Heaven's Kiss

Neither would she. Not until she’d exhausted every last possibility.

Dermot DeWitt’s name would not be smirched by bankruptcy.

Not if Dani could help it.

Chapter One

W asn’t home supposed to be the place you ran to when things got tough? So why did she want to run away from the only home she’d ever known?

“It just doesn’t feel the same anymore, Duke.”

Dani curled her fingers in the horse’s thick black mane and surveyed the acres of ranch land that legally bore her name. The warm April winds had nudged the grass into a rich green, encouraged the wildflowers to bloom, melted the tufts of snow that tried to cling to the shadowed clefts of the hills. She could be a thousand miles away and picture this scene, and yet still it didn’t feel right.

“The Double D isn’t home. Not without Daddy.”

Maybe it was the denim-striped overalls her father had wrapped up every year for Christmas, no matter how old she was. Maybe it was growing up on a ranch without a mother to curb her tomboy ways. Maybe it was because her best friend had always been a horse. Whatever the reason, most folks in Blessing had always accepted that Dani belonged on the Double D as much as syrup belonged on flapjacks.

Once, Dani would have agreed.

From her earliest years she’d ridden the perimeter of the ranch while chilly spring blazed into summer. She’d endured blizzard winters when going to town was impossible, and scorching summers when water became more precious than gold. She’d watched new colts wobble to their feet, spent hours waiting for the sun to turn bloodred before it slipped off the horizon. During all those years, Dani reveled in being in exactly the right place.

Until now.

Was it just because she’d been away at college for four years that she was only now realizing what a lonely life they’d led? Was that why Dermot had mortgaged his beloved land for her, so she’d know a different world than that of the Double D? Did it matter why? She was in hock up to her eyebrows and she had to get out.

“Stop whining, girl!” she ordered herself out loud. She didn’t need anyone’s shoulder to bawl on. She’d manage just fine on her own. Daddy would have expected that.

“We’ve got to stop thinking about what was, don’t we, Duke.”

Duke snorted as if to remind her that the past was hard to forget when the bank statements kept arriving.

“I have to put it out of my mind for tonight, though. There’s that meeting at church about the dinner theater, and I’m in charge.”

She’d agreed to help, believing that something other than the ranch and its debt baggage would be a relief to think about. Instead she’d encountered even more problems—when the director left town.

“Can I tell you a secret, Duke? I wish someone else would have volunteered to direct. I’m so tired of being in charge.”

Reality check. There was no one else. Not for the Double D and apparently not for the dinner theater. The onus fell on her.

A whisper touch to his flanks sent Duke galloping across the tufted spring grass of her Colorado pasture as if chased by a pack of yapping dogs. Dani leaned over his neck and felt the wind whipping her hair as Duke galloped toward home—home for as long as she could hang onto it, at least.

At the barn she took her time brushing the big horse down, added a scoop of oats to his feed, ensured his water was topped up. For herself, a quick wash in hot, soapy water, a tug of the brush through her mop of black shiny curls and a change in jeans was enough. Funny how those jeans always made her feel taller, especially when she put her boots on. And goodness knows Dani could use a boost in height. She just hated being short, and no matter how tall your boots were, five foot three was short.

A routine check of the reflection in the mirror made her shrug. She’d do. Her lashes were thick enough to fringe her green eyes—“cat eyes,” Daddy had called them. Not that she’d bothered with mascara since coming home. Life was too short and there were too many things to do on the ranch to fuss about makeup. Besides, her lipstick never stayed on longer than it took to smudge, and she’d never mastered the art of powder or foundation.

Dani stuck her tongue out at herself and giggled. Who cared what she looked like anyway? She was alone most of the time. Tonight she simply had a job to do.

Her father’s ancient half-ton truck sped her off the ranch and into Blessing Township efficiently enough that Dani decided to ignore its belch of protest when she shut off the engine.

“Don’t even think about it, Red.” She glared at one rusted fender. “The lead character’s taken a hike, the cook’s left for California, and I stupidly agreed to direct a play we’re to put on in four months—with no lead actor. On top of everything else, I’ve got to figure out my next move with the ranch. I have no time to tinker with you.”

“Excuse me?”

She whirled around, her eyes wide with shock. Nobody ever snuck up on Dani. Back in her school years, hard experience had taught teasing boys that she hated to be surprised. Maybe she’d lived down her reputation?

“Yes?”

Dani studied the handsome man before her, measured his sleepy brown eyes with their tiny fans of crinkles. He had the kind of smile you immediately trusted, which was exactly why she kept up her guard. Hadn’t she learned the hard way that nothing was ever as it seemed? This lean man in his crisply pressed clothes sent a rush of energy through her bloodstream. Suddenly she wished she’d bothered with the mascara.

Just as quickly, Dani told herself to forget it. She had known a man as attractive as this one, and she’d been burned. It wouldn’t happen again.

Who was he, anyway?

Dani thought she knew everyone in town, but she didn’t know him. Did she? She took a second look at his uncombed mop of sandy hair and mentally shook her head. Nope. It was hardly likely she’d forget a man who looked as he did—loose-limbed, lanky, easygoing, as if he was comfortable in his skin and didn’t care what anyone else thought. In fact, he was so relaxed, he made her feel uptight.

A flickering memory of a church potluck dinner given to welcome Blessing’s newest doctor… It was right after Dr. Darling’s accident. She’d been home for a weekend, she remembered. Dermot had wanted to leave church immediately to tend a sick calf, but everyone else had stayed. What was his name? Duke? she wondered, then nodded. Just like her horse.

“Can I help you, Dr. Duke?” she asked.

“Uh, actually it’s Luc. Lucas Lawrence. But you did get the other part right. I am a doctor.” He grinned, then his eyes widened. “Have you hurt yourself?”

“No.” Why would he ask that? Dani followed his glance down, saw the jagged tear across her knee. Oh yeah. The rip. Well, mending was not her forte, even if she’d had time. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Just running a little late.”

She turned, headed for the church. Behind her, his feet rattled on the pebbled surface. He was following her? Dani frowned, faced him.

“Maybe I can help you?” she offered, suspicion evident in her voice. She never used to be that way, but lately, well—

The doctor shook his head, grinned.

“I don’t think so, but thanks anyway. I’ve been here long enough to know where the church is.” He waited for her to move forward, and when she didn’t, he walked around her, moved up the sidewalk and pulled open the church door. Half bending at the waist, he waved a hand as if to usher her inside. “After you, madam.”

A decidedly English accent.

“Thanks.” Dani stepped through the doorway, then stopped, her mind busy. Dr. Duke—no Luc—was perfect for the part. Tall, handsome—in a mussed sort of way. He spoke clearly, enunciated his words without drawling the vowels. “Say that again, please,” she requested. “With the accent.”

His eyes widened, but he obediently repeated the phrase.

“Excellent. You’ll make a perfect Inspector Merrihew.” She lowered her voice, leaned forward. “I’m pretty sure the part’s yours, but please don’t say anything. Not just yet, anyway.”

“I beg your pardon? What part is mine?” Dr. Luc jerked to a halt, blinked at her, his brilliant smile faltering. His chocolate-brown eyes lost their sleepy look, darkened to a concerned brown-black; his body lost that slouchy appearance.

“Shh.” She checked over each of her shoulders, then leaned toward him. “Inspector Merrihew. The tryouts are tonight. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Uh, no.”

Dani frowned. Big Ed Warner wanted that part and wanted it badly. But Big Ed could in no way be made over into an English police inspector, not even if they pried away his ten-gallon hat, goaded his size fifteens from their hand-tooled cowboy boots, and raced him around town until he lost his paunch. Big Ed was a cowboy, plain and simple—a John Wayne wannabe.

“The thing is, I— Uh, that is, I was hoping I could help—”