The Secret Heir of Sunset Ranch. Charlene Sands

the brake, keeping his eyes trained on a sight he hadn’t seen in a long time: a gorgeous, perfectly shaped female ass. It was enough to get his juices flowing. Heck, after nine years in the marines, it didn’t take much. But hot damn, the view was fine.

      He swallowed and climbed down from the cab of his truck. His boots ate gravel as he neared the back of her car. The woman’s silky blouse climbed her waist while she continued to search the trunk, and his eyes locked on to five inches of soft-as-butter, creamy skin.

      “Sweet heaven, what else is going to go wrong?” Her voice flowed over him like smooth bourbon. He grabbed a peek of that exposed skin again.

      Man, oh, man.

      He cleared his throat. Darn his mama for teaching him gentlemanly manners. Forcing his gaze away from her beautiful bottom, he focused on her curly, platinum-blond hair.

      “Excuse me, miss. Can I lend a hand?”

      She jerked up and hit her head on the inside of the trunk. “Ow.”

      She scowled as her hand went to her head, rubbing away the pain. “Oh, I didn’t see you—”

      Their gazes locked. Her hand froze in her shoulder-length platinum locks. Her brows pulled tight and her lips rounded. “Oh.”

      She was a stunner.

      A twinge of recollection jarred him out of his lusty thoughts.

      He remembered those deep jade eyes, that pouty mouth and Marilyn Monroe hair only a few women could pull off. He would’ve bet his last dollar he’d never see her again. And now, here she was...in the flesh.

      On Matilda Applegate’s homestead, no less.

      He didn’t much believe in coincidences. And this one was too big to ignore. His gut churned again, begging for another antacid.

      Maybe he was wrong. It had been over a year and a half ago. Maybe she only looked like the woman he’d met in New York City that one weekend.

      Justin removed his Stetson and her eyes flickered at the gesture.

      “Sorry if I startled you, miss.”

      Seconds ticked by as she took note of his shiny black boots, new jeans, silver belt buckle and tan shirt opened at the collar. She studied his face and gazed deeply into his eyes. With her hand in her hair, her fingers wove through the silver-blond strands as if she was fashioning some new upswept hairdo. With her arm raised and bent at the elbow, she tilted her head to one side and gave him thoughtful consideration. The move exposed the delicate softness of her throat. A breathless sigh escaped from her mouth.

      That bit of body language was unique to the woman he’d known. Sexy. Not forced. Genuine. A jolt hit him smack between the eyes.

      It had to be her. He thought back to that night at the Golden Palace Bar.

      “I don’t date soldiers,” she’d said as he stood by her table.

      He’d taken a seat and smiled anyway. “But you’ll make an exception for me.”

      “B-Brett? Is that really you?” The hope in her voice confused him and then another jolt hit. Oh, man, this wasn’t possible. “I don’t understand,” she was saying. “We were told...we were told you were dead. Killed in a gun battle. Oh, my God, your aunt Mattie will be so happy. Was there a mix-up? What happened?”

      He pulled oxygen into his lungs, then looked away from her puzzled face and squinted against the bright afternoon sunshine. Jerk. He hated himself for the lie, and for the hurt he’d cause when he told her the truth.

      “I’m not Brett Applegate,” he told the blonde.

      She pursed her lips and inclined her head, studying him. “But I remember you. Don’t you remember me? I’m Katherine Grady. I go by Kat.”

      Hell, yeah. He remembered her. But he didn’t have a clue why the heck Kat was here, looking gorgeous, in front of the Applegate home.

      Silently, he cursed the bet he’d made with Brett Applegate. Justin never thought he’d lose an arm-wrestling match to his buddy. He never had before. But damn if Brett hadn’t bested him three out of five times right before they’d been selected to accompany a high-powered general to a three-day summit in Washington, D.C. After they served out their mission, the general granted them weekend leave in New York, before they were to head back to their forward operating base in Afghanistan.

      The price of the bet? Reversing roles for the weekend.

      They’d emptied the contents of their pockets, and good ole Brett had jumped at the chance to live in Justin’s skin for a few days. He’d waved Justin’s gold credit card in his face and scooped up all seven hundred-dollar bills Justin had dumped onto the bunk. “Gonna have me some fun being you,” he’d said, grinning like a fool.

      For his part, Justin had blown Brett’s spending cash on a bottle of house wine at the hotel and afterward Kat had taken him to her tiny fourth-story walk-up. He’d been looking for a good time. He thought she was, too. They’d clicked. And then things got complicated.

      “I remember you, sugar.”

      Her eyes softened. “No one else has ever called me that.”

      Justin winced at the sweet tone in her voice. “My name isn’t Brett. I’m Justin Slade and I live about twenty miles north of here. Brett and I served together on a tour of duty in the marines.”

      Her voice dropped off. “You’re Justin...Slade?”

      He nodded.

      “Sunset Ranch, Justin Slade?”

      He nodded again.

      “But, we... You told me your name was Brett Applegate. You were a marine heading back overseas. You told me all about this place.... You—”

      He grimaced. He was the worst kind of heel. He’d taken advantage of a woman’s trust, something he’d never done before. He swallowed down regret and then softened his voice. “I lied.”

      She condemned him with her eyes. He didn’t blame her. It was an idiotic bet and a fool thing to do.

      Slowly, her hand went to her mouth. Slender fingers covered her lips. She began shaking her head. “Oh...no. No, it’s not true.”

      “Maybe we should go inside the house and talk. I’ll try to explain. Is Matilda Applegate home?”

      She closed her eyes and kept them closed as if she were silently praying.

      He spoke firmly. “Kat.”

      Her eyes popped open and she blinked a few times. She spoke quietly. “We can’t go inside.”

      “Why not?”

      The front door creaked open and an older woman with hair the color of a sunburst stepped onto the front porch, holding a baby boy dressed in brown corduroy in her arms. The woman moved slowly, but with precision as if she calculated each step she took. Her light blue eyes were the most vital thing about her, painted with black eyeliner and deep-sea blue eye shadow. Blotchy face powder accented rather than hid the wrinkles on her face. But the kindness in her eyes was authentic and aimed straight at him.

      “I thought I heard voices. Who have we here?”

      The baby took a peek at him and then whipped around to grab at her neck with a death grip, his little legs kicking at her hips. She squeezed him tight, and whispered reassurances in his ear. “Now, now, Connor baby. Don’t be afraid.”

      Kat cleared her throat. “Aunt Mattie, this is Justin Slade.”

      The woman’s brows drew together as she tried to place him. “Slade? The name sounds familiar.”

      “I was a friend of Brett’s. I came here to talk to you.”

      * * *

      Katherine Grady knew how to handle a lot of tough situations. She’d grown up the