Myrna Mackenzie - Rodeo Bride

Dillon Farraday was coming. “This morning,” Colleen Applegate whispered, staring out of the window at the long drive leading from her ranch to the rest of the world. And the reason he was coming was going to tear her heart apart, she thought, glancing down at the baby monitor, her lifeline to the child she’d grown to love as her own.

In a brief, terse telephone conversation yesterday he had introduced himself, said that he’d been released from the hospital and indicated one thing more: he was coming to Montana and he expected Colleen to docilely hand sweet little Toby over.

There was only one problem there. Dillon Farraday might have a legal claim, but Colleen had never been a docile woman.

Myrna Mackenziegrew up not having a clue what she wanted to be (she hadn’t been born a princess, the one job she thought she might like because of the steady flow of pretty dresses and crowns), but she knew that she loved stories and happy endings, so falling into life as a romance writer was pretty much inevitable. An award-winning author with over 35 novels written, Myrna was born in a small town in Dunklin County, Missouri, grew up just outside Chicago, and now divides her time between two lakes in Chicago and Wisconsin, both very different and both very beautiful. She adores the internet (which still seems magical after all these years), loves coffee, hiking, attempting gardening (without much success), cooking and knitting. Readers (and other potential gardeners, cooks, knitters, writers, etc.) can visit Myrna online at www.myrnamackenzie.com, or write to her at PO Box 225, La Grange, IL 60525, USA.

By

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader

One of the greatest things about writing a story is meeting the characters and getting to know them. I start out with a vague idea of who they are, but by the end of the book they’ve become real, warm, caring human beings. Here are some things I learned about Colleen and Dillon as the story unfolded:

Colleen is a woman who:

Is a former champion barrel racer

Is a Montana rancher

Has to be tough and strong, and is willing to go to bat for those she loves

Loves the colour red and has a great pair of red cowgirl boots

Can’t have children, even though she was born to be a mother

Has been mistreated by those who should have loved and cared for her

Catches fire whenever Dillon is around, even though she knows she can’t have him

Dillon is a man who:

Is a millionaire who owns his own engineering firm in Chicago

Has returned from battle wounded

Is a protector of the weak

Never knew he wanted children, but will move heaven and earth to be with his son

Loves fast, sleek cars

Knows how to wield a hammer

Has some dark moments in his past that he would rather not remember

A tough lady rancher tied to the land, and a millionaire Chicago entrepreneur? I didn’t know how that would ever work out, but I knew that love would find a way!

Best wishes

Myrna Mackenzie

DILLON FARRADAY was coming. “This morning,” Colleen Applegate whispered, staring out the window at the long drive leading from her ranch to the rest of the world. And the reason he was coming was going to tear her heart apart, she thought, glancing down at the baby monitor, her lifeline to the child she’d grown to love as her own.

She’d never actually met the man, but what she knew worried her. He was drop-dead handsome, rich and, therefore, probably used to getting his way. He was from Chicago and might frown on Montana ranch life. Moreover, he was a soldier, used to harsh ways, and Colleen knew all about harsh men. This one had been injured in battle six months ago, so he might not be in the best of humor. All of that information was public, readily available on the Internet.

Beyond that, however, things got murkier. Dillon was recently divorced from Lisa, a former local who had gone to school with Colleen, and three months ago Lisa had shown up at Colleen’s door with her new baby. “I can’t do this,” she’d told Colleen, “but you’re perfect with babies, and you’ve always wanted one. Take care of him, please, for now.”

Colleen had wanted to say no, but a baby had been involved. She’d reluctantly agreed to keep Toby safe.

“By the way,” Lisa had said, before she left, “I sent a note to Dillon at the hospital where he’s laid up, so he knows about the baby’s existence. He might or might not want to see Toby someday, but…the baby might not be his. Biologically, that is.”

Then Lisa had run, so that small cryptic bit of information was almost all that Colleen knew. Except for one more thing. That question about whether or not Dillon might want to see the baby? It was no longer a question.

In a brief, terse telephone conversation yesterday he had introduced himself, said that he’d been released from the hospital and indicated one thing more: he was coming to Montana and he expected Colleen to docilely hand sweet little Toby over.

There was only one problem there. Dillon Farraday might have a legal claim, but Colleen had never been a docile woman.

Moreover, she had questions, and she intended to get good solid answers before she simply handed over an innocent baby, one she loved, to anyone, especially to a man she didn’t know or trust.

Dillon parked his black Ferrari in front of the long, low log house. The beauty of the mountains was behind him, but other than this lopsided house and the outbuildings, there were no signs of civilization for miles around. Why on earth had Lisa left the baby here? And why had she waited so long to let him know of the child’s existence?

The same questions—and possible answers—had been swirling through his head for weeks, but he had spent a lifetime learning to bide his time, to think things through to their logical conclusion and then to act when the time was right. His marriage to Lisa had seemed to follow the same pattern, but in reality it had been the one glaring exception and an obvious mistake. But now that he was capable of walking a reasonable distance, driving a reasonable distance, the time was definitely right for lots of things he hadn’t been able to take care of before.

He would have his answers…and his son. Colleen Applegate couldn’t legally deny him, and she probably knew that. She hadn’t sounded happy to hear from him when he’d called yesterday.

Too bad. She could have touched base with him anytime during the past three months and she hadn’t bothered to do that, so her opinions didn’t matter. All that mattered about Colleen Applegate was that she had his child.

Dillon pulled himself from the car, took the darned cane he was still forced to use and approached the house that appeared to have been put together haphazardly, like a child using two different sets of blocks that didn’t fit together. There were two front steps. Sloping steps. Those would be a problem. He didn’t like anyone seeing him struggle, so when the door opened and a woman stepped out onto the slanted porch, he stayed where he was.