The Rancher Wore Suits

The plane screeched to a halt, rolled to the gate, and when the seat belt sign dinged, impatient passengers flooded the aisles, obviously anxious to return to their lives.

His stomach twisted. He should be getting back to his life—in Montana. Mending fences and herding cattle. Trying to figure out a way to improve things.

Not playing dress-up in this uncomfortable suit and choking tie. How did Dex stand it?

Because he’d never known anything else.

An ache, soul-deep, settled in Ty’s chest. Somewhere in midair, he had contemplated what his family had done to him and to Dex, and his shock had dwindled, turning into anger and hurt. His loving grandparents, the ones who’d drilled into him his entire value system, had lied to him, had denied him knowledge of his own brother and his other grandparents.

He wasn’t sure if he could forgive them.

Not only had they denied him knowledge about his father, but they’d robbed him of knowing his identical twin brother. What would his parents have thought if they’d known their boys had been split up after their deaths?

Maybe he would find out when he arrived, and maybe he’d learn a little about the man who’d fathered him.

And about why the Montgomerys had wanted nothing to do with him.

People rushed down the aisle, and Ty finally stood, reaching overhead for his beat-up duffel. Instead, his hand brushed over the soft leather garment bag Dex had shoved in his hands. He couldn’t forget that damn briefcase, either. Dex had gotten so riled when Ty had almost left it in the bathroom after they’d exchanged clothes, a vein had bulged in his forehead. Apparently, Dex guarded the hunk of leather, along with his cell phone, as if they were his life. Ty scoffed. The bag alone cost more than he paid his ranch hands in a day. He wiggled his cramped toes inside the custom-made Italian shoes and almost tripped. The stupid shoes gave no support to his ankles. He certainly couldn’t ride with them.

Of course, Dex didn’t need a horse; he had cars and limos and taxis.

No, Dex had money. The kind that could have helped the Coopers.

But Ty didn’t want their money. He simply wanted some answers about his past. The Montgomerys had given him up without batting an eye, and they’d written off Ty’s sweet, loving mother because she was a rancher’s daughter. Apparently they’d thought the Coopers weren’t good enough. Just as Paula had thought he wasn’t good enough for her.

The old pain haunted him.

I could never live on a ranch, she had said.

And he couldn’t live anywhere else.

Besides, Dex seemed to have some strange ideas about his wealth himself. What was the last thing Dex had told him? Be wary of everyone, especially the women. They all want me for my money.

Ty could only imagine. No one had ever wanted him for his money. But he had certainly been exploited by a woman. Again, he thought of Paula. Just the sound of her name brought back bad memories.

Yes, he’d better be on his toes.

The ones that were now pinched and aching inside Dex’s stiff Italian loafers. He slowly made his way out of the plane towards the gate. Thank goodness Dex’s financial advisor planned to meet him in baggage claim. He’d follow her lead and let her show him the ropes. And when he met his other grandparents, maybe he would understand how they could keep one grandson and throw away the other.

JESSICA WRUNG HER HANDS together, trying to calm her nerves as she saw Dex Montgomery’s tall, commanding presence rise above the crowd. The man was so darned good-looking he would stand out anywhere. His dark sexy gaze caught hers and a twitch of a smile actually pulled at the corner of his mouth, then he scanned the crowd without speaking.

Her stomach quivered, her pulse clamored and perspiration beaded her forehead.

She assured herself it was simply nerves.

She had too much riding on this project.

His chin lifted, and he strode right past her as if he didn’t even know her.

Sure, he expected Bridget, but did he have to pretend she didn’t exist? She called his name, fighting irritation, “Dr. Montgomery.”

He continued looking across the crowd, oblivious.

She threaded her way between an overweight man and some teenagers until she stood behind him. “Dr. Montgomery.”

He still didn’t respond, so she gently caught his arm. “Dr. Montgomery, I’m here to pick you up.”

His startled gaze swung back to her, a moment of heat splintering through her as he stared into her eyes. His ruggedly handsome face sent a flutter through her stomach, and his eyes were so dark they reminded her of chocolate kisses. She loved chocolate.

“Bridget couldn’t make it,” she said, shaking off the unsettling feeling. “Something about a business dinner. I offered to pick you up instead.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her, his thick dark brows drawn together. He’d let his hair grow, too, about a half-inch longer than she remembered, giving him a rugged, primitive appearance. He probably wouldn’t use an out-of-town barber, she thought, dismissing the slight difference and its effect on her. “Do you have more luggage?”

He shook his head, indicating the garment bag. “I carried on.”

She nodded. “Come on, then. I parked in the short-term lot.” He headed toward the MARTA sign and she frowned. What was wrong with him? He’d been in the Hartsfield airport at least a thousand times.

“It’s this way.” She laid her hand on his arm again. “Are you all right, Dr. Montgomery?”

He tipped his head and started toward the exit. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she’d never seen him use. The movement spiked the ends, sending a lock over his high forehead. Somehow it made him seem vulnerable. “I fell asleep on the plane. I guess I’m not awake yet.”

“Yes, I heard your flight was delayed.” She led him through the doors toward her trusted VW. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you home in no time.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Worry laced his deep voice. “After all, it’s awfully late for a woman to be downtown alone.”

Jessica faltered, surprised by his concern. Maybe Dr. Montgomery really had a soft side hiding beneath that steel business veneer. “No, I don’t mind at all. In fact, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you on the way.”

Trepidation filled her, but she gathered her courage. She’d just have to use the old trick her speech teacher in college had told her about—she’d picture him naked while she gave her sales pitch about the children’s wing. Then she wouldn’t be so nervous.

TY FELT NAKED without his Stetson.

Was that the reason this sexy little slip of a woman kept looking at him the way she did? Had he somehow already blown his new identity?

No, she couldn’t possibly know.

Except he hadn’t recognized her, and he obviously should have. But the noisy airport had his head swimming.

Who the hell was this knockout woman, anyway?

A co-worker? Friend? Lover?

She was a little bitty thing, probably about five-three, and she had enormous grass-green eyes and auburn hair with flecks of red and orange that reminded him of a Montana sunset. Soft pink lips created a pouty little mouth that begged to be kissed, and the outline of her jacket showcased breasts that would just fit into the palms of his hands. Heat curled low in his belly, the pool of hunger undeniable.

Taking a deep breath to gather his control, he followed her through the dimly lit parking garage, his eyes feasting on the sway of her hips and the way that dark-blue skirt framed her behind. She had shapely legs, too, as if she exercised regularly, although he couldn’t imagine her wearing dusty jeans or doing hard work on a ranch, like the women he’d grown up with, the type of country girl he’d probably marry one day.

This woman was more like Paula. Educated, prissy, soft.

He’d learned his lesson dating a city girl a long time ago. Once burned, twice shy.