My Montana Home

My Montana Home
Ellen James

Set against the magnificent background of Montana comes the saga of the Maxwells–one of the state's most powerful ranching families.Cassie Maxwell Warren has kept her seven-year-old son away from the influence of her dominating father–patriarch of the powerful Maxwell ranching dynasty. She saw how that influence almost destroyed her teenage brother and she wants to protect Zak. But now her son is becoming too attached to Andrew Morris, a man who thinks he knows what's best for the child–and for Cassie.

“You live in Texas, I live in Montana…”

Cassie saw the unexpected glimmer of amusement in Andrew’s eyes as she spoke. She tried again. “Besides, I don’t even really know you.”

“The lawyer I need to see is out of town for a week. Means I have to stick around a little longer than I’d planned. That gives us the perfect opportunity, if you ask me.”

The humor was there, all right, sexy and dangerous. How tempting it would be to follow his lead…not to worry about the future, just to enjoy a day or two, a week perhaps, with an alluring stranger. But it was a luxury Cassie couldn’t afford.

She stood, setting her lemonade on the table beside her. “Sorry, Andrew,” she said lightly. “I’m not in the market to start anything new, no matter how…temporary.” She saw the regret in his eyes and felt her own regret. But it didn’t hurt; that was the blessed thing. Thank goodness she’d learned how to stop before she did get hurt. Before her son got hurt, too.

And so she walked away from Andrew Morris.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been fascinated by Montana, with its mountains and prairies, its rivers and ranchlands. I’m therefore delighted to be part of this trilogy about the women of Montana—women with hopes and passions as grand as the Big Sky state itself. Thea, Jolie and Cassie Maxwell are Montana sisters who grew apart over the years, as they struggled to deal with their difficult father and their rebellious kid brother.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories of Thea and Jolie, the youngest and oldest Maxwell sisters. After finding love with wonderful men, and in the process learning to open their hearts, Thea and Jolie are hoping that their sister Cassie—the “middle” Maxwell—will have the same luck in love. Cassie, however, has too many reasons not to fall in love. She’s determined to protect herself as well as her young son, Zak, from ever being hurt again.

Please join me now as Cassie tries as hard as she can not to fall for handsome Dallas lawyer Andrew Morris. When Montana meets Texas, though, anything is bound to happen.

Happy reading,

Ellen James

My Montana Home

Ellen James

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

This book is dedicated to my husband.

Robert, here’s to many more Montana dreams.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE

CASSIE WARREN STARED at the drop below her with a mixed sense of wonderment and panic. She knew the tree house stood no more than seventeen feet above the backyard of freshly mowed bluegrass. And climbing up the rope ladder had been so easily accomplished—egged on as she had been by her seven-year-old son, Zak. Yet now, to her chagrin, the rope ladder had disappeared, and Cassie had no idea how she could descend to terra firma without breaking her neck in the process.

“Zak!” she called again. “William Zachary Warren! I’m not kidding. I’ll count to ten and then…”

This morning had started out innocently enough—six o’clock alarm; twenty minutes of Jazzercise with her Fit or Flab video; a quick shower; then breakfast and some time with Zak before work. Only, that quality time with Zak had turned sour again, and mushroomed into what amounted to a full-blown therapy session—forcing Cassie to push back her first two appointments of the day and cancel lunch with her boss. Zak had withdrawn severely since the breakup of Cassie’s marriage over a year ago. She’d tried everything she knew in order to reach him, to get him to express the pain and anger he kept bottled up inside. So today, when Zak retreated into his usual forlorn silence, she’d been willing to do anything to spark a response in her son. Acting on sudden inspiration, she’d ascended with him to the one place where he seemed to feel safe and at home: this old backyard tree house perched high in a venerable oak.

Once ensconced, Zak had seemed to relax just a bit, answering her attempts at conversation with guarded monosyllables. Finally she’d settled back, allowing her eyes to drift shut. She’d been so tired lately, trying to juggle motherhood with a job at Child Services that drained her emotions while scarcely paying the bills. She’d been so worried, too—worried about her kid brother, Bobby, and all the trouble he’d been in. The drunk-driving accident he’d caused…the baby daughter he’d fathered at the young age of nineteen. And then there was Robert Maxwell, Cassie’s dad—an impossible man in so many ways, refusing to take care of himself the way he should…

Yet up here in the tree house, she’d left all that behind for a moment. It was so peaceful, with only the chatter of sparrows and a rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. No wonder she’d fallen gently asleep.

And meanwhile, her darling, infuriating young son had left her stranded. She knelt to peer once again at the drop below. Since he’d taken the ladder, there was only one way Zak himself could have made it to the ground—shinning down the tree trunk. Not exactly her idea of fun…

“Zak!” she hollered. “William Zachary! This isn’t funny. You’re in big trouble—major trouble.”

At last she heard the sound of footsteps approaching on the gravel path.

“Young man,” she said sternly, “you and I are going to have a very serious talk.”

“I’m listening,” remarked a voice. Not her son’s, though. It was a man’s voice, all grown up. Cassie craned her neck so she could see through the leaves. The man gazing up at her looked both gorgeous and bemused. He had rich dark hair, which this morning’s Montana breeze seemed to take delight in rustling about his forehead. From this distance, she couldn’t be certain about the precise color of his eyes, but his features were undeniably strong and decisive. Even perched as she was above him, he looked tall and ruggedly built—the perfect build, perhaps, to rescue a damsel stuck in a tree.