The Reluctant Texas Rancher. Cathy Thacker Gillen

shot him a drop-dead look and headed toward the one-room log cabin behind the barns. En route, they passed the main ranch house, an angular, U-shaped domicile made of rough-hewn timber and flat-cut stone, with wide porches on the front and back. “Actually, you’re getting my room. Or what was my room, once I clear my stuff out. You’ll be bunking in the old homestead.”

      He was close enough to smell the jasmine scent of her perfume. Not a good thing, given what it did to his libido.

      He eased back as they reached a field of knee-high grass, interspersed with Texas wildflowers. “Well, that’s exciting.”

      “Not really.” Mirroring his ironic tone, Liz paused to open a gate in the weathered wood fence. “It’s very primitive.”

      He shrugged. “There’s something to be said for whittling life down to the very basics.”

      As he was doing today.

      It made you reevaluate. Think about what you wanted versus what you needed. It made it easier to set a goal and develop a plan to go after what you had to have to be happy.

      Travis was ready to do that, and more.

      Liz latched the gate behind them, then carried on. “You say that now,” she predicted. “You may be singing a different tune later.”

      She really didn’t know him. “Does it have indoor plumbing?”

      She slanted him a glance from beneath those thick auburn lashes. “As well as electricity. But no real kitchen. So you’ll have to take your meals in the main house with us, unless you want to get by on whatever you can store in the minifridge and whip up on a hot plate or microwave.”

      He ignored her attempt to discourage him. The way her shirt cupped her breasts was not so easy to disregard.

      Folding his arms, he tried to ignore the pressure starting at the front of his jeans. “Thanks for the option, but I’m not much of a cook.”

      Amusement glimmered in her eyes. “Somehow I suspected that would still be the case.”

      Okay, that was definitely a dig, but he wasn’t going to apologize for the single-minded dedication he had given to his path in life. It had gotten him where he wanted to go, and then some. The fact that some of it had recently derailed was his fault, sure, but being here would fix that.

      “Faye Elizabeth, on the other hand, is legendary for her culinary skills,” Travis continued, with lazy insistence. That was one bonus for being on the ranch, right there.

      Liz rolled her eyes. “And there is nothing my grandmother likes more than an appreciative audience for her efforts.”

      “She’ll have that in me,” he promised. These days, he would take his pleasure where he could get it.

      Liz paused at the door to the homestead. “My question is why are you really doing this?” She eyed him skeptically. “And don’t give me that you-just-want-to-be-a-rancher-and-ride-the-open-range bit again, Travis Anderson. Because I’m just not buying it!”

      Chapter Two

      For a moment, Liz thought Travis wasn’t going to answer her. Then he reached into his pocket for his wallet, took a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her.

      She gazed into his intelligent gray eyes, wishing he wasn’t such a fine example of masculine intensity. But he was. With the kind of good looks that only got better with age. The sensuality of his lips perfectly complemented his other bold, handsome features. And the rest of him was just as fine. He was six foot three inches of solid, indomitable male, and he used it to his advantage.

      Which made his arrival back in Laramie County all the more perplexing.

      Doing her best to control the sudden hitch in her breathing, Liz looked down at the bill in her hand and remarked with humor, “I’m dying to know what this is for.”

      He took off his hat as he followed her inside. “I want to hire you to represent me.”

      Was he serious? The brooding look in his eyes said he was.

      Liz watched him run a hand through dark, tousled hair, which was several weeks past time for a cut. “Well, then it’s going to cost you a heck of a lot more than twenty dollars,” she said, setting her lingering physical attraction to him aside. “An initial consultation is two hundred dollars.” And there were other reasons she should say no, too.

      Travis nodded amiably. “Consider that a down payment for helping me clear my name and get my career back on track.”

      Of all the things he could have confided in her, this was the last Liz ever would have expected. She stared at him in surprise.

      “My law license has been suspended for six months. I want you to handle the appeal.”

      Curiosity won out over common sense. “What did you do?” she asked in shock.

      Tensing, Travis looked around the cabin, taking in the brass bed and wooden armoire, the old leather sofa, the table and two chairs. Tucked into the open shelving that served as a pantry was a minifridge, microwave and hot plate. Adjacent to that was an old-fashioned kitchen sink. A small bathroom, with pedestal sink and narrow shower, had been added on.

      He turned back to her, clearly not happy about having to admit, “I disappointed a client who is now suing me for legal malpractice.”

      Silence fell between them. It was impossible to imagine the Travis she had grown up with doing anything unethical or foolish. “Are you still with Haverty, Brockman & Roberts?”

      He settled on the arm of the sofa and stretched his legs out. “They asked me to tender my resignation.”

      Liz edged close enough to be able to see his eyes. In the dim light of the cabin, they were the color of an approaching spring storm.

      “So they wouldn’t have to pay you severance, right?”

      Travis shrugged, the turbulent emotion on his face fading to acceptance. “I got something out of it, too,” he admitted quietly. “It always looks better to resign than to be fired.”

      True.

      The uncomfortable silence between them lengthened.

      Travis studied her with narrowed eyes. “What have you heard about what’s been going on?” he asked curiously.

      “In legal circles? Not much … except whatever you did to vault you off the fast track was being kept very hush-hush by the senior partners.”

      Travis locked gazes with her. He rested a callused hand on his thigh in a move that wasn’t quite as easy and relaxed as it seemed. “Well, that’s no longer the case.” He exhaled roughly, lips taut. “As of yesterday, the senior partners are letting it be known all over Houston that they are as disappointed in me as my former client is, and they are going to be helping her in the lawsuit being waged against me.”

      Not good. Not good at all. “In return for keeping Haverty, Brockman & Roberts from being sued, as well?” Liz guessed.

      Travis’s eyes hardened. “Sacrificing me is the only way they can protect the firm and keep Olympia Herndon’s business.”

      Liz studied him with the same reserve she would have used with any other client. “Why ask me to represent you? Why not go to another big firm—maybe even an HB&R rival—back in Houston?” There were always competitors eager to take another law firm down a notch.

      That was the more logical route to go.

      But, apparently, not to him.

      Travis faced her boldly, his annoyance at having to explain himself evident. “Everything I have worked for is on the line. I need an attorney I can trust, someone strong and savvy enough to handle this. And you’ve got a reputation for finding out-of-court solutions where there seem to be none.”

      That was true. Although, out