The Texas Rancher's Vow

Or inhaling her sweet womanly scent, a mixture of lilac, fragrant grass and summer air.

Jen discreetly tugged the hem of her dress down as she settled in the driver’s seat, cutting off his glimpse of silky thigh. “Don’t feel you have to stay with your father and me while we talk.”

Matt ignored the tightening in his torso, the one that reminded him he hadn’t had sex—or intimacy of any kind—in way too long. “Are you kidding?” he drawled, just to get her goat. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Jen sent him another annoyed glance, then turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Flushing, she turned it again.

Still nothing.

He couldn’t say he minded her humiliation, given the havoc she was about to wreak on his life. Trying not to think how chivalrously his father would react to this situation, Matt reached for his cell phone and punched in the number for the bunkhouse.

She tried again. The third time was the charm.

Crisis averted. For now, anyway.

Resisting the urge to say something about her vehicle, he gestured toward the wrought-iron arch at the head of the drive. “The house is at the end of that.”

Her eyes flashed as she slid him a look. “Good thing you told me,” she quipped. “I never would have found it.”

There she went with that mouth again.

Jen shifted into Drive and hit the accelerator. To Matt’s surprise, the van edged forward smoothly and almost soundlessly. It glided onto the road, and then a hundred feet later, onto the paved lane.

She was silent as she drove down the shady, tree-lined drive toward the cluster of buildings a half mile back from the road. He could see that she liked what she saw. And why not? The white limestone ranch house was stately and expensive-looking. So was the adjacent glass-walled garage, which showcased all ten of his father’s cars and trucks.

Jen’s eyes slid to the Lamborghini.

“A memento from marriage number two,” Matt said. “Dad rarely drives it anymore.”

“What does he drive?”

“These days, mostly his Lincoln Navigator or his Cadillac Escalade. But that could change.” Matt tilted his head toward the collection, not above testing her at every turn. “What’s your favorite ride?”

Jen rested her surprisingly delicate hands on the steering wheel. “Couldn’t say.”

Matt wondered how she kept her hands so soft looking, given the nature of her work. He lifted his gaze back to her face. “Noncommittal, hmm?”

“About some things.” She looked him right in the eye. “Others, not so much.”

Meaning she had already decided she didn’t like him. Fair enough, given the fact that the distrust went both ways.

He swiveled toward her on the uncomfortably worn bench seat, his knee landing just short of her thigh. For some reason he wished he had an excuse to make physical contact, see if she was actually as soft and warm and womanly as she looked. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. And just forget it.”

Jen scoffed and gave him a classic don’t-mess-with-me expression. “After a four-hour drive? I don’t think so, cowboy.”

Matt knew it wasn’t likely he’d change her mind. When big sums of money were involved, people tended to stick around. “All right then.” He climbed out of the passenger seat and said a silent prayer, bracing himself for the inevitable emotional disaster that lay ahead. “Let’s go. My father is waiting for you.”

Chapter Two

Jen had barely stepped through the front door of the sprawling ranch house when she was greeted by a big, handsome bear of a man. Giving Jen a hint of what Matt would act like if he were actually happy to see her, Emmett clasped her hand warmly. “Miss Carson? Emmett Briscoe! Welcome!”

Jen smiled at her host. His eyes were the same sky-blue as his son’s, his suntanned skin had a weathered appearance and his thick salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and combed neatly to one side. She was happy to note that Emmett was as welcoming in person as he had been on the phone. “Thank you.”

When he released her hand and stepped back, Jen drew a breath and tried to get her bearings. Not easy when Matt was hovering close by.

Working at ignoring him, Jen noted the interior of the ranch house was elegant, and as expensively put together as the stately abode itself.

On the left side of the foyer was a sweeping staircase, to the right, a man-size living area. Two large brown sofas and several upholstered easy chairs formed a conversation area in front of a huge white limestone hearth. The dark oak floor was scattered with beautiful Southwestern rugs. Photos of a much younger Emmett, Matt and a woman Jen guessed was Matt’s mother, graced the mantel.

Emmett walked to the bar and stepped behind it. “Please, sit down. Did you have any trouble finding the ranch?” he asked.

Matt followed with implacable calm.

Feeling anything but tranquil, Jen sank into a chair and crossed her legs at the knee. “None at all.” Deliberately, she ignored Emmett’s son, keeping her gaze on the older man’s face. “Your directions were perfect.”

As if aware that their conversation would continue to be awkward with Matt present, Emmett turned to him. “I can take it from here,” he said easily.

Matt looked from Jen to his dad and back, his glance speculative. “Actually,” he drawled politely, “if Miss Carson doesn’t mind, I’d like to stay and hear what she has to say.”

Realizing it was a test, Jen forced herself to be as gracious as the situation required. Matt wanted to pretend he was willing to give her a fair shake? Well, the least she could do was pretend to play along. “I’d be happy to speak with you both,” she agreed, dipping her head.

“Then it’s settled,” Matt said, his eyes fixed on hers in a way that made her stomach tighten.

Emmett regarded his son for a long moment, and Jen sensed a lot more would be said had there not been a lady present. Wordlessly, the older man added ice to three glasses, topped them off with sparkling water, and passed them around.

He gave Matt another long, warning look, then turned and led the way past the sweeping staircase and down a long hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. “We’ll talk in the gallery,” Emmett said as they passed a beautiful outdoor courtyard, which was flanked by an ivy-covered retaining wall and the rest of the U-shaped, two-story house.

When they reached a big open room, at the rear of the home, Jen looked around in awe, trying to take it all in. There was hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art displayed, all of it set off by perfect lighting.

Momentarily forgetting the family drama, she moved from one piece to another, studying them avidly.

To her annoyance, Matt followed close behind her, as taut and on guard as his father was relaxed.

Emmett sipped his water, watching them both. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He’s become ridiculously overprotective in his middle age.”

Matt swung back around, his irritation apparent. “Only because I’ve needed to be,” he retorted in a low voice.

Jen sucked in a breath, drawing in the sunshine-soap-and-leather scent of him.

Nerves deep inside her quivered.

Oblivious of her reaction, Emmett arched a brow in reproach. “We’ve both made mistakes when it comes to matrimony, Matt.”

Both of them?

Matt had indicated he wasn’t divorced.

And if he wasn’t divorced…what was he?