Barbara McCauley - Seduction Of The Reluctant Bride

Digger Jones was dead.

No one in the town of Cactus Flat, Texas, could believe it, of course. Who ever would have thought a freak mountain storm would get the best of the crusty old café owner? He’d worked his mine in Lonesome Rock Canyon for more than forty years and survived broken bones, pneumonia, snake bite and weather that would have immobilized the city of New York. Digger Jones was too damn ornery to die.

But facts were facts. The storm had turned the canyon where Digger had camped into a raging river, washing out everything in its path. Search parties had turned up little more than half a tent and a few assorted articles of clothing. It might take months to find a body in the devastation the flood had left behind. More than likely, no body would be found.

With that thought in mind, Sam McCants frowned at the rose-covered coffin resting on the altar. There’d been no official declaration of death from the State, and Sam had argued with Holis Fitcher, the town mortician, at the absurdity of a coffin without a body. Still, Hollis had insisted piously that Digger had paid in advance, in full, for the deluxe package that included the top-of-the-line oak casket. Body or not, the mortician had sniffed, Digger would have what he paid for.

The organist, also part of the deluxe package, broke into a lively rendition of Amazing Grace, signaling that the service would begin in a few minutes. Except for the last two rows, every pew in the small church was nearly filled. Digger might have been a cranky, cantankerous coffee shop owner and silver miner, but the entire town of Cactus Flat would miss him terribly.

Sam slipped into the front pew beside Jake Stone. Savannah, Jake’s wife, looking beautifully slim after the birth of their second child, leaned over and kissed Sam’s cheek. Sam winked playfully at the honey blonde.

Never mind that Jake and Sam had been best friends most of their lives, instinct—and Sam’s notorious bachelor status—had Jake slipping an arm around Savannah anyway. “Find your own woman, McCants.”

“Sam doesn’t have to find women, dear. They find him.” Savannah pressed a reassuring hand into her husband’s and squeezed. “Matilda tells me that just last week when Sam came into the Hungry Bear her business practically doubled—all female. She said there was a near brawl at Sam’s booth when Pattie Wright tried to shove Marie Farrel out of her seat.”

“Pattie slipped,” Sam defended the pretty brunette. Small towns were a curse on a single man. Every move he made, every word he spoke to a female—any female—was like gasoline on the gossip fire. And definitely exaggerated. “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“And a man can never have too many friends, right?” Jake wiggled his eyebrows. When Savannah frowned at him, he cleared his throat. “So, we heard you were giving the eulogy.”

Sam admired Jake’s wisdom to change the subject. “Since Digger left me executor of his estate, Reverend Winslow thought I might like to say a few words.”

“And what estate might that be?”

They all looked up as Jared, Jake’s brother, slid into the pew behind them. Jared brushed Savannah’s cheek with a brotherly kiss. “Other than a stuffed grizzly bear and a set of frying pans, Digger Jones didn’t even own a watch.”

“He loved that bear.” Sam grinned at Jared. “I’m thinking about buying it myself and passing it along to you and Annie for the entryway of that new house you built. And speaking of your lovely wife, tell me she finally dumped you and the path is clear for me.”

Had he been any other man but Sam McCants Jared would have had to hit him Instead, he smiled goodnaturedly. “The only clear path around Annie these days would be a 747 runway. Her due date is only two weeks away. Ah, here’s the little woman now.”

“I heard that crack.” Annie slowly eased herself down beside her husband, then coolly accepted his repentant kiss. “If I wouldn’t have to fight my way through the long line of women, I just might take Sam up on his offer. At least he knows how to treat a lady.”

The third Stone sibling, Jessica Stone Grant, slid into the pew beside Annie. “He knows how to treat a lady, all right. All the ladies. Don’t look now, Sam, but Carol Sue Gibson is sitting with Sarah Pearson and they’re both looking moon-eyed at you.”

Two delightful specimens of the female gender, Sam thought as he turned and grinned at the women. Carol Sue crossed her legs, hiking up her skirt and Sarah licked her glossy red lips.

Ah, it’s good to be alive.

“Friends, I’m telling you. We’re just friends,” he said casually and settled back in his seat.

Jessica, Annie and Savannah rolled their eyes, while Jared and Jake exchanged a knowing smirk.

Jessica leaned forward and whispered in Sam’s ear. “Watch out, sweetheart, one day one of your ‘friends’ is going to have you on your knees.”

Jared and Jake were shaking their heads as Dylan, Jessica’s husband, slid into the pew beside her. “You want to explain to me why you’re whispering in another man’s ear before, or after, I slug him?”

Jessica gave Dylan a peck on his lips, then wiped a smudge of baby food off his cheek. “It’s just Sam, darling. You get Daniel off all right at Josephine’s?”

“Soon as our son saw his cousins were there, too, I might as well have been the mailman. See what you have to look forward to, Sam?” Dylan slipped an arm around his wife and she automatically leaned into him. “Baby food and babysitters.”

The intimate look they exchanged, Sam noted, relayed there was plenty more to their marriage. “That’s the Stone family department,” Sam said with the assured confidence of a confirmed bachelor. “Preachers and promises are not in this boy’s future.”

The organist punctuated Sam’s words with a deep rumbling chord, heavy with foreboding. An odd sensation scooted up Sam’s spine, and he shifted restlessly in his seat.

Then, as suddenly as the organist had intensified her playing, she hesitated and stumbled. The buzz in the church seemed to quiet, as well. Baffled, Sam glanced over his shoulder. All heads turned toward the entrance at the back of the church.

A young woman stood in the shadows of the foyer, with the sun at her back. Afternoon light danced off her shoulder-length golden blond hair. She wore black, a double-breasted suit that emphasized her small waist and revealed long, long legs encased in black silk and high heels. A small purse dangled from a gold chain off one smooth shoulder, hugging the curve of her slender hip. She stood there, motionless, her cool gaze resting on the rose-covered coffin, then glanced casually around the church.

Every man straightened, every woman stiffened. Sam simply couldn’t breathe.

She was a stranger, no question of that. Sam had lived and ranched in Stone Creek County outside of Cactus Flat his entire life. He knew everyone who lived here and most everyone in the surrounding counties, too. This woman wasn’t from anywhere around here. She was city, with a capital C.

What the hell was she doing here, at Digger Jones’s funeral?

“Goodness,” Jessica breathed.

Not exactly the first word that had come to Sam’s mind, but a close derivative, he thought. There were other words, too. Cool. Sophisticated. Chic. Untouchable. He watched her scan the pews with thickly lashed eyes, and from across the room he wondered about their color. It surprised him how much he suddenly wanted an answer to that question.

The organist found her beat in the music again and Reverend Winslow, who had also paused to stare curiously at the stranger, took his place at the pulpit.

The woman moved to the last row and sat, her back straight, her unblinking gaze focused solely on the Reverend. The music stopped, then reluctantly bodies shifted and heads turned back to the front of the church.