Bo’s hand snaked out and captured her arm with one swoop, drawing her back. “It’s the honest-to-God truth, Abby. If I’d wanted to make up a story, I sure as hell wouldn’t cast myself as the villain.”

She hesitated, then reached up and placed her fingertips on his face, against his scars. He could barely feel the butterfly-soft touch of her caress but wanted to fall to his knees in gratitude when he felt Abby’s body soften against his. Restraint, good judgment, rational thought—hell, everything sensible—collapsed, and he was hit by a longing so acute, the intensity of it staggered him.

God help him, he had to kiss her. Just once.

Dear Reader,

If you’re eagerly anticipating holiday gifts we can start you off on the right foot, with six compelling reads by authors established and new. Consider it a somewhat early Christmas, Chanukah or Kwanzaa present!

The gifting begins with another in USA TODAY bestselling author Susan Mallery’s DESERT ROGUES series. In The Sheik and the Virgin Secretary a spurned assistant decides the only way to get over a soured romance is to start a new one—with her prince of a boss (literally). Crystal Green offers the last installment of MOST LIKELY TO…with Past Imperfect, in which we finally learn the identity of the secret benefactor—as well as Rachel James’s parentage. Could the two be linked? In Under the Mistletoe, Kristin Hardy’s next HOLIDAY HEARTS offering, a by-the-book numbers cruncher is determined to liquidate a grand New England hotel…until she meets the handsome hotel manager determined to restore it to its glory days—and capture her heart in the process! Don’t miss Her Special Charm, next up in Marie Ferrarella’s miniseries THE CAMEO. This time the finder of the necklace is a gruff New York police detective—surely he can’t be destined to find love with its Southern belle of an owner, can he? In Diary of a Domestic Goddess by Elizabeth Harbison, a woman who is close to losing her job, her dream house and her livelihood finds she might be able to keep all three—if she can get close to her hotshot new boss who’s annoyingly irresistible. And please welcome brand-new author Loralee Lillibridge—her debut book, Accidental Hero, features a bad boy come home, this time with scars, an apology—and a determination to win back the woman he left behind!

So celebrate! We wish all the best of everything this holiday season and in the New Year to come.

Happy reading,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Accidental Hero

Loralee Lillibridge

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LORALEE LILLIBRIDGE

grew up in Texas loving cowboys and rodeos, but relocated to Michigan after her marriage to a handsome Yankee who stole her heart. She still favors country love songs, and seeing a field of Texas bluebonnets can make her cry, but she admits the west Michigan lakeshore has a special beauty all its own. She enjoys writing heartwarming stories about ordinary people and extraordinary love.

Loralee is former president and founding member of the Mid-Michigan Chapter of Romance Writers of America. You can write to Loralee at P.O. Box 140095, Walker, MI 49514-0095 or visit her Web site at www.loraleelillibridge.com.

Dedicated to my wonderful husband, children

and grandchildren whose belief in me is amazing.

I’m so blessed to have your love and support.

Special thanks to my awesome critique group—

Nancy Gideon, Laurie Kuna, Dana Nussio, Connie Smith

and Vicki Schab. You’ve been the wind beneath my

wings. I couldn’t have done this without you.

My admiration and deep appreciation to Jeri Wilks,

director of Therapeutic Horsemanship of West Michigan

(THWM), all the volunteers and especially the students

whose courage and determination inspired this story.

Any inaccuracies about the program are unintentional

and entirely the fault of this author.

Contents

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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

“Bo Ramsey’s back.”

The shock of her father’s words riveted Abby Houston to the spot where she stood at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in dishwater. It took a minute for the words to sink in. When they did, she gripped the counter with soapy hands and waited for her heart rate to return to normal before she spoke.

“What did you say, Pop?” Surely she’d heard him wrong. That name had been censored from their conversation for almost two years. Hearing it now sent her stomach spiraling in a swirl of unwanted sensations. She hated experiencing symptoms that smacked of weakness; she prided herself on being strong enough to close the door on her past. Now, it seemed her strength was about to be tested again.

She held her breath as Buck Houston crossed the room to stand next to her, sympathy written all over his aged face.

“Just thought you should know, kitten. I ran into Shorty Packer down at the feed mill earlier this morning. Said Bo’s staying with him out at his ranch. Been there more’n a week already.”

“I…I suppose he has a right to come back. He always did as he pleased.” Abby grabbed for a towel and busied her hands, angry because she couldn’t stop them from trembling. She was determined to keep that bit of emotion hidden from Pop’s scrutiny.

Buck snorted. “If you ask me, he’d be a heap smarter if he stayed away. Nobody in these parts will be too happy to see him again.” His arm went around his daughter’s shoulder in a comforting embrace.

“Have you seen him?” She couldn’t keep her voice steady. Where was the nonchalance she’d been practicing for so long? She blinked away angry tears.

Buck shook his head. “Nope, and I don’t want to, either. Got no use for the likes of him. You stop fretting, Abby-girl. Chances are that cowboy won’t be around long enough for your paths to cross. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when you heard it in town. You know how Sweet River folks love a good gossip. I’m surprised Shorty’s managed to keep the news a secret this long.”

Abby leaned against Buck’s chest and let him hold her the way he’d done so many times during her growing-up years. There’d been just the two of them ever since she was twelve. Lord knows, he’d done his best to be both mother and father to her. She knew the real reason he fought to hang on to the often unproductive ranch was because of her. She’d watched him struggle to provide for her, often at great expense to himself. She understood his sacrifice and loved him dearly for always being her champion.

Somehow, they’d survived those lean years. How ironic that now, she was the one trying to keep the wolf from the door. There were a dozen students in the equine therapy program she directed, as well as inquiries from interested out-of-town parents. Her determination to ease the load on Pop’s shoulders was the motivation behind her drive to succeed. Bo Ramsey and her past were no longer important.

“Don’t worry about me, Pop. I’ll be fine. I’m sure Bo won’t try to see me. Why should he?” Her voice was soft and husky, its quiver hinting at the panic hovering just beneath the surface of her self-control.

“Abby, I wish….”

“Don’t, Pop. Don’t even start, okay? That was a long time ago and best forgotten.” She pulled away and started for the back door, grabbing her hat from the wall hook on her way out. “Let’s get the chores done before I go to town. I don’t have any students today, but I promised IdaJoy I would help during the lunch rush. Saturdays are the café’s busiest days.”

Abby was halfway to the barn before Buck caught up with her.

“Bo Ramsey’s back.”

For the second time that day, the impact of those words slammed Abby’s heart against her ribs. With a calmness that was a total sham, she concentrated on making her legs carry her across the room to the nearest stool at the lunch counter.

The Blue Moon Café was empty except for IdaJoy Sparks, sole owner of the local diner and main information center for the entire community of Sweet River, Texas, population not quite a thousand people on a good day. IdaJoy’s announcement, made the minute Abby walked in the door, came as no surprise. Still, Abby was grateful there were no others around to witness her moment of weakness.

She thought she’d prepared herself for this. Knew IdaJoy would confront her with the juicy gossip. Didn’t need the questions that were bound to be asked.

“I know,” Abby said, as soon as she could breathe normally.

“You do?” IdaJoy’s voice screeched up a whole octave at the end of her sentence. She had a unique way of sounding like an angry blue jay when she got excited—which was most of the time.

Abby put a death grip on the cup of coffee the waitress shoved in front of her. Her hands were shaking so hard, she didn’t dare try to lift it to her lips yet.

IdaJoy snapped her gum between her back molars loud enough to rattle windows and arched her penciled eyebrows at Abby.

Abby nodded. “Pop told me this morning, but there’s no reason for me to—”

“Land sakes, hon,” the woman interrupted. She reached across the counter to pat Abby’s arm. “Of course, there’s reason. Why, everybody in town figured you two as practically married before he up and ran off with that—that Marla person.”

She popped her chewing gum again and smoothed her lacquered beehive hairdo. “By the way, how do you like my new color?” She swiveled around to present Abby with the full view. “It’s called Bustin’ Out Blond. Thought it was time for a change. Life’s gettin’ way too boring.” Without waiting for Abby to comment, IdaJoy grabbed a cup of coffee for herself and came around to sit on the stool next to Abby.

Eager to get on with the gossip session, the woman’s chatter never slowed down long enough for Abby to change the subject. IdaJoy could jump from one thought to another without batting a mascaraed eyelash. Sometimes it was hard to keep up.

“I declare, I never thought Bo would do such a thing,” she said, her blond beehive wobbling precariously with each shake of her head. “Men! Fickle, fickle, fickle. What that cowboy ever saw in her is beyond me. She was always a troublemaker for her Uncle Shorty, you know, ever since he took her in. Remember…” IdaJoy stopped midsentence and eyed Abby sharply. “You all right, honey? You look a teensy bit peaked. Want some water?”

“I’m fine,” Abby assured her with a weak smile.

“You sure you feel like waitin’ tables today, hon? You skipped breakfast, didn’t you? Now, you stay right where you are and I’ll go fix you some toast. Back in a jiffy.”

With another motherly pat to Abby’s shoulder, the woman sailed away in a swirl of heavy musk perfume, leaving Abby sitting there, staring at the cup still clutched in her hands, too numb to answer. Too weak to stop the flood of memories.

The first time she’d ever seen Bo Ramsey, he was a newly hired hand for the spring roundup on Shorty Packer’s ranch and the best-looking cowboy ever to stroll down the streets of Sweet River. His skill with horses and expert riding ability soon gained him the respect of the other Packer ranch hands, but the female population of Sweet River, Texas, admired him for very different reasons. His smoke-black eyes and X-rated smile put fantasies in the minds of every woman in town over the age of sixteen, and Abby was no exception.

Shorty’s niece, Marla, lived on the Packer ranch and had wanted Bo right from the beginning, so it was no surprise to see her work her wiles on the good-looking cowboy. Marla always wanted to be first, no matter what the prize. She collected men like most women in Sweet River collected recipes.

The big shocker came several weeks later, when Bo delivered a young steer to Buck Houston’s ranch and met Abby face-to-face. Intense didn’t begin to describe the immediate attraction that caught them both by surprise. Faster than the speed of small-town gossip, their relationship catapulted beyond anything either one had ever imagined or hoped for. By early summer, the entire town, including Abby herself, expected wedding bells to ring in the near future, even though no promises had been spoken. Then Bo had announced he was leaving to make a career in the rodeo circuit. Riding, especially the challenge of bull-riding, had always been in his blood. He knew he was good and had wanted Abby to share in his success. Abby had tried to make Bo understand that her father needed her on the ranch. She couldn’t leave. Not with the ranch’s finances finally beginning to climb out of the red. She didn’t dare leave the bookkeeping to her father’s hard-to-follow system. His simple belief that everything would eventually take care of itself was the very thing that got the ranch in trouble in the first place. Buck Houston knew ranching, but was too easy-going to worry about crunching numbers. Besides, she considered rodeo life too risky. She wanted stability in a marriage. And a family. They argued, fought, made love and argued some more. In the end, neither one surrendered. And in the blink of an eye, Abby’s whole life changed.

Even now, there was no way to describe the crushing pain Abby felt at Bo’s betrayal. He left in late August without saying goodbye, but Marla made sure the whole town knew what a wonderful father Bo was going to make. That bit of information was the final blow that had shattered Abby’s heart. Never again would she believe in ever after.

She looked at her shaking hands, dismayed that those bittersweet memories still posed a threat to her carefully monitored emotions. Anger at herself for allowing such a thing to happen burned deep inside her chest.

“Now, eat up, hon.” IdaJoy pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen with well-curved, swaying hips, a plate of wheat toast and homemade strawberry jam in one hand, coffeepot in the other. She placed both in front of Abby, then frowned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She leaned across the counter and lowered her voice. “I guess maybe that’d be the case, if you saw Bo again, huh? I hear he looks a whole lot different now. That’s what Louie LittleBear told me, and he should know.”

Abby forced her thoughts back to the present. “Different? Oh, well, it’s been two years, after all. We all look…”

“I’m talking real different, like Louie almost didn’t recognize him at first. Saw him when he took some feed out to Shorty’s place. Bo was in the barn, but hurried off without so much as a howdy when Louie said ‘Hey.’ Shorty was the one who told him Bo was staying there. Didn’t say why, though.” Her eyes widened. “You reckon Marla’s there, too…with their kid? Louie said he didn’t see ’em. What else did Buck tell you?”

IdaJoy’s penchant for gossip was tempered by her honest concern for the people she loved, and Abby knew the older woman cared about her. It was just so awkward, being the object of sympathetic looks and whispers in a town the size of Sweet River. Everybody knew everything about everyone and nothing was sacred. She should be used to it by now, but it still stung a bit.

“Only that Bo is staying at the ranch for a while. Shorty didn’t offer any other information.” Abby was proud of the way she managed to keep her voice from faltering. With IdaJoy hanging on her every word, the woman would no doubt latch on to the very first sign of nerves and blow it all out of proportion. Good thing she couldn’t hear the rata-tat-tat of Abby’s heartbeat right then.

IdaJoy hugged Abby’s shoulder right before she rose. “Well, hon, you just make sure you hold your head up and don’t you be feeling bad. No sir. You’ve done all right for yourself, even without a man.”

And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Abby stood and made her wobbly way to the kitchen, right behind IdaJoy. Work—that’s what she needed to take her mind off the past. She yanked a blue denim apron from the shelf and tied it around her waist, then grabbed an order book and pencil. Shoulders squared and chin jutting, she prepared to forget about Bo Ramsey one more time.

The Saturday noon crowd at the Blue Moon was a noisy, hungry bunch of locals. Most of them were ranchers and every last one of them knew Abby. They remembered Bo, too, and the majority of them already knew he was back in town. One out of every three old-timers managed to make some pointed comment about him to Abby. Not that she was counting or anything.

When the last of the diners left, Abby heaved a sigh of relief. Finally. Her face ached from keeping a false smile pasted on it for the last two hours. Maintaining a who cares attitude while she dodged all the probing questions had strained her self-control to the limit. Hadn’t anyone in town forgotten that humiliating episode in her life?

She was clearing off the last table when the growl of a truck slewing into the graveled parking lot caught her attention. Through the slatted blinds of the front window, she saw Shorty Packer heading for the café. Abby’s pulse stuttered. Behind Shorty another cowboy followed, his hesitant gait somewhat unnatural and one-sided, the set of his shoulders much too familiar. Abby watched him yank his hat low, obscuring his face, but she knew…oh, God, she knew.

With her hands pressed to her chest, she felt her heart take off in a marathon race. Her mouth went dry. Her face grew hot. She closed her eyes and imparted a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let me make a fool of myself.

For the first time in two years, the man who had loved her and left her was almost close enough to touch. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or call 9-1-1.

With a nod, Shorty said “Howdy” and headed for the lunch counter, but Bo remained motionless in the middle of the room, his face shadowed beneath his wide-brimmed hat. Abby knew he’d recognized her by the sharp intake of his breath. Not being able to see his eyes didn’t keep the heat of his gaze from igniting a high-voltage intimacy that sizzled straight into her raw-edged senses. His very presence caused her breath to catch in her throat and created a weakness in her knees and that produced an acute longing that both terrified and dismayed her.

Her own gaze drank in his shape swiftly. His body was thinner, harder than she recalled, yet every bit as seductive as it had always been. A missing button caused his wash-softened denim shirt to gap just enough to reveal the white T-shirt stretched taut across his chest. Hard-muscled arms, so achingly familiar in rolled-up sleeves, evoked images she tried desperately to push away. Everything about him tore at her heart. Those low-slung, faded jeans hugging his hips and long legs. The same well-worn boots that had—just once—been hastily discarded by the side of her bed.

A tiny gasp escaped her lips as bittersweet memories flashed in instant replay. She didn’t need to see Bo’s face to remember. Dark, smoky eyes. A mouth that could pleasure her with slow, burning kisses and coax her body into a hot, pliable mass of desire. Midnight-black hair she could almost feel sliding between her fingers, grasping it as the final shudder of ecstacy claimed her. Oh, God, why was she doing this? Why couldn’t she make herself forget?

She licked her lips and searched for something to say. Before she could find words, he turned. She heard him swear when he bumped the corner of a table, nearly falling in his rush for the door. She watched him limp away, shoving chairs aside and slamming the door behind him. How ironic that after all this time, Bo Ramsey was still in a hurry to leave her. And the pain in her heart was still the same.

Gravel spit and gears groaned as the pickup spun out of the parking lot. Shorty just watched the dust settle, then eased himself onto a red vinyl-covered stool at the end of the counter.

“Damn fool ain’t supposed to be driving yet.” He shrugged. “Guess I shoulda’ told him you might be here.”

Abby wondered if her heart would ever return to normal. With shaking hands, she concentrated on pouring Shorty’s coffee into a thick, white mug. She managed to get most of it where it belonged. The rest she wiped up with a cloth.

Shorty looked at her over the rim of his half-full cup. “You knew he was back, didn’t you?”

She nodded, trying to ignore the way her pulse was thrumming. She didn’t trust her voice enough to speak just yet.

“Well, hell’s bells, girl, ain’t you gonna say something?” He plunked his cup back on the counter, skewered her with his gaze.

Abby swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her eyes stung and she blinked hard to hold back the tears.

“What do you want me to say, Shorty?” She could barely squeak out a whisper. “That was a rotten thing to do,” she said, swiping at an invisible stain on the already spotless counter one more time.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” the old cowboy said. “Ain’t you got nothin’ to say about how he looked?”

“Looked? He was in such a hurry to get out of here, I barely saw him.” Oh, my heart saw him, though.

“Aw, girl, that boy’s had a terrible time of it. He’s come back to stay with me at the ranch until he’s done healing. Had a run-in with a nasty bull at a rodeo back in February. Lucky to be alive and walking. Only thing is, he ain’t used to people lookin’ at his face yet. I’m surprised you didn’t notice the scars.”

Abby sucked in her breath when a pain sharper than a razor’s cut sliced through her heart. So that’s the reason for the low-tipped hat. She gripped the edge of the counter, leaned against it for support. “Tell me what happened.”

Shorty took a swallow of what was left of his coffee and dug around in his pocket for a cigarette. Abby frowned at him hard enough to make him put it back. He fished out a wooden toothpick instead and tongued it to the side of his mouth, set his hat on the stool beside him and rested his elbows on the counter.

“Bo was in Dallas when I got a call from one of his rodeo buddies that he’d been busted up pretty good and was in the hospital there. I figured Marla was with him,

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