“Why do you say you don’t want women around, then pick up a baby the first chance you get?”
“She was crying. I wanted you to be able to finish your shower,” Frisco said defensively. “I didn’t know Emmie would fall asleep on me. Now I don’t want her awakened, because she’ll start crying again. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I just wonder why you’re working so hard to be tough when you’ve got a soft heart.”
Frisco snorted. “No one says I’ve got a soft heart.”
“You’re letting me sleep in your room.”
“You made yourself at home!”
Annabelle smiled. “I think you’re more softhearted than you care for anyone to know.”
Frisco didn’t like this little lady looking at him so directly. Her big eyes took him in as if she knew him. Annabelle was getting to him. Tomorrow she had to go.
Frisco Joe’s Fiancée
Tina Leonard
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her books. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Prologue
“You need help,” Mimi Cannady told Mason Jefferson as they peered at each other with some distrust. Outside, a storm brewed over Union Junction, Texas, crackling and vicious. “You’ll thank me for this later, Mason. I just know it.”
He turned his head to stare at the want ad she’d typed on the glowing computer screen. The room was dim, almost dark, as the February night had fallen swiftly, obliterating the cold light of winter. Mimi was right: he did need help at the ranch. Woman help.
His family: the Jefferson brothers of the Jefferson Ranch, better known as Malfunction Junction. Twelve men, each on a mission of survival in a family that loved each other, but like an old piano, had become woefully out of harmony.
Still, he wasn’t sure Mimi’s unconventional idea was the way to get the help he—or the family—needed. “I don’t like it,” he said for the tenth time. “What if the woman we get is…” He searched for a word that wouldn’t irritate the woman he’d known ever since their childhoods on neighboring ranches. Mimi was spunky, witty, a veritable handful of laughter and quixotic temperament—always into everything. As the daughter of the town sheriff, she’d made a habit of skirting the law, just for fun. “What if the woman we get is not useful to my situation?”
Mimi’s gaze turned from the computer screen to his face, touching every feature, it seemed, in a strangely searching manner. This childhood friend of his had gotten him into trouble more than once—he’d desperately like to know what was behind her blue eyes now. Thunder rumbled, ever closer to Malfunction Junction, the only home Mason and his eleven brothers had ever known.
Eleven wild, almost Grizzly Adams–types.
From Mimi’s point of view, Mason was little better than his younger eleven.
I need help.
“The ad goes through the agency, you can always send her back,” Mimi said, her tone reassuring. “It’s like using a nanny service. If you don’t like her, you let the company know. But my friend, Julia Finehurst, who runs the Honey-Do Agency, has made a reputation matching up the right people to the right situations. I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you want.”
Mimi had told him many things over the years, and, infrequently, she was right on the money. But infrequent was the operative word. He read the overly specific, purposefully careful ad one more time:
Middle-aged man requires live-in housekeeper to cook and clean for family of twelve cowboys on a thousand-acre ranch. Must like ranch living, not be offended by occasional swearing, not be afraid of snakes, large animals, extreme heat, insects, loneliness. Applicant must be forty-five or older, mature, able to cook real well. Best time to interview after nightfall.
“I don’t like the part about me being a middle-aged man,” he protested. “You’ve always said thirty-seven was just right for the picking.”
Mimi cleared her throat, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal. Mason raised a brow, curious to hear what she came up with.
“No female is going to come all the way out here if she suspects she’s going to be man prey. At least no serious job applicant,” she stressed. “We don’t want anyone to misunderstand what kind of position you’re looking to fill.” For a half second, she examined her fingernails, seeming to consider other points of argument. “Besides, that was my only line in the ad, Mason. You added all the other drawbacks that are sure to run off good women. You practically want her to be a goddess.”
“Maybe you should put in something about law-abiding. I don’t want any wild women on the property,” he said, eyeing Mimi’s long blond tresses. Her hair hung to her waist, hardly ever curled or styled, though occasionally she tortured it into a braid so that she could pull it through the back of a baseball cap.
It was hard to believe she was thirty-two.
It was harder to believe that he was the sole caretaker of younger brothers and a family ranch. There was simply too much to do, and while everyone pitched in with the ranch work, the three houses with four brothers each pitifully lacked a woman’s touch to make them homes.
An older woman’s touch, as Mimi had pointed out. A calming, settling influence.
An older woman, even a motherly figure, was fine with Mason, because none of the Jefferson males had expressed the least desire for a wife—mainly because they were all satisfied to continue sowing their wild oats. A younger woman might prove a distraction to their work, and they had enough of those. Plus, a young woman would want a family eventually, and they had more family than they could handle.
“It’s now or never,” Mimi said softly as the trees whipped around the two-story house.