Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!

“I’m Not Wearing A Tuxedo.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue Copyright

“I’m Not Wearing A Tuxedo.”

“I can understand how you feel, Wade, but it’s your only child’s wedding.”

“I’ll give Myra Jo the full three-ring circus, but I won’t play the trained bear for anybody. I’m no weekend cowboy, Leah, thinking I’m a rancher because I own a few acres and run a few head. I work my land and my herds. My hands get dirty and my boots aren’t for show.”

Wade suddenly looked weary, and Leah felt her heart pull. Whatever the reason, it was clear a battle would wage to put some shine on a man who wore his humble beginnings like a badge of honor.

“So...have I scared you off?”

“Nope.” She held out her hand. “You may have met your match....”

Dear Reader,

THE BLACK WATCH returns! The men you found so intriguing are now joined by women who are also part of this secret organization created by BJ James. Look for them in Whispers in the Dark, this month’s MAN OF THE MONTH.

Leanne Banks’s delightful miniseries HOW TO CATCH A PRINCESS—all about three childhood friends who kiss a lot of frogs before they each meet their handsome prince—continues with The You-Can’t-Make-Me Bride. And Elizabeth Bevarly’s series THE FAMILY McCORMICK concludes with Georgia Meets Her Groom. Romance blooms as the McCormick family is finally reunited.

Peggy Moreland’s tantalizing miniseries TROUBLE IN TEXAS begins this month with Marry Me, Cowboy. When the men of Temptation, Texas, decide they want wives, they find them the newfangled way—they advertise!

A Western from Jackie Merritt is always a treat, so I’m excited about this month’s Wind River Ranch—it’s ultrasensuous and totally compelling. And the month is completed with Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!, an engaging romp by Pamela Ingrahm. There’s nothing better than curling up with a Silhouette Desire book, so enjoy!

Regards,

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!

Pamela Ingrahm

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PAMELA INGRAHM

lives in Austin, Texas, with the man of her dreams and their two children. She’s added to the mix one dog that thinks the human race was put here to love her, and Pamela swears she’s not doing anything to foster that notion. She also tells all who will listen how wonderful it is to live your dream.

In loving memory of my mother, Myra D‘Etcheverry.

To my daddy, J. Romeo D’Etcheveny, and Judy—I

wish you two lovebirds every happiness.

To Adrienne—You are a friend beyond measure.

Thanks for all your love and support.

To “The Girls”—Pat, Cara, Janet and Adrienne—bar

none, you are the best critique group in the world!

One

“Has he been by yet?”

“Nope,” Leah Houston answered her partner, hoping Rhonda missed the nervous jump the mere mention of him evoked. She kept her eyes on the new publicity photo for Brides and Babies, her business and her pride and joy.

“What’s that?” Rhonda set down the soft drinks she’d just purchased and straightened the curtains separating the little storage area where they sat from the display area. The strips of satin hid the paraphernalia they had transported from the boutique to the convention center for the bridal fair.

Leah took a grateful sip of cola and dabbed a bead of perspiration from her forehead. Although the convention center was air-conditioned—something of a necessity for Austin in June—she was still feeling the effects of the heat.

She handed over the photo to Rhonda and waited. Brides and Babies was her brainchild, and she had nurtured it from a one-person operation to its present staff of nine. Rhonda had been with her the longest—six years now—and covered the “and Babies” side of things.

“This will look wonderful on the new brochures,” Rhonda said as she cocked her head sideways, making the long, silky blond hair Leah would have given her eyeteeth to have cascade off one shoulder. “Your dad would be so proud.”

Leah managed a smile. Her father had died when she was twelve, but even at that young age he had instilled in her the need to “be” someone someday.

“I hope so. He wanted so much more for himself, but with my mom having kids every eighteen months, or thereabouts, he had to work two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. I think he had dreams and passed the torch to me.”

“You certainly ran with it. Of course, when you came up with the cockamamy idea of putting a baby boutique around the corner from the bridal shop, I thought you were a certifiable lunatic.”

“Thanks for the rousing vote of confidence.”

“I hate to admit it,” Rhonda confessed, “but it was a good thing you didn’t listen to me.”

“I listened,” Leah protested innocently. “I just didn’t pay attention.”

Rhonda rolled her eyes and shook her head despairingly, but in the next moment all teasing was gone.

“You are going to take the Mackey wedding, though, aren’t you? I mean, you’ve worked with Myra Jo before, so you know she’ll be fun. And you have to admit, being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting... advantages.”

Leah grimaced. “I don’t have to admit any such thing, and Wade Mackey’s sexiness is irrelevant. I have to weigh whether this wedding is going to repair my reputation or damage it further.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve only lost three weddings since the Robertson fiasco. And, I might add, you didn’t make Penelope Robertson walk out of her own wedding.”

“No, but her mama sure let everyone think I’d upset Penelope-poo so much she had to leave the church.”

“So she made you a scapegoat. The weddings that went south were worth losing, if the people believed those stupid rumors. Besides, you haven’t exactly had to declare bankruptcy. ‘Babies’ is doing a great turn this quarter, so quit worrying.”

“I can’t be as casual about this as you are, Rhonda. This business is my life, and I take those lost contracts personally. The money isn’t the issue. My reputation is.”

Rhonda put a perfectly manicured hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Forgive me for being flippant. No one knows more than I do how hard you work. I guess that’s why I don’t understand your reluctance about the Mackey wedding.”

Leah gave her friend an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? The bride’s daddy is a well-known rancher who hates politicians, and the groom’s daddy is the most well-known senator in Texas. If those two men go after each other, it’ll make the Robertson affair look like a cakewalk.”

Rhonda tried to be positive. “Surely they wouldn’t do anything foolish at a big wedding.”

Leah shook her head. “Experience has taught me that the bigger the opportunity for disaster, the greater the chance for abominable behavior.”

Leah took another sip of cola and listened as the vendors around them dismantled their stalls. The noise distracted her, making her think about the job ahead of her. She’d hired a textiles major from the university to arrange her booth, but she’d decided to save money by taking the stall down herself. Even with Rhonda’s help, she wasn’t looking forward to the next few hours.

Voices from beyond the curtain caught her attention. Leah felt sure the deep one belonged to Wade Mackey, and was irritated by her pulse’s response.

She never allowed anyone to interfere with her business, and she was frustrated by Wade Mackey’s failure to follow the rules. She’d only met the man once, but she’d had to remind herself constantly since the Griffen wedding that she was not interested in lean, dark cowboys with disconcerting gray eyes. The lean and dark were fine, even the gray eyes were fine, but she had no interest in a swaggering, overbearing cattle baron.

Her conscience scolded her. Nothing about Wade Mackey supported her choice of adjectives. Confident, maybe, but hardly swaggering. Assertive, maybe, but hardly overbearing. He was the kind of man a woman could depend on, snuggle close to and feel, just for a moment, as if she wasn’t alone.

Quieting her conscience, she checked to be sure no hair had escaped her sleek chignon. She most assuredly didn’t need a man’s protection. She’d been dating Brandt off and on for almost three years now, hadn’t she? And she certainly didn’t feel protected when she was with him. She’d made it to the advanced age of thirty-five on her own, thank you very much, and if she needed security, she’d buy a guard dog.

Straightening her suit—her favorite as it did wonders to hide her hips—Leah stepped into the display area.

And nearly stumbled. Even though she’d been expecting him, she must have forgotten just how right Rhonda could be at times. Handsome was an understatement.

He was tall, Texan tall, at least six-two or -three. His shoulders looked broad enough to battle a reluctant calf, or maybe a dragon, or to support a woman’s tired head. His arms were hidden beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, but she remembered the steely strength in his fingers, even though his grasp had been gentle. She didn’t dare glance down at the hips she knew were narrow or the thighs hidden beneath the denim of his jeans. Just the memory of him in slacks and a sports jacket was enough to make her lightheaded.

The beautiful girl at his side was his daughter, Myra Jo. The gossips had been tripping over their figurative tongues to give the juicy details of her courtship with Pennington Bradford, son of the wealthy and powerful Senator Johnson Bradford.

“Mr. Mackey, Myra Jo! How nice to see you again. Welcome to Brides and Babies,” she said to announce herself.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding as he switched the straw cowboy hat from his right hand to his left so he could accept her handshake. “And please, it’s just Wade, remember?”

How could she forget? The memory of Tammy Griffen’s wedding, and of his fingers against hers, came back in a powerful rush. She remembered how she would turn at the oddest times and find Wade’s eyes on her. She had hated knowing his penetrating gray gaze had pierced the shield of her professionalism. He had flustered her the entire evening.

Pulling her attention away, she clasped Myra Jo’s fingers warmly. “Best wishes on your engagement. I hope you and Mr. Bradford will be very happy.”

Myra Jo tossed her a cheeky grin. “Mr. Bradford’s already happily married, but Pennington and I plan on proving all the doomsayers wrong.”

She cast a quick glance at her father before returning innocent eyes to Leah.

Leah chuckled, remembering Myra Jo’s quirky sense of humor from the usual prewedding ruckus in the bride’s lounge. She had kept Tammy Griffen laughing so hard she hadn’t had time to be nervous.

“You were a good friend to Tammy. She made it all the way up the aisle without tripping. That girl was—”

“A hoot?” Myra Jo interjected.

Leah’s answering smile widened, despite her best effort. “A good choice of words, I think.”

Myra Jo tucked her palm in the curve of her father’s arm. “I think Tammy picked those awful bridesmaid dresses just to make us look goofy.”

Leah was grateful Tammy had not chosen her attendants’ gowns at Brides and Babies—not that her shop would have ever carried such monstrosities—because Myra Jo was right. The hideous burnt orange satin had made the girls look like something out of a Halloween nightmare next to their black-clad escorts.

“You were awfully good-natured about it,” Leah said, trying to be diplomatic.

“What could we do? It was her wedding. If she wanted seven pumpkins walking down the aisle, who were we to argue?”

A full-throated laugh burst from Leah. Again, Myra Jo was correct. The little hats Tammy had chosen, with a net veil and a green feather perched on the side, had indeed made the slender bridesmaids look like marching veggies, except Leah thought the girls had looked more like carrots than pumpkins.

Myra Jo gave her father’s arm a little shake. “Daddy had the bad manners to laugh when he saw us.”

“I pretended to cough,” he defended himself, his deep voice laced with humor.

Leah kept her smile frozen in place as a flash of agitation coursed through her. She distinctly remembered the clenching in her gut when she’d searched the crowd for the unmistakable sound, knowing somehow just who was jeopardizing months of her hard work. Her own desire to laugh hadn’t eased her resentment. It was one thing to think of laughing and another to do it.

Before she got good and angry at the memory, she looked back at Myra Jo. She was a younger, decidedly female version of her father, with the same aquiline nose, the same full lips, the same high cheekbones. Her ebony tresses were swept back from her delicate face in a loose French braid trailing down her back. Leah suspected Wade’s midnight hair, cut short against his well-formed head, would curl defiantly if left to grow.

Myra Jo had none of her father’s tall ruggedness, though. She was barely five-one, and looked so fragile a strong wind might blow her over. Leah noticed faint smudges under the girl’s eyes, despite her perfect makeup. If she had to guess, and since she did so regularly, she would put Myra Jo at a size six.

“So, what can I help you with today?” Leah asked, bringing the subject back to business. People were walking past with boxes and crates, and it was going to be hard enough to keep their attention while the place was being torn down around them.

Myra Jo withdrew her arm from her father’s and clasped her hands together. Her expression tightened just enough to make the shadows under her eyes seem deeper.

“Well,” Myra Jo cleared her throat. “Just about the only thing Daddy and I haven’t fought about is asking you to do the wedding. I’ve pushed the date back twice for Daddy, but this time I’ve already reserved the church and sent out my invitations.”

“The problem,” Wade interjected, “is that now she’s only given herself a month to get all the rest of the details put together.”

To Leah, Wade’s irritation with his daughter was almost palpable.

“Anyway,” Myra Jo continued, “Daddy thought you did a great job keeping the ‘Hatfields and McCoys’ apart at Tammy’s wedding, so if anyone can referee the ten rounds until Penn and I get married, and maybe get my bullheaded father into a tuxedo, it’s you.”

Leah cast an astonished glance at Wade. She wasn’t surprised Myra Jo was interested—they’d gotten along fabulously at the Griffen wedding. But to know Wade approved of his daughter’s choice based on a brief introduction at the reception was more than a shock. She was hardly an expert on Wade Mackey, but she didn’t see him as the impulsive type.

“Thank you for your confidence. I’ll try to do my best for you.” I just hope I don’t regret it.

Myra Jo patted her father’s arm. “I’m going to run down to that honeymoon packager before they close. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—”

But she was gone. Wade shook his head.

“Kids,” he said, shrugging one shoulder.

“She’s lovely.”

Pride radiated from his whole body. “Thank you.” He turned his head to watch Myra Jo’s retreating figure. “But sometimes she’s the most stubborn cuss I’ve ever met.”

“She must take after her father,” Leah said straightfaced.

Wade’s glance darted back to her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve heard a similar suggestion once or twice.”

She should have won an Oscar for the innocence of her expression. “Still, I’m looking forward to working with her.”

“Then let’s hope you enjoy her father just as much.”

He delivered the words in a quiet, warning tone. Leah didn’t feel intimidated, but she did acknowledge the message with a sharp nod. Rhonda’s earlier quip ran through her mind. Being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting...advantages.

Yeah, right.

He was certainly single, and more than sexy, but she doubted those gray eyes would turn smoky and his voice husky because of her. Not that she wanted such a reaction from him, of course, but she suspected this would be one tough assignment from the get-go.

Wade looked at his watch as Myra Jo returned, bearing several brochures. “We need to get going for now. Myra Jo will give you a call. I believe she wants a lunch catered for her sorority friends, so she’ll contact you to make arrangements.”

With barely time to set an appointment and say their goodbyes, Wade ushered Myra Jo away. Leah stood there, a little dazed, until they disappeared from sight.

Blast it, he’d done it again! With a few words, the man had stolen her composure. That was simply not acceptable. She’d worked for the hard kind before and managed not to get out of sorts. Getting perturbed at this early stage was not a good sign. It would have helped if Wade were old and crotchety, but since that wasn’t the case, she’d have to deal sternly with her improper responses to his unfortunate good looks.

Rhonda rejoined her, and the task ahead of them forced Leah to put Wade Mackey from her mind. Except she couldn’t quite banish the picture of a rugged, handsome cowboy who looked about as approachable as a bull...right before the gate was pulled.

Wade pulled the gate shut with an irritated jerk and headed for the kitchen, amazed that a week had passed. Sometimes he wondered where all the peace and quiet he tried to guard so fiercely had disappeared to. He warned himself to be careful or he’d land himself in the hospital again with pneumonia.

He wanted to believe he’d learned his lesson, but he glanced at the skyline and shook his head. The sun hadn’t even made its appearance and he was already at work. He’d arrived home late last night to have Myra Jo tell him the hot tub wasn’t working and her sorority party was the next day—in a few hours, in fact—and Wade had had a hard time teasing her out of her the-world-is-going-to-end mood.

He went into the kitchen and leaned back against the cool ceramic counter, every tile of which had been laid and grouted with his own two hands. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the coffeepot gurgling behind him, tempting him to check. As usual, his patience ran out before the water in the reservoir, and he poured a mug while drops danced and scuttled on the hot plate. After returning the decanter, he headed back out the door into the predawn coolness.

He’d had to leave from the bndal fair and head directly to the airport to catch his flight to Midland-Odessa. His meeting had gone well with the man who owned the black Angus bull Wade had his sights on, but he was perturbed by the frequency with which his thoughts had been interrupted by the memory of one Leah Houston. In the end, he’d left without the bull because it seemed a stupid time to start indulging his whim for a purebred herd.

Wade paused, taking a careful sip of the strong, hot brew as he watched the gradual lightening of the sky above the scrub-covered hills. There was something amusing about the demarcation between his manicured lawn and the beginnings of the rough soil and tenacious plants of the Texas hill country. Without constant attention, the fragile yard would quickly be taken over by the tough range grasses that defied the rocky soil.

Much like he felt his life was being taken over, at times.

So when had his baby girl grown up? Hadn’t he been a band booster and Future Farmers of America sponsor just yesterday? He clearly remembered sitting at the kitchen table, poring over course catalogs with her, back in the days when his opinion had mattered.

What had happened to the giggling girl who could rein a horse with one hand and hold a portable phone with the other? Somehow she had turned into a beautiful, stubborn woman who wouldn’t listen to her daddy when he told her she was picking the wrong man to marry.

Which reminded him—just how had he convinced himself that his attraction to Leah at Tammy’s wedding had merely been a healthy man’s reaction to a beautiful woman? He’d only attended out of obligation to Tammy, who had been one of Myra Jo’s best friends since they were gangly little girls.

But he’d been delighted by the diversion Leah had provided. She’d been cool, contained, an economy of motion, and he’d had the absurd desire to ruffle her feathers, to put a chink in the perfect armor she’d worn around herself. His reaction had surprised him. In fact, he still wondered what it was about her that intrigued him so.

The easy answer was that he was darn near celibate these days. He hardly saw Ysabel anymore, not with the travel demands her new promotion put on her. Even so, his relationship with Ysabel had always been more of a deep, abiding friendship with a little sex thrown in—hardly the typical dating couple, he was sure. So was he drawn to Leah because his body longed to be with a soft, sensual woman, or because he was drawn to her calm, professional demeanor in the midst of all the wedding hysteria? Since he liked to think of himself as being mature enough to handle his sex drive, he wanted to believe the latter.

Yeah, right.

And maybe her lush figure had stood out among the line of nearly anorexic sticks in attendance like a rose in full bloom in a vase full of cattails.

Much more likely.

Seeing Leah and Myra Jo together had also reinforced his concern for his daughter. She was dangerously thin. Not that her mother was any help. The rare times Myra Jo saw Julie, the first words out of Julie’s mouth contained a question about whether Myra Jo had gained weight or not. He’d forced himself to stay quiet and wait until after the witch was gone to reassure his baby girl of her intelligence and her beauty. Just thinking about his ex-wife was enough to make his neck ache.

Wade took one last swallow of coffee and threw the dregs from his cup onto the lawn. If he didn’t get busy, Leah would be arriving with her crew to find the pool area a mess and the hot tub still not working. He ignored the funny trip of his pulse at the thought of seeing her again. After all, hadn’t he just convinced himself that there was nothing unusual about his reaction to the curvy brunette?

As he worked on the pump in its crowded little shed, he reminded himself with each twist of the wrench that he’d better get his libido under control. He might have allowed himself a small fantasy or two at the Griffen wedding, but Leah worked for him now, and he wasn’t about to let any nonsense happen.

“Excuse me...” a hesitant voice said from the doorway.

He knew who owned the voice, even though the bright sun backlit Leah’s form and hid her face in shadows. Her full curves cast an intriguing picture, and he was stunned as the desire to find out what her softness would feel like if pressed between him and, say, the nearest wall ripped through him.

He pulled himself up short, amazed by the suddenness and intensity of his reaction. Hadn’t he just told himself to get his thoughts under control?

At the rate things were going, this wedding would be the death of him.