One

      Drew Farrell glanced at the sky. Storm clouds roiled and twisted, setting his mood on edge. He shoved the truck’s gearshift into park, jammed his Stetson on his head and strode across the road. Dust billowed with each angry step, coating his hand-tooled cowboy boots.

      Deliberately, he crossed the line that separated his property from his neighbor’s. Beth Andrews. His beautiful, long-legged, sexy-as-hell neighbor. After two years of butting heads with her at regular intervals, you’d think he would be immune to her considerable physical appeal.

      But no. Her naturally curly blond hair and green eyes hit his libido at a weak spot. Sadly, there was no twelve-step program for men wanting women who drove them nuts.

      He approached Beth’s organic produce stand and ground his teeth when he saw she had multiple customers waiting. Cooling his heels, jaw clenched, he courted patience. But he wanted to lambast her with righteous indignation while his temper was hot.

      Like every day recently, at least a dozen cars had parked haphazardly up and down the private lane, causing congestion and spooking Drew’s prize-winning thoroughbreds in the adjoining pasture. This morning, his men had been forced to move seven horses to a grassy field on the opposite side of his property, for no other reason than because Beth had started selling pumpkins.

      Pumpkins, for God’s sake. The traffic she had created during the summer—selling squash and tomatoes and a dozen other vegetables—had increased tenfold since she’d put up signs all over Royal advertising fall harvest decorations. At least during the summer months the crowd was spread out. But come October first, it was as if everyone within a fifty-mile radius of Drew’s ranch had decided they had to buy one of Beth’s fat, healthy pumpkins for their porches.

      As Drew waited impatiently, several of the patrons loaded up their purchases and drove away. Finally, only one woman remained—a young blonde. Very pregnant. From what Drew could tell, she had picked out the largest pumpkin she could find. Beth and the customer squatted to lift the pumpkin from its perch on a bale of hay. The big, orange orb slipped out of their hands, nearly rolling onto their feet.

      Oh, good grief. Snapping out of his funk, Drew strode forward, determined to stop them before somebody got hurt. The thing must weigh forty pounds.

      “Let me do that,” he said, elbowing them out of the way. “One of you has a baby to consider and you, Ms. Andrews, ought to know better.” The spark of surprise and irritation in Beth’s eyes made him want to grin despite his surly mood. The pregnant woman’s car sat only a few feet away in the handicapped parking spot. For Halloween, Beth had designated the space beside the shed with a sign and a skeleton holding a crutch. She was creative—he’d give her that.

      Hefting the pumpkin with ease, he set it gently in the trunk. Fortunately, the base of the thing was pretty flat. Given its weight, there was little chance it would roll over unless the driver made a reckless turn.

      The customer smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.” Unlike Beth’s sunshiny curls, this woman’s straight blond hair was so fair it was almost white. Her skin was pale as well. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she was thin, almost frail.

      He dusted his hands on his pants. “No problem. Get someone to help you lift that thing when you get home.”

      “I will.” She paused, one handing resting protectively on her rounded abdomen. “I always loved Halloween as a kid. I thought it would be fun this year to carve a jack-o’-lantern for my daughter and put pictures of it in her baby book.”

      Beth glanced at the woman’s belly. “Are you due that soon?”

      “No. I have another eight or nine weeks to go. But she’s already a person to me. I talk to her all the time. I guess that sounds crazy.”

      “Not at all.”

      Beth’s smile struck Drew as wistful. Maybe if her biological clock ticked loud enough, she’d meet some guy and move away. Then Drew could buy the land she had stolen from him. Oddly, that notion was not as appealing as it should have been.

      Beth spoke up again. “Who’s your master carver? The baby’s dad?”

      A flash of anguish darkened the woman’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Drew thought he might have imagined it. “I’m going to do it. I’m trained in graphic design, so this is right up my alley. I should go,” she said, as if suddenly realizing that the weather was going downhill fast. “Don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

      Drew stood shoulder to shoulder with Beth as they watched the car disappear into the distance. “Did she look familiar to you?” he asked, frowning.

      “Maybe. Why?”

      “I don’t know. Just an odd feeling that I might have seen her before.”

      At that moment, a strong gust of wind snatched the plastic banner and ripped it off the top of Beth’s produce stand. The bright green lettering spelled out GREEN ACRES. Drew seldom had time to watch TV, but even he got the reference to the old sitcom where the wealthy Manhattan couple moved to the country and bought a farm. It was easy to imagine Beth wearing an evening gown and heels. She was tall for a woman, at least five seven. But Drew had half a dozen inches or more on her.

      He