Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
You Pay:	$6.99				$5.94

eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: When big-city life lost its luster for petite, dark-eyed Maggie Malone, she went to Oklahoma in search of change. But it had to be the right change ù Maggie was a bundle of energy who couldn't sit still for a minute. She wanted a job that challenged her, and the staff position on the McCain ranch seemed to fit the bill. The only challenge she couldn't accept was the sexy invitation in the eyes of the ranch foreman....

eBook Publisher: Wildside Press, Published: USA, 1992
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2005

39 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.1 MB], eReader (PDB) [201 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [182 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [161 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [313 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [210 KB], hiebook (KML) [538 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [271 KB], iSilo (PDB) [149 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [187 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [263 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [235 KB]
Words: 57116
Reading time: 163-228 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Hey, Curt!"

Maggie Malone flinched when the proprietor of Lawton's general store bellowed across the room on her behalf.

"Curt! This little lady is tryin' to find the McCain ranch. You headin' back out there now?"

"Please, I don't want to trouble anyone. I'll be fine if you can just point me in the right direction," Maggie insisted.

"No trouble." The proprietor spoke for the other man. "Curt's a foreman at the ranch."

The man named Curt came into view as he made his way to the counter where Maggie was standing. She looked into his eyes, and her breathing faltered. He immediately struck her as someone who didn't even like to give you the time of day, let alone have a stranger thrust on him.

"I'm not going to the ranch, but I'm heading north," he told the proprietor while his light blue eyes took in Maggie's petite stature and mass of auburn hair.

Maggie assumed the McCain ranch was north because the man she'd asked for directions nodded his head in satisfaction.

"Thanks," she returned politely, not wanting assistance from a man who obviously didn't want to give it. "But there's no need to escort me to the McCains. I don't have any trouble following directions."

"The ranch ain't hard to find," the helpful proprietor explained, "but there's a storm brewin' and a wind blowin' from the north. It ain't good to be roamin' the countryside alone."

Maggie swallowed more words of protest. She'd lived most of her life in Chicago, so the wind factor didn't worry her. What worried her was the cool perusal she was getting from the big cowboy who stood a foot taller than her five feet and looked at her as though she were a troublesome insect.

His unfriendly attitude left her momentarily at a loss for words; a condition she couldn't remember experiencing in all of her twenty-six years.

"I'll follow you out of town and direct you to the ranch," the foreman said in a deep baritone, his expression very cool. His face was deeply tanned with fine lines about the eyes from squinting in the sun. The rest of his features could have been cast in stone.

"I'd appreciate that," Maggie responded. The cowboy had already turned and was heading for the door. She assumed she should follow.

"Thank you," she threw over her shoulder to the man behind the counter as she tried to catch up with her rude guide.

Curt stopped at the door and waited for her. He pushed his hat onto his head and shifted the grocery bag to his left arm so that he could hold the door for the little lady.

They were both caught by wind the instant they left the store. The building afforded them some protection, yet Maggie's skirt whirled wildly around her legs. She quickly buttoned her trench coat from neck to hem. Most of her hair was tucked into her coat, but she still had to grab a handful to keep it from obscuring her vision.

"Is that your car?" he asked, inclining his head toward her small red sports car.

She nodded and was sure he grunted his disapproval.

"You must be a friend of Tara's," the cowboy surmised, raising his voice to be heard over the rising sound of the wind.

Maggie dared to look him directly in the eyes. "Tara?"

"Mrs. McCain," he explained succinctly.

Shaking her head, she corrected him. "I've never met Mrs. McCain. I've spoken to her on the phone, but I'm going to the ranch for a job interview, not as a guest."

Maggie hadn't thought it possible, but the cowboy's expression turned more grim. Maybe he'd hoped she was here for a very short visit. She wondered how he could have taken such an immediate dislike to her. She rarely affected people in that fashion. She was a regular Miss Congeniality.

Curt shifted the grocery bag again and gently took hold of her right arm, preparing to walk her to her car.

"That blue pickup truck is mine," he told her, motioning toward the truck parked several spaces behind her car. "Turn right at the traffic light and left at the next intersection. You'll be on the main road. The McCain ranch is twenty miles out of town. I'll follow you for about fifteen miles."

Maggie wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, but as soon as they both stepped from the protection of the building, they were blasted by a gust of wind that literally took her breath. It slammed her against the cowboy's rock-hard body. Even though they were both wearing coats, she was stunned by the impact of her soft body against his hard one.

Pushing herself from him, she quickly regained her balance with the assistance of one of his big hands. Her expression was apologetic as their gazes clashed.

"Sorry," was all she could manage.

Curt walked her to her car and made sure she was safely behind the wheel, then headed for his truck. The wind was getting so strong that his heavy vehicle was gently rocking.

Tossing the groceries to the passenger side, he folded his long body into the driver's seat and frowned at the thought of how the wind would batter the lightweight vehicle.

As soon as the sports car pulled from the curb, he put the truck in gear and followed. The little lady made all the proper turns he'd told her to make. Soon they were headed north, but fierce gusts of wind made the small car weave dangerously.

Maggie gave her full attention to keeping her car on the right side of the road. She was used to driving into a strong wind, but mostly in the city. Out here she was getting hit full force from the front and then getting caught in whirlwinds. There was nothing but open range on either side of the highway and no protection from the wind's ferocity. Every few miles she passed a tree with a broad trunk and full, swaying branches, but they didn't look too safe, either.

The sky was growing blacker. She could tell they were heading straight into the storm system. A few giant raindrops gradually increased to a heavy shower and then a downpour. Visibility rapidly decreased, and she strained to control the car. A glance at the odometer showed that she'd only driven ten miles from Lawton, but it seemed much farther.

Hands locked around the steering wheel, her pulse accelerated along with her anxiety. Her body grew taut with tension, and her eyes began to burn from the strain of trying to see beyond the windshield.

She was glad for a road sign that warned her of a sharp left turn, but she was unprepared when the powerful north wind caught her broadside. The car rocked violently, and she feared that it would actually be knocked off the road.

Terrifying flashes of lightning began to split the inky darkness of the sky, forcing her to slow the car to a crawl. The sound of thunder reverberated all around her, was nearly as deafening as the pounding of her own pulse.

Another gust of wind rocked the car and Maggie decided she wasn't going any further until the storm abated. When she caught sight of a huge tree on her side of the road, she slowed the car.

The tree might attract lightning, but the protection it afforded from the wind was preferable to being rolled around the countryside like a tumbleweed. She switched on her emergency flashers and pulled to a stop, sighing with relief as the tree created a partial windbreak.

She'd nearly forgotten the cowboy until his pickup truck pulled alongside her car. He rolled down the window on the passenger side, and Maggie reluctantly opened her window a crack so that she could hear him.

Needle-sharp, freezing rain lashed her face and neck as she strained to hear what the cowboy was saying.

"You can't stay under that tree," he growled. "My place is a couple miles down the road. There's another curve that will head us north into the wind again. If you follow me, my truck will block some of the wind."

He didn't give her a chance to argue, just rolled up the window and pulled in front of her. She grudgingly put her car in gear and followed.

Visibility did improve a little when she could follow his taillights. As soon as they rounded a sharp right curve, her car stopped rocking so violently. His wide vehicle blocked the worst of the wind, but the rain pelted her windshield relentlessly, and she allowed herself a groan of distress.

How did she always manage to get into these kinds of predicaments? Her family said it was because she was so impetuous, independent, and headstrong, but she didn't know how to be anything else. Besides, how could she have known that driving to the McCain ranch would be such a nightmare? It was September, and she hadn't expected the weather to be a problem.

When the cowboy's brake lights flashed, Maggie realized the truck was turning into a driveway. She drove through a gate and over metal cattle guards. Lightning flashed, enabling her to see the shape of a two-story building about a half mile ahead of the truck.

Another gust of wind rocked the car, and her heart leapt into her throat. Her stomach was rolling, and she prayed that the car wouldn't do the same before she made it to shelter.

The crunch of gravel beneath her tires gave way to smoother pavement, and then her escort pulled into a carport attached to a house. There was enough room to fit her car beside the truck, so she followed.

Safe at last, she shut off her lights and engine, then collapsed against the steering wheel in relief.

"Are you all right?" the cowboy demanded as he threw open her door and bent down to peer inside.

Maggie turned her head, and found herself looking directly into his ruggedly handsome face and piercing eyes. A shiver raced over her, but she attributed it to the cold, damp air that rushed around her.

"I'm fine, just relieved to be sitting still," she commented breathlessly.

"We'd better get in the house," he said, taking hold of her arm and leaving her little choice but to cooperate.

Maggie barely had time to grab her keys and pocketbook before she was pulled from the car and practically carried to the door of the house. The cowboy's big body absorbed the brunt of the pelting rain, but she was still drenched before they managed to get through the door and onto a closed porch.

"Is this your house?" she asked as they shook some of the water from their bodies.

"Yes," Curt responded. He wasn't thrilled with having a female guest--his very first, but he had little choice in the matter. Another couple of miles and her car would have overturned or sunk axle deep in the water beginning to rush across the road.

"You can leave your coat out here to dry," he told her as he hung his over a hook on the wall.

Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her teeth were beginning to chatter, and she was shivering with cold. Her coat had kept most of her dress dry, but her hair, hem line, legs, and feet were soaked.

Curt took her coat and spread it over the back of the only chair on the porch. Then he opened the door to the kitchen and ushered his guest inside where it was a little warmer, but not much.

"I'll get a fire started in the fireplace," he told her, noticing how chilled she was. "This way."

She followed him through the spacious kitchen into an even more spacious living room. Half of one wall was covered with a stone fireplace, and she moved toward it.

Wrapping her arms tightly about her, she looked around the room. Now that she was out of the storm, her insatiable curiosity kicked into high gear. He main concern was getting warm, but that didn't stop her from being curious.

The house was obviously still under construction. The air smelled of new wood and sawdust. The walls and hardwood floors were bare, and the only piece of furniture in the room was a big, leather sofa. She'd seen appliances in the kitchen, but the only furnishings in there were a wooden table with a couple of straight-backed chairs. If he lived here, he must like to rough it.

Maggie wondered if he had a wife and family. She glanced at his left hand as he lit a match and noted that he wasn't wearing a ring. That wasn't a guarantee, but it made her feel both relief and chagrin. While she didn't like the idea of being totally alone with a swinging single, she didn't really like the idea that he might have a wife waiting for him.

As soon as Curt had the fire steadily burning, he turned his attention back to his guest. She had looked small in her coat, but without it, she looked really tiny. Despite the mature, hourglass figure, he couldn't remember ever seeing anyone with features so small and delicate.

Though her stature was slight, her eyes were alight with intelligence, and she didn't seem to lack self-confidence. She'd battled the Oklahoma elements with an iron determination that proved she wasn't as fragile as her appearance suggested.

He took the two blankets from the sofa and spread one on the floor in front of the fireplace. Then he stepped close to Maggie and wrapped the second blanket about her shoulders. She shivered, still not speaking, but gave him a warm smile for his thoughtfulness.

It made him frown. The smile was innocent and not the least bit flirtatious, but it sent a current of powerful emotion racing through him. She smelled sweetly feminine, and he found himself reacting to her as he hadn't reacted to any woman for a long time. He didn't like it.

"You can sit in front of the fireplace as long as you don't get too close. I don't have a screen for it yet."

Maggie nodded, stepped out of her shoes, pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders. Then she eased herself to the floor in front of the fire. Her shivering gradually abated, and she felt life coming back into her frozen limbs. She hadn't realized how icy-cold she'd gotten until she began to thaw.

Drawing the blanket closer, she inhaled a clean, woodsy scent that had to belong to her host. There had been a couple of times when she'd been close enough to feel the heat of his body and to smell the unique masculine scent of him. Her sense of smell was acute, and she found unexpected comfort in burying her face in the stranger's blanket.

Maggie couldn't explain, even to herself, why she wasn't alarmed by the strange turn of events. She was temporarily content to sit in front of the fire and let the sight and scent of her host penetrate her senses. Her only experience with cowboys was the urban sort, so she'd never met anyone quite like this one.

He had a gorgeous physique; long legs, muscled thighs, flat stomach, slim waist, and wonderfully wide shoulders. Her gaze slowly devoured him while he had his back turned. She couldn't remember ever meeting a man that was put together as beautifully.

"The proprietor of the store called you Curt. Would you mind my asking your full name?" she inquired, watching him as he carefully added a big log to the kindling.

"Curt Hayden." His response was as curt as his name, and Maggie was a bit annoyed when he didn't offer more information or ask her name. She decided not to introduce herself.

"You mentioned that this is your house. Do you live here?"

He rose and walked to a window. "I live on the McCain ranch most of the time, but I'm trying to get this place finished before winter." If today was an example of the winter to come, it would be a long, stormy one.