Galahad in Blue Jeans Read online

  “I won’t ever marry.”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Sara Orwig

  SARA ORWIG

  CRITICAL ACCLAIM FORAWARD-WINNING AND BESTSELLING AUTHOR SARA ORWIG:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “I won’t ever marry.”

  Surprised, she stared at him. His statement was matter-of-fact, as if there was no possibility of anything else.

  “You don’t like women?”

  He grinned, and she was amazed at the transformation of his features, softening his rugged look, with creases deepening in his cheeks and a twinkle coming to his eyes.

  “I like women, Vivian,” he said in a sensual, warm voice that left no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth. At the same time, a tingle stirred in her, that sexy awareness that he could zap to life so easily with her.

  “Then what makes you so certain you won’t ever marry?”

  The grin and twinkle vanished. “I’m not the marrying type,” he said with a shrug.

  “Maybe that’s for someone else to decide.”

  Dear Reader,

  Happy holidays! In honor of the season, we’ve got six very special gifts for you Who can resist The Outlaw Bride, the newest from Maggie Shayne’s bestselling miniseries THE TEXAS BRAND? Forget everything you think you know about time and how we move through it, because you’re about to get a look at the power of the human heart to alter even the hardest realities. And you’ll get an interesting look at the origins of the Texas Brands, too.

  ROYALLY WED, our exciting cross-line continuity miniseries, continues with Suzanne Brockmann’s Undercover Princess. In her search to find her long-lost brother, the crown prince, Princess Katherine Wyndham has to try life as a commoner. Funny thing is, she quite likes being a nanny to two adorable kids—not to mention the time she spends in their handsome father’s arms. In her FAMILIES ARE FOREVER title, Code Name. Santa, Kayla Daniels finds the perfect way to bring a secret agent in from the cold—just in time for the holidays. It Had To Be You is the newest from Beverly Bird, a suspenseful tale of a meant-to-be love. Sara Orwig takes us WAY OUT WEST to meet a Galahad in Blue Jeans. Now there’s a title that says it all! Finally, look for Barbara Ankrum’s I’ll Remember You, our TRY TO REMEMBER title.

  Enjoy them all—and don’t forget to come back again next month, because we plan to start off a very happy new year right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments, where the best and most exciting romances are always to be found.

  Enjoy!

  Leslie J Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  * * *

  GALAHAD IN BLUE JEANS

  SARA ORWIG

  With thanks to Leslie Wainger, Debra Robertson,

  Tina Colombo and, always, Maureen Walters.

  Books by Sara Orwig

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Hide in Plain Sight #679

  Galahad in Blue Jeans #971

  Silhouette Desire

  Falcon’s Lair #938

  The Bride’s Choice #1019

  A Baby for Mommy #1060

  Babes m Arms #1094

  Her Torrid Temporary Marriage #1125

  The Consummate Cowboy #1164

  The Cowboy’s Seductive Proposal #1192

  SARA ORWIG

  lives with her husband and children in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara writes historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.

  CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR

  AWARD-WINNING AND BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  SARA ORWIG:

  The Cowboy’s Seductive Proposal (Desire #1192) (A connected story to Galahad in Blue Jeans) “Sara Orwig creates a marvelous hero no woman could resist in this exceedingly pleasing romance.”

  —Romantic Times Magazine

  The Consummate Cowboy (Desire #1164) “Sara Orwig’s skillful pen delivers a sizzling love story.”

  —Romantic Times Magazine

  “A passionate, heartwarming story as only the extraordinary Sara Orwig can tell.”

  —Rendezvous

  Her Torrid Temporary Marriage (Desire #1125) “Sara Orwig’s masterful touch will make your heart sing with joy.”

  —Romantic Times Magazine

  With over sixteen million books in

  print internationally, Sara Orwig

  delivers sensuous, heart-stirring stories

  time after time after time....

  Chapter 1

  Matthew Whitewolf turned the wrench and tightened the lug nut on the tire as thunder rumbled and wind caught locks of his black hair and blew them away from his face. He worked swiftly, wanting to get the flat changed so he could get home before the rain hit. Although the thought of another rainy evening alone at home made him edgy, more aware of his loneliness, the thought of driving down to Taylor’s Bar and seeing some of his friends didn’t appeal to him, either.

  Concentrating, he turned the wrench. As he worked, hairs on the back of his neck rose. He had the feeling he wasn’t alone, a notion he shrugged away at first because when he had stopped to change the fiat, he had been the only person on the road. He hadn’t noticed a car in sight either in front of him or behind him.

  His nerves prickled and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Telling himself the notion was ridiculous, he glanced over his shoulder and his heart missed a beat.

  “Jeez!” he exclaimed under his breath.

  A tiny girl with bright blue eyes stood in the road staring at him, a blue blanket clutched in one small band, a fuzzy, battered bear in the other.

  Where the hell had she come from?

  He looked beyond her and saw only a tall cottonwood and a couple of cedars three hundred yards down the empty road. He glanced in the other direction to his right and looked at a stand of bois d’arc trees along the wire fence and a clump of golden sunflowers growing in the ditch.

  There were no houses except his house a couple of miles away. His wheat fields, now merely golden stubble, stretched away on one side of the road and there was pasture on the other. Where had she come from?

  He realized he might be scaring her and mentally swore at himself for being unfriendly. “Hello,” he said, smiling.

  She stood staring at him in silence, and he rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was having a hallucination. “I’m Matt Whitewolf,” he said, trying to gentle his voice and inject as much friendliness as possible while he kept trying to figure out how she got within yards of him without his even seeing her approach.

  “Do you have a name?” he asked, and heard another loud roll of thunder. As lightning streaked the sky, the little girl flinched, and his concern escalated. She didn’t answer, but continued to stare at him.

  �
�You’ve been told not to talk to strangers, haven’t you?” he asked.

  When she nodded, he casually turned back to tighten the last lug nut, hoping he would put her at ease. She had to have come from somewhere, and he needed to know where and who she was. He worked without looking at her, trying to keep her in his peripheral vision, half afraid she might vanish as swiftly as she had materialized.

  He couldn’t drive off and leave her and he didn’t know what to do about her. How had she gotten out here all alone? He was miles from Dakani, the nearest town.

  “Do you have a little girl?” she asked in a voice that sounded small and uncertain.

  He kept his attention on the wheel, hoping to reassure her. “No, I don’t. I’m not married. I have a farm here. I grow wheat and raise cattle, and this land is part of my farm,” he said, waving his hand toward the field and smiling at her. “How’d you get here?” he asked, replacing the hubcap.

  “My mommy hurts.”

  His head swung around. “Where is your mommy?”

  She turned and pointed down the empty road to the west. All he saw was the cottonwood, the cedars and a long stretch of paving bordered by his empty fields. He finished changing the tire and put his tools away in the back of the pickup.

  “Why don’t we go find your mommy, and maybe I can help her? Okay?” he asked, wiping dirt from his hands with a rag.

  She nodded and another clap of thunder boomed. She jumped and closed her eyes, pulling her blanket up over her face. “I want Mommy,” she said, and his heart lurched. He wanted to pick her up and reassure her that she was all right and he wouldn’t hurt her, but he knew he shouldn’t take the chance of scaring her.

  “You show me where your mommy is, okay? Let’s go find her before it rains.”

  Nodding, she turned to walk down the road and he walked beside her.

  “You know, we’re not strangers anymore because you know who I am and this is where I live and you know what I do. I’ve lived here a long time, and I promise to try to help your mommy. Now, since we’re not strangers, can you tell me your name?”

  She shook her head and clamped her tiny rosebud lips together, so he dropped the matter.

  “All right, darlin’, let’s find your mommy,” he said, looking at the long stretch of empty road. “We can ride in my pickup. It’ll be quicker, and we’ll be out of the storm if it starts to rain.”

  She studied him, and he suspected she was torn between wanting to get away from the storm and refusing to accept a ride with a strange man. When she shook her head, he didn’t want to push the matter so he continued walking beside her.

  “Are you and your mommy going to visit someone?”

  He looked down at the small child beside him as she gave another negative shake of her head. He felt a pang of sympathy because she was obviously terrified.

  The first big, cold drops of rain fell. Newton County had had rain on and off for a week now and the ground was saturated. As Matt glanced over his field, he was thankful harvest was over and his wheat sold.

  His gaze shifted to the child beside him, and he searched the road ahead again. He still couldn’t spot a car and he wondered where the mother was and how far the child had walked. Why hadn’t he seen her before he had the flat?

  “It’s sprinkling. How far do we have to go to get to your mommy?” He knew the question was foolish, but he was so puzzled about the child’s sudden appearance, he couldn’t keep from asking. She merely pointed ahead.

  He tried to shorten his normal stride and slow his steps so he could walk beside her. She was too tiny and too vulnerable, and he wondered how hurt her mommy might be. Had the woman collapsed? Was she unconscious?

  “How old are you, darlin’?”

  She held up four fingers.

  “What’s your teddy’s name?”

  When her mouth clamped shut again, he gave up trying to converse with her. Another boom of thunder shook the ground and lightning snapped and streaked over the wheat field. The child started crying quietly, great tears brimming in her wide eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “Mommy!”

  “We’re trying to get to your mommy,” he said quietly. “Would you like me to carry you?”

  She shook her head no, and he glanced at the darkening Oklahoma sky. The storm was gaining on them, and if rain began to pour, he was going to have to pick up the terrified child.

  “Don’t cry, baby girl,” he said. “Please don’t cry. It’s only thunder and it makes a lot of noise, but it can’t hurt you.” He looked at the roiling thunderclouds that were blue-black churning masses. Lightning crackled, streaking across the sky, shedding an eerie yellow-green tint over the native grasses alongside the road.

  “Maybe we should go back and get my truck. Will you ride in it?”

  She shook her head vigorously. “Mommy.”

  “All right. We’ll find mommy.” He prayed that he would soon. As they approached the tall, ancient cottonwood, he saw tire tracks across the damp ground. Following them to the cedars growing beneath the tree, he spotted shiny green metal through their branches. A car was off beyond the bar ditch on the far side of the cottonwood and cedars, almost hidden from his view by the trees.

  “Is that your car?”

  She put her thumb in her mouth while she clutched the blanket and teddy bear tightly. Knowing it had to be the car, he strode swiftly toward it.

  “Let me see about your mommy,” he said, worried what he might find. The dark green utility vehicle had rolled to a stop against the massive cottonwood. The shiny hood was smashed, and a wisp of steam rose from the radiator. When be saw someone slumped over the steering wheel, he hurried his steps.

  A young woman was sprawled over the wheel. With her longer-than-shoulder-length brown hair and her slender arms, she looked little more than a teenager. He opened the door, leaned across the seat and placed his hand against her throat. Her pulse was strong and relief surged through him. Even as he touched her, she groaned and shifted. When she leaned back, he helped her, sliding his arms around her, grateful that she could move.

  She straightened and shock buffeted him. Blood ran from a cut on her forehead, and as he slid his arm around her, he brushed her expanded tummy. The lady was very much pregnant and dazed from the wreck.

  As her eyes opened, he stared into the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen.

  Mesmerized, he momentarily forgot everything around him or the circumstances as he stared at her, and she gazed wide-eyed back at him. All he was aware of was a blue-eyed woman staring at him while some invisible current streaked between them like lightning over his wheat field. Her gaze was unwavering, searching. His gaze lowered for a few seconds to her lips, which were full and looked incredibly soft.

  “Mary Catherine—” she whispered, bringing him back to the present with a jolt.

  “She’s all right,” he said at once, assuming the woman was asking about the child. He released the woman instantly, giving her space. “She’s right here.”

  In a glance he saw the vehicle was piled high in the back with suitcases, toys, clothing. A child’s car seat was strapped in the back seat.

  The cold drops of rain began to come down more often, and he looked out the window. “My pickup is just down the road. In a few minutes we’re going to have a downpour. I’ll get my pickup and you two can go home with me, and when the storm is over, I’ll see about your car.” He pulled out his clean handkerchief and dabbed at her temple where she was bleeding. “What happened?”

  “I was driving and had a contract—Oh!” She gasped and clutched her stomach. “It’s early,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

  “When’s your baby due?” he asked, alarm fluttering in him like a caged butterfly.

  “Not for another two weeks, but I’ve given birth before. I know I’m in labor.”

  “Lord help us,” he said fervently, meaning every word and calculating the distance to Enid. “Here,” he said, giving her his handkerchief. “I’ll take you to the
Enid hospital. I’m Matt Whitewolf. I farm and this is my land.”

  She nodded. “I’m Vivian Ashland.”

  Matt turned and held open the door. “Mary Catherine, you get in with your mommy. I’m going to get my truck and come back and get both of you. Now, you take care of Mommy.”

  The little girl scrambled into the car beside her mother, who hugged her, and he closed the door. Frightened by the woman’s labor contractions, he sprinted for his pickup.

  As he ran, Matt could see the curtain of gray rain sweeping down the road toward him. He could hear its hiss and knew the heavy rain that had been predicted was arriving.

  Vivian Ashland watched the tall, shaggy-haired cowboy run down the road while panic gripped her. He was a total stranger and she had lost all trust in men. Out of habit, she glanced in the rearview mirror, reassuring herself that no one had followed her since she left the interstate.

  Heading southwest on back roads this afternoon, she thought they were doing fine. Then without warning a contraction seized her and she had lost control of the car, going off the road and smashing against the big tree.

  Another contraction gripped her, tight and low in her body, and she gasped. She ran her hand over her stomach while the pain eased and vanished.

  “I don’t like thunder,” Mary Catherine said, hugging close against Vivian’s side.

  “It’s all right. It’s only a rain shower.” She slipped her arm around Mary Catherine and held her close. Vivian didn’t want to go with a stranger even though he seemed friendly and reliable. She remembered that moment when she had regained consciousness and found him helping her, his arm around her. She had looked into midnight eyes that bore through her, causing a flutter of panic. He was broad-shouldered, powerful-looking, with long black hair that gave him a wild appearance. Disoriented and startled by him, she had started to scramble away from him, but then his dark gaze caught hers and she had been captured, riveted by his mesmerizing stare.