The Rancher's Mistress. Kay Thorpe

      CHAPTER ONE

      TAKING in the panoramic view of rolling grasslands and timbered mountain slopes, Alex felt well and truly over the rainbow. Wyoming! The name itself conjured up images of hard-thewed cowboys astride spirited steeds, of thundering herds of cattle and whistling lariats. That the old Western films she had loved as a teenager would bear little resemblance to today’s reality she didn’t need telling, but it did no harm to dream.

      ‘How long will it take us to reach the Lazy Y?’ she asked the man at the wheel of the station wagon, savouring the name.

      ‘An hour or so,’ he said. ‘We’ll be in good time for supper. Hope you’re not on a diet. The food is really something. Needs to be too, considering what it costs to spend a week on the ranch. Taking in dudes is a pretty lucrative business.’

      ‘It’s a working ranch too, though, isn’t it? At least, that’s the impression you gave in your letter.’

      ‘It’s that all right. Cal would sooner give up breathing than cattle-breeding.’

      Catching the acerbic note, Alex shot her brother a glance. Handsome as he’d been at eighteen, when she’d last seen him in the flesh, he was even more so at twenty-six: blond hair bleached by the sun, features hardened into manhood. They had often been taken for twins when they were children, despite the two years between them. The resemblance was still there, of course, though obviously nowhere near as pronounced. Whether the empathy they had shared could be re-established after eight years apart was something else.

      ‘Do you get on all right with him?’ she queried.

      The shrug was noncommittal. ‘Well enough.’

      Not exactly ‘buddy-buddy’, Alex gathered—which wasn’t all that surprising, she supposed, considering the circumstances.

      ‘How about the guests?’ she said. ‘Do they join in with the general ranch work too?’

      ‘The ones who want to. Amazing how many seem to look on working their butts off fencing and riding herd as part and parcel of what they’re paying for!’

      ‘Perhaps they’re living out a private fantasy,’ Alex suggested lightly. ‘I always wanted to be a cowgirl myself.’

      Greg’s quick grin momentarily restored the boyish look she remembered. ‘I’d say modelling was the better choice.’

      She gave a wry smile. ‘Not so much a choice as an enticement. If I hadn’t been spotted by that photographer, I’d never have thought of it as a career. The problem now is having no particular qualifications to fall back on. Something you tend not to take too much into account at seventeen.’

      ‘You’re hardly over the hill yet,’ Greg observed, slanting a swift, appraising glance at the tumble of honey-blonde hair and finely sculpted profile.

      ‘Where photographic work is concerned, I’m fast getting that way.’ Alex took care to keep her tone matter-of-fact. ‘I’ve had a good run, but it’s time I started thinking about doing something else with my life.’

      ‘You know best, I suppose.’ He paused briefly. ‘Anything in particular in mind?’

      ‘I’ve done promotional work from time to time. A company I worked for last year offered me a permanent job selling costume jewellery in stores.’

      Greg pulled a face. ‘Sounds a bit dull after the kind of life you must have led to date.’

      ‘I haven’t done that much candle-burning,’ Alex replied drily. ‘Riotous late nights aren’t to be recommended for anyone due to face a camera next day.’

      ‘You could always find yourself a rich husband. With your looks it should be a doddle!’

      ‘If I marry anyone at all,’ she declared on an emphatic note, ‘it certainly won’t be for money!’

      ‘You always were a romantic,’ he scoffed.

      She might have been once, Alex reflected. If the last few years hadn’t rid her of her illusions, the last few weeks certainly had!

      ‘Was it love at first sight for you and Margot?’ she asked, putting the memories resolutely aside. ‘You said you met in Las Vegas.’

      ‘That’s right. Some friends she was visiting brought her to the nightclub where I was working behind the bar. We were married a week later.’

      ‘And you call me the romantic!’

      The vivid blue eyes, so like her own, fixed on the near-empty road ahead, he said

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