her uncle Woody’s old home in Royal. She and Tom could go their separate ways.
After work later that day, she went by the three-story house she had inherited from her uncle, the man who had raised her. The house was all she had left of family, so she intended to hang on to it and restore it so she could live there. She would be close to her photography studio and off the ranch, away from Tom. She didn’t want to live in the palatial house on the ranch that they had built before Ryan was born anymore.
* * *
Tom drove back to the guesthouse after working outside all day on first one job and then another. Hard physical labor was the best way to drive the hurtful memories away, at least temporarily. It was early March, and the days were growing longer and warmer. It was spring—a time that used to be exciting and filled with promise. Now one day was like another and he spent time thinking over how he should plan his future.
At the present moment he wanted a shower and a beer and wished he had someone, a friend, to spend the evening with. Nights were long and lonely, and weekends were the worst.
As he pulled up, he saw a car parked in front of his house. It surprised him even more when he realized it was Emily’s.
Why was she here? She never came to see him. Worried something might have happened to a friend, he frowned. Emily really had no family—only older cousins she didn’t see. He parked and stepped out, slamming the pickup door behind him. He watched her open her car door to get out. She wore stiletto heels with black straps on her shapely feet. Her jeans fit her tiny waist snugly and were tight enough to emphasize her long, long legs. She wore a pale blue short-sleeved sweater that hugged her lush curves. In jeans, high heels and the sweater, she looked stunning. Her hair fell loosely around her face—the way he liked it best.
When his gaze raked over her, his pulse jumped. In spite of all their troubles, he was as physically drawn to her as ever. She was a good-looking woman—he’d always thought so and he still did. At the sight of her, memories tormented him, moments when he’d held and kissed her and wanted her with all his being. They’d had steamy nights of sexy loving, exciting days filled with happiness—a time that seemed incredibly far away and impossible to find ever again. He had failed her in the biggest possible way and now their love had ended. They had been through too much upheaval and loss to ever regain what they’d had.
Even so, desire for Emily was intense. He remembered that silky curtain of honey-brown hair spilling over his bare shoulders. Thoughts of kissing her haunted him. Memories of her softness, her voluptuous curves and her hands fluttering over him made him hot. She stood only a short distance away, pure temptation, and he wanted to reach for her...until he thought about all the problems between them. And it had to be a problem of some kind that brought her to see him. One glance in her big green eyes and he knew she was angry.
“Hi,” he said. “What brings you here?”
Glaring at him, Emily waved papers in his face and then shoved them into his hand while she snapped, “You’re welcome.”
Startled out of his fantasy, Tom focused on her. “What am I welcome for? What are these papers?” he asked, looking down and turning over the official-looking forms in his hands before he looked up at her again. Puzzled, he met her fiery green eyes that flashed with fury.
“You can thank me now, because I’ve given you what you want—your freedom. You’re free to marry the mother of your children.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She was rarely in a rage, but he could see she was boiling.
“Your secret is out, Tom,” she said, her voice quivering with wrath. “You hid your family well. Have you paid Maverick to keep your secret? Or has it already spread all over Royal?”
Mystified, he saw that while she was shaking with rage, she was also fighting to hold back tears. “What the hell are you talking about, and what are these papers? And why are you talking about Maverick? What do you know about Maverick?”
“I think you know the answers to some of those questions,” she said in a tight voice. “You have your divorce papers. You’ll be free to be with your other wife.”
“Other wife?” Stunned, Tom repeated the words as he frowned. “Emily, what are you talking about? There is no other wife—”
“Oh, please. I have proof. I’ve seen the picture of you and your family.” She started to turn away.
Tom reached out to take her arm. As she yanked free of his grasp, the pain of her rejection made him hurt from head to toe. In three long strides, he caught up with her and held her arm more tightly this time.
“Emily, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Mother of my children? You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
“You can drop the lies and false front now that I know the truth,” she snapped, twisting away to head back to her car.
Shocked, he went after her again with long strides that closed the distance between them. He grasped her shoulder to turn her to face him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about or what brought this divorce on so suddenly without us talking about it.”
“We’re through and you know it. Your other family is what brought it on. I got an email from Maverick about them.” She yanked free from him again and turned to open her car door.
He closed her door and stepped between her and the car. In minutes she would be gone and he wouldn’t have any answers. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t pop in and tell me we’re getting divorced and then leave. Tell me what the hell all this is. And tell me about this email from Maverick. That troll who’s blackmailing people in town? When did you get that?”
She twisted free again. “Get out of my way.”
“Like hell I will. You’re not going until you tell me. There is no secret family. That’s nonsense.”
“Oh, no? Tom, how could you be so deceitful?” she asked, sneering at him as she fumbled in a pocket to pull out a wrinkled piece of paper and wave it in front of him. “Here’s proof, Tom. Here’s your picture with your family. You have your arm around your secret wife. How could you lie to me like this?” Tears filled Emily’s eyes, her cheeks were red and her voice was tight with anger. “How could you do this?” she repeated. “You’ve hurt me again, but this will be the last time.”
“Give me that,” he said, taking the paper from her to smooth it out and look at it. As he did, she wiggled away and opened her car door.
Determined to get answers from her, Tom reached out to push the car door closed again, stepping close with his hip against the door so she couldn’t get inside while he smoothed the paper more to look at it. “Don’t go anywhere, Emily, until we get this straightened out.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” she said in a low voice that was filled with rage.
He paid no attention to her as he focused on the computer printout. Startled, Tom realized it was a copy of a very familiar snapshot.
“Emily,” he said, his anger changing to curiosity, “you got this in an email? This is Natalie Valentine and her kids. She’s Jeremy Valentine’s widow, who owns the Cimarron Rose Bed-and-Breakfast. Why have you filed for divorce over Natalie Valentine?”
Wide-eyed, Emily looked up at Tom and then glanced at the picture. “Jeremy Valentine?” she repeated, sounding dazed. “That’s his wife? You told me about his death.”
“That’s right. I told you how he died on a mission and my promise to him to take care of his family if he didn’t make it back.”
“I remember that,” Emily said, sounding stunned and confused. “She looked vaguely familiar, but I was in so much shock, I just didn’t put anything together.” She