did, would she realize she still loved him? What if someone blabbed the truth to her? He could only protect her for so long.

Now she talked babies and family and, oh hell, she wanted to make love. Making love would be a good thing. Not only good—a slice of pure heaven. They had powerful chemistry, with the intensity of an electrical current.

He reached the edge of the pond and darted a glance around. A strong floral aroma reached his nostrils from the wildflowers growing in the field. He didn't see her. He focused across the grassy knoll, heard the soft splashing of water, and settled his gaze on her shadowy figure.

"Hi, handsome." She swam to him.

He hunched down near the water's edge, taking in the silhouette of her figure submerged neck deep. "How's the water?" He dipped his fingers in.

"Cool." She dipped her head back. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving." _For you_.

"Have a seat. I'll be out in a sec."

She gestured into the distance and he followed the motion, seeing the blanket laid out under the huge oak. He straightened and strolled over to the set up. A picnic basket held sandwiches, fruit and a bottle of wine.

With a smile, he sat down and leaned his back against the tree, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and crossed his booted ankles lazily.

He held a strawberry halfway to his mouth when he heard the splatter of water. He moved his eyes toward the sound and the fruit dropped from his fingers onto his lap.

Carly climbed out of the water.

_Hot damn._ She wore a red bra with matching thong and the wet, see-through material left little to the imagination _._

His hungry imagination yanked up images of her sweet, supple body pressed against his. His mouth between her thighs suckling her most intimate part.

He'd like to have her fingers tugging his hair, her moist pink delicacy bucking against his lips, while his name unraveled from her mouth.

His eyes slowly moved in anticipation to her dripping wet hair, along her partially naked body, down slender legs. She walked toward him in a powerful display of a confident woman who intended to turn him inside out. The crotch of his pants became tight and uncomfortable.

Fuck. Trouble came his way, and he couldn't wait.

He noticed the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath, pressing against the wispy red material that did nothing to hide hard, pink nipples. Her trim body was soft and round in the right places. The places he wanted to touch and caress.

She bent over to retrieve the towel from the blanket, giving him a faultless view of her tight ass. She wrapped the baby blue material around her bareness and looked like an angel.

His eyes followed her movements like a newborn puppy as she came to sit next to him. She swung her hair over her shoulder, spraying him with droplets of water across his face and it only triggered his desire more. She looked at him through the veil of thick lashes as an expressive smile curved her lips. "Mmm, that was nice."

He gulped air. He counted to ten. He focused on breathing, in and out, in and out, until finally he could find his voice buried behind the lump in his throat. "It was good to watch."

Carly beamed. Her mischievous smile said she knew she had tormented him in the most bittersweet way.

She took a strawberry from the bowl, brought it to her lips and bit into the red, delicious fruit. The juice lingered on her bottom lip and she rolled the tip of her tongue to lap it up. He could think of a couple more things he'd like to have her tongue licking.

Did she have any idea what havoc she wreaked on him? It was getting harder and harder, in many ways, to remember why he wasn't ripping her bra and panties off and burying himself deep within her. She asked for it and he knew how she liked it...loved it. She wouldn't be disappointed.

He wanted her back, fully and completely. Boundaries didn't matter anymore. He only knew she was his for the taking and take her was exactly what he planned to do. Over and over again.

"It's nice down here, don't you think?" she asked casually.

When she moved, the top of the towel fell to land across her hips. One bra strap slid down her shoulder, showing the top of her round breast.

Did she ask him a question? He wasn't thinking with his brain at the moment. The blood rushed to his cock.

She pushed up on her knees, bent toward his lap, with mouth opened, and his heart slammed against his ribs. Carly didn't go for his zipper, but instead the fallen strawberry he had dropped earlier, bringing it to her lips. Her teeth bit into the berry. Her gaze slowly met his. He never knew a woman eating could be such a turn-on. The world could have fallen down around them and he wouldn't have cared because he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Carly, how are you feeling?"

"Absolutely grand. And yourself?"

"Like I'm about to explode." There was no humiliation in admitting his vulnerability.

She lowered her eyes to his zipper and moistened her lips. "What a shame it is."

"A shame? Why is that?"

"You have a lot on your mind with the ranch. You've been worried for me since the accident and I've been pressuring you to, you know, make love." She smoothed her hair. It dried fast in the warm air and tangled around her angelic face. "I can understand so I won't burden you anymore. It's probably best we're not intimate until things are less hectic."

He flinched. What game was she playing? She couldn't be serious.

"It's not abnormal for people to go through a period where their libido is—" She slid him a remorseful, fleeting look. "—not up to par."

"There's nothing wrong with my libido." He reached over, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her down on top of him. "You're a little tease, aren't you?" He dragged the towel away from her body and tossed it to the side.

She looked at him, her eyes bright. "Chance Michael Taylor, have I told you lately that I love you?"

His breath caught in his chest. _No, you haven't,_ he answered silently. "Carly..." He twisted his fingers through her hair.

Pressing a finger against his lips, she whispered in his ear. "Don't say anything. I know you love me even if you don't tell me often." She kissed the tip of his nose. "It's not the words, but the actions that count." She trailed moist kisses along the line of his jaw.

His hands slid down her warm back and stopped at the skinny band of her thong. "I want you to tell me, Carly, tell me what you want."

She drew her face back, enough distance to unite their eyes. "Make love with me, Chance. I want to feel you inside me."

His mouth took hers in a thrilling kiss. He delved his tongue into her mouth and licked her silky insides. She tasted like strawberry and sugar.

When she moaned in pleasure, he rolled over with her held tight against him. Chance steadied himself on top, pressing her between his body and the blanket. Gazing down at her, he rolled a finger across her warm cheek. "Carly, I do love you. I thought I loved you the moment I said 'I do,' but it's nothing compared to how I feel now. Remember that, sweetheart."

She laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes reflected a love he'd thought lost. "I've never forgotten. You're in my heart, Chance."

He intended to take things slowly, yet it was impossible. When he removed her bra and thong and she lay there naked in all her glory before him, he knew it would take three, four, maybe more times before he would get enough of her to satisfy the need suppressed within him.

Pulling his jeans off in a flurry of material, Chance positioned himself between her thighs, plunging fully into her satin smooth body.

Chapter Thirteen

AFTER MAKING LOVE under the tree, Carly lay still in the crook of Chance's arm staring up into the branches. A light breeze blew through the leaves of the oak and across their naked bodies, cooling their moist, heated skin.

Carly was lightweight, feeling much like a feather and carefree as a kitten lying with her husband. She imagined they were the only two people who existed in the entire world. There were no worries, no concerns. She didn't want this untroubled feeling to ever end.

When Chance shifted his body, she moaned her displeasure. "Don't move. Not yet," she murmured.

He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Sweetheart, the sun's going down and the bugs are coming out. I'd be more than happy to lie here all night. I'm afraid we'd be eaten alive."

She sat up, watching him move around the blanket. He found his jeans and pulled them on. He took her thong and held it by the tip of his finger. He twirled it champion lasso style. She giggled at his playful side. He helped her into the damp material, sliding them over her feet, up her legs. When he got to her thighs, she lifted her hips off the blanket so he could drag the thin lace into place.

Lowering his head, Chance kissed her stomach before dipping his tongue into her belly button. A giggle, joined with a moan, came from her in response to his teasing attention. She dug her fingers through his bedraggled hair, clinging to him. He left a trail of wet kisses along her hipbone, down her outer thigh, and close to the sensitive area at the apex of her thighs.

Then he found her clit. Through her panties, he suckled the spot between her folds and she arched at the heavy sensation flowing through her.

"I...I thought...we were going to be eaten alive," she panted the words.

"One of us is definitely going to be eaten." He tore her panties from her body, seams ripped when the thin strap broke. "I hope those weren't your lucky panties."

"They did seem pretty lucky." She chuckled yet it sounded more along the lines of a gurgle because his tongue buried deep inside, ending rational thought. "Mmm, Chance. Your tongue is magical." Her body released into spasm after spasm and she moaned his name. He backed away and she sat up, pushing his chest lightly. She fumbled with the waist of his pants until his erection was free and stretched toward her. He was ready and she climbed across his lap. "Let's face it, you find me irresistible." Her smile beamed self-assurance.

"What makes you think that?" His words were close to a growl.

She wriggled her hips against his shaft, dipping the very tip of him inside her dewy satin before withdrawing. He sucked in a harsh breath. "What do you want, Chance?" she whispered against his warm cheek.

Chance spread his hands up her thighs and around her hips to grasp her bottom in his large palms. He pulled her forward and thrust upward, sinking himself into her. She wrapped around him and clenched. She secured her knees on either side of his hips. She took on a slow rhythm of a cowgirl riding her bull, hanging on to his shoulders and squeezing her thighs.

When she reached climax, she swung her head back, arched her body, thrusting her breasts out. Chance reached up, palmed the pale mounds, and flicked her nipples with the tips of his thumbs. She buried her face against his shoulder, her body jerked in sweet awareness. He wrapped his arms around her, securely.

Night fell and the air grew chilly. They dressed in contented silence. Instead of pulling on her damp bra and the useless panties, she dressed in Chance's shirt. It covered her body and reached an inch above her knee.

"You should wear my clothes more often," he teased, enclosing her with his arms and pulling her close.

"You should wear me more often," she said brazenly. She had never been ashamed or embarrassed to say what was on her mind to him. They had a comfortable relationship with the freedom to vocalize their desires.

They reached the clearing to the house. Both of them saw a shadow. It was too dark to see who paced the porch until they got closer and the tall, broad shouldered man with cowboy hat could only be one person. Duke.

Closer, Carly saw the look of death that had washed his tan white.

Chance spoke first. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Duke."

Duke's eyes went from Chance to Carly in an expression of compassion and sorrow. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

She stopped in her tracks, never seeing Duke so solemn before and it scared her. "What is it, Duke?"

He hesitated before glancing at Chance with silent turmoil. "Chance, can I speak to you a minute?"

Chance glimpsed at Carly and told her, "Why don't you go on into the house. I'll be in shortly."

She glanced from Chance to Duke. Uneasiness climbed her spine. She stayed near Chance's side. "I'll stay."

Chance and Duke passed a look of concern. "Okay. Duke, you can speak to me in front of Carly."

Duke swallowed with noticeable difficulty before he stated, "I'm sorry, Carly." His voice broke off. He appeared to gain his composure. "Dr. Maxwell called asking if I had seen you. There was an emergency. He said your father fell ill a few hours ago and passed away."

Carly's body went stiff and she dropped the towel from her hand. Chance's hand on her shoulder squeezed and he said something, but her brain wouldn't lend a hand. Frozen on the words "your father fell ill and he passed away," her mind and body screamed in shock. "It can't be true. He had his physical a few months back and the doctor had given him a clean bill of health. Anyone who knew Harry McAllister realized he was healthy."

"Where? At the McAllister?" Chance asked Duke.

Duke nodded, a barely audible movement with his wide brimmed Stetson lowered over his eyes.

Carly looked at Chance, tears welled in her eyes. She said in a whispered breath, "I'm going to see him one last time."

Carly didn't wait for a response from Chance, she raced upstairs, changed and they were on their way to the McAllister all in record speed.

Carly walked up the wide steps of the large house, immediately feeling the loss.

Inside, she moved past the entry table in the foyer and glanced over the picture of her mother while she was pregnant with Carly. It was her favorite. The next was of Carly at the age of ten and she sat atop her favorite horse, Cranberry. The photos usually compared to a gentle caress of a wonderful memory, but nothing could surpass the pain in her chest.

She found Dr. Maxwell sitting in the Italian leather chair beside the stone fireplace in the living room.

Maxwell looked up in silent greeting. His wrinkled face appeared frail as his gray eyes settled on her. "What happened?" she asked.

"Your father wasn't feeling well this afternoon and had asked me to stop by on my way home from the office. When I got here, I found him hunched over his desk."

Carly wrapped her arms around her midsection "What? How?"

"I'm sorry, Carly. My best guess is a heart attack," he answered with a shake of his head.

"I want to see him." She glanced in the direction of the office.

"Carly, that's not necessary," Maxwell warned. "He had everything in order and I've made the arrangements. Howler's Funeral Home will be here soon to pick him up. I also gave Rock Snider a call and he's on his way."

Carly looked at him. Had she heard right? "Rock? His attorney? Why?"

"Not anything unusual for a man of your father's wealth. He wants to make sure everything dealing with the McAllister is clear cut."

"I'm going in and seeing him," she stated again. She heard Maxwell say her name. She paid him no attention as she brushed past Chance, eyeing him inquisitively. Would he try to stop her, too?

Chance made no move to talk her out of it. He only looked at her with understanding, sympathy and support.

The office was dark and smelled of leather and spice cologne. She reached for the light, but thought better of it. The sliver of light coming through the open window was enough for her to see his slumped figure across the top of his desk. His gold watch gleamed in the moon's pale light and his snuffed-out cigar lay in the ashtray.

She remembered when she was a child. She had raced into his office in anticipation, shouting excitedly that she had found the prettiest butterfly and he should come see it. She had found him slumped over and in childlike terror, she had pounded on his arm calling repeatedly, "Daddy! Daddy!"

Her nanny heard her screams and came bustling in to tear her away.

Now, although not at the time, she knew he had drunk himself into a stupor. When he awakened, the nanny told him what happened and he came to her bedroom where she lay in bed, blankets over her head, sobbing. He had made a promise to her. He swore it would never happen again.

She wasn't a kid any longer and her father wasn't in a drunken stupor. He was gone. Gone forever. She could not hide in her bed and wait for him to come and comfort her.

"I had to move him slightly to check for a pulse."

She jumped at the sound of Maxwell's voice. Her trembling hands went to her mouth but the sob still escaped her. A hand touched her shoulder and Chance's warmth soaked through skin. She twisted on her heel and rushed into his outstretched arms.

He held her for the longest time. Comforting her with soft words against her ear and a supportive hand on her back.

Chapter Fourteen

CHANCE HELD CARLY'S shaking body and his eyes misted over with tears. When Devon died, she had pushed him away, resisting his every attempt to comfort her.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he would have held her forever.

They had moved to the living room when Rock Snider arrived. Snider, a stocky, professional looking man with stern eyes, shot Carly a contrite expression before saying hello to Chance.

Chance and Rock were good friends in high school and the friendship lasted through the years. Snider had a reputation for being a shark in court and was a legal guru. There was subtle surprise in his expression when he saw Chance and Carly sitting next to one another, for obvious reasons. He handled the divorce.

Snider didn't ask any questions, but quickly got down to business. Chance trusted the man, but the more people who got wind of their reunion the more possibility people would begin to talk. The small town could leak the news and send a whirlwind of speculation and gossip. He wanted more than anything to protect Carly, especially now, with the loss of her father.

He wondered how long it would take Chris Whitfield to hear the news. Chance guessed Whitfield was still out of town and had no clue of the situation. Harry never did tell Chance _how_ he took care of the other man.

When he found out about Harry's passing, would Whitfield fly back from wherever he stayed and tell Carly the truth? Without Harry to block Whitfield, how would Chance keep the man away from Carly?

"Carly, I'm sorry. Your father was a noble man and he certainly was a legend in these parts. He'll be remembered with fondness." Snider's face shifted from personal involvement to a mask of professionalism. "Your father has a notarized statement in the event of his death that he wished to have no funeral service."

Carly's head snapped up. "What does that mean? No service?"

Snyder sat down in one of the leather-cushioned chairs, dug into his briefcase and pulled out a plain yellow folder. "He made the changes recently." Snider opened the file, retrieved a certified looking document, and handed it to her.

Carly glanced over the document. "Rock, this is legal mumbo-jumbo." She tossed it back toward him. "My father is dead and what I want is for you to tell me what he requested, not show me some form document. I'm tired and I don't feel like I am ready to face the legalities when my father is still in the next room."

"Okay." He stuck the paper into the folder and jammed it brusquely back into the bag. "I'm sorry I have to do this now, but it's protocol. He asked me to draw up papers listing his wishes upon his death. He wanted to be cremated and placed in the vault next to your mother's body. He wanted no funeral services, no viewing, only for me to give you this."

He reached back into the briefcase and pulled out several pieces of paper before shoving them back into place. When he found the envelope he searched for, he smiled apologetically. "These changes were made so recently. I haven't had the opportunity to file them in with his other legal documents at the office."

Chance laid a supportive hand on Carly's knee. "Rock, is this necessary?"

"I'm afraid it is," he answered.

Chance eyed Carly's profile and his gut clenched. She could lose it any minute.

* * * *

Carly deliberately kept her gaze from landing on Chance. If she saw his considerate expression, she'd break down into tears and fall into him again for consolation. She wanted to lean into him, and allow him to soothe her, but right now, she needed to be strong. Her father had attached amendments to his burial wishes and she couldn't understand why.

She stared down at the envelope with her name written neatly across the front in her father's penmanship. "I don't understand. Why did he make these changes? Father never mentioned them to me."

Snider rolled a shoulder and flicked a wrist toward the envelope she held. "He gave me the envelope when he signed the papers. He didn't explain why, only that I should give it to you if something should happen and to tell you you'll know the right time to open it." Then Snider turned his gaze to Chance and back to Carly. "To assure you'll take complete ownership rights of the McAllister I need you to sign some forms. Can you call me in a few days and set up an appointment?"

Carly's eyes shot above Snider's shoulder where movement caught her attention. The two business-suited men left with her father's body, carried on a gurney and covered with a plain white sheet. She got up and went to the doorway, watching the men gently roll him into the awaiting hearse.

Chance stepped behind her and she said somberly, "So this is what happens when we die? We are carried away to be disposed of."

She held on tight to the doorframe, her knuckles grew white. She would never see her father again.

"Chance, can I speak to you a moment?" Doc Maxwell asked.

Carly acknowledged Chance's apprehension. "It's okay, Chance."

"I'll only be a moment," he said, squeezing her shoulder.

The rear lights of the sleek black hearse disappeared into the darkness and she started to turn back into the house when an odd sensation swept through her. She blinked her eyes and a flash of ashen color blurred her vision. When she opened them, the room became fuzzy. A baby's cry sounded from somewhere in the house.

Closing her eyes again, she breathed in and out, counted to ten, but the shrill cry continued to echo off the walls, penetrating her mind like claws on a chalkboard.

Bracing herself against the side table in the foyer, she listened to Chance and Dr. Maxwell speaking in hushed voices, or through a tunnel. She couldn't see the men. They were in the living room. She moved and peeked inside her father's dark office.

The crying stopped, but an image came to her. A baby lying inside its crib, a stuffed teddy bear placed in the corner, the sound of a lullaby playing...

"Are you ready to go home?"

Carly twisted around so hastily, she lost her footing. Chance dashed forward, caught her, and stabilized her with supporting arms. Concern marred his tired features. "Are you okay?"

The images faded. She gave herself a second to recover. "I...I am ready to go home."

* * * *

The next morning, Carly awoke alone. She glanced at the clock and read the digital numbers in shock. "Ten-thirty?" How could she have slept so late?

She jumped up, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white tank and went downstairs.

Thelma stood in her usual spot in front of the stove. Dressed in a purple blouse and white pants, she saw Carly and dropped the apple and the knife. "How's my baby?" She scrambled around the kitchen counter and went straight to Carly to pull her into a tight-gripped hug. "My poor girl, ain't you been through enough."

Carly allowed the other woman to comfort her, but she did not cry. She had gotten home last night, crawled into bed with Chance, and buried herself against his body and wept until sleep had come sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

Her father was the one constant in her life growing up. He'd been her supporter, her strength and the one person who provided her with love. He taught her to ride horses. He encouraged her to go to college. He'd been confident in her capabilities, even when she wasn't.

She sniffed back tears. He'd left the world alone, sitting in his chair, at his desk. She wondered what his last thoughts were.

She hadn't read the letter that Rock Snyder had given her from her father. She wasn't ready. What could he say in a letter he couldn't say in person?

Her father had always said he wasn't frightened of death. He knew, when the time came, he'd join her mother in heaven.

At times, interestingly enough, he seemed to anticipate the moment. It comforted Carly to know her father hadn't feared his demise. He believed in an afterlife.

Stepping back from Thelma's comforting grip, she attempted some form of a smile. "I'll be okay, Thelma. I'll miss him. I'll remember he lived a long, benevolent life."

"You're absolutely right, my dear." Thelma went to the kitchen counter. "Let me fix you some breakfast. Eggs and bacon? Or how 'bout some French toast?"

Carly's stomach rolled and churned. She didn't feel so great. She wasn't hungry. Maybe eating would ease the ache in her stomach. "I think I'll stick with toast this morning, Thelma."

"Comin' right up. Why don't you go sit with Chance on the patio and I'll bring it out. He's been waiting for you all morning."

Carly walked out onto the patio and breathed in the fresh air laced with freshly mowed grass. The sun warmed her skin, easing her tension. She joined Chance at the table and he closed up the folder he had open.

"Hi."

"Hi." He watched her with questioning eyes.

"Thanks for being there for me last night." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No thanks are in order. I want to be there for you." He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the thick locks.

"I wanted you to know." She flipped him an appreciative smile.

Sitting forward, he placed his elbows on the table and gazed at her. "Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I cared for your father. He was a damn good man."

Turning her head, she sighed. "A very good man." She looked out over the line of the woods. The billowy clouds rolled in the backdrop of the pale blue sky. "I haven't read the letter yet."

"Nothing says you have to until you're ready."

"I'm thrown over his decision to have no funeral service. It's against tradition. People want the opportunity to say goodbye."

"I'm sure he had his reasons. You know he wasn't much into long, drawn-out goodbyes."

"I guess." She could see his point. She remained quiet. Thelma came carrying a tray of toast and tea.

"Here you are, honey." She set the plate in front of Carly.

She forced a smile. "Thanks, Thelma."

"You eat up, honey. You need anything else you give a holler." Thelma swiped at the mist in her eyes and vanished back inside the house.

Chance glanced at the toast. "No eggs and bacon? Has she given up on her quest to fill you up with saturated fats?"

Carly laughed, although it hurt. "I asked for toast. I'm afraid my stomach couldn't take anything more this morning." She wasn't even sure if the toast would stay down.

"I've cancelled my meetings today."

The toast she had bound for her mouth stopped mid-air. "You actually cancelled all your meetings?" The words fell from her lips purely out of shock. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Ouch." His eyes slanted.

"I'm sorry." She dropped her uneaten toast to the plate. "You're not the type to drop business for anything." She reached for the carafe and poured a cup of the strong coffee. A lock of hair fell to her cheek and she didn't bother with it.

"Is that what you think?" His brow shot up.

She couldn't lie. "It's what I know."

"I'm a changed man." He passed her the bowl of sugar and container of cream.

"I get it." Maybe his change wasn't actually a permanent one, she mused gravely. She loved him, but Chance Taylor was a rancher and he made himself available to business no matter what, at least up until now.

Scooping a spoonful of sugar into her cup, she dropped the utensil. She sucked in a breath. Another memory pushed through her thoughts like a searing burn. She popped her head up, her eyes bearing into him in question. "Were you at Maloney's a few nights ago?"

Chance's face remained blank. "No."

"It must have been a dream." She rolled her eyes at her mistake. With the pads of her fingers, she rubbed her temples. "You drank a lot." Her mind searched through the void. "Wow, I can't believe I asked you such an outlandish question."

"You better eat." He pushed her plate toward her. "You need to keep up your energy."

"You're right." She picked up a piece of the buttered toast and took a small bite. "I need to go to the McAllister today," she said after she swallowed.

"Don't you think it's too soon?"

"You know how Father was, Chance. He'd have already been out this morning on his golf cart pitter pattering around the ranch making sure everything ran smoothly." She took a sip of coffee, looking at him through the rising steam. "I feel like I owe him."

Chance pushed back into his chair again, extending long legs in front of him. "That's an odd statement."

She set her cup down, feeling a rumble of nausea in her stomach. "I've been so busy with my own life, with the charities, the peach grove, you name it, and I've made little time to dedicate to him. He stayed over at that big ole ranch all alone." Seeing his doubtful expression, she winced. "What?"

His eyes connected with hers. "Your father didn't feel alone. He was happy." He sighed. "And don't most kids feel the same when their parents pass away. _Shoulda-coulda-woulda_. We should have spent more time with them. We could have done more for them. We would have liked more time."

Carly sat forward, wanting to be close. "It's not been long since your parents died. My father's death must bring back painful memories." She knew how close he'd been with his family and how he hadn't gotten the chance to grieve, especially when his father passed. He had immediately bounced into the leader role at the ranch, making difficult decisions.

She touched his hand in a comforting gesture.

He jerked away from her touch. "Carly, your father loved you and he knew you loved him."

She laid her shunned hand back into her lap. "Will you go to the McAllister with me?"

"I'd be more than happy to help."

"I'm not quite ready to take over the responsibility of a ranch."

"The ranch foreman, Jake Stratton, has been with your father for nearly thirty years. He can run the day-to-day with his eyes closed and can be trusted with a million dollars in his back pocket. If you'd like, I can check with him everyday to keep track of the business."

She frowned. "You're already so busy."

He rubbed his eyes. "I've got the time. If not, I'll make the time. Harry meant a lot to me."

Her heart swelled. She couldn't imagine not having Chance in her life at a time like this. His solidity made her secure. She counted her lucky stars. "I'll go and freshen up and then we can head over."

Chapter Fifteen

CARLY SAW JAKE Stratton waiting on the wide steps of the white house when she and Chance pulled into the McAllister driveway. His leathered face crinkled and his kind eyes appeared sympathetic when he lifted a hand and waved.

Carly climbed out of the truck and hugged the middle-aged man tightly. "Your old man was a good man." Jake slid his hat back on his forehead. "I thought he'd outlive us all."

"He was certainly stubborn enough to." Carly backed away and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

Jake nodded. "How are you, Chance?" He stuck out a hand and Chance took it.

"Jake, do you have a minute to go over some of the details of the ranch?" Chance asked.

Carly watched the two men go off in one direction. She headed the opposite way. When her and Chance had passed the barns on the drive up to the house, she saw Leslie's truck parked around the outer buildings. She hadn't spoken with her in some time and wanted to see how the horses were doing.

Leslie was examining one of the mares when Carly rounded the barn door. The other woman looked up and acknowledged her with a sheltered expression. "Hi, Leslie."

Leslie dropped her stethoscope into her bag. "I'm sorry to hear about Harry."

Carly nodded. She wasn't sure why, yet something much like jealousy washed over her. She and Leslie were never friends, but suddenly she had a feeling they didn't like one another.

Tall, slender and with delicate features, Leslie could definitely draw a man's attention. Her eyes were the color of aquamarine, making Carly curious if she wore colored contacts.

Carly wondered why Leslie didn't date. The last she heard Leslie was a free woman. Something didn't feel right to Carly, but her mind was fuzzy.

Removing the path of her thoughts, Carly dragged her eyes to the mare Leslie worked with. "How are the horses?"

"Sarah's pregnancy is coming along fine. I'll give her another booster injection next month." Leslie ran her hand down the mare's sleek back. "I'd also recommend upping the amount of high-in-fat pellets she's getting daily. It wouldn't hurt to add a cup of feed to her daily intake."

Carly hesitated. "I guess I didn't know she's pregnant." There seemed to be a lot she didn't remember.

Leslie shot her a look over her shoulder. "She's in her eighth month, only three more to go, right, girl? We're on the home stretch now." Leslie patted the mare lovingly.

Carly pushed past the stab of guilt. She didn't understand why tension existed between them. Harry had liked Leslie, and she obviously loved the horses. So what caused the deep feeling within the pit of her stomach?

"Chance told me he hired you at the Swift Wind _._ Have you worked there long?" Carly asked, uncertain when Chance actually hired her.

Leslie's eyes slanted. "I've been there a while."

Carly stiffened at the gnawing feeling rushing up her spine. Did she hear a latent meaning to the other woman's words? She smiled through her uneasiness. "For now, until I make some administrative decisions, I'd like for you to speak to me directly regarding the care of the horses here at McAllister."

Leslie's eyes narrowed. "Not Jake?"

Carly looked up at the taller woman with curious eyes. She heard a dash of mockery in Leslie's tone. "Not Jake. I'll be handling many of the responsibilities." Carly would have easily allowed Jake, and Chance for that matter, to handle the horses' care, but she needed to remain in control. She had the capability to do well. "Chance will also be helping make executive decisions."

Leslie nodded. "Chance is _very_ capable."

Carly dropped her arms to her sides. Okay, now she had reason not to like her.

She knew when a woman overstepped her boundaries, and without a sliver of doubt, this woman had intentionally ruffled her feathers. "Yes, I know how capable he is," Carly shot back. "It's the reason I married him." She could have patted herself on the back.

Chance was her cowboy.

Leslie froze. "Yes, you two are married." A smile slowly curved her lips, but didn't reach her eyes.

Carly wondered if she needed to remind Leslie who signed her paycheck.

She watched Leslie's eyes slide past her shoulder and brighten. Carly turned to see Chance stroll into the barn.

He wore a scowl.

"Is everything taken care of?" Carly asked.

He nodded. "Jake will be fine."

"Leslie and I were just..." She stopped. _Verbally dueling._ "We were discussing the horses."

"I planned to head out to the Swift Wind after I finished up here." Leslie picked up her leather bag and snapped it shut. "Will you be there, Chance?"

"I'll be here for awhile. Duke can handle anything you need." Chance's tone remained steady.

Leslie started toward the barn door, pausing at the threshold. "There is some information I'd like to run by you, Chance. Can I call you later?"

Carly braced her fists at her sides. Did she imagine things or had Leslie Bakerfield made a play for her husband?

"Duke can handle it, whatever it is." His words hit target, no room for misunderstanding.

Leslie nodded and left.

But why didn't Carly feel any better?

Chapter Sixteen

CHANCE LEANED HIS large body into the chair and looked across his desk at one very brave—or very stupid—Martin Kincaid. Usually fired employees didn't show up and ask to speak to the boss.

When the younger man called and said it was important, Chance agreed to meet with him. He had a gut feeling he needed to hear what the man had to say.

Chance stared at the other man. Kincaid's left eyebrow twitched every few seconds, a sign of raw nerves. The man gave the impression of a dirty scoundrel or a snake in the grass. How could he have missed it before? Usually his instincts were right on.

"You have only a few minutes to tell me why you needed to see me. I'm a very busy man."

Kincaid ran his palm down dirty jeans, and then scratched his stubble of reddish-brown beard, stalling. "I came to ask for my job back."

Chance wanted to laugh at the man's words but he kept a poker face. Did Kincaid actually believe he would consider doing something so ludicrous?

"Apparently I didn't make myself clear when I fired you. I can't have anyone working for me who can't follow simple rules, and on top of this, you put my horse at risk." Chance's voice broke through tight lips, low and unyielding.

"I had a feeling you'd say no."

"And you still came?"

"Had to give it a shot."

Chance slid his shoulders forward and placed his elbows on the surface of his desk. "You did, now it's time to leave." His blood began to simmer.

"I'm not finished." The young man seemed to age by twenty years. Deep lines appeared around his eyes and his mouth. His brow moistened with sweat.

Chance only had so much patience. The heat turned up in a notch in his gut because of the asshole sitting across from him. "You're finished." Part way out of the chair, the other man's words stopped him.

"I've only started."

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"You're not the one who has the power in this situation, Taylor," Kincaid said without an ounce of humiliation.

Chance sat down easily. "You've got bigger balls than I would have guessed, but balls don't account for brain substance, that's apparent." He rocked back into his seat. "I'm gathering by the sweat on your brow and the quiver in your jaw that you have something to say. I hope you spit it out before you piss your pants and get it on my floor."

"You're a lucky guy, Chance Taylor. You have a nice home, a lucrative ranch, and a fucking hot wife. Oh, but that's right, she's not your wife."

Chance jumped up and the force sent the chair rearing back, striking the wall in a loud thump. He came around the corner of his desk in two quick strides and had the collar of Kincaid's shirt in his tight grip. He jerked the smaller man out of the chair and onto his feet. "Shall I throw you out or would you like to save some dignity and walk out?"

Chance let go of his shirt and watched Kincaid's thin frame plunge backward. The man saved himself from falling with a flapping of skinny arms. He wasn't finished. He straightened his shirt and cocked his chin. His eyes glossed over.

"Do you want to listen to what I have to say or should I go straight to Carly McAllister and explain it to her?"

Something snapped and it bled all the way to Chance's core. He knew, whether he liked it or not, he'd have to tolerate this bastard another few minutes. "You have two minutes and time starts now." Chance shoved his fists into his pockets, anything to keep from busting Kincaid's chops.

"I know the story, Taylor. Your wife took a topple, woke up, and didn't remember that she got rid of you a long time ago. I bet she'd be pissed if she got wind that good ol' perfect Chance Taylor lied to keep her pussy in his bed." Kincaid sniffed arrogantly. "Hey, I didn't say I blame you. Who could? If she screws like she looks and walks I'd lie too." Kincaid laughed at his own repulsive joke.

Chance repeated a silent mantra, demanding the tight muscles in his body to relax. He needed to remember Kincaid was nothing more than a piece of shit looking to get a rise. Chance wouldn't give the slime the satisfaction. He knew how to deal with the likes of trash like Kincaid. "How much do you want?"

"I like the sound of those words." Kincaid didn't even have the decency to act surprised by the question.

"Time is running out," Chance stated on a sneer.

Kincaid took the warning to heart. He wasted no time. "I did some calculating and came up with a fair price. My annual salary doubled sounds reasonable." He didn't even appear to be slightly ashamed.

Chance didn't hesitate. He moved behind his desk, pulled out the company checks, and wrote an amount. He ripped it from the book and tossed it across his desk, sending the piece of paper floating to the floor. Kincaid wasted no time grabbing it up with greedy hands.

"Nice doing business with you, Taylor," Kincaid said through a wide smile. "It's not true what they say about you. You are very sensible."

"Listen and listen well." Chance pressed his palms onto the top of the desk, leaning forward. "There is no more where that came from. You come near Carly or the ranch again I'll see that your ass is behind bars for extortion. Nothing would make me happier."

Kincaid gave him a mock salute before quickly exiting the office.

* * * *

Carly inhaled the pungent smell of straw that drifted on the breeze as she walked toward the barn. The musical clip-clopping of a horse's hooves brought her attention across the distance of the lush field. Chance rode his horse in her direction. The smooth rhythm of his body straddling Devil made Carly appreciate how sexy, masculine, and handsome her husband was.

He slid off the horse, handed the reins over to one of the hands, and headed toward Carly by the fence. "Hi, beautiful." He kissed her fully on the lips.

"Did you have a nice ride?"

"I did. I wish you would have come along."

"I must have a virus." She swept a hand through her hair. "My stomach's still queasy."

"You look good enough to eat." His eyes slid over her in admiration. "I'm glad to see you smiling again."

How could she not smile when looking at her wonderful, caring husband? Carly reached out and grasped his shirt, tugging him closer. Breathing in his outdoorsy, musk scent, the smell titillated her every sense. He rewarded her with a tilted smile and pressed her back into the wooden fence. "Can we stay in this spot forever?"

"Fine with me. We'll have the boys build a shelter over our heads and we'll be set." He bent his head to kiss her neck.

Dropping her head back onto one shoulder, she relished his contact with the sensitive skin of her collarbone and throat. She dug her fingers into his chest, through the material of his shirt, letting the feeling of the moment take control.

He laid his hand on her lower back and his warmth spread like honey through her T-shirt. With the other hand, he trailed a finger along the bold lettering across the front. "Is that right?"

She laughed. Her shirt read, _I Belong to a Cowboy._ "You betcha."

Sweeping his fingers through her hair, he gently brought her in for a kiss hot enough to boil water. When he lifted his head, she stared up at him, breathless.

"I know there must have been a reason why I waited here for you, besides your kiss and touch." She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You've made me forget."

"Admit it, Carly, you came out here to tease me with that knockout body and helluva smile." He slid his hand down her spine and attached his palm to her backside encased in worn jeans.

"I remember now." She pulled back. "My cellphone isn't working."

"It's not?"

"I'm not sure how long it's been on the fritz. Since the accident, I haven't been thinking much of anything. I found it in my purse and charged the battery, but it's still dead."

"I'll get you another. Promise."

"I guess it's no hurry. It's nice keeping the world outside of our bubble a bit longer." When he started kissing her neck again, she gently pushed him backward. "Slow down there, cowboy. I promised Thelma I'd help her make lunch for the crew. If I don't show up, she'll send a posse after me. She's so protective these days."

"Thelma can manage. She's used to not having help."

Carly blinked and stepped out of his reach. "What are you saying, Chance?"

"I wasn't saying anything." He scrubbed the dusting of beard on his chin.

"Remember when we had this discussion before?"

"No."

"I warned you before we got married that I couldn't cook, and I didn't like to. People can't change overnight, but at least I'm making progress."

He ran a hand through his hair. "And I meant it when I said I didn't care if you ever stepped foot in the kitchen. Have I ever complained before?"

"You haven't." She stepped forward and laid her palm against his warm cheek. "I'm on edge lately. When will you be in?"

"Give me an hour. I've got to talk to Duke."

"Don't take too long." She walked away, but stopped and turned back to him. "I thought a nice bubble bath—" She saw his brow shoot up and she quivered. "—for two."

"How do you expect me to concentrate after that?"

She shot him a smile. "You'll manage."

* * * *

Chance watched her walk back toward the house and his heart slammed into the pit of his stomach. He didn't like lying and he certainly didn't like playing charades.

"You look like the boy who lost his puppy dog."

Chance didn't remove his gaze from Carly until she disappeared through the front door of the house. He turned toward Duke with a frown. "Worse. I'm a man who's swimming upstream without a life jacket."

Duke leaned against the wooden fence. "You knew this wasn't going to be easy, pal." He rubbed his chin. "It never is where women are concerned."

Chance looked out into the pasture where the horses grazed. "I have to tell her the truth, Duke."

"Nothin' wrong with following your instinct, I suppose," Duke stated.

"Yeah, I guess not." He sighed. "How do you tell a woman that everything she thinks is fact isn't?"

He'd never been good at comforting Carly. He seemed to always say the wrong things. When they'd lost Devon the dynamics of their relationship changed. He'd been in control one day and then everything altered.

After the funeral, Carly seemed to give up. She had slept the first few months away, and every time he'd try to comfort her, she'd push him away. Once they got through those earliest months, she obscured herself behind a facade. She pretended everything was okay. She lost herself in her work, but wouldn't look at him, not like a woman who loved him.

Six months later, their marriage had been on the edge of an abyss. One horrible evening he came in from a long day at the ranch. They had lost a handful of cattle, a storm had torn the roof off one of the barns, and ten other small things weighed on his shoulders.

On top of all the troubles that pressured him, the biggest one, he had missed his wife.

They had lost a child, their child conceived out of love, and they were fighting instead of consoling one another. He had needed her, and he had no doubt, she had needed him.

That particular evening, tired and diminished, he'd decided he was finished keeping his mouth quiet around Carly. He knew it was long past a heart-to-heart. Yet Carly wasn't having it.

An argument ensued. She hadn't said the words specifically, but she blamed him for Devon's death, not the heart condition, but signing the papers to have his machines turned off.

Hell, maybe he had blamed himself. He started second-guessing his decision. Maybe they hadn't explored every option and channel to keep him alive.

He buried his face into his palm and sighed.

Duke cleared his throat, bringing Chance's head back up.

"I saw Lila," Duke disclosed.

Chance nodded. "I bet you did. You have radar in your head that alerts you when she's in the vicinity. She's been around a lot lately," he teased. "You'd think after all this time you'd either admit you're still crazy for her or find someone else who can tolerate you."

Duke's face remained blank. "I was an idiot for breaking things off with her."

"You're only now realizing that?" Chance rolled a shoulder. "Talk about your mistakes."

Duke slid him a grim expression. "Yeah, she wasn't thinking when she got involved with me. She should have known better."

"That's not what I meant by mistake." Chance replied solemnly. "Breaking up with her was a mistake."

"She needs a house with a white picket fence, two kids with one in the oven and a supportive husband. Last I checked, I wasn't cut out for any of those things. When she started talking children I knew I had to make my escape."

"You despise the thought of kids that much?" Chance asked with a shake of his head.

"No, kids wouldn't be bad, but I'd end up being a screw-up. I didn't have a parental role model to hand down the skills to be a good parent."

Chance leaned his elbows against the top board of the fence and cocked a booted foot on the bottom. "I remember you hanging out at the Swift Wind most days, and once while we were playing out by the old barn, you told me we were like brothers. You said my father was your substitute dad." He looked at Duke's profile. "He thought of you like a second son. So I'd say you had a great role model."

Duke laughed. "Yeah, I guess you got me there."

"We've been a coupla fools, haven't we?"

Duke pushed the brim of his Stetson farther up his forehead. "At least you have been given a second chance, cowboy. I haven't told you—or anyone—but I'm sleeping with Lila again." He ran his hand over his hair. "Problem is, I'm in love with her, and she doesn't want anything from me except what's behind my zipper."

"A sex-only relationship. Most men would be euphoric." Chance laughed. "Got to be more than just that keeping her hanging around though." Chance ribbed him goodheartedly.

"Hey, what can I say? When you got it, you got it, and I guess I do." Duke held up his hands in a motion of defeat.

Chance didn't argue. "I need you to do me a huge favor, friend."

"What is it?"

"I've hired Dan Steele to follow Martin Kincaid and look into what makes him tick. I need you to run our employment file on Kincaid over to his office." He could trust Steele. They were good friends and he'd done some investigative work for Chance in the past.

Duke's eyes narrowed. "No problem. I thought you paid Kincaid what he asked?"

"I did." Chance stepped back from the fence. "I have a feeling I haven't seen the last of this asshole. He may try to reach Carly for spite. If I can dig up something it may give me more leverage."

"Why don't you warn her about Kincaid?"

Chance looked out into the pasture. The sun started to set and the evening turned golden. Why did it feel like things were stacking up against him? "And tell her what? She'll know there's more to the story than a disgruntled ranch hand that wants revenge."

"You're right. And I guess I should keep this from Lila?"

"Not a word."

Duke nodded. "Gotcha."

Chance walked into the kitchen an hour later and found Carly peeling an apple. She looked dangerously absorbed in using the sharp knife to cut the red skin. The tip of her tongue darted out and slid across her bottom lip. Unknowingly, she pulled it back between her teeth, nibbling at the corner of her mouth.

Her chestnut hair, sun-streaked in gold, framed her cheeks. His eyes slid to the firm, round shape of her breasts. Was it his imagination or did they look fuller?

His heart tightened with a sensation that left him breathless. Damn, he loved her with every cell of his body. He couldn't lose her again.

* * * *

The hairs on Carly's neck stood up and her skin tingled. She looked up and Chance stood in the doorway watching her. Self-conscious, she dropped the apple and knife to sweep a hand over her hair and down her flour-dusted shirt.

His eyes, olive green and bright, glinted and a tingle shimmied down her spine. The feeling spread like molten lava from her stomach to her sexual organs. "Hi." Her voice cracked from emotion.

"Hi."

"How long have you been standing there?" She lifted a brow.

"Long enough to know that I'm the luckiest man in Texas."

She blushed at his compliment. "Thelma went to deliver the sack lunches to the men and I told her I'd help by peeling these apples. I'm sure if I make it out with all of my fingers still attached, I'll have accomplished something spectacular."

He strode toward her, his eyes smoldering, heating her skin with the passion.

He touched her chin with a feathered stroke of his thumb. His knuckle grazed her skin so gently that her pulse points teetered on red alert. She wanted his hands on her, over her, everywhere.

He popped a piece of apple into his mouth and said with a trace of roughness to his voice, "Delicious." His eyes remained on her with covert intention. Ripples of hunger trickled through her veins.

"They are sweet." She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. How could her husband still make her giddy like a teenager?

"Yes, very sweet, but I wasn't referring to the apples."

She gripped the side of the counter tightly. "Are you finished for the day?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Dr. Maxwell called?" He pointed to the note written in Thelma's writing. An elephant magnet held the paper to the refrigerator.

"Yeah, he called a week ago." Seeing his confusion, she explained with a smile. "Thelma forgot to give me the message until this morning. The chaos around here has everyone forgetful."

His exhale brushed against her cheek. "Good thing I have my own private phone. Who knows what important calls I'd miss."

"No harm." She shrugged and lowered her eyes to the forgotten apple, playing with the partially cut peel with the tip of her finger. "In fact, it had slipped my mind that I had labs done."

He reached inside her shirt, skimming his fingers over her skin and along her stomach. He dropped a kiss on her collarbone, her chest and his touch almost made it to the swell of her breast when she said, "We need to talk."

His head came up in screeching awareness. "No one ever says that phrase unless they are about to deliver bad news."

"You sound afraid," she stated curiously.

"I did have other things on my mind besides talking," he admitted.

She laid her hands against his shoulders, but didn't push him away. "If you keep doing that I won't be able to speak."

He stopped and she carried on in a raspy voice. "Since the accident I haven't...well, I haven't been visited by the monthly service." His confused expression made her grin.

"A visitor?" He blinked and frowned.

She nodded. "The monthly visitor." At first, he looked baffled, and then his eyes widened in understanding.

"Your period?"

"Yeah, you get it." She shot him a thumbs-up.

"You haven't had it?"

"Let's get past that." Her stomach twisted and turned. "We talked about the Pill and a baby at The Riverwalk."

"We talked, but we haven't decided yet," he added, tapping the tip of her nose with the pad of his forefinger.

She shook her head, sending her hoop earrings swinging. "I...uhh, I'm not sure I was still taking the Pill before the tumble down the stairs, remember? With Father dying we haven't discussed the issue in weeks."

"Okay, so what were the results of the lab work?"

"That's the problem."

"If your blood shows you're not physically ready, have Dr. Maxwell write you a prescription for the Pill. We wouldn't want you to get sick." He rubbed her lower back with his fingers.

"Nope, can't do that," she said quietly. Her skin grew clammy.

"Can't do that?"

Was he going to keep robotically repeating everything she said? "That would be considered shutting the gate after the cows are out." He looked like he might fall to the floor if she gave him the slightest push. "I'm pregnant."

His jaw tightened.

A memory flashed in her mind. A moment of déjà vu or coincidence. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she had the strangest feeling they'd done this before. She stood in the kitchen telling him she was pregnant. His reaction was completely different then—excited, happy. And now he looked like he could toss his cookies.

She felt nausea turn her stomach.

She raced to the bathroom and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. Hot bile rose in her throat. The contents of her stomach emptied into the basin.

A second later Chance stood at her side, helping her up and handing her a cold, moist cloth. "You okay?" Concern evident in the thin set of his lips.

She nodded. "Give me a second here."

He didn't leave her. He waited on her while she washed her face, rinsed her mouth and flushed the commode.

Holding her elbow, he led her to the kitchen table and she sat in one of the wooden chairs. He dropped to one knee in front of her. "Are you certain?"

"I called Dr. Maxwell's office and he told me the news. I wasn't sure if there had been a mistake. So I took five home tests and each and every one showed two lines."

"Maybe two means not pregnant."

Apparently, his nerves clouded his logical thought process. "I read the directions. It's pretty cut-and-dried. You pee on the stick and you wait five minutes. Repeat with stick number two and so on, you get the idea."

"Aren't you supposed to do the testing in the morning?"

Looking at him through her lashes, she blinked. "Chance, trust me, I did everything exactly as I should have. And the blood work shows I'm pregnant." The sting of disappointment filled her heart. "Are you hoping there's a chance I made a mistake and got false results?"

"No." A smile broke out over his face, but it quickly disappeared. "How do you feel?"

"We've talked about having children, and honestly, I'm ecstatic, Chance. A big part of me is nervous, but maybe because I'm anticipating your feelings." She sipped a deep breath into her lungs and exhaled slowly. "I know you weren't sure we should get pregnant with my memory loss."

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm tenderly. "Darlin', the only thing I could imagine being more spectacular than having you in my life is adding a child, our child, to the mix."

Burying her fingers through his thick hair, Carly's eyes misted with unshed tears as she gazed at her husband with complete love. "I wish Father could be here to offer advice and see his grandchild. He would be so happy," she said through a sob.

"Yes, he would be. Wow, a baby."

"A baby," she repeated in an astonished tone.

Carrying a child opened a new chapter of their lives.

Chapter Seventeen

THE RAIN PELTED down in marble-sized droplets. Carly raced from her car up the stone pathway. Stepping onto the covered porch of the McAllister, she swiped a hand over her sopping hair and face, and wrung out the hem of her shirt.

Chilled to the bone, her clothes were drenched. The temperature had dropped by at least twenty degrees since she left the Swift Wind. Goose bumps popped out over every inch of her body and her bottom lip quivered.

Carly reached for the front door and a solid thud caught her attention. Lightning shot through the sky, illuminating the silhouette of a man standing by the railing.

Focusing, she slanted her gaze. The shadow moved from the corner toward her. The dim light from the overhead globe caught his face in its glow. She sucked in a sharp breath as realization washed over her. She dropped her hand from the door handle and grew still.

The fired ranch hand who broke her potted Hosta plant stood ten feet from her. His dangerous, cold eyes glistened from the flash of lightning that lit the sky.

What was he doing at the McAllister?

"Martin Kincaid, right?" she asked.

He took a step toward her. His long damp hair clung to his head in clumps, and several days stubble covered his chin. His hands were held in tight fists at his sides.

She wondered how he'd gotten through the locked gate. She shot a look over her shoulder toward the drive. It was too dark to see now, but she knew there was no vehicle in the driveway.

"You remember me." He moved quickly across the remaining stretch of distance between them, the boards creaked underneath the weight of his boots. Within inches of her, a smile spread over his boyish features, but didn't soften his angry eyes. "I thought you had forgotten."

Uneasiness crept up her spine. What did he mean?

She hoped he didn't think he could persuade her into convincing Chance to hire him back.

"You shouldn't be here." She started for the door again, but he snatched her wrist with a cold hand. His fingers were razor sharp. She flung around on him. Irritation and alarm escalated inside her. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be startled. I waited for the right time, when Chance wasn't around, so we could meet. Just like before."

She tried jerking away, but his viselike grip held her. When she tugged again, he sniffed loudly and loosened his clutch. Carly broke free and touched the sore flesh.

"You have five seconds to get the hell off my property before I call the police." She reached into her purse and withdrew her cellphone for good measure. Too bad it didn't work. Her only option was to call from the landline, that is if she could get into the house.

He snorted. "And tell them what? That your lover came for a visit?"

She gasped and he tilted his head, grinning widely. He appeared to get off on her bewilderment.

"I wonder what Chance would say if he knew you were slipping out of his bed to slide into mine."

The breath swooshed from Carly's chest. Dizziness washed over her at his words.

Looking up into his dark eyes, she shivered. Cold, heartless orbs stared at her.

"He'd have a lot to say after he wiped that disgusting smirk off your face. If you're here to find a way back into the Swift Wind, you've slithered up to the wrong doorstep."

He touched her cheek and she slapped his hand away. "Oh baby, how can you treat me this way? I thought what we had was perfect. At least, that's what you always said our relationship was."

Carly took a quick step back. What drugs and alcohol had this lunatic taken? "I don't know what game you're playing. I have never, and _would never_ , sleep with a man like you." Nausea rippled through her. "Time is up..."

Pushing her key into the lock, she froze when he stepped behind her, pulling her body hard against his. He buried his face into her neck. When he spoke, she could smell the sickening stench of sour whiskey on his breath.

"I'll forgive you for saying such a hurtful thing. After all, you bumped your head and lost the best memories." He reached and clumsily grabbed one breast, flicking her nipple through the damp shirt with the tip of his thumb.

"Your body betrays your mouth, Carly. What does your pussy say?" He dropped a hand to the crotch of her jeans and squeezed.

Bile rose in Carly's throat. She twisted her thigh and forced his hand away.

She wasn't sure what the foolish man thought he'd gain in showing up here and bullying her into believing his insanity. He was lying—of course. He had picked the wrong girl to con.

Turning around, she said in a smooth tone, "Best memories, huh? This certainly will be one of my best."

A cunning smile curved his mouth. A second later, the smile thinned and his eyes widened to the size of plums when her knee landed hard into his crotch.

He bent at the waist, cupping his wounded body part. His deep moan sliced through the night like the crack of a pistol. "You bitch! You fucking bitch!"

"Get off my property," she said through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to tell Chance everything, you little slut." His words were barely a whisper while he grasped his zipper. "You have no idea who you are messing with." He forced his words through tight lips and spittle flew out of his mouth. "I'm going to turn your world upside down if you don't give me what I'm after."

"It'd take more than a sleazy con artist like you to convince my husband of anything. He knows I'd never stoop so low to look your way, let alone touch you." She shook her head, looking upon his pained expression in satisfaction.

She hurried, putting the key in the lock, but she didn't get far as his next words made her stop and listen.

"How many people know about the birthmark?"

Her spine stiffened, but she didn't give him the benefit of looking back.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." He finally managed to straighten. "How else would I know unless I saw it for myself?"

Carly rushed through the door, slammed it shut and bolted it. She sat on the floor and cried. No way could he be telling the truth. She'd never sink so low, _never_.

True, she had lost memories, but she loved Chance and would never have an affair.

How could he know she had the red birthmark on her inner right thigh?

How could he have known?

No one knew about the mark except for her parents and Chance.

There was a reason, a logical one, besides the outrageous idea that she slept with him.

The man was a snake, a con artist, up to no good.

Did he want money?

If he did, she believed she hadn't seen the last of him.

Grabbing the nearest phone from the desk in her father's office, Carly dialed a familiar number. When answered, she said in a rushed voice, "I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Maxwell. It's an emergency."

Chapter Eighteen

CHANCE THREW THE last bale of hay onto the tall stack against the wall and stopped long enough to shoot a tense look at Leslie across the shadows of the barn.

She looked at him in apprehension and hooked her thumbs into her front pockets.

The horses interrupted the silence with soft nickers and growls.

Leslie had asked if she could speak to him. With hesitation, Chance agreed. He certainly sensed a sliver of guilt when it came to the situation. However, Leslie knew better than anyone that Carly never left his heart.

Leslie's shoulders relaxed. "Why are you avoiding me?"

He stopped working, threw off his gloves, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Duke explained the situation to you—"

She threw up a slender hand to stop his words. "Duke shouldn't have to explain anything to me." Her aqua-colored pupils grew dark green.

"You're right. I should have called."

"After everything, I'm not angry. I knew from the very start that you were using me for the ears attached to my body. You needed someone you could talk to. I hoped that eventually you'd be noticing other parts of my anatomy. But I guess in truth, I just needed someone to listen also."

No one could accuse her of beating around the bush or mincing words. He certainly had noticed her physical features a time or two, yet it'd never gone further than looking.

He couldn't help but give her the complete truth in return. "I've always loved Carly and I always will."

The smile on her lips didn't quite reach her eyes. "She's one lucky girl. I hope she realizes that," she stated with a quick shake of her head. "I guess I held on to a wish that you'd tell me this crazy scenario with her is only temporary. After she got her memory back, she'd be out the door and I'd be invited back." She smirked. "Now that I said it aloud I realize how foolish it sounds."

"I'll never stop loving her. She will always be the one for me." He hated seeing the hurt on Leslie's face, but this wasn't the time to start lying to her.

"We both have been hurt and I think that's what drew us together. The pain and disappointment of the past." Leslie lowered her eyes and scuffed the toe of her boot across the hay-strewn floor. "I think under the circumstances it's best I don't come back here, or the McAllister for that matter. Will you tell Carly?"

"I will."

A deep sense of relief mixed with remorse washed over Chance. He hated losing Leslie as a vet. She was a damn good one, but he knew he had no other choice. He could find another vet.

When he thought she'd be on her lovely way, Leslie surprised him by striding across the dirt floor and planting an unexpected kiss on his cheek, whispering, "Take care of yourself, my friend." Chance didn't respond, and that should have been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

Chance heard the gasp and his heart slammed against his chest. _Oh hell!_

He glanced past Leslie and straight into the heated, narrowed gaze of Carly.

Chance responded without hesitation. He brushed past Leslie and darted toward Carly who marched up the grassy knoll toward the house.

Chance caught up to her, grabbed her shoulder gently and pulled her back. "Carly, wait. It's not what you think."

She twisted around and looked at him in revulsion. "Not what I think? _Unbelievable._ Do you think I've lost my eyesight along with parts of my memory? I saw her kissing you, Chance. I'm not up on the modern system of ranching, but when did kissing become a benefit of an employee?"

"Damn, Carly, I don't kiss anyone but you."

"I knew there was a reason why you didn't tell me you hired her. I should have known the second you called her by her first name you were up to something." She continued toward the house at a faster pace.

"Leslie and I are only friends," he said.

She stomped a few steps, but stopped abruptly. He saw tears filling her eyes. She spoke through a thick sob. "Chance, why is it that even after seeing that—" She aimed a finger toward the barn. "I still want to believe there's a viable excuse? I believe what you're telling me. I have no doubt that you've been loyal to me."

"You're right, Carly. I've been loyal to you all along." Damn, she had to believe him.

She swiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. "I know that something hasn't been right since my accident. You've been keeping something from me. Hell, everyone's been keeping something from me. Am I losing my mind?"

"No, you're not losing your mind."

She looked at him through a veil of wet lashes. "There's something terribly wrong, isn't there?"

"Yes. Let's go into the house and I'll explain everything." He reached for her hand and she pulled away.

"No, Chance. Tell me here, tell me now," she demanded.

To make circumstances worse, the sky opened up and let loose another downpour.

Chance slammed a hand through his now sopping wet hair. "You fell down the stairs and suffered from amnesia. Dr. Maxwell said it's the type where recent memories are wiped clean, but the past is still intact." He realized she knew this part. She still listened so he continued. "You awoke from the accident thinking this is four years ago."

"Four years?"

"A lot has changed in the last four years."

"Changed? How have things changed? Please don't tell me that you and Leslie are having an affair?"

"Leslie and I are not having an affair. I promise."

Thunder cracked the sky and she jumped. He noticed her shivering limbs.

"Let's go inside," he urged. She refused.

"No, Chance. I have something to tell you. I can't wait another second."

"Okay." The rain came down hard and he attempted to wipe it from his eyes. It was useless.

"Do you have reason to believe that I've been having an affair? Could it be possible?"

He hesitated. "An affair? With whom?"

The words were barely out when lightning struck a nearby tree. Chance pulled her close and led her toward the house. It wouldn't do them any good to die before they worked things out.

Inside, he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs into the master bedroom. "Poor baby," he whispered the sweet words into her ear. "We've got to get these clothes off." He proceeded to pull her clinging shirt over her head. He unsnapped the soaking bra and unzipped her shorts. They slid right off her legs. She stepped out of the puddle of soggy clothes and stood there in only her panties. She looked like a drowned nymph.

"I'll be right back," he said, heading into the adjoining bathroom.

* * * *

Carly listened. The water turned on in the shower. A few minutes seemed to pass and he returned, naked and gloriously handsome. She couldn't help herself. She swept her hungry gaze along broad shoulders, toned abs and long legs.

She steadied her attention on his plum-colored erection peeking from the black patch of crisp, curly hair. She stared, amazed. It tripled in length.

"Naughty girl." He covered the distance between them. Her arms crossed, she attempted to control the shivering. "We can't think of anything else until you are warm."

When he lifted her, she molded against his warmth, cradling into his muscular, secure frame. Her temperature went up and a dewy heat throbbed at the apex of her thighs. She wanted nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, but he wouldn't have it.

He set her easily into the steamy spray of water. "Mmm, feels good," she said in a throaty tone, enjoying the feel of the water falling over her chilled skin.

When he joined her, she slowly turned to look at him, her eyes glazed with sentiment.

"Better?" His breath swept across her cheek.

"Not quite." She wasn't ready for the truth. What she needed was Chance to hold her, to show her his love. "But right now, I don't want to talk. I want to feel." She reached between their bodies and circled his erection with her fingers. He moaned and she smiled. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Better than good. A pure slice of heaven," he mumbled.

She gently pushed him a step back and switched places with him so that his back was positioned toward the water. She dropped to her knees at his feet, and with one hand still clutching his cock, she guided him into her mouth.

There was something insanely erotic in having her man in her mouth while watching waves of pleasure sweep across his face. She wanted to please him. She wanted him to feel amazing.

She slid her tongue down the pulsing vein along his entire length, then swirled her tongue around the head, before taking him deep, deeper. She suckled and licked until he moaned, his fingers buried in her drenched, tangled hair, gently tugging her. He moved himself in and out.

Ecstasy rushed through her.

"I...can't...wait...any...longer." Each word came on an exhale of breath. "Now, Carly." He tucked his hands underneath her arms and lifted her.

Carly wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the tiled wall. The ceramic cooled her heated skin.

Her senses heightened and his touch seeped into her soul. "Chance."

"I'm here, baby. I'm here," he whispered in her ear, positioning himself against the entrance of her moist heat, and drove himself deep inside of her.

He filled her with his strength. She dug her fingers into his back, clinging to him, riding him, moaning in pleasure. He suckled her breasts, teasing her nipples between his teeth. He cupped her buttocks so he could drive harder and faster and she held on in bliss.

He penetrated her deeply, filling every part of her dripping passage with his steely maleness.

With each thrust, climax drew closer. He buried his hand between their bodies and found her clit with the tip of a finger. One flick, she moaned. Two flicks, she stiffened. Three flicks of his finger across the most sensitive part of her and she flew on a cloud of complete, mind-blowing orgasm.

Chance buried himself deeper and emptied his seed into her body.

Chapter Nineteen

SEX IN THE bathroom was amazing, but once hadn't been enough. After repositioning their bodies, with Chance sitting on the edge of the tub with her straddling him, they made love slowly. After what they shared in the shower, her body ached, blissfully so. It had taken all their energy to climb out and drag their bodies into the bedroom to drop onto the bed.

Carly lay next to Chance with her head tucked against his shoulder. His fingers were buried in her damp hair.

A dark cloud loomed over them.

Carly knew it was time to resume their discussion. She'd delayed the inevitable long enough.

She played with the small patch of hair on his chest, gently pulling the springy hair. "Chance, I wish we could go on like we have. I know it's time I've heard what you've tried to protect me from."

"Yeah." The word rumbled in his chest.

"But first I have to tell you something." She lifted herself up on elbow so she could look at him. She told him all about Kincaid's visit. She'd expected his explosion, but it never came. Her biggest question was to come. "Chance, remember what I asked you earlier?"

He swept her hair back from her cheek. He started to say something, but the phone rang, interrupting the moment like the piercing wail of a tornado alarm.

His eyes met hers.

"Go ahead, Chance. Answer it," she said.

He grabbed his cell and spoke urgently. "Yes. I'll meet you at your office. I'll see you then." When he hung up, she noticed the change in him. His jaw tensed and his eyes were dark. He looked everywhere, but directly at her.

"Chance, are you okay?" Her curiosity bubbled over.

He shot her a quick glance and got up from bed. "That was Dan Steele. He needs to speak with me." He slid on a pair of jeans and a solid black T-shirt that clung to his every muscle like a second skin. Any other time she'd be mesmerized by his good looks, but now instinct told her she should be concerned.

Apprehension washed through her. "Dan Steele? Isn't he the PI you hired several years back?" Suddenly feeling exposed, she pulled the sheet up to cover her nudity.

"Yeah, that's him. I hired him regarding business with the ranch." He ran a hand through his hair, and stopped at the end of the bed. "Don't worry. I'll only be a short time and we'll talk."

Her heart sank, yet she knew Chance wouldn't leave her unless important business called. Still, she wished he'd stayed.

She dropped back onto the pillows when he left, enveloped in the silence. The events of the day rushed through her mind as she tried to make since of the chaos.

After her unexpected meeting with Martin Kincaid yesterday, painful questions tormented her and the uncertainty suffocated her. She came back to the Swift Wind, grateful for the first time to find Chance working until late. She couldn't face him, not with the doubt rolling around in her head.

Thankfully, Dr. Maxwell saw her today.

Doc Maxwell didn't ask many questions. She had requested, with great vagueness, his help in narrowing down a due date for her baby. She didn't believe for a second that Kincaid's story held truth, or that a slightest possibility remained that the child she carried was not Chance's. She loved her husband and had no recollection of having an affair.

Absurd.

Kincaid was a snake. He used her to get back at Chance. She still couldn't deny it opened up a pool of suspicion.

She knew she carried Chance's baby, knew it to the center of her bones, but she also knew something wasn't right. She needed her memory back. She needed to know what Chance was keeping from her.

Thanks to modern technology, Doc Maxwell performed an ultrasound and gave her an idea when she'd conceived. The day she got pregnant was within a day or two of her accident.

She couldn't have conceived the week after the incident. She and Chance hadn't been intimate. Conception would have happened prior.

Her memories were disorganized and blurred. Carly's head ached in confusion. She pressed her fingers into her temples and applied firm pressure. Frizzled lines erupted behind her closed lids. When they faded, she opened her eyes.

How could she have forgotten most of the last four years? Not every memory was missing. She knew some things, she was certain.

What were the things her mind didn't want to remember?

She got up from the bed, pulled on a pair of sweats and shirt, and headed downstairs. She started toward the kitchen and the light filtering into the hallway from Chance's office pulled her toward the open doorway. She stopped at the entryway and peered in. Nothing seemed amiss.

Starting to switch off the light, something caught her attention.

Chance had forgotten his cellphone.

She picked it up, flipped it open, and read the screen. _One missed call. One new voicemail._ The name displayed across the front made her grow cold.

The missed call came from Leslie Bakerfield.

She knew she shouldn't be jealous. However, she wasn't an idiot either. After seeing the other woman kissing her husband, she intended to fire her from the McAllister and felt certain that Chance would let her go from the Swift Wind.

Couldn't Miss Bakerfield find her own man and leave the married ones alone?

She had the right mind to call her and tell her to keep her claws out of her husband.

Why did she call anyway?

Kissing him wasn't enough and now she had to lure him in over the telephone? If she thought for a minute Carly was the type to sit back and allow this to happen, the other woman had lost all grip of reality.

She pressed the listen button--

"I'm calling to apologize, Chance. I hope you worked it out with Carly. I'm not a home wrecker. Fact is, you two are no longer married, but it seems that's where you're heading. If Carly gets her memory back and decides she still can't stand the ground you walk on, you know where I'll be."

The phone went dead. Carly's heart went still.

Chapter Twenty

CHANCE BLEW INTO the parking lot in front of Steele's office in downtown San Antonio. He killed the engine, but didn't make a move to get out. He shouldn't have come. Guilt ate at him from the moment he walked out of the bedroom leaving Carly lying in their bed. Her blue eyes had drilled through him. She needed answers.

Carly deserved the answers. Every time he started to tell her the truth, something stopped him.

He couldn't go back to the way things were before Carly lost her memory. He couldn't bear to lose her, not again. Not when he loved her and she carried their unborn child.

He slid out of the driver's side and went through the door into Steele's office. The black-haired man sat behind his desk, his booted feet relaxed on the corner. A pile of files reached a foot high and Steel seemed to disappear behind the clutter.

Chance shut the door and said gruffly, "You said you needed to see me right away. What does this have to do with Carly?"

Steele tossed a thick file across the desk at Chance. He sat and opened the folder. What the hell?

Chance's eyes were fixated on the pictures. They were dark and obviously taken with a night-vision camera. Two fuzzy figures were barely visible, but his gut instinct told him who the occupants of the photo were.

"The shot was difficult. It was dark and raining sheets. Damn lightning kept flashing, causing the pictures to come out distorted," Steele explained.

"You said Kincaid met Carly at the McAllister?" Chance sounded calm, belying the fact that his insides turned to granite.

"It appeared that way." Steele dropped his feet to the floor with a loud thud. "I followed Kincaid to the McAllister. He parked along the road, used a key to unlock the gate and walked in. A few minutes later, Carly's Toyota pulled in. She didn't bother to lock the gate behind her, that's how I was able to walk in and get the pictures." He sighed heavily and continued. "I couldn't get close enough to hear what was exchanged, but they stood on the porch for ten minutes and well..." He nodded to the pictures Chance held tightly. "You see the photos."

Yeah _,_ Chance could see the photos. It appeared that Kincaid and Carly stood in an intimate pose. He learned long ago, jumping to conclusions without the full story led to nothing but trouble in the end.

He knew Carly. He trusted her.

She'd never sink to Kincaid's level.

Kincaid was a son of a bitch who had no morals and values. It became clear what Kincaid tried to pull.

He didn't need to speak to Carly to get a good sense for what happened during her meeting with Kincaid.

Now he understood why she asked if it were possible she had an affair. He had blown it off as nothing more than her memory playing tricks, filing itself back into her archives. He should have listened— _really listened_.

He hadn't wanted to hear because he feared what she would say.

Chance needed to protect Carly at every cost. He wanted to tell her the truth, even if it meant that his ass was cooked. He'd deal with one thing at a time. He had to take his emotions out of the equation and think of Carly.

Pushing the photos back into the yellow folder, he asked Steele, "You said you pulled up some history on Kincaid?"

"An arm's length of priors, buddy. Man's real name is Matt Cleaver. Grew up in a small town in Idaho. It appears conning is his game, the wealthier the better. He is wanted in Ohio for swindling a wealthy widow out of a million. Cleaver would probably have duped her for more but the widow's son got suspicious and did some investigating of his own. Too bad Kincaid got away before the authorities could get him."

Chance grew angrier. Bastard swindled him and who knows how many innocent others. "What do you plan on doing from here?"

Steele shrugged a wide shoulder. "I'm waiting to see what you want to do with the information. We got enough on this jackass to put him behind bars. Need to move quick though before he catches wind and gets the hell out of Dodge."

"I want the asshole's head on a platter."

Steele's laughter made it clear he enjoyed hunting slime.

An hour later, Chance walked into the front door of the house. He knew something was wrong long before he got past the foyer.

He stepped into his office and switched on the light. That's when he saw her. Carly sat on the edge of the chair, eyes red and glossy. She'd been crying.

Taking a step toward her, he heard a crinkling under his boot, and he looked down at the papers scattered on the floor in front of his desk. The strewn papers were a symbol of his misfortune. The day of reckoning had arrived.

He scanned the documents despairingly. Divorce papers, Devon's birth certificate, death certificate, and a letter he hadn't seen before. Harry's neat writing on the McAllister letterhead stared back at him.

His eyes moved to her face. Solemn, fearful, tired. "Carly..."

She lifted a hand to keep him from coming closer.

Carly kept her eyes steady on a spot on the floor. "You didn't even attempt to hide the evidence. You kept these things in a file cabinet right underneath my nose." She swept a hand in the air, encompassing the discarded papers. "Had you hoped I'd stay in the dark forever, never curious?"

"No, Carly."

She lifted her chin, eyes icy and dull. "Why didn't you tell me the truth? The morning you came to the McAllister after I fell. Why didn't you tell me we were no longer married?"

His mind raced. What did she remember? Had all of her memories returned? "Because I didn't want to see you hurt again." What he spoke seemed lousy, but it was the truth.

Her eyes crinkled in the corners. She laughed coldly. "And what do you think I'm feeling now?"

"You're hurt."

"I'm hurt and ashamed." Her words caught on a sob. "How could I have forgotten?"

"What, Carly?" He stepped forward but didn't go to her. He ached to hold her but afraid she might run away.

She lowered her eyes to her shaky hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Devon. How could I have forgotten our son? How could I be such a horrible person to forget our son?"

"You have— _had_ —amnesia, Carly. You didn't forget intentionally."

She didn't seem to hear him. "I forgot him, and I forgot that _we_ no longer exist."

Her words ripped through him like a blast of fire. She slipped through his fingers. He knew it. He felt it. "That's not true, Carly. We do still exist. This last month is proof that we are still in love, that we belong together."

Her eyes came up. "This last month was a lie, Chance."

He winced. "It wasn't a lie."

"Oh, yeah?" Her brow snapped up.

"Is the baby you're carrying a lie?"

Her hand went to her stomach. "You tricked me."

He ripped a hand through his hair. He knew this would happen. Why did he feel unprepared? "Trick you? I may have kept the truth from you, but I did it for your own good." He had no right to be angry, but his blood pressure spiked. Couldn't she see that everything he'd done had been for her?

She sniffed loudly. "Tell me, Chance. Why did you do this? Why did you allow me to believe we are still married, that everything is fine? Were you getting revenge? You've gotten a real kick out of watching me play the fool." She swiped the wetness on her cheeks.

"Carly, this was not revenge. You can't honestly believe that I'd get some form of deceitful high from this. You know me, Carly, better than anyone. Quit pretending that I'm not the same man you fell in love with."

"I've been a fool." She stood up. She seemed to wobble as she reached for the table. He reached out to help her and she sidestepped him. "Everything makes sense now. You were distant because we were no longer together. You didn't want me here."

It killed him to see her like this. He watched helplessly as she marred the chance for a new start.

He wouldn't be in more pain if she'd kicked him in the balls.

And yet, pained as deeply as he was, he still wanted to protect her. "I was distant because I was scared shitless. I didn't want to take advantage of you, of this situation."

She threw up her hands. "And at what point did you decide that lying wasn't taking advantage? Did you feel sorry for the poor girl with memory problems? Did you feel obligated to screw the desperate fool throwing herself at you?"

"Oh hell, Carly."

"Oh hell, Carly?" she repeated in a good version of his tone. "Martin Kincaid approached me. He told me that we—"

"Kincaid is a lying bastard looking for a free ride. He saw his opportunity. I'm sorry you were thrust into the middle of his plot."

She brought her eyes up, meeting his. For a mere second her features softened. "He knew...about things, he knew about my birthmark. I knew deep inside that it couldn't be true, but how did he know?"

His hands tightened into fists. Rage engulfed him. He wanted to hunt down Kincaid and throttle him. "What I think is, he watched us the evening by the pond. You were naked and exposed," he said gently. "A pair of binoculars and a safe tree to hide behind and that's all he needed."

"You knew Kincaid was a threat, didn't you?"

His muscles jerked. "He threatened to tell you the truth about our marriage if I didn't pay him to keep quiet."

"You didn't include me? Warn me?"

"I hired Steele." He wanted to tell her he saw the photos the PI took of her and Kincaid, and he would, but right now, he had bigger fish to fry. "He tagged Kincaid. He uncovered lots of dirt on the man, enough that we can put him away."

"Can you imagine the fear I felt? Can you, Chance?"

"I couldn't tell you about Kincaid unless I told you the entire truth." He had to move fast before she bolted. "I can explain everything now."

"Don't bother." She pushed past him.

He pulled her back with a gentle hand on her elbow. "I'm going to say what's on my mind and you're going to listen."

Her back stiffened and anger flashed through her eyes. "Is that right?"

"Damn right you are. If I have to hog-tie you to the chair and muffle your mouth, you _will_ hear me out." Feeling her relax slightly, he let go of her arm. "If what I wanted was revenge, why have I worked my ass off protecting you from finding out the truth in painful increments? I could have been very dirty. I could have pointed out the missing facts from the get-go and you would have been pounded with the truth, truth you weren't ready to hear. If I didn't want you, why have I done everything in my power to keep you here at the Swift Wind?"

"Under false pretenses."

"If I told you the truth, what would you have done? Lived another two years or more perfecting that charming personality trait of pushing away the people you love." He knew he had to be careful, but he also had to make her understand why he'd done what he did. "Isn't it freaking time you stopped punishing yourself and realized neither of us is at fault for Devon's death? Can't you quit living in the misery of his death and start living in the quality of his memory? He lived eight wonderful months, Carly."

He exhaled slowly, painfully. "Remember his smile? Remember when he said mama for the first time?" He had to stop for a second and gain his momentum. "Can't you see your amnesia was our second chance for happiness? This baby you're carrying is a gift."

"Now what? We go on and act like everything's perfect? It's interesting that you pretend you care now, but after Devon died, you...you..." She didn't finish the sentence.

"Tell me, Carly. What did I do? What did I do that was so wrong? Was it because I signed his life support off? Please, once and for all, tell me why you hate me." He had to know. He couldn't live in torture any longer.

Her chin trembled. "I didn't hate you. I don't hate you. I never have. I hated myself, Chance. Didn't you see that? I was ashamed of the fact that, being Devon's mother and protector, I wasn't strong enough to make the decision to let him go. But you were. I loved him so much but it was a selfish love. I allowed my own unhealthy desire to get in the way. I would have watched him lie in that bed for who knows how long because at least he was still with me. I was overwhelmingly self-seeking. I couldn't let him go because it hurt too badly, although deep inside I knew it was better to let him go."

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't do this to yourself. Don't punish yourself any longer." He felt his world crashing down. "We can't live in the past. Let's move forward. I'm here. We have a family."

She snapped her face up. Fear evident in her eyes. "I can't, Chance. I can't do this." She slowly backed away from him, moving into the hallway. "I can't forget."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to trust me." He held out his hand, palm open.

She stared at his hand for the longest time. She seemed to give it consideration, but the buried pain reared its ugly head. "Goodbye, Chance."

Chapter Twenty One

CARLY SAT ON the leather couch at the McAllister polishing off the last bit of dill pickles from the glass jar when the phone rang.

She made no move to answer it but shot Lila, who sat next to her, a bothered sigh.

Lila moaned, went to the phone, and unplugged it. "How many times has he called?"

Carly shrugged. "I lost count after twenty."

Lila sat and laid a comforting hand on Carly's knee. "How many times has he come here since you left the Swift Wind?"

"The first week he came here three times. He pounded and I ignored him. Last week he came twice, and one night slept on the porch. Morning came and he left," Carly said through a mouthful and sniffed back tears.

"Honey, you have to quit acting this way."

"What way?"

"Like you're a hormonal basket case."

Carly rolled her eyes and set the empty jar on the table. "I'm pregnant. Therefore I am a hormonal basket case."

"Don't use that for an excuse." Lila shook her head.

Carly knew she'd acted like a foolish, emotional woman since she left the Swift Wind, but she was lost.

Her memories had returned. But unfortunately, she wasn't content. She couldn't deny that while living back at the Swift Wind, her happiness with Chance had been profound. She'd been unaware of the pain that tormented her for so long.

Now, at the McAllister, with her father gone, and the house so quiet, she was reminded how bitter she was before the amnesia.

Her father's letter explained why he asked Chance to keep the truth from her. Her father thought this was an opportunity for her happiness.

"I don't think he's going to give up, Carly. He loves you. And you, honey, love him. Admit it or not," Lila said with a soft smile.

Carly took a long sip of water, swallowed, and said in a whisper. "I won't deny it." What was the use?

"Then why? Why deny happiness?"

"I'm scared, Lila. I trusted the fact that Chance and I had a perfect, solid relationship. I never would have believed that tragedy would befall us. Look what trust got me. I can't go through the pain again."

"And sitting here every day, crying, beating yourself up emotionally, isn't painful? In any relationship, there's a risk for heartache or unhappiness, but what would life be if people stopped taking chances? Life isn't worth living without taking the risks on happiness." She ran her eyes down Carly's nightgown. "Have you even changed in the last two weeks?" Her nose wrinkled. "You may try dressing in something besides sleep attire."

Carly soaked in her friend's every word. She missed Chance. She loved him. Yet fear kept her harbored at the McAllister. She knew she'd hid away like a criminal. "Our marriage failing wasn't entirely my fault. Chance did give up. He gave up on me. When Devon died, he expected me to move forward at his pace. He couldn't understand that I couldn't...I couldn't manage."

"Did you try telling him how you felt?"

No, she hadn't. Not really. "And shouldn't you be looking in the mirror?" Carly bit back.

Lila didn't seem the least bit offended. In fact, she smiled broadly. "Okay, this is where you turn the table and take the heat off yourself and direct it at me. If it'll make you feel better about yourself, shoot. Critique me, but you must handle the same reality check."

Carly's back stiffened. She loved her friend, but it seemed they both were in denial. "You still love Duke. You can't handle a sex-only relationship, and you know it. Duke is all but falling at your feet professing his love. So why can't you find it in your heart to forgive him?"

"One, Duke and I were never married. Two, Duke and I didn't have a child, and lose a child, together. Three, Duke and I aren't pregnant together. Four, Duke doesn't deserve my trust after he threw it away and stomped on it like dirt." Her eyes turned shiny and intense. "Shall I continue?"

Carly looked at her with great compassion. "You still love him?"

Lila's features softened. "More than ever. But honey, Duke and I are at different points in our life than you and Chance. Duke isn't ready for a commitment, although he may think he is. Chance has been committed to you since that evening at the charity event when you spilled wine down his suit. Are you ready, deep down ready, to throw all this away?"

Lila's eyes bore into Carly. "Ask yourself one question, can you see yourself with anyone else? Can you be happy for Chance if he is with someone else? If you answered no to either of those questions, you need to seriously get off your skinny ass and fight for your husband."

Carly gulped air. A thought of Leslie needled its way into her mind. A rush of white-hot anger boiled her blood. She'd never accept Chance with another woman.

"Chance isn't my husband any longer, remember?"

Lila giggled. "I see you have two ways of looking at this. One, you can consent to his courting you, longer than a week this time round. But you better hurry." Her eyes fell to her stomach in implication. "Townspeople will have a field day with rumors of Chance Taylor dating a pregnant woman, even if it's his baby. Or two, get your revenge against him for his past faults by splurging on a second wedding. This time indulge on the glitz and glamour instead of having a few friends and family over for a ceremonial picnic. The man can afford an expensive wedding, make him pay up." She winked in good intention.

Carly laughed and it hurt her cheeks. "How do I know he hasn't given up? He hasn't stopped by once in the last four days."

"Trust me, Carly. The man has suffered. Duke said if you don't come back soon he's going to quit the ranch and leave Chance and his attitude. Chance is driving everyone crazy with his asshole expectations. You know how uptight he can get when the two of you have an argument." Lila laughed, but then she became serious. "I know something and I'm not supposed to tell you."

Carly lifted a brow. "And you're going to tell me, right?"

Lila sighed and flipped her long hair over one shoulder. "Of course. I can't resist." She saddled up close to Carly, readying herself to let loose a juicy secret. "Chance had one of the bedrooms made into a nursery for the new baby. Duke said he bought furniture and had the walls painted the color—"

Carly jumped up. "No, don't tell me. This can't happen."

"What?"

"Chance picking out the color of our baby's nursery. Oh no." Carly paced the room in dread. "Last time he picked out colors for the walls it was God-awful. I had to have the place repainted. The man has no color coordination, not even in the slightest."

Lila bit back her laughter. "What are you going to do? I guess you could build a nursery here at the McAllister. It would be the color and decoration you like. I mean, after all, if you and Chance raise this baby separately, he'll have her or him every other weekend, if not more."

Carly twisted around in horror. "I don't think I've even thought about how difficult this could be for our child. Having two homes, two separated parents, parents who every time they see each other will be jumping each other's bones because they can't keep their hands off one another."

"Yeah, poor kid. No kid wants to believe their mom and dad still have hanky-panky." She wriggled in disgust at the thought. "My mom and dad quit having sex the day I was conceived. You'll have the kid traumatized before it can talk."

"I don't want to be without him, Lila. I love him." She started toward the door. "I've got to go."

"Go where?"

"To win back my cowboy." She stopped and turned back toward Lila, offering her a wide, grateful smile. "Thank you, Lila. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it." She said with a wave of her hand. "But you might want to put some clothes on and take a shower—" Her words filled the empty room. Carly was long gone.

* * * *

Chance raced up toward the house and saw Carly's car. Lila called his cell and told him to get his ass home right away because a surprise waited.

He rushed through the door so fast he almost tore the screen door from the hinges. His heart slammed like a heavy metal tune against his ribs. He rushed up the stairs two at a time. When he made it to the top floor, he panted, more from nerves than the struggle of climbing the stairs.

His mind tussled with the fact that she was there. Was she ready to pick another fight? Or had she come to work things out?

He ran down the hallway peering through each open door into empty rooms. He finally came to the last one on the right.

Carly stood in the middle of the new nursery holding the framed picture he placed on the white dresser. It was a picture of the two of them taken at the Fourth of July picnic. It was his favorite. She smiled sweetly in the photo and his eyes were on her. "Carly."

She spun around, her eyes glazed with tears. "Oh, Chance."

He stepped toward her, close enough that he could reach out and slide his arm around her waist. But he didn't touch her. He couldn't pressure her. He was afraid that she'd run again.

"You like the room?" he asked, scratching the five o'clock shadow on his chin.

"Chance, it's perfect."

"Can't take all the credit, I'm afraid," he said humbly.

"You had help?" She lifted a brow.

"Lila gave me some hints on the colors and decorations you would like for the baby. She led me in the right direction and I took off." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Carly laughed.

His gaze dropped leisurely over her attire. "Nice outfit." She looked beautiful. Her hair tousled around her face, her eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy, making her look lovelier if possible. The gown clung to her slender body, giving service to full breasts and rounded hips. Even the flip-flops on her feet did wonders for him.

She slid her hands over the thin cotton gown. "I didn't have a chance to change."

"I'm not complaining." He ached to touch her. Two weeks was a long time to a starving man. He held back. "Why are you here, Carly? I need to know. Is it only to see the nursery?"

"I've been stubborn, Chance. I needed time to come to grips with it all. I hope that you can forgive me for pushing you away."

"There's nothing to forgive. But you have to tell me what you want. I need to know that you won't run away again."

She moistened her lips. "I want you, Chance. I've always wanted you."

He remained still. "For a month, for years or a lifetime? What's it going to be, Carly?"

"Forever."

"What if—" He had a difficult time continuing. "—what if something painful happens again? Will you still want forever? Or will you push me away?"

She answered without hesitation. "I will never run again. No matter what happens, it's you and me."

He moved closer. His hands remained tucked into his pockets. "I need to tell you everything. There should never be any secrets between us."

Carly opened her mouth and he stopped her.

"I need to finish. Leslie and I are not lovers and we've never been. I cried on her shoulder many an evening, but that's it. While we were married, I used to hang out at Maloney's a lot but very seldom did I indulge in more than one drink. I sulked in my misery."

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. "I went along with this scheme to allow you to believe we were still married because I still loved you. I saw this as my opportunity to have you in my life, to prove that we belong together. Call me a liar if you choose, but I'm a loyal, honest liar."

She smiled. "I understand. My father pulled you into the plan and even I realize he had good intentions. He told me the truth in the letter. I guess he needed to clear his conscience in case something happened." Her eyes flashed with pain.

"I didn't have to go along with the plan. I could have done the right thing, but I chose to do what I thought was best."

She stepped toward him, covering his lips with her forefinger. "You did the right thing. You proved to me that no matter what, I will love you."

"Can you forgive me for the wrongs I've committed?"

"There's nothing to forgive, remember?" She dropped her hand to her side. "Now I have a confession."

"That you are crazy over me and can't live another day without me in your life?" His eyes twinkled in mischief.

"That's true, but there's something else. Chris Whitfield and I were never an item. When I decided to file for divorce, I needed something, or someone, to prove to you that I moved on in case you decided to fight the proceedings. I knew all it took was to ask him to stop by on occasion at the McAllister, take me to dinner once in awhile, and people would start talking and it would get back to you that Chris and I was an item."

"Chris went along with this?"

She smiled. "Chris became a good friend, and that's all. Father didn't even know the truth, that is, until he approached poor Chris after I fell. In the letter, Father told me that Chris told him the truth about our friendship and he took Father upon his offer of an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii. Not that Chris needed an all-expense-paid trip. But he's rich because he knows good deals when he hears them."

"Did you speak to the man and tell him it's safe to come home?"

She nodded. "I did. I'm afraid he won't be coming back to Shelby. He met someone in Hawaii and she took him back to her hometown in Colorado, and he's asked her to marry him."

Chance dropped to one knee at her feet, took her hand into his, and lightly squeezed. "I guess what's left is to ask you to marry me again, my sweet lovely Carly."

"Yes, of course!"

He got up and pulled her into his arms. "Tomorrow too quick?"

She pushed out of his arms. "Hold up there, cowboy." She placed palms against his chest. "Second time's a charm. I want to lose this bed-to-wed image and take things slower. I'm thinking wedding gown, two hundred guests, fancy tiered cake..."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"No." She burst into laughter. "I want only to be married to you. Do you think Pastor Seymour would mind being woken in the middle of the night to marry us for a second time?"

"I don't think he'd complain too much." He kept his arms around her waist. He wasn't letting her go, ever again.

"We'll let him sleep tonight. I have other things on my mind right now." Her expression became sensual.

"Oh yeah?"

"Since I left I couldn't seem to get an image out of my brain. It's driven me nearly insane." She already unbuttoned his shirt and subtly slipped her fingers in to touch his bare, heated skin.

"I think I like where this is headed." He dipped his mouth to her throat. He dropped one strap off her shoulder and the neckline of the gown exposed the tops of her bare breasts.

"I'm certain you will, my love. How fast can you get naked?"

Rhonda Lee Carver..."Writing Men Who Love to Get Their Hands Dirty..."

Suffering from years of hopeless romantic notions with sexy, sassy heroines and bad-ass heroes taking residence in her mind, Rhonda decided to write, bringing the stories alive. With baby on hip and laptop on the other, and a couple of years later, Rhonda has published a delightful array of books with a handful of spicy love stories waiting for the final touches. Many of her stories begin on used napkins because when an idea strikes, she must write it down.

When Rhonda isn't crafting edge-of-your-seat, sizzling novels, you will find her with her husband and children, too many cats and dogs to name, watching a breathtaking movie, traveling to exotic places, doing (or trying) yoga, and finding new ways to keep her smile bright.

Rhonda thrives on making her readers happy. She believes life can be a challenge, but reading is a place where one goes to get away. Everyone deserves romance—one page at a time...

I hope you've enjoyed **Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1 of the Second Chance Series)**

For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit:

www.rhondaleecarver.com

Find me on Facebook, too!

www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver

Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver

Diamond in a Rose

Double Dare

Delaney's Sunrise

Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)

Castle's Fortress

Dreaming Ivy

Friends With Benefits

Sin With Cuffs

With Honor

Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)

