Over her not-so-dearly-departed husband’s grave, newly
widowed Natalia Montrose vows to shake off the memories of her abusive marriage
by bedding the first suitable man she meets. Enter handsome, flirtatious Jared
Fields, who offers to help her manage her assets.
Natalia has no intention of giving up control of the ranch
her father traded away—along with her hand—for gold. But she intends to enjoy this
stranger’s advances until all her desires are sated.
Jared is a rarity among Pinkerton agents. Well educated, the
disowned black sheep of a wealthy New York City family, he enjoys the freedom
afforded by his various assignments. But discovering whether the fiery Widow
Montrose had her husband killed is a challenge with an unexpected twist. All he
can think about is what he’ll do when he gets her in bed.
Natalia and Jared circle each other warily, feeling the pull
of sensual heat. But when the Blizzard of 1889 hits, the sexual sparks may not
be enough to keep them warm...or alive.
Warning: Contains a sex-starved widow and a saddled-hardened
Pinkerton agent who set the sheets afire.
About the Author:
Marie-Nicole Ryan was born in a small western Kentucky town,
but after college and marriage, she said "Good bye" to small town
life. After spending three years as an army wife, she landed in Nashville, TN,
where she spent many years working as an R.N. and case manager. Finally in
2002, she achieved her dream of becoming a published author.
She loves reading mysteries and writes romantic suspense,
sometimes very erotic romantic suspense, one of which, TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, won
a 2008 EPPIE for erotic romantic suspense. One of her early books, SEE YOU IN
MY DREAMS, won the Golden Wings award from the publisher for excellence in
romantic suspense. In addition, her mystery/suspense novel, ONE TOO MANY, was a
2009 EPPIE Finalist.
She's an active member of RWA, Music City Romance Writers,
and PASIC. Recently she has returned to her old hometown. When she's not
slaving away at her current work in progress, you might find her walking her
dog Cassie, a sheltie rescue, or at the Y. But you won't ever find her in an
airplane. No, not ever.
Excerpt:
Sarita entered the sitting room and cleared her throat.
“Someone to see you, señora.”
“I’m not seeing callers.” Natalia held back her
exasperation, keeping her tone soft. There’d been enough shouting at servants
while her husband was alive. She had no intention of continuing his rude
manners.
“He say not social.” The housekeeper’s dark eyes sparkled
with excitement. “Very nice-looking man. Dressed in black.”
Natalia wrinkled her nose. “The padre? I had enough of him
at the service. Tell him I’m indisposed.”
A quick shake of the housekeeper’s head set her starched
white cap to bobbing. “Most definitely not a preacher man.”
“You said ‘nice looking’?”
“Muy handsome. Sí.”
Good old Reginald had forbidden any of the house servants
from using their native language, but that was only one of the many changes she
planned. She smiled. After all, it was her native language too. “I’ll see him.
Show him to the front parlor.” She nodded at the housekeeper. “And since he’s
muy handsome, serve us some coffee.” Maybe Natalia would do more than see him.
She waited until Sarita left the room, then walked over to
an ornate gold-framed looking glass and surveyed her appearance with an arched
brow. Excellent. More than good enough for the man in black.
Composing her emotions, she walked down the central hall to
the front parlor, where a fire had already been laid to ward off the chill of
the late October evening. She found a tall, lean man, dressed in black as the
housekeeper had said, standing in front of the fireplace, his back to her. “You
wish to see me? Señor—”
He turned and smiled, his dark mustache quirking to one
side. His square jaw was clean-shaven, and he smelled of spicy Bay Rum,
denoting a very recent visit to the barber. His dark brows shot up, his pale
gray eyes glittering with obvious interest. “Fields, Jared Fields, at your
service.” His voice was low and possessed a cultured tone.
Madre de Dios. Sarita was right. Muy handsome indeed. Tall,
lean, clean and saddle-hardened—just what a frustrated widow needed. What could
he want?
“Señor Fields, how may I help you?” His accent and manner
weren’t those of a Californio or a common cowboy. Maybe he was someone who’d
known her husband before he came west. If so, she didn’t trust his coming here.
Not now. She had too much to lose.
“I met one of your hands today. Said you needed someone for
a cattle drive.”
Disappointment stabbed through her. A vaquero after all.
“Then see my foreman.” The sharp retort escaped before she could call it back.
Ready to sweep from the room, she picked up her skirts but was stopped short by
the sound of his voice.
“Hear me out. Your hand, a Mr. Foulkes, also mentioned you
were running the ranch alone.”
She halted, glancing over her shoulder at the tall stranger.
“I already have a foreman.” Dios, but he was a choice specimen of manhood. He
held a black Stetson in his hands, and a half grin occupied his lean, tanned
face. What did he have to be amused about?
“Madam, if you would allow me to say my piece…” His dark,
raven’s wing brows elevated as he awaited her answer.
She let out a small sigh and faced her visitor. “Go ahead,
then.” She took a deep breath, knowing the act would cause her breasts to jut
and capture his attention. If only he would stop talking.
His gaze flickered from her face. “It wasn’t my intention to
hire on as one of your hands. It comes to me that you might need my
advice—financial advice, that is. I’m from St. Louis and built up a successful
firm which does just that. Did, I should clarify. I sold my half of the
business to my partner and came westward. On my arrival in this fair—uh, city,
it came to my attention that as a new widow of substantial holdings, you might
have need of such advice.”
“I see.” In spite of his elegant manners, Mr. Fields was
more interested in her money and land than her body. What was it with men and
money? She drew up, gathering her most imperious and fiery manner. “Mr. Fields,
do I appear as if I was born last night? It comes to my mind that perhaps you
are a confidence man who, rather than advise me, would take advantage of what
you suppose is my ignorance.”
Her handsome visitor’s eyes widened, and his back
straightened. “To the contrary, it’s obvious to me, and should be to anyone,
that you are an exceptional woman of perspicacity, and as such I would advise
you to telegraph my former business partner in St. Louis to check my
references. Perhaps doing so would convince you of my good faith.” He nodded,
but still a smirk played about his mouth.
“And perhaps I don’t require your services at all.” At least
not those. “I’m quite capable of managing my late husband’s holdings.”
“Madam, your late husband’s holdings lie far beyond this
ranch.”
“Is that so?” Raising her chin a notch, she took a step
toward him, each of her hands clenching a fistful of silk skirts. “And how do
you come by your knowledge?” Who was he really? Most assuredly an opportunist,
at the very least. Possibly he was someone sent by Reginald’s family.
Not that either scenario precluded her using him for her own
amusement.
“The town weekly, the La Mesa Messenger, I believe it’s
called, devoted several columns to his”—her visitor paused and cleared his
throat—“death and history.”
Natalia’s cheeks burned. “Yes, the weekly rag was quite
generous with its coverage.” As if everyone within ten miles wasn’t already
aware of the humiliating details. Gossip spread faster in La Mesa than wildfire
on the prairie. And yet standing so near to such a virile and handsome man had
her heart fluttering. Heat suffused her cheeks. Could he tell she was so moved
by his presence?
Eager to change the subject, she walked to the settee and
sat. “Where are my manners? Please be seated, Mr. Fields.” She gestured to a
straight-backed oak chair.
Her visitor nodded and sat across from her.
Sarita arrived with a tray and set it on the sideboard, then
withdrew. Ah, her housekeeper and friend had impeccable timing. Natalia rose
and walked to the sideboard, then glanced over her shoulder at her visitor.
“How do you take your coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”
“Black. Coffee is fine, Mrs. Montrose.”
“I thought as much. Most men seem to prefer it that way,”
she offered with a smile. After adding sugar to her coffee, she carried both
cups of the steaming, fragrant brew and handed one to her visitor. She sat and
sipped. The sugar cut the bite of the strong coffee Sarita made a habit of
brewing.
Natalia cradled the cup in her hands, relishing the warmth.
“Why are you really here, Mr. Fields? La Mesa is a small town. Surely you could
find more lucrative business opportunities farther west in, say…San Francisco.
Or maybe you’re chasing gold or silver? Is that it—did you journey west for
adventure or to seek your fortune?”
“It’s true I’m of a mind to see San Francisco, but I also
wanted to see this wide and wonderful country of ours.”
“Yes, a good bit of it used to belong to my people…and not
so very long ago.”
He nodded in her direction, a smile playing across his lips.
“You’ve done very well…”
“Done very well?” Her breath caught in her throat. This
tall, elegant man sitting before her had no idea what Reginald had put her
through. Who was he to judge?
“You have a comfortable situation here. Land, cattle, and no
doubt a good deal of money to invest.”
“Ah, back again to my money.” She tamped down her irritation
and averted her gaze shyly. “And here I hoped your interest might be
more…personal.”
His brows shot up, but his gray gaze grew warm, and one
corner of his mouth twisted upward in a grin. “Alas, I would never presume, as
I am only too cognizant of your recent loss.”
Presume indeed? His very tone mocked her, even as his words
were faultlessly respectful.
1 comment:
Thanks for spotlighting Taming Talia.
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