Fannin's Flame

Kelly said it to herself. And if she felt any doubt, it dissipated when she saw the tall, lanky—handsome—cowboy lounging against a lamppost outside the bar.

“Mr. Jefferson?”

He nodded, straightening to his full height. “Hello,” he said, his voice deep and stirring. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.” Dark hair settled around his chin. His eyes were shaded by his hat so that he looked mysterious. And he gazed at her as if he’d never seen a woman as beautiful.

Everything her mother had said about the wild, charming Jefferson boys reverberated in Kelly’s ears. “I’m not the petite, cheery blonde you requested,” Kelly said, too quickly.

“No. You’re not.” A grin spread across his face. “But I don’t think I knew what I wanted.”

Mason (37)
—He valiantly keeps the ranch and the family together.

Frisco Joe (36)
—Newly married, he lives in Texas wine country with his wife and daughter.

Fannin (35)
—Should he pack up and head out to find their long-lost father, Maverick? Or search for that perfect woman?

Laredo (34), twin to Tex
—His one passion was to go east and do Something Big, which meant marrying the love of his life and moving to North Carolina.

Tex (34), twin to Laredo
—Determined to prove he’s settled, he left his rose garden for the good girl who captured his heart.

Calhoun (33)
—He’s been thinking of hitting the rodeo circuit.

Ranger (32), twin to Archer
—He gave up on joining the military to join his new wife in their RV.

Archer (32), twin to Ranger
—He’ll do anything to keep his mind off his brothers’ restlessness—even write poetry to his lady pen pal in Australia.

Crockett (30), twin to Navarro
—He’s an artist who loves to paint portraits—of nudes.

Navarro (30), twin to Crockett
—He may join Calhoun in the bull-riding game.

Bandera (26)
—He spouts poetry like Whitman—and sometimes nonsense.

Last (25)
—Never least, he loves to dispense advice, especially to his brothers.

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

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

“What I’m saying is feel the romance, Princess,” Fannin said. “Smell the breeze. Hear the sigh of the grass. Rejoice in the call of the wild. Entice that bull, Princess, please,” he pleaded with his cow to the delight of his three brothers.

“Could you turn it up, Romeo?” Archer asked. “I don’t think the people of Union Junction have heard you spout such poetry in all the years you’ve lived here.”

“Do you have to do it this way?” Calhoun complained. “Can’t you be normal and use a syringe to get a calf in her?”

“Hey!” Fannin said with a frown. “I know it’s not
logical. But I want Princess to conceive the natural way.”

“Or no way at all,” Navarro said. “I see no interest on the part of her suitor.”

Indeed, the bull, Bloodthirsty Black, usually such a firebringer of hell and mortification upon hapless cowboys, appeared uninterested in his bride.

“Why don’t you tell Bloodthirsty how it’s done, Fannin?” Archer asked, gasping with smothered laughter. “After all, you
are
the expert with women.”

Fannin grimaced as his brothers slapped each other on the backs. “I sort of have a date Saturday night,” he said, not totally lying.

“A date!” They all leaned forward from their posts on the fence. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Fannin turned away so they couldn’t see his face. “I’m taking Helga to the movies. She wants to see a movie in Dallas. And I think it’s time our housekeeper got off the ranch for a few hours. You dopes haven’t noticed, but Helga’s homesick for Germany. She’s lonely. So I’m taking her out.”

“Helga!” They roared with laughter.

Navarro grinned. “Yeah, I’d like to go out with a battle-ax. That’d be
my
choice of female companionship.”

“That’s not very nice,” Fannin said with a frown. “She’s been working hard to take care of us. You know, you ought to think about taking her out yourselves. Helga doesn’t work at our ranch just to put up with your majestic egos.”

They stared at him.

“All I ever go out with is twins,” Fannin mimicked in a high voice. “Did you see that pair of twins on Rosie Mayflower?” That was exactly how his brothers would talk—and did talk—about women.

“Now, those are some twins,” Archer agreed. “Navarro, does Rosie have any cousins with the same genetic traits? There has to be some family relations she could introduce us to.”

“Breasts aren’t everything,” Fannin pointed out.

“But they are something,” Navarro said, “and they count big-time in my book.”

“Anyway,” Archer said, “you’re not even talking to Princess right, Fannin. A woman doesn’t want to be begged or pleaded with for sex. She wants to be told how it’s going to be. She wants to be ravaged. Stormed and conquered. If she knows what the game is up-front, then she’s happy to play. No wonder you don’t have any real dates.”

“Well, it is true that the early caveman didn’t have any trouble getting a woman,” Fannin said. “He just dragged her off by the hair.”

“No point in getting rough,” Calhoun said. “All we’re suggesting is that your way is too subtle to get a woman’s attention. Notice we get the women, while you tend to get the sister with the good personality and the insurmountable chastity.”

“Because I don’t storm the gates,” Fannin finished.

“Afraid he’s right,” Navarro said. “Never let a
woman have the upper hand, especially in the sack, or you’ll wind up with a Helga running your world. In other words, you’ll end up whipped when you should be putting your feet up after a long day, with a very attractive female ready to bring you a beer, serve you your supper in a comfy armchair and then put you to bed with a smile on her face.”

“That’s what I mean,” Fannin said sadly to Princess. “My brothers are all so artificial. They only think of one thing. Don’t worry about that stupid bull not wanting you,” he told his favorite cow. “He’s probably lost all his good genes throwing cowboys around.”

“Princess is not a pet,” Calhoun said sternly.

“She is to me. And I want a good calf out of her. I’m giving a calf to Mimi’s baby when it’s born, so her little girl will have money in the bank when she grows up.”

“And the calf can’t come from a syringe,” Navarro said, shaking his head.

“The best things take time,” Fannin said briskly. “And the right moment. Magic.”

“And I say you’re going to be waiting a helluva long time, you and your Princess.” Archer slapped his hat against his leg and hopped off the rail. “I got work to do.”

His other brothers murmured something similar, leaving Fannin alone with Princess and her lackluster lover.

“Hey,” he said to the bull, “you’re supposed to
be the hottest thing on hooves. What’s your problem? I had to haul you out here in a special trailer so you wouldn’t do damage to yourself. Half the county said I was crazed to even let you near Princess. They said, do it the right way, but I said no, natural was better. And look at you over there. You couldn’t care less. I believe you’re only good for the ring, you old show pony.”

Fannin sighed, his brothers’ words eating at him. It was true he didn’t date much. He didn’t have the ruthlessness in him to love and leave a woman. He had to admit, his brothers’ techniques did seem to drive the women wild. Truthfully, Fannin thought, he had some things in common with Bloodthirsty Black.

Last year had seen enough settling down to suit all the Jefferson brothers—four brothers down but eight determined not to make a trip to the altar. Fannin was in no hurry to get into a relationship.

“But I would like a date,” Fannin told Princess. “Not counting the one with Helga. Actually, I want a night of rowdy sex. Lusty fornication. With the right woman, though.” He looked at Princess. “Unfortunately, to get the right woman I’d have to order up. Made-to-order, like Bloodthirsty is for you. All the best genes. I could say, okay, this is what I want, and I want her to do this and not to do that, and I don’t want any flak about it. Then my brothers would have to shut up. But how do I get that?”

Princess ignored him.

“My brothers say their blue-ribbon goal is sex in
the morning, every morning, and it’d be a best-case scenario if they could relieve themselves without having to worry about the woman. Who cares if she climaxes? And please get out of the bed quickly and quietly. Vamoose!” He sighed with frustration. “They’re such syringe types.”

The only time a woman had come to the ranch without designs on any of the brothers it had been an accident. Actually, it had been
women
who’d arrived, courtesy of an e-mail that his eldest brother, Mason, and their next-door neighbor, Mimi, had missent. All hell had broken loose when the females from Lonely Hearts Station had arrived.

But so many good things had come out of that stray e-mail, from weddings to babies.

And even Helga. Mimi had called her friend, Julia Finehurst, of the Honey-Do Agency and asked for a female housekeeper, one that Mason couldn’t fall in love with, even though Mimi knew she’d never have Mason. Mimi was just that way about keeping Mason pinned in a corner.

Helga had arrived, and Fannin could honestly say the square, stout German housekeeper kept all the brothers in line. Like a female military sergeant. Mimi had played the prank of all pranks on Mason.

Fannin wouldn’t want to date anyone as fiery as Mimi. A woman like that would probably blow the flame out of him eventually. He wanted a woman, but he wanted the
right
woman—for now. For a night or
two. Maybe even a month. No tricks. No drama. Plenty of sex. Was it so much to ask?

Fannin’s mother had been calm, loving and content to live on a faraway ranch with twelve boys and a loud rascal husband who was popular among the townspeople—the ladies. They’d all known who ruled the Jefferson roost with quiet, admirable control. Maverick Jefferson was never happier than when his wife had him wrapped securely around her little finger.

Fannin groaned. They just didn’t make women like that anymore. And maybe his brothers were right. His technique had to go or he was going to end up alone, living at the ranch with Mason and his other fathead brothers. Today’s women seemed to require more machismo out of a man, and he’d call himself a John Wayne type rather than a jerk in cowboy gear. But if that’s what today’s woman needed, he supposed he could force a little more chauvinism into his approach.

“Good night,” he said to the bounty bull. “I doubt you’ll get matters figured out, but I’ll leave you here awhile just in case. And you, Miss Princess, you just try to be a docile lass if your man comes a-courting.”

Fannin headed up to the house and went into Mason’s office. Reaching into the haphazard Rolodex, he pulled out a card for the Honey-Do Agency. He sat down at the computer and typed in the e-mail address. He’d heard the agency was branching out into matchmaking services. They probably didn’t have dream
women in their database, and he was feeling a little nervous about telling them exactly what he wanted in a one-night companion. He read over the card again. “I’ll say I want to interview a personal assistant for one night to accompany me on a possible business trip.”

He began to state his needs. “Attractive, understanding, somewhat petite female,” he typed happily. “For a big-hearted cowboy who needs a special companion. She needs to have a good sense of humor, too.”

It sounded like a personals ad. They weren’t going to be fooled. It also sounded like he was looking for an artificial female.

“Okay, let’s try the truth. I want an easygoing woman,” he typed. “Easygoing is
key.
”

“That’s my problem,” he said with a sigh. “I’m always worrying about being heavy-handed. My brothers would just fire this puppy off and never think twice about sounding like tree dwellers.”

Well, Tarzan he wasn’t, but he wanted a Jane for one night. A Jane he’d practically designed himself. “There are bigger sins on the planet than being a male chauvinist. Here goes nothing,” he said and hit the Send key.

I
N
J
ULIA
F
INEHURST’S
office at the Honey-Do Agency, Kelly Stone was in charge while her boss was sick. She’d just logged the final client and picked
up her extralarge purse to leave for the weekend when she remembered she hadn’t turned off the computer.

She bent to click the screen closed and saw that a new e-mail had popped up. The Jefferson Union Junction ranch return address caught her eye, and she opened the message. Kelly got a lot of news from her mother, Helga, whenever Julia wrote to check on her employee.

“My name is Fannin Jefferson,” Kelly read. “I need a personal assistant for one evening.”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s a new one. Why don’t you just say you need a date?”

She seated herself in the chair to read the rest of the request. From everything her mother had told her, the wild boys of Malfunction Junction did not have to go hunting for women. Women knocked those boys over any chance they could. Her mother had mentioned thongs in the mailbox and bras hanging off the front doorknob, all inscribed with phone numbers, names or addresses.

“Attractive, understanding, somewhat petite female,” she read. “Mr. Jefferson, you are obviously way too proud of yourself. You want to order the moon to spec, and say it’s a
job.
Then you can fire my employee when she doesn’t meet your lofty requirements.”

No one would describe Kelly as attractive or petite. She had her mother’s German genes, which showed in her robustness, and her Irish father’s red hair, neither of which brought men running to her side.

“Needs to have a good sense of humor,” she read out loud. Blinking, she thought about all the women the agency had on file: mothers, secretaries, teachers, even a mathematician. It wouldn’t be hard to find someone dainty for him, even though the agency’s matchmaking file was small. Yet it wouldn’t be fair to send the women out on a false lead to a persnickety, overimpressed-with-himself cowboy who maybe had no intention of being any nicer to his “assistant” than he was to Kelly’s mother.

“Mr. Smooth Operator,” she murmured. “Ordering Dream Date Barbie so you can send her back after you’ve looked under her skirt. No, I don’t think so, Lascivious Ken.”

Maybe Kelly would go there herself.

She knew her mother was homesick. She had been worried enough to threaten to come visit the ranch and slap those wily cowboys into line herself if they didn’t start appreciating Helga. It hurt Kelly’s feelings that her mother was sad, especially during the Christmas season. A job was a job, but her mother had been at the Jefferson household for nearly a year now.

“My mother has a heart of gold,” Kelly said, peering into her oversize purse. “Those cowpokes ought to know that by now. Obviously, they’re not too bright. Isn’t that right, Joy?”

Kelly pulled out her very red, very opinionated teacup poodle, a sweet baby who had bonded with Kelly instantly upon the dog’s rescue from the local animal shelter.

“Miss Joy,” Kelly said, “what do you think about a road trip to visit Grandma?”

Joy quivered in her hands. Kelly adjusted the poodle’s little sweater and fake-diamond collar as she thought about Fannin’s request.

“It’s only one night,” Kelly said to the poodle. “There’s nothing on our dance card for tonight or tomorrow. Mama’s homesick, and we can cheer her up. And it wouldn’t hurt this ornery cowboy too much if his order isn’t exactly fit-to-fill. We just won’t charge him while we teach him to mind his manners better where your grandma is concerned. Or better yet, we could
double bill
him! He’d deserve it, the rat, even though Julia wouldn’t allow it.”

Joy licked Kelly’s hand. No crime was being committed if every tiny detail wasn’t perfect for Fannin Jefferson.

Kelly reread the e-mail. “Good sense of humor,” she repeated, switching off the computer and getting up from the chair. She turned out the lights. “Gee, cowboy, hope you don’t mind a little joke being played on
you.
”

“I
’VE THOUGHT OF A WAY
to get rid of Helga,” Archer said smoothly. “This is so easy we should have thought of it before.”

“Mason likes her. At least she keeps him reasonably happy. For years, we’ve dreamed of him getting off our cases. What’s the point of changing a good thing?” Calhoun asked.