PEGGY MORELAND

      published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989 and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a nominee for Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award and a finalist for the prestigious RITA Award, Peggy has appeared on the USA Today and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. When not writing, she enjoys spending time at the farm riding her quarter horse, Lo-Jump. She, her husband and three children make their home in Round Rock, Texas. You may write to Peggy at P.O. Box 2453, Round Rock, TX 78680-2453, or e-mail her in care of eHarlequin.com.

      For Helen Heilmann, Janelle Shields and Vickie Monroe, Kentuckians who took this displaced Texan under their wings, offering friendship and moral support.

       Thanks, ladies!

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      One

      Gil Riley considered himself a simple man with simple tastes. He liked his jeans worn, his beer cold and his horses—as well as his women—gentle, but with enough spirit in ’em to make the ride exciting. Though his age placed him in a generation that shunned family values, considered work a four-letter word and embraced the theory “if it feels good, do it,” Gil didn’t quite fit the mold. He honored family second only to God, considered his mother an angel straight from heaven and his father one of the wisest men he’d ever known. He believed a hard day’s work strengthened a man’s character, treated women with the respect he was taught they were due, and never did anything without first weighing the consequences upside down, sideways and backward.

      All of which made him wonder how in the hell he’d ended up in an airless room filled with blowhards, suck-ups and women whose mothers had obviously never taught them that a man’s privates were just that. Private.

      Duty, he reminded himself as he clasped a hand thrust his way and responded with a “good to see you, too.”

      Though the handshake he offered was firm and the sentiment sincere, Gil delivered both without slowing down. He feared if he did, and he was waylaid by one more person wanting a favor or had to dodge another female’s straying hands, he would…

      Well, he wasn’t sure what he would do, but, whatever it was, he was sure it would be shocking enough to make the headlines in the morning paper.

      With his smile feeling as if it were set in concrete and his tie like a noose around his neck, he set his sights on a possible escape route in the distance. He hadn’t taken more than two steps in that direction when a beefy hand closed around his arm from behind and dragged him to a stop. Struggling to keep his frustration from showing, he turned to find a balding man, shaped like a whisky barrel and about as tall, beaming up at him, a horse-faced young woman hugged up against his side.

      “Have you met my niece, Melanie, Governor? My brother Earl’s oldest girl. Visiting here from California.”

      Yet another first-lady-of-Texas hopeful, Gil thought wearily. It was all he could do not to cry. Thanks to his bachelor status and his exalted position as governor of the state of Texas, he’d received more propositions in the past year than a prostitute would in a lifetime on the streets.

      Though he was tempted to tell Melanie that the rumors flying that he was gay were true, thus stanching any hopes she might have of becoming his first lady, manners and protocol—along with an ingrained sense of honesty—demanded that he extend a hand in greeting instead. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Melanie.”

      “Graduated magna cum laude from Stanton last spring,” her uncle added proudly. “Brains and beauty in the same package. A rare find in a woman these days.” The man gave his chin a jerk, setting the loose skin beneath it to flapping and Gil to wondering if he ought to duck. “Yessiree, a rare find.”

      Gil eased his hand from the I’m-not-letting-go-until-the-ring’s-on-the-finger grip Melanie had on him. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” he replied vaguely.

      Someone shouted his name from across the room, and Gil pushed his smile a notch higher and lifted a hand in greeting. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, softening his smile to one of apology for Melanie. “I hope your stay in Texas is a pleasant one.” With a nod to the woman’s uncle, he turned and began to weave his way through the crowd again.

      He reached the swinging door he’d spotted earlier and glanced quickly around to make sure no one was looking. Seeing his bodyguard approaching, he slashed a finger across his neck—his signal that he was taking a breather—and pushed his way through the door. Once on the other side he stopped, heaving a sigh of relief, and the door swung back and smacked him on the backside, knocking him a step further into the room. But Gil didn’t mind the whack on his rear, considering it small payment to escape the pressing crowd.

      From somewhere he heard a woman’s voice. “The caviar’s on the tray. Get it out there quick. And add more champagne to the fountain. These pigs are swilling it down faster than a drunk