Hot Holiday Rancher. Catherine Mann

      Jesse stared out the kitchen window at the water pooling outside, covering the driveway. As the storm continued to rage, he was glad he’d reached Esme when he did.

      No denying it, the woman who’d crashed into his life this evening had made quite an impression. He thought about the way her wet clothes clung to her, outlined her shapely body.

      Not that she was his type. Too city. Too polished for a ranch lifestyle. Not that it mattered. He had three potential matches coming to the ranch.

      Still, his thoughts drifted to the way her wet hair fell in waves. No. He couldn’t deny being intrigued by the woman who was currently cleaning herself up in his shower as the rain pelted down.

      In the oversize mug, he stirred the hot chocolate. The mug in his hand had been a gift from his little sister. She’d made it in a pottery class, rightly guessing that something homemade would mean more to him. He could buy anything he wanted.

      His sister had a knack. The pottery was expertly crafted. She’d called it part of her robin’s-egg collection.

      He wasn’t an overly sentimental man, and even though he and his sister weren’t close, this mug represented his last link to family. To something grounding.

      After giving the hot chocolate a final stir, he popped the top of the peppermint schnapps, deciding Esme should be the judge of her alcohol level. He didn’t want to pour too much. Who knew what her alcohol tolerance was? And he wasn’t one to take advantage. He prided himself on being a man of honor.

      And he needed to stay focused on his search for a bride, someone who wanted to share this lifestyle with him and build a family.

      He turned back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee with a shot of whiskey in it. Then settled onto a barstool at the kitchen island where his half-eaten sandwich still waited. Fried steak between two thick slices of Texas toast. He took another bite and washed it down with his spiked coffee, the taste firing through his veins on this damn long day.

      As he continued to eat his sandwich to the rhythm of rain and thunder, he reflected on the events of the last hour. Now he regretted calling Esme’s family “infamous.” The word had a crueler inflection than he had meant. Especially since Esme’s father was no longer a suspect in the murder. He understood too well what it felt like to be wrongly accused.

      Tearing into another bite of his sandwich, he went over the events of the murder investigation in his mind.

      He’d been shocked when he was questioned by keen Houston detective Zoe Warren. All because of an argument he’d had with Vincent Hamm. Someone he’d thought he could count on. His kid sister just graduated with an MBA from one of the top programs in the country. Not only was she his sister and he had a strong sense of family, but his sister was also brilliant, with a sharp mind for business. Jesse had asked Vincent to help get his sister in at Perry Holdings. But Vincent refused to even set up an interview for Janet.

      Jesse took another sip of his coffee, still trying to understand why, despite all the favors Jesse had done for him, Vincent wouldn’t lift a finger to help.

      Rage had filled him. He’d believed the worst of his friend. That a big-city job with a fancy salary at Perry Holdings had gone to Vincent’s head. That he’d forgotten who he was. Jesse had responded with anger.

      And then, a few weeks after their strange encounter, Vincent Hamm was dead. And not just dead—murdered.

      A brief angry voice mail from Jesse to Vincent had turned up in the authorities’ investigation. A handful of words. Crazy. But Jesse, ever a rule follower and ever meticulous, had a solid alibi. He’d been three hours away at a cattle auction. His location south of Houston was certifiable, easily tracked through his purchase records and through his hotel visit. Nearly all his time was accounted for. There was no feasible way he could have been the murderer. As a law-abiding man, he’d voluntarily submitted to a lie detector test, which he’d passed. He wanted Vincent’s actual killer to be found. Sooner rather than later.

      He thumped the edge of his own mug, heat transferring ever so slightly from the ceramic to his fingertips.

      Jesse’s attention returned to the present as he heard the creak of the guest suite door and soft footfalls on the hardwood floor. Then there she was. Esme Perry.

      He stood slowly. Damn.

      The mug was no longer the only thing throwing heat in the kitchen.

      Esme walked deeper into the kitchen, looking too damn sexy in his Texas A&M sweats. Even wearing his athletic socks bunched down around her ankles, she somehow made it all work into an elegant ensemble right down to her diamond stud earrings.

      “Well, Miss Esme, you are definitely unmistakable now,” he said, nudging her mug and the bottle of schnapps toward her.

      “It’s nice to be dry again.” She gestured to her wet hair. “At least somewhat.” She poured some of the liquor into the mug, stirred thoughtfully. Almost absently.

      She lifted the mug to her lips, and he found himself unable to look away, imagining how soft they would be.

      “I’m glad to help.” He waited for her to sit before reclaiming his place on the barstool. “Did you reach home to let them know you’re okay?”

      “I did. Just now. I called my sister Angela. We were talking about plans to meet for brunch.” Her delicate nose scrunched with worry. “We haven’t had much time to talk lately since she got back together with Ryder.”

      Everyone in Royal had been blown away at the news when Angela and Ryder had gotten engaged. A Perry and a Currin? Unimaginable. Then they had broken things off, and now were apparently a couple again.

      Jesse shook his head. He wanted something more stable in his life. “You and she are close?”

      She hesitated for a telling moment. “Angela and Melinda are twins. Then I have a brother, Roarke. We all love one another.”

      He’d heard the gossip that Roarke was rumored to be Ryder Currin’s biological son, rumors so strong they’d taken a DNA test. A test that proved Roarke truly was a Perry. Still, the whole ordeal must have put a strain on their family. “That’s not the same as being close.”

      “The twins are close, and our brother has always gone his own way. He’s happy, though, working at Perry Holdings in Houston in a newly formed ethics department. He still does part-time work offering legal, too.”

      “He sounds like quite the crusading attorney for the underdog. I imagine you’re proud of him.”

      “I am. It wasn’t easy for him to find his own path. He and Dad butt heads because our father expected Roarke to go into the family business. But that’s enough of our family drama.” She shrugged, her hair rippling over her shoulder in a blond waterfall. “So you have siblings?”

      Her eyes flickered to the photograph tucked on the marble countertop.

      Esme was observant. He’d give her that.

      “I have a sister. She’s all the family I have left, actually. I thought I was going to lose her not too long ago. Her appendix ruptured and she had to have emergency surgery.”

      Hospital runs and the smell of antiseptic filled his memory. The bargaining and praying for his sister’s life he’d done were still a visceral memory in his stomach.

      “I’m so sorry. Is she all right now?”

      “She is.” He looked at the mug in Esme’s hand, thankful for his sister’s recovery.

      “Thank goodness. Still, that had to have been a scary time for you.”

      “It was.”

      Rain continued to fall outside, filling