Mike to think about a job on the Tumbling T Ranch. Thane’s older foreman had had back trouble and had decided to retire. The foreman had said he would wait until Thane was out of the military and had time to hire someone to take his place. Mike had planned to get a job working on a ranch once he was discharged, so why not work for a man he’d come to like and admire? Besides, the job came with a good salary.
But Thane didn’t make it back home.
Mike cast his eyes on the sprawling ranch, as he recalled the days following his friend’s death. He had followed Thane’s request and used the key Thane had given him to open a lockbox he’d stored in their makeshift camp. Opening the box, he found an odd assortment of stuff, including Thane’s cotton T-shirts, some socks, and in the bottom, three fat packets wrapped in wrinkled, torn brown paper and tied with twine. One was addressed to Mike, one to Noah and one to Jake. Mike passed them out. When he opened his envelope he read a note scribbled on a piece of torn brown paper: Mike, please give this to Vivian. He looked at his friends as he held up another envelope. “I’m to take this home to his wife.”
Noah scratched his jaw that was covered in black stubble. “Yeah, I’m to take one to his sister.”
Noah and Mike looked at Jake who held up his brown envelope. “And I’m to take this to someone who works for his dad.” They all looked at each other and Mike guessed his friends were feeling the same as he was.
“Thane was the best,” he said. “We’ve got to do what he wanted.”
The others nodded and moved away to stash the envelopes safely until they could get home. Mike knew he was the only one who had another note in the box. That note informed him there was a packet for him hidden in among Thane’s things. Mike rummaged through the lockbox and found it quickly. A thick packet shoved down in the toes of a well-worn army sock. Mike opened the fat brown envelope and found more brown paper tied in twine. This one had a note in Thane’s handwriting: Mike, you are the only one getting this. It is yours now. I won’t ever miss it. You’ll earn it. Please take the other packet to Vivian.
Mike unwrapped the brown paper to find a stack of bills. He stared at them a moment in shock. He picked up one and looked at it closely. It was a one-thousand dollar bill. He’d never even seen one before. He thumbed through the stack of twenty-five. He read Thane’s note again and shook his head. He didn’t know why Thane had given him the gift. It was no secret that Thane came from a wealthy family. Along with his two brothers and sister, he was a multimillionaire, and his wife a billionaire heiress, so Thane would never have needed the money if he had lived, but it still was an odd gift. Mike shook his head again, wondering if Thane thought he was poverty-stricken since he was the only one of their group of four friends who wasn’t a millionaire. No, he knew that wasn’t the case because Thane was practical and Mike had never known him to throw money away. That day, and every day since, each time he looked at the bills, he thought of Thane and wanted his friend with him instead of the money.
Now with Thane gone, the foreman job didn’t appeal to Mike, but a promise was a promise. Mike wasn’t going back on his word.
From scuttlebutt and by piecing together things Thane had said, Mike knew Thane’s artist wife was the daughter of a billionaire Dallas hotel magnate, plus now she had inherited Thane’s millions from his ranch and oil interests. Vivian and Thane had only been married a few months when he’d left for Afghanistan. She knew nothing about ranching and Thane had constantly worried about her. Also, he hated to think that if something happened to him, she would sell the ranch and return home to Dallas where she had lived when she was single.
As he stepped out of the car, he pulled on his western-cut navy jacket. His gaze ran over the sprawling gray stone mansion that looked as if it should be in an exclusive Dallas suburb instead of sitting on a mesquite-covered prairie. The mansion was surrounded by beds of spring flowers. Beyond the beds was lush green grass that had to be watered constantly in the dry Texas heat. A tall black wrought iron fence with open gates circled the mansion yard.
After running his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, Mike put on his broad-brimmed black Stetson. As he strode to the front door, he realized he had felt less reluctance walking through minefields in Afghanistan. He crossed the wide porch that held steel and glass furniture with colorful cushions, pots of greenery and fresh flowers. He listened to the door chimes and in seconds, the ten-foot intricately carved wooden door swung open. He faced an actual butler.
“I’m Mike Moretti. I have an appointment with Mrs. Warner.”
“Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Come in. I’m Henry, sir.”
Mike stepped into a wide entryway with a huge crystal chandelier centered overhead above a small pond where a fountain splashed and deep purple and bright pink water lilies added to the ambiance. It was hard to picture the down-to-earth, tough US Army Ranger, Thane Warner as the owner of this elegant mansion.
“If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll tell Mrs. Warner you’ve arrived.”
“Thank you,” Mike replied, nodding at the butler who turned and disappeared into a room off the hall. With neatly trimmed brown hair, Henry wore a white shirt and a matching black tie and trousers. Mike noticed he also wore boots and when he had shown Mike in, his hands looked rough. His shoulders were thick and broad. Mike suspected Henry might not spend all his time working inside the mansion.
He reappeared. “If you’ll come with me, sir, Mrs. Warner is in the study.” Mike followed him until Henry stopped at an open door. “Mrs. Warner, this is Mike Moretti.”
“Come in, Mr. Moretti,” she said, smiling as she walked toward him.
He entered a room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books. After the first glance, he forgot his surroundings and focused solely on the woman approaching him.
Mike had seen Thane’s pictures of his wife—one in his billfold, one he carried in his duffel bag. Mike knew from those pictures that she was pretty. But those pictures hadn’t done her justice, because in real life, Vivian Warner was a downright beauty. She had big blue eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and full rosy lips. The bulky, conservative tan sweater and slacks she wore couldn’t fully hide her womanly curves and long legs.
What had he gotten himself into? For a moment he was tempted to go back on his promise. But as always, he would remember those last hours with Thane’s blood running over his hands, recall too easily Thane dying in a foreign land after fighting for his country, and Mike knew he had to keep his promise. His only hope was that Thane’s widow wouldn’t want him to work for her.
“Mr. Moretti, I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Thane,” she said, offering her hand.
“It’s Mike,” he said, smiling as he took her soft hand in his. The moment he did, he felt a tingling up his arm that shocked him.
“And I’m Vivian,” she said, her eyes widening when his hand wrapped around hers. Her words came out breathlessly, making Mike feel he had walked into a major disaster. Their gazes locked and he couldn’t get his breath, either. For a moment he felt a hot, intense awareness of her as a woman. A very desirable woman. And judging by her startled expression and the quick intake of her breath, he had a feeling she felt a similar reaction.
His focus shifted to her lips, a rosy temptation. Realizing they were staring at each other and standing too close, he released her hand. When he did, she stepped back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps she labeled the attraction as unwanted as he did.
“I’m sorry for your
