Linda Warren - Texas Heir

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Out here you’re not my boss. We’re just a man and a woman. Alone. The rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

She was tempting him and any other time, any other place she would know this was wrong. They might not have a tomorrow, so she was taking today.

The right or wrong would come later.

“Oh, Cari.” Reed’s voice was a throaty whisper, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them.

She kissed his lips gently, the touch of his beard arousing. “This is here. This is now. I love you and I want you to make love to me.”

Dear Reader,

When I wrote The Christmas Cradle (AR, November 2004) I never thought I’d write spin-off books, but I did—The Cowboy’s Return (AR, February 2006) and Once a Cowboy (AR, February 2007). Then came an idea for another, rather unusual, spin-off story about Cari Michaels and Reed Preston.

Reed is CEO of a family-owned Texas chain of department stores. Cari has worked her way up the corporate ladder to vice president. Somewhere along the way she’s fallen in love with her handsome boss. When Reed announces his engagement, Cari is devastated. After a scheduled trip to an El Paso store, she plans to turn in her resignation. Then the unthinkable happens—the plane crashes in desolate west Texas. They are the only two survivors.

Their dire situation causes Cari and Reed to take a good look at their lives and at each other. Suddenly they can see what’s important to them. But is it real? Or is it something fabricated from the tragedy? You’ll have to keep reading to find out.

This was a difficult story to write, yet I enjoyed it immensely. I hope you do, as well. As the saying goes, hold on, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

With love and thanks,

Linda Warren

P.S. It always brightens my day to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net or www.myspace.com/authorlindawarren. Your letters will be answered.

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Award-winning, bestselling author Linda Warren has written twenty-one books for Harlequin Superromance and Harlequin American Romance. She grew up in the farming and ranching community of Smetana, Texas, the only girl in a family of boys. She loves to write about Texas, and from time to time scenes and characters from her childhood show up in her books. Linda lives in College Station, Texas, not far from her birthplace, with her husband, Billy, and a menagerie of wild animals, from Canada geese to bobcats. Visit her Web site at www.lindawarren.net.

A special thanks to Gary Simmons

for being so generous in sharing his knowledge of

private jets and aircraft. And to Sara Schroeder for

sharing her visit to west Texas. Also, to Jane Pearce

for graciously giving me a Spanish lesson.

And lastly, to Pam Litton, Lee Dewbre,

Linda Stewart, Linda Hermes and

Colleen Thompson for offering help when

I needed it the most. All errors are strictly mine.

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

Epilogue

Cari Michaels was having a “take two Tylenol” type of day.

And it was only five minutes to eight.

With tires squealing, she swerved into her parking spot with the speed and arrogance of her sixteen-year-old nephew. She had five minutes to make the executive meeting on time.

Why was Reed Dalton Preston, CEO of Dalton’s Department Stores, calling an impromptu gathering of his executives this early? The one morning her alarm clock chose to die.

Seconds ticked away.

No sweat. She’d make it.

Thrusting the gearshift into Park, she turned off the engine and grabbed her purse and briefcase. Then she was off at a run for the elevator, her heels tapping in three-quarter time across the pavement in the parking garage. She prayed Homer, the elevator operator, was waiting with the door open.

He was. She could see his smiling round face, and then she heard a snap. The next thing she knew she was kissing hard, dirty concrete. She moaned as burning needles of pain shot through her knee and elbow.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Her day just got worse.

“Ms. Cari, are you okay?” Through a wave of humiliation she heard Homer’s worried voice and rolled to her feet faster than a quarterback nailed for a loss.

“Yes, Homer. I’m fine.” She brushed off her black Prada pantsuit and took a deep breath. “Just broke a heel.” She raised her foot to remove the offending shoe and held it up, but she didn’t have a moment to chat. Time was running out and she knew she’d get “The Look” from Reed if she slid into her seat one second late.

Homer picked up her briefcase and purse and handed them to her with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, and hobbled into the elevator. “Can you make Louise fly?”

“No, ma’am,” Homer replied, adjusting his bellman’s cap with the Dalton logo on it. “She only goes one speed.” Homer was mentally challenged and he took his job seriously. He’d named the elevator Louise and sometimes he stayed until every executive was out of the building because he didn’t like anyone pushing Louise’s buttons but him. Everyone loved Homer, including Cari.

As the elevator smoothly glided upward she removed her other heel. Being just five feet three inches tall, she really needed the heels for the extra confidence-boosting height.

Glancing down, she saw she’d ripped her slacks at the knee. There was also dirt on her cobalt-blue silk blouse. Great. Now she was going to look like a street urchin, but she wasn’t missing the meeting.

Elevator music, Bach or Beethoven or something, played in the background and it started to get on her nerves. Why was this thing going so slow? Louise needed a checkup.

“My mama says it doesn’t matter what you look like as long as you have a good heart.” Homer’s bit of wisdom made Cari wonder if she looked that bad.

“You have a good heart, Ms. Cari.”

“Thank you, Homer. So do you.”

The doors opened. She smiled at Homer a second before she dashed out and down the hall to the private door of her office.

Homer’s “Have a good day” followed her.

She threw the shoes and her briefcase onto her desk and took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror by the door. Slipping her purse strap over her shoulder, she ran her fingers through her short, blow-and-go, dark brown hair. At the moment it was more blow than go.