Behind Closed Doors
Read Behind Closed Doors Online
Authors: Debbi Rawlins
This cowboy’s ready to ride!
Beth Wilson has clearly lost her mind. What sane woman ditches a successful career so she can move to Montana and renovate a run-down boardinghouse? But when her much-needed building supplies are sent to reclusive rancher Nathan Landers—every girl’s naughty cowboy fantasy—Beth is set for a showdown!
Nathan just wants to run his ranch in peace, but Beth’s determination—and gorgeous long legs—are a serious distraction. Feeding the local rumor mill is more than he can handle, though. So the only way to indulge in a deliciously hot little tryst is to ensure that no one ever suspects. But in the tiny town of Blackfoot Falls, Montana, there’s no such thing as a secret….
You’ll never get enough of these cowboys!
Talented Harlequin Blaze author Debbi Rawlins makes all your cowboy dreams come true with her popular miniseries
Made in Montana
The little town of Blackfoot Falls isn’t so sleepy anymore….
In fact, it seems everyone’s staying up late!
Get your hands on a hot cowboy with
#789
Alone with You
(March 2014)
#801
Need You Now
(June 2014)
#812
Behind Closed Doors
(September 2014)
And remember, the sexiest cowboys are
Made in Montana!
Dear Reader,
What is it about a cowboy that appeals to so many women? Is it their pioneering spirit? Their quiet strength and determination? Or maybe John Wayne movies convinced us the cowboy represents honor and nobility. Of course, the rugged good looks of a man in snug worn jeans, cowboy boots and a Stetson sure don’t hurt.
I live in rural Utah surrounded by a bunch of ranches. Mail isn’t delivered out here. I have to go into town to pick it up once a week. Between the post office and the small market where I shop, I’m bound to see a cowboy or two. We might say hello to each other, or he’ll give me a nod and I’ll give him a smile. I honestly don’t always remember a face—it’s the cowboy image that lingers in my mind.
Nathan Landers, the hero in this book, is a rancher. He grew up on the family ranch and knew early on that ranching was what he wanted to do with his life. Unfortunately, his dogged pursuit of building his own place cost him a wife and potential family.
He’s a damn good cowboy and businessman, no one would question that. But it’s Beth Wilson who teaches him how to be a hero, and a man that a woman can depend on.
Best wishes!
Debbi Rawlins
Behind Closed Doors
Debbi Rawlins
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbi Rawlins grew up in the country with no fast-food drive-throughs or nearby neighbors, so one might think as a kid she’d be dazzled by the bright lights of the city, the allure of the unfamiliar. Not so. She loved Westerns in movies and books, and her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Harlequin, and now, more than fifty books later, she has her own ranch…of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle keeping her on her toes on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah. And of course, the deer and elk are always welcome.
Books by Debbi Rawlins
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
491—TEXAS HEAT
509—TEXAS BLAZE
528—LONE STAR LOVER****
603—SECOND TIME LUCKY^
609—DELICIOUS DO-OVER^
632—EXTRA INNINGS
701—BAREFOOT BLUE JEAN NIGHT~
713—OWN THE NIGHT~
725—ON A SNOWY CHRISTMAS NIGHT~
736—YOU’RE STILL THE ONE~
744—NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW~
753—FROM THIS MOMENT ON~
789—ALONE WITH YOU~
801—NEED YOU NOW~
****Stolen from Time
^Spring Break
~Made in Montana
With huge thanks to my editor, Laura Barth, a terrific team player who understands the big picture.
Contents
1
“
W
ELL, YES,
M
R.
J
ORGENSON,
” Bethany Wilson said as she kicked the stupid broken door propped up against the stupid wall. “Of course I’m upset. You gave—” she kicked it again, making sure her voice was modulated at a pleasant pitch “—away—” one more kick, hard enough to crack the center panel “—my lumber.”
Her chin dropped to her chest when the older man went into his long monotone spiel again. Verbatim.
Amazing. Yet he couldn’t remember that she’d placed her order first. The day before Nathan what’s-his-name placed his. Though he was obviously a preferred customer at the local hardware store because he now had possession of her desperately needed order.
“When’s the next shipment due?” she asked, cutting in.
His hesitation either meant bad news or he was miffed at the interruption. Or, more likely, he was distracted by one of his regular customers. Beth didn’t even rank. Having moved to town only three months ago, she’d been relegated so far to the back of the line she might as well be sitting two states over.
“Let’s see,” he drawled in his slow, creaky voice. “I suppose I could get you something by Friday.”
“Friday? As in four days from now?”
“I believe that’s what I just said, young lady.”
“Come on, Mr. Jorgenson. This is the second time I’ve had to wait for materials that you—”
“Keep your britches on, Clyde, I’ll be with you in a minute.” He was obviously holding the receiver away to speak to a customer. Probably wasn’t even listening to her. “Now, what’s that you were saying?”
Beth sighed. What was the point? Complaining wouldn’t get him to move any quicker. Montana was beautiful this far north, but a bit isolated. If the hardware store’s next delivery wasn’t until the end of the week, there was nothing she could do about it. “Fine. Friday. If anything changes, please let me know.”
“You betcha.” His dentures clacked. “Have yourself a fine day.”
Beth calmly disconnected the call, then dropped the phone on her makeshift plywood desk. That was the trouble with cell phones. You couldn’t slam them. Pushing her fingers through her tangled hair, she winced at the tugs on her scalp. God, she used to be so good at getting people to do what she wanted.
Not here, though. Not in Blackfoot Falls.
She could run naked down Main Street and maybe make the headline of the
Salina Gazette.
Oh, she’d be juicy gossip fodder for weeks and have to suffer indignant glares from the women shopping at the Food Mart. But that would be it. The boardinghouse renovation would still be behind schedule, with workers not showing up, her lumber and other supply orders hijacked...
Maybe she was looking at the getting-naked angle all wrong. Maybe if she streaked through town she’d receive her shipments on time and workers would be lining up. But only if the men liked what they saw. She glanced down at her tummy. She’d been born and raised in Billings, Montana. And since returning to her home state she’d enjoyed homemade comfort food a little too much. In a fair world, stress would be eating away the extra pounds she’d gained. But no...her jeans had gotten tight.
Yep, lumber and drywall might be in short supply, but stress she had in abundance. Between her flaky sister and rebellious niece—for whom she’d moved to Blackfoot Falls—and working like crazy to turn the early-1900s boardinghouse into an inn, she was ready to pop like a damn cork.
At first, reconnecting with her family had been great, everything she’d hoped it would be after receiving the subtle plea for help from her estranged sister. Right before the not-so-subtle SOS text from her fifteen-year-old niece. Beth had been working in Europe at the time but she’d quickly wrapped things up and left her corporate job behind to be the loving aunt who would completely fix things between mother and daughter. Not play referee in a game no one could win.
“Knock, knock.”
She looked up. Rachel McAllister stood in the open doorway. It was for her out-of-town wedding guests that Beth had promised to have the inn up and running by the first of February. No pressure.
“What brings you to the big city?” Beth jumped up to move the blueprints and notebooks off the spare folding chair.
“You don’t have to get up,” Rachel said as she entered the small room that Beth had sectioned off from the original kitchen. “I’m on my way to the market, but I figured I’d see if you had time for coffee.”
“Sure. I have a pretty decent Colombian blend if you want to stay here. I can even make espresso.” Beth gestured to the silver coffee station she’d ordered a day after she arrived and had one sip of Marge’s weak brew. “Or we can hit the diner.”
“Yeah, you like the really strong stuff. You must’ve gotten used to it while working in Europe.”
“I did, but I don’t mind going over to Marge’s either.”
“I wonder if she has any cinnamon rolls left,” Rachel murmured.
“Um, no.”
“You already checked?”
“I bought the last one.” Beth tugged at her snug waistband. “Don’t give me that look. I did you a favor.”
Rachel grinned. “You’re right. I need to fit into the wedding dress I ordered. Let’s stay here.”
Beth watched Rachel survey the stripped walls and the sizable holes left from heavy framed pictures that had hung for decades. She had to be worried about whether the place would be finished in time, but she didn’t ask.
