The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson

chase, wasting university funds that were needed to finance more important archaeological projects.

      At that moment they heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up in the yard.

      Ms. Melody glanced over at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even noon yet. I wonder who that could be.”

      Getting up from the table, Ms. Melody went over to the window and glanced out. When she turned back around, a huge smile covered her entire face. Layla heard the love in the older woman’s voice when she said, “It’s Gavin. He’s home. The rancher returns.”

      * * *

      Gavin grabbed his duffel bag from the truck before closing the door. He tilted his Stetson back on his head and looked at the car parked in front of what his grandmother called the guest cottage and what he called the party house. It was where he and his teammates would hang out whenever they visited.

      Gavin hoped that his grandmother hadn’t extended an invitation for the woman to stay on their property as well as dig on their land. If that was the case, he intended to send her packing quickly. He didn’t want anyone taking advantage of his family.

      He thought about what he was missing in Mississippi. He’d looked forward to being in bed with that bartender about now. Calling to cancel had been hard. Promising to head her way as soon as he’d taken care of this unexpected family emergency had satisfied her somewhat.

      Walking around his truck, he took a deep breath of the Missouri air. This was home and he’d always enjoyed returning after every covert operation. Silver Spurs meant a lot to him. To his family. It was his legacy. It was land that had been in his family for generations. Land that he loved. He enjoyed being a rancher almost as much as he enjoyed being a SEAL. Almost. He would admit that being a SEAL was his passion.

      Gavin appreciated having a good man like Caldwell to keep things running in his absence. The older man had done the same thing during Gavin’s father’s time. And Caldwell’s father had been foreman to Gavin’s grandfather, so Caldwell and his family also had deep history with the ranch.

      While he was home, Gavin intended to return to ranching. He couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle and ride Acer as well as help Caldwell and the men with the herd. And he needed to go over the books with Phil Vinson, the ranch’s accountant.

      However, the first thing on his agenda was a discussion with his grandmother about her giving someone permission to dig on their land. Hopefully he’d have everything settled by next week and he would hightail it to Mississippi. All he needed was one night with a woman and then he’d be good for a while.

      He had taken one step onto the porch when the front door swung open and his grandmother walked out. She was smiling, and when she opened her arms, he dropped his duffel bag and walked straight into the hug awaiting him. She was petite, but her grip was almost stronger than that of a man. He loved and admired her so damn much. This was the woman who’d been there for him when his own mother had left. The woman who’d been there for him when he’d laid his father to rest sixteen years ago. She had, and always would be, his rock. That’s why he refused to tolerate anyone trying to take advantage of her kindness.

      “Welcome home, Gavin,” she said, finally releasing him so she could lean back and look at him from head to toe as she always did when he returned from one of his assignments. “I didn’t expect you for a few months yet. Did everything go okay?”

      He smiled. She always asked him that knowing full well that because of the classified nature of his job, he couldn’t tell her anything. “Yes, Gramma Mel, everything went okay. I’m back because I understand you and I need to—”

      He glanced over his grandmother’s shoulder and he blinked, not sure he was seeing straight. A woman stood in the doorway, but she wasn’t just some woman. She had to be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Hell, she looked like everything he’d fantasized a woman to be, even while fully clothed in jeans and a pullover sweater. He didn’t want to consider what his reaction would be if she was naked.

      His grandmother sensed his attention had shifted. She turned around and smiled at the woman. “Layla, come out here. I want you to meet my grandson.”

      Layla? Where had she come from? Was she the granddaughter of one of his grandmother’s fellow church members or something? He recalled Mrs. Cotton had a granddaughter who visited on occasion from Florida and her name was Layla...or was it Liza? Hell, he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t thinking straight. When this Layla began walking toward him, he ceased thinking at all. She was wearing stretch jeans and a long sweater and had an eye-catching figure with curves in all the right places.

      Gavin fought for air as she neared. He studied her features, trying to figure out what about them had him spellbound. Was it the caramel-colored skin, dark chocolate eyes, dimpled cheeks, button nose or well-defined kissable lips? Maybe every single thing.

      Wow! Was he that hard up for a woman or did this Layla actually look that good? When she stopped beside him, a smile on her lips, he knew she actually looked that good. He kept his gaze trained on her face—even when he really wanted his eyes to roam all over her.

      Not waiting for his grandmother to make introductions, his mouth eased into a smile. He reached out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Gavin.”

      The moment their hands touched, a jolt of desire shot through his body. It’s a wonder he hadn’t lost his balance. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before and he touched women all the time. From the expression that had flashed in her eyes, he knew she had felt it, as well. Yes, there was definitely strong sexual chemistry between them.

      “It’s nice meeting you, Gavin,” she said softly. He even liked the sound of her voice. “And I’m Layla. Layla Harris.”

      Harris? His horny senses suddenly screeched to a stop. Did she say Harris? Was Layla related to this Professor Harris? The woman’s daughter perhaps? Was she part of the excavation team? She looked young, around twenty or twenty-one. Now he had even more questions and he was determined to get some answers when he had that little talk with his grandmother. “It’s nice meeting you, too, Layla.”

      It was only when she eased her hand from his that he realized he still held it. She turned to his grandmother. “Thanks for the cookies and milk, Ms. Melody. I enjoyed them. I need to run into town to pick up a few items. Anything I can get for you while I’m there?”

      “No. I’ve got everything I need.”

      Layla nodded. “Okay. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

      “Take your time.”

      Giving Gavin one last smile, she quickly walked down the steps toward the parked car. He stood and watched her every move until she was inside the car with the door closed. It was then that he turned his attention back to his grandmother. Not surprisingly, she was staring at him.

      “For a minute I thought you’d forgotten I was standing here, Gavin Timothy Blake III,” his grandmother said in an amused tone.

      So he’d been caught ogling a woman. It hadn’t been the first time and he doubted it would be the last. “What can I say, Gramma Mel?” He grinned sheepishly. “She’s awfully pretty.”

      He decided not to mention how he appreciated that sway to her hips when she walked, or how nice her breasts looked beneath her sweater.

      “Yes, she is pretty. Come inside. Just so happens I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning.”

      That made Gavin smile even wider as he picked up his duffel bag. His mouth watered just thinking about the cookies. Now if he could only get that image of Layla Harris’s backside out of his mind...

      “How are the rest of your teammates?” his grandmother asked, leading him through the front door. “You guys were together for over two months on this mission.”

      He glanced around as he entered. Everything looked the same. However, instead of smelling like vanilla, his grandmother’s favorite scent, the house smelled of woman. Namely Layla Harris.