The Maverick's Ready-Made Family

The Maverick's Ready-Made Family
Brenda Harlen

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“Are you afraid of the rumor mill?” Clay asked.

“Well, it has chewed me up and spit me out before,” she admitted.

What could be juicier than pregnant and unwed Antonia Wright out on a date (Can you imagine? In her condition?) with the sexy cowboy who was staying out at her ranch? (What could he possibly see in her? And is he really sleeping in the boardinghouse—or in her bed?)

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would let one punch take her down.”

“I’m also not the type of woman who would let a man goad—or seduce—me into going out with him,” she informed him.

“Are you saying no to my invitation?”

“No, I’m saying yes—but because I want to go, not because I was coerced or challenged.”

“I only care about the yes,” he said, and brushed his lips against hers.

And when he kissed her like that, Antonia couldn’t imagine saying no to anything …

Dear Reader,

The Maverick’s Ready-Made Family isn’t a traditional family. Clayton Traub is a single father, Antonia Wright is an expectant mother and neither is looking for any kind of romantic entanglement. But sometimes love has other ideas …

This story held particular appeal for me because I also come from an untraditional family that, in addition to my mother and father and sister, includes a stepfather, half-brother, stepmother, two stepbrothers and a stepsister, and numerous in-laws. Consequently, holidays in my family are rarely traditional—but they’re always interesting.

I hope you’ll find Clayton and Antonia’s story just as interesting and that you enjoy this addition to the latest MONTANA MAVERICKS series.

Happy reading!

Brenda Harlen

About the Author

BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Mills & Boon.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com or by snail mail c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, USA.

The Maverick’s

Ready-Made

Family

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To all the authors of the Montana Mavericks series, past and present, for creating a fabulous world that readers want always to return to.

Prologue

“Arriving at destination on right.”

Clayton Traub turned and followed the long gravel drive until he saw a sign above the doorway of a two-story building that read Wright’s Way, confirming that the vehicle’s navigation system had been correct. Not that he’d doubted the device’s capabilities—not really. He just believed in covering all of his bases.

In the case of following his brother, Forrest, on a three-hundred-mile road trip from Rust Creek Falls to Thunder Canyon, Montana, there were a lot of bases. Especially considering that Forrest had been more than a little … distracted since his return from Iraq.

Clay parked his Dodge Ram Quad Cab and assessed the residence. The clapboard siding looked as if it had been recently painted, the windows shone in the late-afternoon sun, and there were pots of bronze-colored mums flanking the entranceway. The cursory perusal assured him that it didn’t look like a bad place to spend a few weeks, and he didn’t plan on staying any longer than that.

He headed up to the main house, following the instructions of a ranch hand who’d told him that Tony would take care of the registration and give him the key.

A housekeeper answered his knock at the door and directed him to an office. It wasn’t until Clay peeked into the room that he realized “Tony” was actually “Toni.”

Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, except that along with the realization came an intense jolt of basic masculine appreciation.

His first glimpse was of her profile, as she was seated at a desk and working at the computer. Her nose was straight, her chin slightly pointed and long, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. Slender, graceful fingers moved expertly over the keys and though those fingers never faltered, she must have sensed his presence in the doorway because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. And his heart actually skipped a beat.

Toni Wright was very definitely female—and exquisite.

“Can I help you?”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate the fog that had suddenly enveloped his brain, and another moment for Clay to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d had such a purely visceral reaction to the sight of a woman. A very long time.

“Clayton Traub,” he finally said. “I’m checking in.”

“Welcome to Wright’s Way.” Her tone was pleasant, her smile natural, but there was more than a hint of reserve in the depths of her green eyes. “Do you know how long you plan to stay?”

Focus, Traub. The reprimand was silent but stern. He was here because he needed a break and because his mother wanted him to keep an eye on his brother while Forrest was rehabbing in Thunder Canyon. The absolute last thing he needed was to let himself be distracted by a pretty face. On the other hand, this trip to Thunder Canyon suddenly promised to be a whole lot more interesting.

“A few weeks, at least,” he finally responded to her question.

“The rent is paid weekly, in advance.”

“That’s not a problem,” he assured her, unfazed by her all-business attitude.

She passed him a page with Rental Terms & Conditions noted across the top. “Please review this and sign at the bottom.”

He scanned the document, nothing giving him any cause for concern—until he got to paragraph eight. He tapped a finger on the page, beside the relevant clause. “What exactly does it mean by ‘no overnight visitors allowed’?”

“It means that only registered guests are allowed to stay overnight on the premises,” she told him.

“That could be a problem.”

She shrugged. “Then there’s a motel in town, The Wander-On Inn, that might be more to your liking.”