Rancher in Her Bed Read online

  “Just because we leave the party doesn’t mean the night has to end.”

  Rancher Xander Currin won’t commit to anyone after tragedy broke his heart. But when his feisty ranch hand Frankie Walsh puts herself at risk to secure her future, his protective instincts kick in. He offers her a ticket to the rich and connected at the Texas Cattleman’s Club gala. But soon combustible desires consume them both...and someone’s going to get burned.

  “What time will I see you tomorrow?”

  His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, his own suddenly dry as dust.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.” Xander was already questioning the wisdom of the bargain he’d made with her.

  If Frankie was affecting him this much now, what would it be like tomorrow night when they had a whole evening together? Already, the memory of the feel of her made his hands itch to touch her again.

  He hadn’t thought this through well at all.

  She nodded, her dark braid sliding down her shoulder. “And just so I’m clear, will we be off the clock tomorrow, too?”

  Was she flirting with him? Or was he reading too much into it because he wanted her?

  * * *

  Rancher in Her Bed is part of the

  Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston series.

  Dear Reader,

  One of my favorite things about books is the power of a story to totally transport me. Usually I experience this when I am a reader, losing myself in the world another author created. But Rancher in Her Bed really allowed me to take a journey while I was writing to the new Texas Cattleman’s Club in Houston, where two rival families are so real they tell their own stories!

  My hero, Xander Currin, is a member of one of those prominent families. From his wealthy ranch to the galas he attends, he’s experienced a world of privilege. Cowgirl Frankie Walsh, on the other hand, loves small-town rodeo nights, open-air barbecues and sawdust-covered dance floors. When sparks flew between these two, I got to step into both of those worlds. I hope Rancher in Her Bed takes you on a journey, too.

  Welcome to Houston, my friends! I hope you enjoy your stay.

  Happy reading,

  Joanne Rock

  Joanne Rock

  Rancher in Her Bed

  Joanne Rock credits her decision to write romance to when a book she picked up during a flight delay engrossed her so thoroughly that she didn’t mind at all when her flight was delayed two more times. Giving her readers the chance to escape into another world has motivated her to write over eighty books for a variety of Harlequin series.

  Books by Joanne Rock

  Harlequin Desire

  The McNeill Magnates

  The Magnate’s Mail-Order Bride

  The Magnate’s Marriage Merger

  His Accidental Heir

  Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary

  Claiming His Secret Heir

  For the Sake of His Heir

  The Forbidden Brother

  Wild Wyoming Nights

  One Night Scandal

  Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston

  Rancher in Her Bed

  Visit her Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com, or joannerock.com, for more titles.

  You can find Joanne Rock on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!

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  Don’t miss a single book in theTexas Cattleman’s Club: Houston series!

  Hot Texas Nights

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Janice Maynard

  Wild Ride Rancher

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Maureen Child

  That Night in Texas

  by Joss Wood

  Rancher in Her Bed

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Joanne Rock

  Married in Name Only

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Jules Bennett

  Off Limits Lovers

  by Reese Ryan

  Texas-Sized Scandal

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Katherine Garbera

  Tangled with a Texan

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Yvonne Lindsay

  Hot Holiday Rancher

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Catherine Mann

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Excerpt from Taken by Storm by Cat Schield

  One

  Frankie Walsh understood that her generation had killed romance.

  Sure, some people said that dating apps were responsible. And it was true the swipe-left mentality definitely smothered every last hope of spontaneity and excitement. But whether the blame rested with millennials or apps or the parenting that had let a crop of kids grow up thinking they were the center of the universe, Frankie agreed with the consensus among her girlfriends that romance was a thing of the past.

  Which begged the question, why was she lingering outside the main house at Currin Ranch, heart fluttering wildly while she hoped for a sighting of her boss, Xander Currin?

  Because she was ten kinds of foolish, that’s why. She’d already accomplished her errand here—a two-second task of retrieving the keys to the barn where the haying equipment was stored. Xander had kindly left them outside the back entrance on a huge wooden patio table, right where the maintenance manager had told her they’d be. One of the other hands who’d helped with the haying equipment yesterday was out sick today, and he’d accidentally taken the other set.

  Frankie had volunteered for the errand so fast the other ranch hands had all looked at her sideways. If she wasn’t careful, her ill-advised crush on Xander would become a running joke all over Currin Ranch. She valued this job too much to make her workplace uncomfortable that way, and she’d strived for too long to prove she could hold her own with the physical demands of the job.

  With the fear of being laughed at spurring her boots, she jammed the keys into the back pocket of her jeans and turned away from the massive log mansion overlooking a creek bed. She kept to the stone path that wound past the pool house and through a low shrubbery hedge, returning to the edge of the lawn where she’d left the energetic young mare, Carmen, she’d ridden over. Her time spent with the animals was the best reward of the job and a necessary part of the requirements for veterinary school. If she could ever make enough money to pay for it.

  Yet another reason why this job was so crucial for her. Her other gigs were of the volunteer variety—shadowing a local vet on his calls during her off days and helping out at a local animal shelter. Currin Ranch was the only job she had that came with a paycheck.

  Stroking the mare’s flank, she was just about to mount up when she heard laughter and voices in the backyard. Male. And female.

  A warning prickled along the back of her neck, urging her to go. Or maybe calling her to stay? Because she recognized the deep tone of the man, a warm and sexy chuckle pitched low in a way that made Frankie’s skin heat. The object of her silly crush.

  But a fluffy feminine giggle smothered any wayward thoughts Frankie might hav
e been entertaining about Xander. Frozen in place, she watched as the couple emerged from the shrubbery together. Xander escorted a strawberry blonde in a bright yellow sundress that accentuated considerable curves. The woman’s glossy waves bounced along with everything else as she tapped her way down the path in kitten heels. Reaching the driveway less than ten yards from where Frankie stood, the woman didn’t so much as glance her way as she lifted a hand to wave goodbye to Xander. She slid into an ice-blue convertible that looked like it cost more than veterinary school.

  Had she been an overnight guest?

  Jealousy flared. Feeling every inch the ranch hand she was, Frankie fought an urge to at least swipe a dusty streak off the front of her jeans. Instead, she hauled herself up on the mare’s back even as the horse startled sideways away from the convertible’s racing engine.

  It was all Frankie could do not to glare at the woman for punching the accelerator while the vehicle was still in Park. Blondie squealed the tires on her way out.

  Soothing the mare with a reassuring hold on the reins and a squeeze against her flanks, Frankie was about to turn tail and ride for the barn when she noticed Xander charging her way. Tall and muscular, he wore his jeans and fitted tee with the ease of any other ranch foreman, but as the heir to the Currin family fortune, there was something commanding about his presence. Right now, with his blue eyes fixed on the horse and his stubble-shadowed dark jaw flexing, he had an air of restrained danger. The allure of a man who could hold his own with a surly beast without breaking a sweat.

  “Whoa. Easy, Carmen,” he called to the anxious palomino, his stance the same one the ranch trainer used when breaking a new mount, positioned just outside the reach of her dancing forefeet. “Easy.”

  “She’s okay,” Frankie assured him, leaning back slightly in the saddle to cue the mare. “I’ve got her.”

  Her heart sped faster, more from her boss’s sudden appearance at her side than the mild scare with Carmen. Frankie wouldn’t have taken her if she’d felt the least bit uneasy with the spirited youngster. Besides, keeping her seat on Carmen was a cakewalk compared to bronc riding, the rodeo event Frankie had recently taken up. She’d tried it on a dare from one of the other ranch hands and discovered she wasn’t too bad at it. And considering how badly she could use the extra money, she couldn’t deny the appeal of the cash prizes.

  Xander peered up at her with narrowed eyes.

  “I didn’t think the trainer had cleared this one for work.” Shifting closer, his gaze darted from the horse to her and back again. “Carmen hasn’t been with us long.”

  Her boss reached to stroke the palomino’s muzzle, his dark hair a stark contrast to the horse’s golden coat and white mane. She was used to seeing him in his black Stetson around the ranch in his work as the foreman.

  Much to his father’s frustration.

  Everyone involved with Currin Ranch knew that Ryder Currin wanted his only son in the family’s oil business and not overseeing the ranching operation. But for the eleven months that Frankie had been on staff, Xander had been personally involved with everything from the herd to the haying, making sure the collective efforts ran smoothly. He was good at his job, but even she knew the foreman’s role wasn’t where the heir apparent belonged.

  “I’m not using her for work today,” she explained, forcing herself to relax, if only for Carmen’s sake. She hadn’t meant to rile the boss. “I rode her over to pick up the barn key because she seemed restless. I thought she could use an outing.”

  Why couldn’t Xander’s blue eyes be focused on her for positive reasons and not because he thought she’d screwed up? So many times, she’d hoped to snag his attention, and now, when she’d finally accomplished it, he seemed on edge. Irritated, even.

  “Not cleared for work means no riding.” His jaw flexed as he moved closer, stroking down Carmen’s neck to her shoulder, quieting the animal. By now, his shoulder neared Frankie’s calf, his body in tantalizing proximity. “A good ranch horse doesn’t spook at engine noises. No sense putting her in a position to fail when she isn’t ready yet.”

  Frankie bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from pointing out that an over-revved Italian luxury car wasn’t the kind of “engine noise” horses heard in the normal course of ranch work. Neither was screechy bubblegum pop dialed up to full blast on a convertible stereo as his guest peeled out of the driveway.

  Then again, she didn’t think she could muster an impartial “yes sir” when he was dead wrong about Carmen. Carefully, she quit gnawing on the inside of her lip so she could speak.

  “Then I guess I’d better get her back to the barn.” Frankie managed a tight smile. “I’ll let the trainer know Carmen needs to broaden her musical tolerance.”

  Xander’s head snapped up to look at her, his dark brows angling down with his frown.

  Had that slipped out?

  Her fake smile froze in place.

  In the silent moment that followed, she became aware of the soft buzz of electric hedge trimmers as a gardener worked nearby. The scent of cut grass hung in the Texas June air, growing more sweltering with each breath.

  “What’s your name again?” he asked, a warning note in his voice.

  Was he going to write her up? He couldn’t fire her for being a smart-ass, could he? She really needed this job and the hundred hours of animal care that would help her get an interview for vet school. She might have been on staff for almost a year, but she’d only just started working more directly with the horses.

  For the first six months she’d done only the worst of the grunt work, no doubt why the boss hadn’t recalled her name.

  “Frankie Walsh,” she said quickly, kicking herself for spouting off and tugging her hat just a little lower on her forehead. Wishing she could hide. “Thanks for the key.”

  He gave her a nod but didn’t step back, a barrier of impressive muscle and denim. “The rules are in place for a reason. Not just to keep Carmen safe, but the ranch staff, as well.”

  That caught her off guard.

  “Meaning me?” She shook her head, her ponytail swiping across her back as she thought about all the times she’d landed on her butt in local rodeo competitions. Bronc riding wasn’t for the faint of heart. “No need to worry about my safety. I’m tougher than I look.”

  Turning to go, she hoped Xander would forget about the embarrassing encounter.

  Her ego was the only thing bruised, after all. His safety concerns were misplaced. Clearly, he favored a softer kind of woman than Frankie would ever be, which was just as well since she should be concentrating on earning enough money to live her dreams instead of mooning over her off-limits boss. There was an open rodeo at a local county fair next weekend, and she needed to be focused if she was going to enter the saddle bronc competition, a sport attracting more women in recent years. She could ride better than most of the other hands at Currin Ranch, and it wasn’t like the small rodeo would attract many female competitors.

  She hoped.

  She had an outside chance of walking away with the prize—enough money to buy herself a coveted ticket to the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala. The swanky event would be a great place to see the other side of the ranching world and meet the wealthy ranch owners she hoped to one day serve with her veterinary practice.

  Better to scuttle back to the barns and forget about Xander. Romance was dead anyhow, right?

  Even so, she could almost feel the foreman’s gaze following her as she rode away. And she’d be lying if she said it didn’t give her a Texas-sized thrill.

  * * *

  A battle of the bands was in full progress when Xander parked his truck outside the fairgrounds for a Friday night rodeo. Because Currin Ranch was a major sponsor of the event, he’d been allowed to park right near the barbecue cook-off pavilion where he was meeting his father for their weekly dinner together.

  Normal
ly, dinner with Ryder Currin was a long, drawn-out affair since his father appreciated five-star dining, an attentive waitstaff and the best vintages a wine cellar had to offer. But since Xander would take barbecue from a Texas grill master over a four-course meal any day of the week, tonight’s supper promised to be a whole lot more fun.

  Besides, a shorter dinner meant less time for his dad to quiz him about when he was going to return to the front office of the family’s oil business.

  Dropping his Stetson on his head, he stepped out of the pickup and into the hubbub of a rodeo night. Boots crunching on dry gravel, he walked through the VIP gate as the growing crowd broke into enthusiastic applause for the country band sweating under the gazebo’s canopy of decorative lights. The sawdust-covered dance floor was almost full even though it was early. The rodeo wouldn’t start for another hour, and the carnival rides were in full swing despite the heat. The scent of slow-roasted brisket hung heavy in the air, grills smoking around the perimeter of the pavilion where chefs from all over the state prepped their best ribs and pulled pork.

  “Xander,” a familiar deep voice called from inside the covered dining area. “Over here.”

  Spotting his dad, he edged past a family maneuvering a stroller through the crowd, then joined Ryder at one of the few private tables in the reserved section up front.

  His father never wore a suit but somehow, even in jeans and a button-down shirt, he still carried himself with considerable authority. With his boots and his dark brown Stetson, Ryder wore much the same outfit as the rest of the rodeo-goers, yet looked like a man in charge.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering a little of everything.” Ryder leaned back in his chair as a curvy redhead in a fringed shirt and denim miniskirt delivered a tray full of barbecue steaming from at least ten different plates. Two beer bottles reigned over the center of the tray.

  While the server set out a basket of biscuits, the beers and food, Xander steeled himself for the weekly interrogation about his life, his career plans and how soon he’d be ready to give up his “wild hair” of working the land. The dinners were Ryder’s thinly veiled way of delivering regular guilt trips about not fulfilling his family obligations.