Diana Palmer - Unlikely Lover

“The boss is fading fast. His last request is that a writer compose his memoirs” was Aunt Lillian’s plea. Helping the elderly oilman seemed natural to Mari. But Ward Jessup was anything but old and sickly….

“Poor little Mari,” her aunt fretted. “I’m worried about her state of mind-deep emotional scars.” Ward’s sympathy went out to Lillian’s niece, and he invited Mari to the ranch. But the woman who arrived was hardly a helpless little girl….

Though they knew they had been tricked, neither could fight the power of Cupid’s magic arrow.

Also by Diana Palmer

Man of the Hour

Trilby

Lawman

Lacy

Heart of Winter

Outsider

Night Fever

Before Sunrise

Lawless

Diamond Spur

Desperado

The Texas Ranger

Lord of the Desert

The Cowboy and the Lady

Most Wanted

Fit for a King

Paper Rose

Rage of Passion

Once in Paris

After the Music

Roomful of Roses

Champagne Girl

Passion Flower

Diamond Girl

Friends and Lovers

Cattleman’s Choice

Lady Love

The Rawhide Man

Her Kind of Hero

Unlikely Lover

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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 One

Ward Jessup went to the supper table rubbing his big hands together, his green eyes like dark emeralds in a face like a Roman’s, perfectly sculpted under hair as thick and black as crow feathers. He was enormously tall, big and rangy looking, with an inborn elegance and grace that came from his British ancestors. But Ward himself was all-American. All Oklahoman, with a trace of Cherokee and a sprinkling of Irish that gave him his taciturn stubbornness and his cutting temper, respectively.

“You look mighty proud of yourself,” Lillian huffed, bringing in platters of beef and potatoes and yeast rolls.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “Things are going pretty well. Grandmother’s leaving, did she tell you? She’s going to stay with my sister. Lucky, lucky Belinda!”

Lillian lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I must have pleased you, Lord, for all my prayers to be so suddenly answered,” she said.

Ward chuckled as he reached for the platter of sliced roast beef. “I thought you two were great buddies.”

“And we stay that way as long as I run fast, keep my mouth shut and pretend that I like cooking five meals at a time.”

“She may come back.”

“I’ll quit,” was the gruff reply. “She’s only been here four months, and I’m ready to apply for that cookhouse job over at Wade’s.”

“You’d wind up in the house with Conchita, helping to look after the twins,” he returned.

She grinned, just for an instant. Could have been a muscle spasm, he thought.

“I like kids.” Lillian glared at him, brushing back wiry strands of gray hair that seemed to match her hatchet nose, long chin and beady little black eyes. “Why don’t you get married and have some?” she added.

His thick eyebrows raised a little. They were perfect like his nose, even his mouth. He was handsome. He could have had a dozen women by crooking his finger, but he dated only occasionally, and he never brought women home. He never got serious, either. He hadn’t since that Caroline person had almost led him to the altar, only to turn around at the last minute and marry his cousin Bud, thinking that, because Bud’s last name was Jessup, he’d do as well as Ward. Besides, Bud was much easier to manage. The marriage had only lasted a few weeks, however, just until Bud had discovered that Caroline’s main interest was in how much of his small inheritance she could spend on herself. He had divorced her, and she had come rushing back to Ward, all in tears. But somewhere along the way Ward had opened his eyes. He’d shown her the door, tears and all, and that was the last time he’d shown any warmth toward anything in skirts.

“What would I do with kids?” he asked. “Look what it’s done to Tyson Wade, for God’s sake. There he was, a contented bachelor making money hand over fist. He married that model and lost everything—”

“He got everything back, with interest,” Lillian interrupted, “and you say one more word about Miss Erin and I’ll scald you, so help me!”

He shrugged. “Well, she is pretty. Nice twins, too. They look a little like Ty.”

“Poor old thing,” Lillian said gently. “He was homely as sin and all alone and meaner than a tickled rattlesnake. And now here he’s made his peace with you and even let you have those oil leases you’ve been after for ten years. Yes sir, love sure is a miracle,” she added with a purely calculating look.

He shivered. “Talking about it gives me hives. Talk about something else.” He was filling his plate and nibbling between comments.

Lillian folded her hands in front of her, hesitating, but only for an instant. “I’ve got a problem.”

“I know. Grandmother.”

“A bigger one.”

He stopped eating and looked up. She did seem to be worried. He laid down his fork. “Well? What’s the problem?”

She shifted from one foot to the other. “My brother’s eldest girl, Marianne,” she said. “Ben died last year, you remember.”

“Yes. You went to his funeral. His wife died years earlier, didn’t she?”

Lillian nodded. “Well, Marianne and her best friend, Beth, went shopping at one of those all-night department store sales. On their way out, as they crossed the parking lot, a man tried to attack them. It was terrible,” she continued huskily. “Terrible! The girls were just sickened by the whole experience!” She lowered her voice just enough to sound dramatic. “It left deep scars. Deep emotional scars,” she added meaningfully, watching to see how he was reacting. So far, so good.

He sat up straighter, listening. “Your niece will be all right, won’t she?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes. She’s all right physically.” She twisted her skirt. “But it’s her state of mind that I’m worried about.”

“Marianne…” He nodded, remembering a photograph he’d seen of Lillian’s favorite niece. A vivid impression of long dark hair and soft blue eyes and an oval, vulnerable young face brought a momentary smile to his lips.

“She’s no raving beauty, and frankly, she hasn’t dated very much. Her father was one of those domineering types whose reputation kept the boys away from her when she lived at home. But now…” She sighed even more dramatically. “Poor little Mari.” She glanced up. “She’s been keeping the books for a big garage. Mostly men. She said it’s gotten to the point that if a man comes close enough to open a door for her, she breaks out in a cold sweat. She needs to get away for a little while, out of the city, and get her life back together.”