Iron Springs, Texas

For the second time since her return to Iron Springs, Carly Drake stood in a graveyard. On the opposite side of the coffin, between rows of granite headstones, the Hernandez family huddled together, a wife weeping for her husband, children crying for their father.

Carly bowed her head, her heart aching for the loss of a man she had known only briefly. With her grandfather's recent passing, she understood the pain Miguel's family was suffering. Joe Drake, the man who had raised her, the only father Carly had ever known, had died just five weeks ago.

But unlike a heart that had simply worn itself out, Miguel Hernandez, Grandpa Joe's number-one driver, had been shot in the head, the criminals who had committed the truck hijacking still on the loose.

In the weeks since her grandfather's death, Carly had been doing her best to run Drake Trucking, to keep the company afloat and its employees' checks paid. She was putting in twelve-hour days, but Miguel had been killed on her watch and Carly felt responsible.

The harsh Texas wind kicked up, whipping blades of grass in front of the casket draped with a blanket of bloodred roses. The end of September weather was fickle, hot and humid one day, rainy and overcast the next. Strands of heavy blond hair tore free from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. As Carly smoothed the strands back into place, her gaze paused on a man at the far edge of the mourners, a head taller than the men in Miguel's Hispanic family, taller than most of the truckers or any other man in the crowd, big and broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair, and a strikingly handsome face.

Carly leaned over and spoke quietly to the woman beside her, Brittany Haworth, a willowy brunette who had been her best friend in high school. As if it had been just days instead of years, their friendship had resumed the day Carly had returned to Iron Springs.

"The man across from us ..." Carly said. "The tall one? He was also at Grandpa Joe's funeral. I remember him going through the line to pay his respects, but I was hurting so much I barely paid attention. Do you know who he is?"

Brittany looked surprised. "You're kidding, right? You don't recognize him? Obviously you don't read the gossip rags. He's in the newspapers all the time. That's Lincoln Cain. You know, the multimillionaire?"

Carly's gaze swung across the casket on the mound above the grave to the big man in the perfectly tailored black suit and crisp white shirt. "That's Cain?"

As if he could feel her watching him, his eyes swung to hers, remained steady on her face. Carly couldn't seem to look away. There was power in that bold, probing stare. She could actually feel her pulse accelerate. "So what's Cain doing in Iron Springs?"

"He owns a ranch here. He was born close by — Pleasant Hill, I think. He left to make his fortune, came back a few years ago megarich. It's a fascinating story. You'll have to Google him sometime."

"I still don't understand why he was at Joe's funeral, or why he's here today."

"For one thing, he was one of Joe's competitors. Texas American Transportation is one of the biggest trucking companies in the world."

She nodded. "Tex/Am Transport. I know that, but —"

"Cain credits Joe Drake as one of the people who put him on the path to success. The Iron Springs Gazette published a couple of articles about him and Joe."

Guilt swept over her. She'd been gone so much. Off to college at the U. of Texas in Austin ten years ago, which her grandfather had paid for, then a job in Houston as a flight attendant.

She had always wanted to see the world, so instead of coming home to help Grandpa Joe, she'd gone to work for Delta. She'd been transferred here and there, worked out of New York for a while, come back to Iron Springs a couple of times a year, but her visits never lasted more than a few days before she was gone again, flying somewhere else, off on another adventure.

Six weeks ago, she'd quit her job, given up her apartment in San Francisco where she had been based, and come home to stay. Joe's heart condition had worsened. She'd started worrying about him, decided to come back and help him run Drake Trucking, take over some of the responsibilities, and lessen the stress he was under.

She'd only been in Iron Springs a week when Joe had suffered a massive heart attack. He'd died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. By the time she'd received the call, rushed out of the office, and driven like a maniac to Iron Springs Memorial, Joe was gone.

She hadn't been there for him when he needed her.

Just as she had so many times before, Carly had failed him.

"Carly ..."

She glanced up at the sound of Brittany's voice. The service had ended. The mourners were breaking up, people walking away.

"He's coming over," Britt whispered. "Lincoln Cain."

Carly honed in on him, at least six-five, a man impossible to miss. She straightened as he approached.

"Ms. Drake? I'm Lincoln Cain." He extended a big hand, and as she set hers in it, felt a warm, comforting spread of heat. Since being comforted only made her feel like crying, she eased her hand away.

"We met briefly at your grandfather's service," Cain said, "but I doubt you recall."

His eyes were green, she realized. The color of money, she thought, with gold flecks in the center. He had a slight cleft in his chin and a jaw that looked carved in stone. "Yes, I remember seeing you there. I don't recall much else. It was a very bad day."

"Yes, it was."

She turned. "This is my friend, Brittany Haworth."

He made a faint nod of his head. "Ms. Haworth."

"Nice to meet you," Britt said. She'd always been shy. The way she was looking at Cain, as if the year's sexiest man alive had just dropped by for a visit, Carly was surprised her friend was able to speak.

Cain's gaze returned to Carly. "I realize how difficult it must be, going through all of this again so soon. Once more you have my condolences."

"Thank you. It's been difficult. But my grandfather lived a long, full life. I can only imagine how terrible this is for Miguel's family."

A muscle in Cain's jaw tightened. "Maybe catching his killer will ease some of their pain."

"You think they will?"

"Someone will."

There was something in the way he said it. Surely he didn't intend to involve himself in catching the men who'd murdered Miguel.

"I didn't realize you were a friend of my grandfather's."

His features relaxed as if a fond memory had surfaced. "Joe Drake was a good man. One of the best. He gave me my first job. Did you know that?"

Her eyes burned. That sounded so like Joe. Never a hand-out but always a hand-up whenever one was needed. "I wasn't around much after I got out of high school. I should have come home more often. You'll never know how much I regret that."

His expression shifted, became unreadable. "We all do things we regret." Up close he was even better looking than she had first thought, his dark hair cut a little shorter on the sides, narrow brackets beside his mouth that only appeared once in a while, not dimples, but something more subtle, more intriguing. "Your grandfather loved you very much."

A lump swelled in her throat. She had loved him, too. She'd never realized how little time they would have. "Thank you for saying that." She needed to leave. She was going to cry and she didn't want to do that in front of...