A South Texas Christmas. Stella Bagwell
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“You make it sound like we really are lovers.”
Neil’s hand slipped upward until he was cupping the side of her neck. Raine felt goose bumps dance along her arms.
“I wouldn’t be averse to making that part of our story true,” he whispered huskily. “What about you?”
Her jaw fell. “Is this what you call behaving like a gentleman?”
“I am being a gentleman, Raine. Otherwise you’d already be in my arms. Like this.” He tugged her forward and Raine was shocked to find herself clamped tightly to the front of his body. She squirmed in an attempt to escape the circle of his arms, but the movement only made things worse. His body was hard as a rock and she could feel the softness of her own curves gladly yielding to every inch of him.
If he kissed her again, she desperately feared she would go up in flames.
Dear Reader,
Several books ago, when I first began spinning tales about the Ketchum family, I was particularly drawn to their lifelong friend and attorney Neil Rankin. Through thick and thin, he’s the kind of guy who remains steadfast and devoted to his friends, and the sort that will tell them the truth of the matter, even when it hurts. His lonely heart cried out for that special woman, and while he travels all the way to a south Texas ranch to find her, he also uncovers a startling secret about the Ketchums that will change his life—and theirs—forever.
Christmas is a gift for love and hope, and Neil is lucky enough to experience both while he’s in south Texas. As for me, my family and I are blessed to enjoy the yuletide season here on the coast with balmy weather, homemade tamales, parades of shrimp boats decked with lights and Santa on a riding lawn mower!
God bless and Merry Christmas, y’all!
Stella
A South Texas Christmas
Stella Bagwell
STELLA BAGWELL
sold her first book to Silhouette in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.
She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches high school math in nearby Port Lavaca.
To my late mother, Lucille.
Like the Christmas star, you will
always glow in my heart.
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 One
Could this photo be the answer to her prayers?
Only moments before, Raine Crockett had picked up the latest issue of the San Antonio Express with plans to scan the news before she got down to the business of her daily schedule at the Sandbur Ranch. But the paper had slipped from her hand and scattered across the floor, exposing a grainy black-and-white picture wedged among the classifieds. Now, she was still staring at the miracle in her hands, wondering if it might finally lead her to the truth about her mother’s past—and the identity of her father.
“Knock, knock.”
Her friend’s breezy voice had Raine jerking her head up and snapping the paper shut at the same time.
Nicolette Saddler, a member of the family that owned the Sandbur, was like a sister to Raine. This morning she desperately wanted Nicci’s advice.
“Thank God you stopped by! I want you to look at something.”
Nicolette glanced at the small watch on her wrist. “Sorry, Raine. I don’t have time. I have thirty minutes to get to the clinic. I just stopped by to ask you to let Cook know not to set a place for me this evening. I’m going to be working late.”
Not willing to let Nicci get away that easily, Raine jumped to her feet and grabbed Nicolette by the arm.
“Raine! I said I don’t have time! What—” Her exasperated expression turned curious as she watched Raine shut the door behind her. “What in the world is this about—” She paused as her medical training took over. “You look almost green. Are you feeling ill?”
Raine’s hair swished against the tops of her shoulders as she shook her head. Normally she was a quiet, serious-minded young woman, a bookkeeper who kept her nose stuck in the incoming and outgoing invoices of the Sandbur. It wasn’t like her to get emotional. But the photo had filled her with hope and excitement.
“I’m not sick!” Raine’s office was inside the Saddler family’s ranch house where anyone, especially her mother, might be passing by, so she spoke in a hushed voice, “I want you to look at this.” She jerked open the paper and thrust it at Nicolette.
A deep frown marred the woman’s forehead as she scanned the paragraphs beneath the photo.
“What do you think? Could it be my mother?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. This was taken years ago. Lord, look at that big hairdo! And the dangling earrings! Your mother wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that now. Still—” She paused. “I have to admit, it does resemble her.”
Another burst of optimism surged through Raine, in spite of her attempt to stem it. This photo was probably just another of one missing person among thousands. And Raine’s mother wasn’t actually lost. She was living here on the ranch, safe and sound, just as she had been for the past twenty-some years. It was Esther Crockett’s past—and all her memories of Raine’s father—that had been lost.
Nicolette groaned. “Raine, I really don’t want to get into this.”
Raine understood why her friend didn’t want to get involved. Nicci didn’t want to encourage a search that would only cause deeper rifts between Raine and her mother. Well, Raine didn’t want another fight with her mother, either. But she wanted—needed—answers, and as far as she was concerned, this photo was too important to simply toss in the trash.
“Am I crazy for thinking this might be Mother—before she lost her memory?”
Nicolette pointed to the brief information beneath the photo. “The woman went missing back in 1982. Why would anyone start searching now?”
“Maybe they’ve searched before—in other areas of the country. But just think, Nicci, the timing would be right. I was born that year, the year my mother lost her memory. And this woman does resemble Mother. I’m not crazy about that, am I?”
Nicolette’s expression changed to one of concern. “No, honey, you’re not crazy. But you’ve tried this before. By now you ought to realize what a long shot it would be for this—” she