A Husband For Christmas. Diana Palmer

coat, looking so masculine he’d have wowed them even at a convention of male models.

      “Not much farther now,” he murmured, turning the truck off onto the farm road that led to the calving pens, where two cowboys in yellow slickers could be seen riding around the enclosures, heads bent against the wind.

      “Poor devils,” she remarked, watching.

      “The men or the heifers?” he asked.

      “Both. All. It’s rough out there.” She balanced her hand against the cold dashboard as he stopped the truck and cut the engine at the side of the long shed. Cade was the perfect rancher, but his driving left a lot to be desired.

      “Now I know how it feels to ride inside a concrete mixer,” she moaned.

      “Don’t start that again,” Cade grumbled as he threw open the door. “You can always walk back,” he added with a dark glance.

      “Did you ever race in the Grand Prix when you were younger, Cade?” she asked with a bright, if somewhat false, smile.

      “And sarcasm won’t do the trick, either,” he warned. He led the way through the snow, and she followed in his huge footprints, liking the bite of the cold wind and the crunch of the snow, the freshness of the air. It was so deliciously different from the city. Her eyes looked out over the acres toward the distant mountains, searching for the familiar snow-covered peaks that she could have seen clearly in sunny daylight. God’s country, she thought reverently. How had she ever been able to exist away from it?

      “Stop daydreaming and catch up,” Cade was growling. “I could lose you out here.”

      “In a little old spring snowstorm like this?” She laughed. “I could fight my way through blizzards, snowshoe myself to Canada, ski over to the Rockies...”

      “...lie like hell, too,” he said, amusement gleaming in the dark eyes that caught hers as they entered the lighted interior. “Come on.”

      She followed him into the airy enclosure, wrapping her arms tight. “Still no heat, I see.” She sighed.

      “Can’t afford the luxury, honey,” he remarked, waving at a cowboy farther down the aisle.

      “Is that why it’s so drafty in here? You poor thing, you,” she chided.

      “I would be, if I didn’t keep the air circulating in here,” he agreed. “Don’t you remember how many calves we used to lose to respiratory ailments before the veterinarians advised us to put in that exhaust fan to keep stale air out of these sheds? Those airborne diseases were bankrupting the operation. Now we disinfect the stalls and maintain a rigid vaccination program, and we’ve cut our losses in half.”

      “Excuse me,” she apologized. “I’m only an ignorant city dweller.”

      He turned in the aisle and looked down at her quietly. “Come home,” he said curtly. “Where you belong.”

      Her heart pounded at the intensity of the brief gaze he gave her before turning back to his cow boss.

      Charlie Smith stood up, grinning at Cade. “Hi, boss, get tired of television and hungry for some real relaxation? Jed sure would love to have somebody take his place—”

      “Just visiting, Charlie,” Cade interrupted. “I brought Abby down to see the newcomers.”

      “Good to see you again, Miss Abby,” Charlie said respectfully, tipping his hat. “We’ve got a good crop in here, all right. Have a look.”

      Abby peeked into the nearest stall, her face lighting up as she stared down at one of the “black baldies,” a cross between a Hereford and a Black Angus, black all over with a little white face.

      “Jed brought that one in an hour ago. Damn...uh, doggone mama just dropped it and walked away from it.” Charlie sneered.

      “That’s not his mama, huh?” Abby murmured, noticing the tender licking it was getting from the cow in the stall with it.

      “No, ma’am,” Charlie agreed. “We sprayed him with a deodorizing compound to keep her from getting suspicious. Poor thing lost her own calf.”

      Abby felt a surge of pity for the cow and calf. It was just a normal episode in ranch life, but she had a hard time trying to separate business from emotion.

      Cade moved close behind her, apparently oblivious to the sudden, instinctive stiffening of her slender body, the catch of her breath. Please, she thought silently, please don’t let him touch me!

      But he didn’t attempt to. He leaned against the stall and rammed his hands in his pockets, watching the cow and calf over her shoulder. “How many have we lost so far?” Cade asked the cow boss.

      “Ten. And it looks like a long night.”

      “They’re all long.” Cade sighed. He pushed his hat back over his forehead, and Abby, glancing up, noticed how weary he looked.

      “I’d better check on my own charge down the aisle here,” Charlie said, and went off with a wave of his hand as the ominous bleating of the heifer filled the shed.

      “Prime beef,” Cade murmured, chuckling at Abby’s indignant expression.

      She moved away from him with studied carelessness and smiled. “Heartless wretch,” she teased. “Could you really eat him?”

      “Couldn’t you, smothered in onions...?”

      “Oh, stop!” she wailed. “You cannibal...!”

      “How does it feel to be back?” he asked, walking back the way they came in.

      “Nice,” she admitted. She tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I’d forgotten how big this country is, how unspoiled and underpopulated. It’s a wonderful change from a crowded, polluted city, although I do love New York,” she added, trying to convince him she meant it.

      “New York,” he reminded her, “is a dangerous place.”

      She stiffened again, turning to study his face, but she couldn’t read anything in that bland expression. Cade let nothing show—unless he wanted it to. He’d had years of practice at camouflaging his emotions.

      “Most cities are,” she agreed. “The country can be dangerous, too.”

      “It depends on your definition of danger,” he returned. He looked down at her with glittering eyes. “You’re safe as long as I’m alive. Nothing and no one will hurt you on this ranch.”

      Tears suddenly misted her eyes, burning like fire. She swallowed and looked away. “Do I look as if I need protection?” She tried to laugh.

      “Not especially,” he said coolly. “But you seemed threatened for an instant. I just wanted to make the point. I’ll protect you from mountain lions and falling buildings, Abby,” he added with a hint of a smile.

      “But who’ll protect me from you, you cannibal?” she asked with a pointed stare, her old sense of humor returning to save her from the embarrassment of tears.

      “You’re just as safe with me as you want to be,” he replied.

      She looked into his eyes, and for an instant they were four years in the past, when a young girl stood poised at the edge of a swimming pool and offered her heart and her body to a man she worshipped.

      Without another word, she turned around and started back out into the snow.

       4

      As she walked toward the truck, huddled against the wind, her mind suddenly went backward in time. And for an instant, it was summer, and she was swimming alone in the pool at Cade’s house one night when her father was in the hospital.

      She’d been eighteen, a girl on the verge of becoming