Millionaire on Her Doorstep. Stella Bagwell

makes you think we do all those things?”

      He let out a tiresome groan. Justine and his mother, Chloe, were sisters. In all likelihood, this conversation would be discussed between the two of them. He really should make an effort to choose his words more wisely. But why bother? His mother already knew his feelings on the matter.

      “Oh, I hear things from my married buddies. And I’ve had a few girlfriends who gave me plenty of clues as to what it would be like to have a woman permanently attached to me,” he told her. Then with a grimace, he swiped a hand through his dark auburn hair. The loose wave flopped once again on his forehead. “That’s not to say I think marriage is a bad thing. After all, Charlie seems to love being a husband and father. And now my sister, Anna, is walking around in a fog of wedded bliss. But I’m convinced none of that is for me.”

      Justine tapped a forefinger against her chin as she carefully studied her nephew. “I’ve never been one to meddle in your life, Adam.”

      “So don’t spoil your record by doing it now,” he retorted.

      Ignoring his tone of warning, Justine said, “The past few years you’ve gone through women as if they were a stack of shirts to be tried on for size.”

      Adam snorted. “That’s right. And none of them fitted.”

      Justine sighed. “I know you don’t believe it, Adam, but there is a special woman out there for you.”

      “No, Aunt Justine, that’s where you’re wrong. All the special ones are taken. One way or the other.”

      They both knew he was talking about Susan’s death. But thankfully she decided now wasn’t the time to bring up Adam’s tragic loss.

      Justine patted his shoulder. “Don’t get too cross with me. It’s just that your old aunt is more concerned about your mental health than the state of that skinny foot of yours.”

      Adam glanced wryly at his bare foot. “My mental health is dandy now that I’m back in New Mexico. And don’t go comparing my foot with Charlie’s. That son of yours should’ve been a football player instead of a Texas Ranger. The profession would’ve been a helluva lot safer, if you ask me.”

      Justine smiled impishly. “A helluva lot,” she agreed, then pointed to his newly mended bones. “But it appears to me that being an oilman isn’t all that safe, either. I can’t ever remember Charlie going around on crutches for six weeks.”

      Leaning forward, Adam gave the vinyl padding on the examining table a loud slap. “You just made a good point, Aunt Justine. Being an oilman didn’t cause my ankle to get broken. A woman did this to me!”

      One of Justine’s brows arched with wry amusement. “Really? I thought you got hurt on the job.”

      Adam shot her a tired look. “It was on the job! The woman was crazy....” He broke off with a shake of his head, and Justine laughed. “Oh, go get the doctor, would you? I’m supposed to meet Dad in twenty minutes.”

      Laughing softly, she turned to leave the examining room. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook this time. But one of these days I want to hear how you actually broke that ankle.”

      

      When Adam arrived at the offices of Sanders Gas and Exploration thirty minutes later, he bypassed the receptionist and three secretaries, went straight to his father’s office and rapped his knuckles against the dark oak door.

      Behind the wooden panel he could hear muffled voices. Good, he thought. The new geologist his father had hired was already here and hopefully ready to go to work. There were a lot of new projects waiting for decisions to be made, and now that he was free of the cumbersome cast on his foot, he was raring to get started on them.

      A second later, the door opened. His father, Wyatt, still handsome and dark-headed at the age of fifty-five, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into the large office.

      “Adam! Come in. I was wondering if you were going to make it,” he exclaimed with cheerful affection. “I see you finally got that damn cast off. How does your ankle feel?”

      Adam glanced to his left where a desk and several pieces of leather furniture were grouped near a glass wall. The toe of a heavy work boot and part of a leg encased in faded denim peeked out from one of the chairs, but the high back prevented a clear view of the person sitting in front of Wyatt’s desk.

      Turning his attention back to his father, Adam said, “Right now, my ankle is as stiff and swollen as the fat end of a baseball bat. I had to cut the instep of my boot with a pocketknife just to get the damn thing on. A five-hundred-dollar pair of ostrich boots at that! But the doctor says it’s healed and it’ll soon get back to normal. I just hope the man knows what he’s talking about.”

      The older man gave Adam’s shoulder an encouraging slap. “You’ll be able to run a footrace in a couple of weeks. And as for the ostrich boots, they’re not nearly as valuable as your neck.”

      Adam chuckled grimly as Wyatt nudged his son toward the desk and accompanying chairs. “Come on. I want you to meet our new geologist. I believe you two are going to work wonders together.”

      The chair slowly swiveled to face the two men, and Adam instantly halted in his tracks.

      “You!”

      He very nearly shouted the one word as the woman rose gracefully to her feet. She was exactly as he remembered. Tall, long-legged, with curves that were full and lusty. Her long brown hair was thick and coarse and streaked by too much time in the sun. At the moment, it was braided in the same way his mother braided the tails of her horses before a muddy race.

      “You two know each other?” Wyatt asked. With a puzzled frown, he glanced from his son to the woman he’d just invited into the company.

      “This is your son?” she asked Wyatt in a voice as husky as Adam remembered.

      His eyes traveled from the rope of hair lying against the jut of one breast to the look of disbelief on her face. “As if you didn’t already know!” Adam drawled mockingly.

      Ignoring him, she turned dark brown eyes on Wyatt. “I thought your name was Sanders.”

      “It is.” the older man assured her.

      She looked at Adam, and he suddenly felt as if a boot heel had landed in the middle of his gut.

      “Down in South America, you were introduced to me as Adam Murdock,” she said, her voice full of confusion.

      “I am Adam Murdock,” he snarled. “Adam Murdock Sanders. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know.”

      “Adam!” Wyatt exclaimed. “What’s the matter with you? Ms. York hasn’t done anything to you!”

      “The hell she hasn’t! She very nearly killed me. She put me in the hospital and my foot in a cast for more than six weeks!”

      Sparks flew from Maureen York’s dark eyes as she pinned him with a glare that would have withered a lesser man. “I didn’t do anything to you! You did it to yourself!”

      “Sure. I’m the one who swerved to miss that damn dog!”

      Her brows shot up with indignation. “Would you have had me kill it?”

      “That would’ve been a helluva lot better than killing me!”

      A deep shade of rose spread across her high cheekbones. “Nothing would’ve happened to you if you’d been wearing your seat belt. Like I told you to in the first place. But no. You had to play macho man and—”

      “I wouldn’t have—”

      “Whoa! Whoa now!” Wyatt shouted above their voices. “I think there’s been a mistake here and—”

      “There sure has,” Adam interrupted hotly. “And the mistake was hiring this—” he gestured toward Maureen “—this maniac.”

      “I’m