Branded. Annette Broadrick

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Branded - Annette Broadrick Mills & Boon Desire

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crush at one time, but—”

      “But nothing!” Jude stopped him. “If she had a childish crush, that crush has grown up, Jake. You didn’t have to treat her like she was contagious or something.”

      Jake rubbed his forehead. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. I could have been more diplomatic, but she caught me so off-guard that I—” He saw her reach the dance floor and sighed with resignation. “I need to go apologize.”

      Jake went after her, trying to come up with an explanation for his behavior that wouldn’t shock an innocent girl.

      He looked for her on the crowded dance floor, but didn’t see her. He ran into his mom and asked if she’d seen Ashley.

      “She’s hard to keep track of, especially tonight.” Gail glanced around before saying, “Maybe she went into the house.”

      He made his way through clusters of guests until he reached the house. Once inside, he frowned at the number of people there, making his search tougher. Because of the hacienda’s size, it took him a while to discover that she wasn’t in the house.

      She was nowhere to be found.

      One

      Nine years later

      “I’m in and I raise you twenty-five,” Jake said to Tom McCain, the president of the largest bank in town. He glanced at the others—ranchers Kent and Lew, and Curtis, a local lawyer. They were in the back room of the Mustang Bar & Grill, located on the outskirts of New Eden, for their weekly poker game.

      Jake sat with his back to the wall, his chair balanced on two legs and his Stetson low on his forehead. He could hear the rowdy noise of the barroom through the thin walls. Cigar smoke eddied and circled around them, and the gathering of beer bottles on the table attested to the fact they had been playing for some time.

      By upping the stakes, he would let the others know he was serious about this hand. Since they played dealer’s choice, Curtis had chosen seven-card stud.

      Jake had learned the small giveaway movements of each player because they had played together for years. Kent absently moved his wedding ring around his finger with his thumb when he had a good hand. Curtis whistled or hummed when he was bluffing. Jake knew that Curtis was unaware of his nervous habit.

      Lew had trouble sitting still and had a habit of shifting restlessly in his chair when he couldn’t decide if his hand was good enough to win. Jake carefully watched Tom, the banker, looking for possible clues. Tom never fidgeted or changed expression, which made him a tough adversary and a damn good poker player. Probably made him a good banker, as well.

      Jake considered any night he bested Tom to be a good night.

      Tonight looked to be one of those nights. Tom had two jacks, a ten of spades and a three of diamonds showing. His raises this hand had been strong enough to make Jake wonder if he was holding more than two pair or if he was bluffing.

      There was no way to know by his demeanor, but Jake intended to find out.

      Kent said, “Too rich for my blood, hombres,” and tossed down his cards with a sigh.

      Tom was next. He glanced at Jake over his bifocals and said, “I’ll meet your twenty-five and raise you fifty.”

      The other two quickly folded as well.

      Curtis dealt them each their last card.

      There was a pile of money on the table and the three onlookers watched intently. Jake said, “I’ll meet your fifty and call.”

      Tom studied his cards but, before he could answer, the door from the bar opened, banging against the wall, and a sea of noise swept into the room.

      Neither Jake nor Tom acknowledged the intrusion. Jake kept his eyes on Tom, wondering if he had the cards to beat him.

      Jake’s concentration was suddenly shattered when his cousin Jordan spoke immediately beside him.

      “Sorry to interrupt, Jake, but you’re needed at the ranch right away.”

      Jake shook his head without turning. “Not now, Jordan. Whatever it is, you can handle it.”

      “Wish I could, but I can’t. You need to get out there. Now.”

      Tom smiled at Jake. “Go on, Crenshaw, I’ll guard the pot,” causing the other three to laugh.

      “I just bet you will. If you’re staying in, pay up and let me see what you have.”

      Tom paid, then placed his cards on the table—three jacks and a pair of tens, a full house. “I hope this teaches you something, Crenshaw,” he said and reached for the pot.

      “Yeah, Tom, it teaches me that I should have raised you a hundred,” Jake replied, and turned the three cards he had down face up. He had a straight flush, three through seven, of clubs. He stood and reached for the money. “I hate to break this up, but as you can see, I’m needed elsewhere.”

      The rest of them gave him a bad time about winning and leaving immediately afterward, accusing him of planning it that way. Tom leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, hell, Crenshaw, the least you could do is give me a chance to win some of my money back!”

      Jake lifted the corners of his mouth in a slight smile. “Next week, Tommy, my boy,” he said to the banker. “You’ll get your chance.”

      He finished folding the money and stuck it into his shirt pocket. For the first time since Jordan had barged into the room, Jake turned and actually looked at him. Twenty-six-year-old Jordan was generally laid-back and low-key. Jake had never seen him this agitated before.

      Jake said his goodbyes and walked into the other room, Jordan close on his heels. He continued moving through the crowd, responding to greetings without pausing, until they were outside in the graveled parking lot.

      He turned and faced his cousin with considerable irritation.

      “All right, Jordan, what the hell is so blasted important that you had to interrupt me at the game tonight? This is my only time to relax, kick back and enjoy myself. If the place were on fire, you would have called the fire department. If you’d spotted rustlers, you would have called the sheriff. So what, in your mind, couldn’t wait until I got home?”

      “Tiffany.”

      Jake stiffened. “What are you talking about?” His voice grew louder.

      “She’s at the ranch.”

      Jake stared at Jordan, stunned. Why would his ex-wife show up after all this time? He gave his head a quick shake. “Did she say what she wanted?”

      Jordan got into his truck and slammed the door. “I’ll let her explain that. Told her I’d come get you and I have. Now I’m headed home. If I hadn’t been concerned about one of my mares, I wouldn’t have been there when she showed up.” He gave a brief wave and left.

      Jake stood there, his hands on his hips, staring at the taillights until they disappeared from view. Tiffany Rogers had come back to the ranch after she’d vowed never

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