Made in Texas!

“Anyone home?” asked a voice that had become all too familiar to Donna, since she couldn’t seem to forget what it had sounded like yesterday when it had scratched down her skin, infiltrating her every vibrating cell.

Caleb Granger.

She sat up straight on the bed. “I’m in here.”

Dumbest announcement ever, but what else could she do? Pretend she was invisible, just so he would go away?

When he pushed open the door, her heart started to beat with such an all-consuming volume that she could barely hear herself breathing.

Or maybe, just like yesterday, she’d stopped breathing altogether at the sight of Caleb Granger in those boots, Wranglers and T-shirt.

And when he doffed his cowboy hat in her presence to reveal shaggy dark blond hair, then smiled with those lethal dimples, she wasn’t sure she would ever breathe again.

THE MERE SIGHT of the early light flirting with Donna Byrd’s shoulder-length blond hair and her skin, which she somehow kept smooth and creamy out here in the elements, was enough to send Caleb’s pulse into a kicking frenzy.

She was something to behold, sitting on a bed wearing a sleeveless white halter top that was kind to every curve of her body. Her creased dark blue shorts clung to her lush hips, and even her Keds somehow came off as classy. She was certainly a far cry from when he’d seen her that first day, months ago, in suede boots and an expensive outfit that had marked her as anything but a country girl.

She seemed to realize that she was sitting on a bed, and she stood, brushing off her shorts with one hand while the other put one of those computer pad things that everyone in the suburbs had seemed so enthralled with down on the mattress. He noticed a fancy logo on the screen saver and recalled some gossip about a defunct magazine she’d run back in the city.

Drive and gumption. That’s what this woman had, and hard times hadn’t seemed to dampen her ambition at all, based on what she was doing with the B and B.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked.

He wasn’t going to touch that innuendo-rife question with a ten-foot stick. “I saw you headed in here earlier, and I thought I’d say a good morning.”

For the first time in Caleb’s life, a woman was looking at him as if she couldn’t understand why in the world he would’ve gone out of his way for something so unimportant.

Was Hugh right when he’d told Caleb yesterday that Donna Byrd wasn’t winnable? Or was she so far into her own business that she had no idea that Caleb was even interested?

Well, he didn’t know just what to think of either option, but it didn’t stop him from making himself at home and leaning against the door frame.

“I suppose I had another reason for stopping in,” he said, flashing his smile at her again, pulling out the big guns.

She wrinkled her brow, as if he were a creature who’d wandered out from the woods, a previously unidentified species that absolutely perplexed her.

“Your reason being…?” she asked.

“Simple hospitality.”

She laughed. “I’ve gotten plenty of that, Mr. Granger. Everyone on the Flying B has been more than cordial.”

“And I’ll extend that trend by asking you to call me Caleb. There’s no need for ‘misters’ around here.”

“Caleb it is, then.”

Now she was looking at him expectantly. But that—and the compelling depth of her blue eyes—only made him forge on.

He’d never turned down a challenge before, and now wouldn’t be the first time.

“Word has it that you’re putting on some sort of movie night this weekend,” he said.

“Oh. Right. Yes, we’re attaching a screen to the side of the barn and setting up a picnic area in front of it for the staff, just like we’ll be doing for our guests when we open the B and B. Barbara is planning a country menu, so you could call this a dry run for the real thing.”

“A country menu? You mean basic Texas staples, like barbecue baby back ribs and steaks, hot biscuits and corn?”

“That’s exactly what I meant.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “We’ve got a special guest coming to the Flying B this weekend, so that’s another reason for the show. He’s a journalist friend of mine, and we’re hoping he’ll write an article for a B and B marketing push.”

All Caleb heard was “friend” and “he.”

“A friend, huh?” he asked carelessly.

“Yes, a…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Never mind.”

“No, go on, Lady Bird. I’m just curious.”

“First off, my name’s not Lady Bird.”

Caleb smiled. “Okay, Donna Byrd.” He liked the ring of that better, anyway. The way it flowed made her sound exotic, which she was to him; it made her sound as if she was a hothouse breed. But even if she wasn’t so hothouse on the surface, Caleb would bet there was a soft, melting center to her, and he was going to find it.

She didn’t seem amused by the adjustment to the nickname. “You were about to tell me why you were here?”

Yeah, that. “As I said—movie night. There’s a lot of excitement in the air. Everyone’s talking about how the ranch hasn’t seen much in the way of celebration since Tex passed on.”

He hadn’t meant to change tone after saying Tex’s name. Quieter. Reflecting a grief that still lingered.

When Donna removed her hands from her pockets and slightly tilted her head, as if in sympathy, he stood away from the door frame.

He hadn’t come here to be a downer.

“I heard that you were close to Tex,” she said softly. “I barely got to know him, but…”

She pressed her lips together, as if banning herself from saying anything else.

Yet he’d seen that sorrow in her gaze, and as much as she was attempting to cover it now, it wasn’t working.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And yours,” Caleb said.

She paused, then casually walked to the other side of the bed, straightening the thick quiltlike thing on top of it, but her actions didn’t fool him for a moment. She was putting a barrier between them, just as she did with everyone else.

Good try.

“As far as movie night goes,” he said, getting back on the subject, “I was only wondering what your plans were for it.”

Donna stopped her fussing with the bed and watched him again, obviously trying to sort out his true meaning.

Caleb put on the charm once more. “I thought I’d bring some wine and—”