Julianna shook out her halo of streaming, honey-blonde hair, mouth quirked in a grim smile. As she exited the sleek, black Audi – a perk from the sweaty agent from the rental company in Casper – a trickle of sweat found its way along the décolletage of her raw silk camisole. It was an Indian summer; unseasonably hot for October, heat waves glistened in the cobalt mountain-framed skyline of her grandfather’s beloved ranch, Wynn Valley. She could hear the distant thud of the ponies in their wide sweep of land, excited by the arrival of a visitor. The air was so clean and the sky so large, a blue canvas; the sprawling timber-framed house, darkened with age and weather, seemed the same somehow – the ranch she’d dreamed of for so long had replicated itself perfectly in her mind.
Why it had been thirteen years, Julianna couldn’t say. Of course, her grandfather had braved the big city, with its crowded sidewalks and incessant noise, just to be with his favourite granddaughter. But Julianna hadn’t been able to face returning. Alongside all of the beautiful, happy memories lay images of pain and heartbreak.
And then she saw him. Squinting across the dirt path, she drew her tortoiseshell Chanel sunglasses up over her glossy waves. The man, casually fanning out maps across the hood of his Range Rover, had the stance of a cowboy and the looks of a fifties heartthrob, like James Dean – a troublemaker without a cause. Julianna felt something twist inside her stomach. So this was the man who’d come to destroy her family’s legacy and heart. If she weren’t so disgusted by the thought of him, she might have dragged him into a nearby meadow and let him have his undoubtedly wicked way with her. A pudgy golden retriever who’d been lounging by the rear wheel bounded up to Julianna happily, tongue bouncing. She leaned down to cuddle him, hiding the emotions surfacing in the dog’s soft fur.
‘Well, Miss Wynn,’ he drawled in a soft Texan accent as she approached, ‘You’re nothing like I was expecting.’ He was tall and lean, with well-defined arms and broad shoulders. Julianna tried to look anywhere but at the triangle of tanned skin which beckoned to her from underneath his tight, checked shirt.
‘Funny,’ she countered, finding her own long-lost Wyoming twang and wielding it with force. ‘You’re damn near exactly what I was expecting. Isn’t it a little early to divide and conquer?’ She wanted to make sure he knew she wouldn’t back down. She would fight with all of her strength to keep Wynn Valley exactly as it was fixed in her memory. She made a show of looking around her old home, instead of in his soft, but intense green eyes. They were the colour of spring grass, and they were gazing at her with an intensity that was making her warm in the evening sun. They were bedroom eyes without the sex.
‘Luke Morgan.’ He offered her his hand, which was as tan as his face but calloused, rough. ‘I see you’ve already met Bluebelle – she never has been very loyal.’
Julianna snorted. This man wasn’t going to charm her with cute puppies. She hadn’t become a partner at Tate, Stanley and Cross by being a soppy pushover.
‘That usually says something about the owner doesn’t it? If you can’t tame a dog...well...’ Julianna let her words trail off suggestively, punctuated by a dismissive laugh. ‘Anyway, where’s my grandfather? You’ve gotta lot of nerve approaching an elderly man without his lawyer present.’
When her grandfather had called, voice thick with emotion, she’d known immediately that something was very wrong. Julianna hadn’t heard him so distraught since her grandmother, Julie, had died twenty years ago. She’d sworn then to always protect her grandfather – a promise she hadn’t been keeping too well while studying at the state university before fleeing across the country to practice law in the antithesis of Wynn Valley – New York. Leaving all those years ago hadn’t been difficult, it was the only way she knew how to deal with the grief of losing her dream.
