Two-Week Texas Seduction. Cat Schield

seemed impossible that her life could implode so easily. That the discovery of a single piece of paper meant she could lose everything. In the wee hours of the morning as she stared at the ceiling, she’d almost convinced herself to pay Maverick the money and resign from the TCC. Saving her ranch was more important than besting the terrible trio. But she’d never been a quitter and backing down when bullied had never been her style. Besides, as authentic as the document had looked, there was no reason to believe it was real or that it was in the museum where anyone could stumble on it.

      Thirty minutes later, she sat at a table in the small reference room and had her worst fears realized. Before her, encased in clear plastic, was the document she’d been sent a photo of. She tore her gaze from the damning slip of paper and looked up at the very helpful curator. From Rueben Walker’s surprise when she’d been waiting on the doorstep for the museum to open, Brandee gathered he wasn’t used to having company first thing in the morning.

      “You say this is part of a collection donated to the museum after Jasper Crowley’s death?” Brandee wondered what other bombshells were to be found in the archives.

      “Yes, Jasper Crowley was one of the founding members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Unfortunately he didn’t live to see the grand opening of the clubhouse in 1910.”

      “What other sorts of things are in the collection?”

      “The usual. His marriage license to Sarah McKellan. The birth certificate for their daughter, Amelia. Sarah’s death certificate. She predeceased Jasper by almost thirty years and he never remarried. Let’s see, there were bills of sale for various things. Letters between Sarah and her sister, Lucy, who lived in Austin.”

      Brandee was most interested in Jasper’s daughter. The land had been her dowry. Why hadn’t she claimed it?

      “Is there anything about what happened to Amelia? Did she ever get married?”

      Walker regarded Brandee, his rheumy blue eyes going suddenly keen. “I don’t recall there being anything about a wedding. You could go through the newspaper archives. With someone of Jasper’s importance, his daughter’s wedding would have been prominently featured.”

      Brandee had neither the time nor the patience for a random search through what could potentially be years’ worth of newspapers. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who would be interested in helping me with the research? I’d be happy to compensate them.”

      “I have a part-time assistant that comes in a few times a week. He might be able to assist you as soon as he gets back from helping his sister move to Utah.”

      “When will that be?”

      “Middle of next week, I think.”

      Unfortunately, Maverick had only given her two weeks to meet the demands, and if the claims were true, she needed to find out as soon as possible. Brandee ground her teeth and weighed her options.

      “Are the newspaper archives here?”

      The curator shook his head. “They’re over at the library on microfiche.”

      “Thanks for your help.” Brandee gave Reuben a quick nod before exiting the building and crossing the street.

      The library was a couple blocks down and it didn’t make sense for her to move her truck. She neared Royal Diner and her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten breakfast. As impatient as she was to get to the bottom of Maverick’s claim, she would function better without hunger pangs.

      Stepping into Royal Diner was like journeying back in time to the 1950s. Booths lined one wall, their red faux leather standing out against the black-and-white-checkerboard tile floor. On the opposite side of the long aisle stretched the counter with seats that matched the booths.

      Not unexpectedly, the place was packed. Brandee spotted local rancher and town pariah, Adam Haskell, leaving the counter toward the back and headed that way, intending to grab his seat. As she drew closer, Brandee noticed a faint scent of stale alcohol surrounded Haskell. She offered him the briefest of nods, which he didn’t see because his blue bug-eyes dropped to her chest as they passed each other in the narrow space.

      Once clear of Haskell, Brandee saw that the spot she’d been aiming for was sandwiched between an unfamiliar fortysomething cowboy and Shane Delgado. Of all the bad luck. Brandee almost turned tail and ran, but knew she’d look silly doing so after coming all this way. Bracing herself, she slid onto the seat.

      Shane glanced up from his smartphone and grinned as he spotted her. “Well, hello. Look who showed up to make my morning.”

      His deep voice made her nerve endings shiver, and when she bumped her shoulder against his while sliding her purse onto the conveniently placed hook beneath the counter, the hairs on her arms stood up. Hating how her body reacted to him, Brandee shot Shane a sharp glance.

      “I’m not in the mood to argue with you.” She spoke with a little more bluntness than usual and his eyes widened slightly. “Can we just have a casual conversation about the weather or the price of oil?”

      “I heard it’s going to be in the midfifties all week,” he said, with one of his knockout grins that indicated he liked that he got under her skin. “With a thirty percent chance of rain.”

      “We could use some rain.”

      Heidi dropped off Shane’s breakfast and took Brandee’s order of scrambled eggs, country potatoes and bacon. A second later the waitress popped back with a cup of coffee.

      “Everything tasting okay?” Heidi asked Shane, her eyes bright and flirty.

      “Perfect as always.”

      “That’s what I like to hear.”

      When she walked off, Brandee commented, “You haven’t taken a single bite. How do you know it’s perfect?”

      “Because I eat breakfast here twice a week and it’s always the same great food.” Shane slid his fork into his sunny-side up eggs and the bright yellow yolk ran all over the hash on his plate.

      Brandee sipped her coffee and shuddered.

      “What’s the matter?” Shane’s even white teeth bit into a piece of toast. He hadn’t looked at her, yet he seemed to know she was bothered.

      “Nothing.” Brandee tried to keep her voice neutral. “Why?”

      “You are looking more disgusted with me than usual.” His crooked smile made her pulse hiccup.

      “It’s the eggs. I can’t stand them runny like that.” The same flaw in human nature that made people gawk at car accidents was drawing Brandee’s gaze back to Shane’s plate. She shuddered again.

      “Really?” He pushed the yolk around as if to torment her with the sight. “But this is the only way to eat them with corn-beef hash.”

      “Why corn-beef hash and not biscuits and gravy?”

      “It’s a nod to my Irish roots.”

      “You’re Irish?”

      “On my mother’s side. She’s from Boston.”

      “Oh.” She drew out her reply as understanding dawned.

      “Oh, what?”

      “I always wondered about your accent.”

      “You thought about me?” He looked delighted.

      Brandee hid her irritation. Give the man any toehold and he would storm her battlements in a single bound.

      “I thought about your accent,” she corrected him. “It has a trace of East Coast in it.”

      Shane nodded. “It’s my mom’s fault. Even after living in Texas for nearly forty years, she still drops her r’s most of the time.”

      “How’d your mom come to live in Texas?”

      Even