A Hero To Count On. Linda Turner

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      “Yeah, yeah,” he mocked. “That’s what all you women say. Then some good-looking loser flirts with you, you get all hot and bothered and think you’ve found Prince Charming. Why does everything have to be a fairy tale? What’s wrong with good old-fashioned sex for sex’s sake?”

      “You’re a cynic.”

      He didn’t deny it. “Yeah. So?”

      “You don’t believe in love?”

      “Not hardly,” he said with a short laugh. “It’s all just hormones.”

      Deep down inside, Katherine’s bruised heart was tempted to agree with him. If she didn’t believe in love, she reasoned, she couldn’t get hurt. It made perfect sense. There was only one small problem. If she didn’t believe in love, why did she feel as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest by Nigel?

      “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “Hormones don’t hurt like this.”

      Cringing at the sound of the pain thickening her voice, she knew she was going to cry if they didn’t change the subject. “Enough doom and gloom,” she said briskly, straightening her shoulders. “So you’re the half brother. What’s your story? It has to be more entertaining than mine.”

      “I don’t know about that,” he said wryly. “I can always make something up. My mother always said I could tell a better story than all the other kids put together.”

      “And how many kids were there in your family?”

      “Eight.”

      “Eight! Are you serious?”

      Grinning, he shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody have eight brothers and sisters? Of course, some are step, others half, a few full blood. Between them, my parents were married five times.” At her look of horror, he chuckled. “It’s pretty damn awful, isn’t it? My mom married twice, my dad three times, and they’re probably not done. They’re both currently divorced and looking. Talk about optimists. They’re both crazy.”

      “So that’s why you’re such a cynic. No wonder you don’t believe in happily ever after.”

      “You’re damn straight,” he retorted. “There’s no such thing.”

      Katherine had always considered herself a die-hard romantic, but that was before…before Nigel lied to her, before he made a fool of her, before he charmed her into falling in love with him without even hinting that he was married. “If you’re hoping for an argument, you’re out of luck,” she said flatly. “I just got my heart stomped on by a man who claimed to love me. If that’s love, I want no part of it.”

      She meant every word, but later, after they arrived at the ranch and Hunter carried her luggage upstairs, and she’d gone down to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, the silent emptiness of the house made her more lonely than ever. She found herself thinking of Nigel, and she hated it. She had to stop this! The man was a rat, and even if he’d contacted her and told her he’d made a mistake—she was the one he loved—she would have told him never to darken her doorstep again. So why did her heart ache? Why did she constantly feel like crying? Why couldn’t she get past—

      “You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you?”

      Looking up from her thoughts to find Hunter standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her, she frowned in irritation. “Do you always slink around the house that way, spying on people?”

      Not the least apologetic, he laughed. “Yeah. Does it bother you?”

      “Yes,” she retorted. “At least have the decency to knock, to let someone know you’re there.”

      His green eyes alight with mischief, he lifted his fist and knocked twice on the doorway.

      She told herself she wasn’t going to laugh. But he didn’t make it easy, darn him! Trying and failing to give him a stern frown, she sniffed, “Very funny. How long did it take you to think that one up?”

      “Sweetheart, you just bring out the best in me,” he drawled, winking at her.

      The sound of a car honking in the drive suddenly echoed through the house. “That must be Elizabeth and John,” Katherine said. Thankful for the distraction—the man was far too sure of himself—she quickly set down the cup of tea she’d just made for herself. “They’re early.”

      Hurrying out to greet them, she took one look at the two of them together and found it hard not to believe in love. Her sister was glowing, and John couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

      “Look at you!” she told Elizabeth, stepping back from a hug to study her with a teasing smile. “You look wonderful.”

      “It’s the dress,” she said, grinning as she showed off the ultrafeminine pink concoction Katherine recognized as their sister Priscilla’s design. “Cilla outdid herself.”

      “True,” Katherine agreed, “but it’s not the dress. Have you set a date yet for the wedding?” When her sister hesitated, she said quietly, “It’s okay, Lizzie. You’re getting married. I’m happy for you.”

      “I could kick Nigel,” Elizabeth retorted, scowling. “Somebody needs to go to Paris and string him up by his ears.”

      “Just say the word, and I’ll go,” Hunter volunteered as he joined them. “The bastard needs to be taught a lesson.”

      “I’ll go with you,” John added. “After we get through with the jerk, he’ll think twice before he cheats on his wife and takes advantage of another woman.”

      Amazed by the three of them, Katherine couldn’t help but smile. “You all have been in the Wild West too long,” she told her sister. “Where’s Buck? Don’t we need him to ride shotgun?”

      “He and Rainey have gone to an auction in Colorado Springs. And trust me, if he thought for one second that he could confront Nigel, he’d already be packing for Paris,” Elizabeth said, sobering. “We’re all outraged by what he did to you. He’s nothing but a lying, two-timing adulterer, and don’t you dare lose a second’s sleep over the jerk. You deserve better. Give it time. You’ll find someone.”

      “Oh, no!” she cried. “I’m not going there again, thank you very much. I’d rather deal with mad cow than take on another man.”

      “Whoa!” John said quickly, horrified. “This is ranching country. Don’t say that!”

      “Sorry,” she said with a grimace. “I didn’t mean that, of course. The cows don’t deserve to suffer just because Nigel was and is and always will be a bastard.”

      She would have sworn she was in perfect control, but tears suddenly stung her eyes, and before she could blink them away, Elizabeth saw her distress and came to her rescue. “What are we doing, standing in the drive, when you’ve got to be exhausted? Let’s go inside and have a spot of tea.”

      “I just made some.”

      “Good. I made a pound cake yesterday—it’s Hilda’s recipe. We’ll have that, too.”

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