In the Rancher's Footsteps (North Star, Montana, 2, Band 1734) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Kay Stockham lives in southern Ohio with her husband and family, which includes two furry, high-maintenance dogs. She's a member of Romance Writers of America, and has been nominated for numerous awards including the RITA, HOLT Medallion, and Book Buyers Best. For more information on Kay's work, please visit her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.kaystockham.com.

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"Ooh. Ride 'em, cowboy."

Gabriella Thompson paused in the act of writing a catalog item number to see what her assistant manager, Alicia, was talking about—or rather who.

She had to squint since she'd left her glasses in her office, but she was able to make out the very tall, very broad-shouldered man who had paused outside the doors of Premiere Vue.

He glanced at something in his large hand as though double-checking the address, then frowned into the interior of Gabriella's shop, even though she knew he couldn't see beyond the window displays.

"He's not Clint Eastwood but I'd tap that."

A former stuntwoman and current body builder, Alicia's muscles were only slightly less bulky than those straining the sleeves of the man's gray T-shirt.

Not bad, but he definitely wasn't Gabriella's type. "Down, girl. He's probably looking for something for his boyfriend," Gabriella said, tossing the catalog aside and standing to go to her office.

She had calls to make, work to do. Two months of paperwork and orders to catch up on, contacts she needed to touch base with because the past two months had been spent taking care of her best friend Molly in the last weeks of her illness.

"Oh, he's coming in. How do the girls look?"

Gabriella shook her head at Alicia's behavior, knowing her assistant was trying to lighten the mood. Molly's death after a short but deadly bout with cancer had left Gabriella struggling to find her footing. "The girls are envy-worthy as always," she said, referring to Alicia's bountiful double-Ds. "Just remember store policy."

"I know, I know. Hands off the customer. So can I put other things on him?"

Alicia's quick return brought out the smile in Gabriella she'd worked so hard to achieve. "You are incorrigible." And Gabriella loved it. The guy walking in the door didn't stand a chance.

He wasn't the first pseudo-cowboy to cross the threshold of her business. There had been plenty of cowboys, aliens and vampires over the years.

Located a couple blocks from the many soundstages and sets in Burbank, California, Premiere Vue—or First Blush—saw more than its share of famous faces as well as extras, studio executives and Hollywood elite.

Gabriella didn't want to jinx herself, but Premiere Vue was fast becoming the rising star in high-end romantic gifts. No cheesy cards, porn or boxers with hearts on them here, only the best the world had to offer. Lingerie and perfume from Paris, lotions and soaps from London, chocolates from Belgium and Switzerland, flowers from all over the world.

Alicia looked tough but she designed some of the most feminine, sexy and unique-looking gift baskets to be had. In addition to their merchandise, they also planned hot-air balloon rides, sunset cruises and handled all the arrangements required when it came to everything from catering romantic dinners for two right up to full-blown wedding showers and anniversary parties. If it involved romance, Premiere Vue made it happen.

The electronic door chime did its thing and the cowboy stepped inside. He wore jeans and boots, and the dove-gray T-shirt that wasn't quite cowboyish but showed off the rock-hard muscles of his arms. No sense in hiding those guns.

The hat was the kicker, though. Apparently he played the good guy on whatever movie or soap opera he filmed. Didn't all good cowboys wear white hats? when he stopped to peruse the latest arrivals from Paris—tiny black lace corsets with soft pink ribbons and matching panties—she found herself studying him as thoroughly as Alicia and wishing she had her glasses to sharpen the fuzzy edges.

Alicia approached him with an extra sway in her sashay. "Welcome. I'm Alicia. May I help you?"

The moment he heard Alicia speak the man pierced her with a surprisingly intense stare. "Maybe."

Alicia gave him her most flirtatious smile and indicated the shop in a graceful Vanna White wave. "We're the best in the business. Are you looking for something for your wife? A girlfriend?"

Instead of answering Alicia's question, the cowboy's gaze shifted to Gabriella and narrowed.

"You're not the woman I need to see."

A knot formed in Gabriella's stomach. Not the woman he needed to see? What did that mean?

Maintaining eye contact, he left the display of corsets and moved toward her. Gabriella straightened to her full height. She was five-eleven-and-a-half in her bare feet and presently wore four-inch heels, but this man was taller and definitely broader, and he moved with a careful pace, like a man stalking prey.

Or one intimidated by the contents of her store? "Gabriella?"

He knew her name. Up close she knew he hadn't come from a sound stage or recording session but was the real deal. Which could only mean—Surely not?

Despite the hat, crinkles fanned out from the man's eyes from too much time in the sun. His boots were well worn, layered with a coating of dust he hadn't picked up on any L.A. street. "Who's asking?"

"Braddock McKenna. We need to talk. Privately."

McKenna. A short huff of a laugh left her chest as awareness kicked in. Of course. A somewhat handsome cowboy walks into her shop and he was one of them. "I'm not interested."

She didn't care why her biological father's adopted son was there to see her. Molly had harped for years that Gabriella needed to ignore her mother's dictates and go to Montana, settle the issues between her and Zane McKenna face-to-face. But this close to Molly's death, Gabriella simply wasn't capable of making that leap. "As you can see, I'm busy."

Gabriella turned to walk away but two steps into her grand exit, Braddock caught her by the arm.

"Not so fast. I'm here about your father and I've come a hell of a long way to talk to you. The least you can do is hear me out."

"Of course it's about Zane. Why else would you be here? But whatever it is? I'm not interested. Why would I let you waste my time talking about a man who means nothing to me?"

Braddock's face turned to stone at her words but he didn't budge.

"Fine, what? Is he sick? Needs a kidney? A piece of my liver? What?" She knew she sounded mean but the man had cared less about her, why should she care about him?

"Zane died two weeks ago. His attorney has been trying to contact you but you haven't returned his calls."

Because of Molly. Because she'd slept on Molly's couch or even sometimes in Molly's hospital bed beside her so Molly wouldn't be alone, and she'd thought…

She wasn't sure what she'd thought the calls from the Montana attorney were about. She'd figured if it was important, the man would have left a message that wasn't merely a curt request to return his call.

"Honey, you need to take a step back and let go of Gabriella," Alicia ordered.

Gabriella hugged herself when Braddock did as ordered. In the three years Alicia had worked here, she had personally taken down two perverts, five shoplifters and a paparazzo who had snuck in when J-Lo was shopping post-pregnancy. No one messed with Alicia.

Braddock's gaze narrowed on Gabriella's face and she found herself wanting to squirm at the intensity.

"You almost seem sorry."

She was. Every life was important and should be mourned, even Zane McKenna's.

The phone rang. In response, Alicia pointed a finger at Braddock and waggled it in warning but moved to the desk to answer it.

"Thank you for letting me know. I won't keep you."

"Stop." His tone was brusk.

Gabriella didn't like being...