Texas Temptation. Barbara McCauley

      One

      A storm was coming.

      It moved in swiftly from the south, thick swelling clouds carried in by a hot heavy wind that swept the harsh West Texas land. Lightning split the dark horizon, illuminating the distant mountains. The air trembled in anticipation of the coming rain.

      Jared Stone sat on the steps of the trailer he’d called home for the past eight months and watched the electrical display zigzag across the night sky. Jagged fingers of brilliant silver light flashed repeatedly, but there was no thunder. Not yet, anyway. Just the deafening echo of silence.

      Lifting the bottle to his mouth, Jared tossed back a long swallow of rotgut whiskey, then grimaced as the liquid burned his throat and settled in his stomach with a kick strong enough to send a football two hundred yards.

      Strange, but he’d actually come to enjoy that part.

      The wind slid over Jared’s bare chest like sun-warmed silk, and the sensation made him think of a woman’s hands. Frowning, he stared into the darkness, wondering if he’d deprived himself of feminine company for so long as punishment or simply because he hadn’t had the time.

      Jared stared at the bottle in his hand. “What do you think?” he asked his companion.

      Thunder rumbled in the distance. He glanced up at the sound and stared out into the darkness, but there was nothing to see. Nothing but the silhouette of a one-hundred-foot oil derrick staring back at him from almost a half mile away. A flash of lightning illuminated the tower, and Jared’s hand tightened around the bottle. It was impossible to stop the image that flashed in his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time....

       Jonathan.

      Jared squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a sharp breath. Almost four years had not dulled the memory of his twin brother’s death. There’d been a storm that night, too. No one should have been up on the rig. Especially Jonathan. He’d been too green, too inexperienced. And at twenty-nine, too damn young.

      Since they’d been ten years old, both Jonathan and Jared had dreamed of building their own oil well, despite the fact they came from a family of ranchers. It had taken ten years after graduating high school to convince their father, J.T., to back the project, but they’d finally worn him down. Jonathan, who’d returned to college in his late twenties to get his master’s degree in geology, and Jared, with ten years’ experience working every rig that would hire him, were ready to start drilling. They’d both believed in the well; both been equally determined to hit oil.

      But one had died.

      In his grief, J. T. Stone had closed the rig down after Jonathan’s accident, despite Jared’s argument that doing so meant that Jonathan would have died for nothing. But J.T. had insisted, and the project was abandoned, leaving the derrick and equipment to the elements of a lonely West Texas plain called Stone Creek.

      Until now.

      Jared took another pull of the whiskey. If only he hadn’t left in anger for South America right after his brother’s funeral and not come back. If only his father hadn’t died so unexpectedly eight months ago. If only...

       Damn you, Jonathan Stone.

      Jared threw the bottle, and lightning flashed as the sound of shattering glass rent the air. Clouds were moving in quickly now; the wind whipped at the ends of Jared’s dark hair. He stared at the derrick, cursing the wooden beast as if it were a living thing.

      Since he’d come back, everyone had told him to give up. Sell the land or lease it out. There’d been no oil drilling on Stone Creek for three years. It was ranch land. His stepmother, Myrna, pestered him continually to sell his fifteen thousand acres, but Jared had flatly refused. His great-great-grandfather had bought this land with a lick and a promise, and that was all Jared had now, too.

      Only Jake, his older brother, and Jessica, his younger sister, never questioned or discouraged him. Each of them had their own legacy of Stone Creek: Jake, sixty thousand acres of ranch, and Jessica, fifteen thousand acres, which included the abandoned town of Makeshift. Each of them understood they needed to safeguard their inheritance their own way.

      Even his nine-year-old half sister, Emma, had painted a picture of a gushing oil well and told him to put it on his refrigerator where he could see it every day.

      If only the investors would be so optimistic.

      Jared had already mortgaged the land and used every penny of the money J.T. had left him to start drilling again. But it wasn’t enough. He needed a backer, and the only company that hadn’t turned him down yet was a Dallas-based company, Arloco Oil.

      Arloco was Jared’s last hope. Without their backing, he’d have to shut down. Something had to happen. And it had to happen soon.

      Another bolt of lightning struck, close by this time. Rain bounced off the dry earth, scattered at first, then building in speed and intensity as the storm settled in.

      Jared lifted his face to the sky and welcomed the feel of the rain on his skin. The sky lit up

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