A Coulter's Christmas Proposal. Lois Dyer Faye

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giving a thought to his faded jeans, boots and travel-wrinkled shirt, he stepped out onto the drive and climbed the shallow steps to the long porch that nearly circled the Lodge.

      He stepped inside the lobby and halted, his gaze searching the crowd for Cade and Zach.

      Amanda Blake sipped champagne, the crystal flute cool in her hand, and tried to pay attention to the conversation. She stood with her friends, a married couple who were the delighted winners of opening-week reservations at the Lodge, and two other couples. Despite the interesting company, however, her focus wandered as she looked about the beautiful lobby of the Coulter Lodge. The expansive area was thronged with guests. Men in suits and women in cocktail dresses mingled with ranchers wearing pearl-snapped Western shirts, bolo ties and cowboy boots. Scattered through the crowd were several girls in pretty summer dresses casting glances at teenage boys in crisp shirts, slacks and boots.

      Clearly, she thought with approval, the Coulters had invited not only their guests and out-of-town media people, but also their neighbors and local friends, creating a vibrant mix. The high-ceilinged room was filled with chatter and laughter that occasionally drowned out the four musicians stationed at the far end of the room.

      She half turned from her small group, letting her gaze skim the room, taking in the huge stone fireplace at one end, the massive silver-and-copper sculpture of mustangs in full gallop mounted on the wall behind the reception desk. Amusement curved her mouth as she noted a small cluster of teenagers giggling in the corner before she shifted her attention to the main entry.

      Amanda made a mental note to thank her friends for inviting her tonight. This inside view of the newly renovated Coulter Lodge provided invaluable information for the biography she was writing on Melanie Coulter, the artist who had created the fabulous wall sculpture of horses.

      And if she was lucky, she thought, perhaps she would have another chance to speak to the artist’s sons Cade and Zach Coulter about granting her an interview. They hadn’t been cooperative when she’d approached them nearly a week ago, but she hadn’t given up hope of finding a way to convince them.

      She narrowed her eyes, wondering idly how tall the custom entry door was since the carved piece over the top seemed much higher than normal.

      Her musings were abruptly interrupted by the man who stepped over the threshold and into the room, halting a few feet inside.

      Amanda caught her breath, feeling her eyes go wide as she stared.

      He was dressed in a rumpled white shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves rolled back over powerful forearms. Faded jeans covered his long legs and he wore dusty black cowboy boots.

      His attire was far more casual than any of the other guests’ but it wasn’t his clothing that riveted Amanda. He had coal-black hair that fell from a widow’s peak to brush against the collar of his shirt at his nape. The planes of his face were sharp and clear, with high, sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw, his mouth sensual below a straight nose. But it was the eyes that held her the most. Below slashes of eyebrows as black as the glossy fall of his shaggy hair, his thick-lashed eyes were astonishingly, unbelievably green—so pale a green they seemed overlaid with ice.

      Amanda shivered. He exuded an aura of quiet, restrained power that seemed to vibrate the very air around him. He appeared supremely unconcerned that guests were turning to look at him as his gaze moved over the room.

      As she watched, unable to look away, the stranger’s mouth curved, a smile lighting his face, turning it from handsome to movie-star gorgeous.

      Cade and Zach Coulter strode through the crowd and reached him, taking turns to clasp his hand and pull him into hard hugs.

      With the three black-haired, green-eyed, tall and powerful men standing side by side, recognition hit Amanda like a freight train.

      Oh, my God. That’s Eli Coulter.

      “Damn, Eli,” Cade said, his eyes warm, his deep voice raspy with emotion. “What’s with the hair? You couldn’t find a barber in Spain?”

      “Not one I wanted to let near me with sharp scissors,” Eli told him with a grin.

      “We let you out of our sight for a year and you come home looking like a girl,” Zach told him with an affectionate smile.

      “Yeah, right,” Eli said dryly. Like both Cade and Zach, Eli knew his voice was unsteady, the tones rougher than usual. With silent acceptance, he recognized and acknowledged the deep undercurrent of emotion that lay beneath their teasing. He always enjoyed catching up with his brothers whenever they managed to get together. But this time, their reunion held deeper, more powerful implications. Joseph Coulter’s death had shifted the playing field, and despite his long estrangement from his father, Eli knew Joseph’s passing had changed what he’d come to accept as normal. They’d all have to come to terms with a future that had a vastly different landscape. He jerked his chin at the brightly lit, crowded lobby. “Quite a party you’re throwing.”

      “Yup.” Zach turned, his gaze moving over the huge room. “We invited all the Lodge guests, plus all the neighbors and everyone in town who wanted to come. You know Indian Springs. Folks can’t turn down an invitation to a party.”

      Eli grinned. “I remember.” His smile faded as he scanned the room. “You’ve done a great job with the place, Zach. Looks just like I remembered it.”

      “I wanted it restored to the original plan,” Zach said as Cade turned, too, and both of their gazes followed Eli’s to take in the crowded lobby. “The furniture is different, of course, but the rest of the building is pretty much like it was.”

      “Except for the kitchen,” a feminine voice put in. “It’s been updated and is way more efficient.”

      Eli looked over his shoulder to find two women, both blondes. Zach draped his arm around the shoulders of the woman who’d spoken, pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her temple as she leaned into him. She was gorgeous, her lush female curves highlighted in a short, red silk dress. And she clearly belonged to Zach, Eli thought, noting the possessive way his brother held her tucked against his side.

      “Eli, I’d like you to meet Cynthia,” Zach said, “my fiancée.”

      Eli felt his eyes widen. He looked from Zach’s face to the beautiful woman, noting the ease with which she accepted his brother’s touch. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly. “I never thought I’d see the day a woman was brave enough to take you on.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cynthia.”

      She slipped her small, soft hand into his and gave him a warm smile.

      Before she could respond, Cade broke in.

      “And this is Mariah,” he said, “my fiancée.”

      Stunned, Eli swung his attention to his oldest brother and found that the other striking blonde now had her arm tucked through the bend of Cade’s elbow. She wore a deep blue dress that made her long sheaf of pale hair look like ripe wheat. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement as her gaze met his.

      “You too?” He shook his head slowly. “Damn, is there something in the water here I need to look out for?”

      Both Mariah and Cynthia laughed.

      “I don’t think it’s the water, Eli, but you might want to be careful

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