It Takes a Cowboy

The Lost Springs Ranch for troubled boys is at stake, and it’s a man’s duty to give back…

So there’s going to be an auction!

Bachelor #5

Name: Scott McKay, 33

Occupation: Gentleman rancher

Biggest Achievement: Surviving daring adventures

Blair Townsend didn’t know the meaning of chaos until her holy terror of a nephew came to live with her. Jeffrey needed a positive role model—and Blair wasn’t above buying one at the Lost Springs auction. Sexy-as-sin rancher Scott McKay looks as if he’d have no trouble teaching Jeffrey how to be a man. Except Scott seems far more interested in showing Blair how to be a woman….

Sugar Spinelli’s Little Instruction Book

I can’t believe my eyes. There’s our young conservative lawyer, Blair Townsend—bidding on a cowboy! That reckless adventurer Scott McKay sure doesn’t seem her type. Especially now that she’s raising that nephew of hers, who I hear is quite a rascal. Maybe she’s looking for someone to give her a hand with the boy. I gotta say, Scott does look deceptively steady and respectable in that jacket and tie. I wonder if Blair knows what she’s getting herself into. Because if she doesn’t, there are going to be fireworks—and I sure hope I’m around to see them.…

Dear Reader,

We just knew you wouldn’t want to miss the news event that has all of Wyoming abuzz! There’s a herd of eligible bachelors on their way to Lightning Creek—and they’re all for sale!

Cowboy, park ranger, rancher, P.I.—they all grew up at Lost Springs Ranch, and every one of these mavericks has his price, so long as the money’s going to help keep Lost Springs afloat.

The auction is about to begin! Young and old, every woman in the state wants in on the action, so pony up some cash and join the fun. The man of your dreams might just be up for grabs.…

Marsha Zinberg

Editorial Coordinator, Heart of the West

It Takes a Cowboy

Gina Wilkins

MILLS & BOON

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A Note from the Author

I’ve always had a thing for cowboys. Perhaps my tastes were influenced by the television programs I watched as a child—The Rifleman, Bonanza, The Big Valley, The High Chaparral, Lancer (“Johnny Madrid” in tight black jeans with silver conchos down the side—oh, my!). There’s just something about a man in a Stetson and a pair of slant-heeled boots...

When I met my future husband, he was a skinny, six-foot-five college freshman with a shy smile and a great laugh. When I found out he owned a palomino named Diablo, a gray mare named Freckles and had a roomful of horse-show ribbons and trophies, I was hooked. We’ve been married for more than twenty years now, and though the horses are long gone, a little cowboy remains in this businessman. He still has his saddle, and the same pair of Dan Post boots he used to wear in those horse shows. And he still has a great laugh.

Blair Townsend thinks a cowboy is the complete opposite of what she needs. But when she buys one by mistake at a charity bachelor auction, she soon learns that it does, indeed, take a cowboy to win her well-guarded heart.

Enjoy,

Gina Wilkins

For all those women with a weakness for Stetsons and boots.

Gina Wilkins is acknowledged

as the author of this work.

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

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN SHE’D FIRST heard about the plan, Blair Townsend had thought a bachelor auction was a desperate and probably futile scheme to save the financially strapped Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. A bachelor auction? Were they joking? What made these people think they could possibly raise a significant sum of money by parading a group of former ranch residents in front of a bunch of man-hungry women? Selling the guys off like...like prize bulls?

Blair had pessimistically predicted that there would be more men up for auction than there would be women to bid on them. And as for the media coverage they were hoping for...she’d thought they would be lucky to get a mention in the Lightning Creek Leader.

Now, as she gazed in awe at the TV news vans and reporters crowding the ranch grounds, she was perfectly willing to admit that she had been wrong.

She didn’t know how they had done it, but somehow ranch owner Lindsay Duncan and director Rex Trowbridge had pulled off an amazing feat. They had a sizable group of gorgeous bachelors, a stadium full of enthusiastic bidders and a whole herd of reporters there to cover the festivities. The public relations benefits alone should go a long way toward helping Lindsay save her ranch—and the lost young boys who needed it.

Blair groaned at the thought of lost young boys. That particular problem hit just a bit too close to home at the moment. A group of boys dashed past her, shouting, laughing, their destination the peeled-log forts and jungle gyms that made up the recently renovated playground. Though somewhat rowdy, they looked as though they were having a great time. It hadn’t occurred to her that so many youngsters would be in attendance at a charity bachelor auction. Now she wondered why she hadn’t expected it—this was, after all, a boys’ ranch.

Maybe she should have brought Jeffrey. It might have been good for him to socialize with other children today. And yet...did she really want him spending time with the residents of Lost Springs? Wasn’t he difficult and rebellious enough without the influence of this group of troubled boys? She’d spent a lot of time lately worrying that if things didn’t improve soon, Jeffrey was going to be a prime candidate for a residential program for boys who were headed for serious problems.

She put a hand to the back of her neck, squeezing the muscle that had tightened there—something that had been happening with uncomfortable regularity since her ten-year-old nephew had moved in with her six months ago. A familiar burning sensation in her stomach made her reach into the pocket of her cream-colored cardigan for a roll of antacids. She popped a couple in her mouth and chewed grimly. The chalky taste made her grimace.

Wanting something to wash away the residue, she looked toward the crowded pavilion where food and drinks were being sold to an eager throng of customers. The tantalizing, smoky smell of barbecue wafted toward her, making her lick her lips. She had only come to observe the activities today, not to participate in them, but she could at least contribute to the cause by purchasing a soft drink and maybe a hot dog. She would love to indulge in a spicy barbecue sandwich, but she was afraid that would only intensify her heartburn.

Barely thirty, she thought ruefully, and she had to eat like a little old lady. And to think she’d moved to Lightning Creek, Wyoming, to reduce the stress in her life! But that had been before she’d become responsible for Jeffrey.

Several acquaintances greeted her as she approached the barbecue pavilion, people she had met during the year since she’d moved to the area from Chicago to take over her uncle’s law practice. Lindsay Duncan, the ranch owner and one of Blair’s clients, rushed by with a clipboard in her hand and a slightly harried look on her face. She gave Blair a distracted smile; Blair sent her a bracing thumbs-up in return, knowing Lindsay didn’t have time for conversation just then.

Blair really hoped this gamble would pay off. The ranch had been in Lindsay’s family for fifty years. Innumerable boys had been housed here, a significant number of them going on to lead successful, productive lives rather than the bleak, dead-end futures they’d faced prior to being assigned to the Lost Springs Ranch. Some had been orphans, some children whose parents had been unable or unwilling to provide for them, others had been deemed incorrigible and had been sent here as a last resort before reform school or jail, but all had been given the finest of care and the best of opportunities. Many had taken advantage of the education and counseling they’d received to turn their lives around. Blair knew that the owners and staff of the ranch grieved over every boy who could not or would not be helped.

That thought made the back of her neck tighten again. She was determined that her brother’s son would not become one of the sad statistics.

Deciding to forgo the hot dog, she ordered a diet soda from one of the volunteers running the concession booth, a woman whose fairly amiable divorce had been one of Blair’s first cases in Lightning Creek. “There you go, hon,” fifty-something Arnette Gibbs said as she exchanged a cup of soda for Blair’s dollar bill. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Arnette. Looks like business is booming.”

The woman’s plump face beamed. “They’re keeping us hopping, that’s for sure. My goodness, would you look at that crowd gathered around Shane Daniels! If he don’t stop signing autographs, he’ll never get to the arena in time for the auction.”

Following the direction of the older woman’s gaze, Blair frowned. “Who is he? A singer? An actor?”

Arnette blinked in surprise that Blair hadn’t recognized the name. “Honey, he’s a rodeo champion. One of the best bull riders the circuit has ever seen.”

“Oh.” Blair’s frown deepened as she studied the outright idolatry on the faces of the boys crowding around the handsome cowboy. A bull rider? Hardly the type of role model she would choose for her nephew.

“The auction’s about to get started,” Arnette announced, pointing toward the rapidly filling arena. “You better get over there before all the good ones are gone.”

Blair’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t come to buy a man. I’m only here to support the fund-raiser.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to bid on one of those fine young hunks,” Arnette advised cheerfully. “Just because I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life catering to Jesse Gibbs’s every cantankerous whim don’t mean I can’t appreciate a pair of broad shoulders and a nice, tight butt. Sure makes for a pleasant diversion on a lazy weekend.”

Laughing and shaking her head, Blair moved away from the folding table that had been set up as a sales counter, giving the people in line behind her a chance to be served. She sipped her slightly watery soda as she strolled toward the arena to watch the auction. She couldn’t help but be curious. It was certainly a beautiful day for the event, unusually warm for mid-June, the sky that intensely clear blue she’d come to identify with Wyoming. Rolling, wildflower-dotted pastures spread into the distance, crisscrossed by fencing, and on the horizon loomed the purply Wind River Range.

A colorful handmade quilt flapping from a branch of an enormous oak tree caught her eye. Blair loved pieced quilts, appreciating the effort and history that went into each one. A raffle box on a folding table had been set up in front of the quilt, along with a banner that read Converse County Hospital—35 Years of Sharing and Caring. A smaller sign proclaimed that proceeds from the quilt raffle would be donated to the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. So many local organizations had pitched in to help today.

Impulsively, Blair stopped at the table, reaching into her pocket again as she greeted the striking redhead manning the raffle table. “Hello, Twyla. That’s a beautiful quilt. I’d like to buy some raffle tickets.”

Her cheeks unusually flushed, her manner a bit flustered, the hairstylist who had been cutting Blair’s dark blond chin-length hair for the past year reached for the roll of raffle tickets. “Hi, Blair. How many tickets do you want? They’re a dollar each.”

Blair glanced at the bill she’d pulled from her pocket. “I’ll take ten.”

Twyla took the bill and handed Blair ten numbered tickets. “The emcee will announce the winning number over the PA system after the auction. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Blair glanced wistfully at the quilt’s lovely log cabin design. “I’d love to win that.”

Someone else approached to buy raffle tickets, and Blair drifted toward the practice arena that had been built for the use of the boys on the ranch. The risers surrounding the arena were filling rapidly, mostly with women. Women of all shapes, descriptions and ages, she thought in amusement, glancing from a group of giggling teenagers to a couple of silver-haired women in spangled jogging suits. As she took an empty space near the front, she noticed that most of the people around her clutched glossy brochures filled with pictures of the men to be auctioned.

“Isn’t that a fine-looking group of studs?” the young woman beside Blair asked with a sigh, eyeing the men beginning to take their places in the folding chairs behind the auctioneer’s podium. “Lordy, what I wouldn’t give for a weekend with any one of them.”

Blair smiled at the brunette, who appeared to be in her early twenties. “Are you going to bid?”

The young woman laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure they’ll all go for more than I can afford. Some of these guys are famous, all of them are prominent in their fields, and there are some seriously rich women here to bid on them. Women from other states, even. I just came to make a donation to the fund-raiser and watch the fun. And maybe to fantasize a little about doing something wild and crazy with a good-looking stranger.”

Wild and crazy. Sounded like a description of Blair’s family. The Townsend reckless streak was notorious for spurring on impulsive and imprudent behavior. It was a part of her own nature that Blair had been suppressing for years, ever since it had become clear that someone in her family had to be responsible. That task had fallen to her at a very early age.

She looked again at the men assembling behind the podium, talking among themselves, some posturing good-naturedly for the women who hooted and whistled and flirted outrageously from the audience. If ever there was an opportunity for a woman to do something daring, this auction was it. They were an exceptionally intriguing-looking group of males. Not all of them could be called classically handsome, but it was obvious they were all comfortable with who they had become since leaving the ranch. They’d progressed a long way from the lost boys they’d once been. It must have been a sense of gratitude and obligation to the ranch that had brought them back for this rather odd occasion.

Blair looked from one self-consciously smiling male face to another. Each of them had at one time been in trouble, poised on the brink of potential disaster. Yet they had all chosen to turn themselves around. To make something of themselves. To...

Her eyes suddenly widened. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She didn’t want Jeffrey spending time with the boys currently at the ranch, but would he benefit from talking to one of these former residents? A man who had been faced with a troubled future but who had chosen the path to success and responsibility instead? Jeffrey had never had a responsible, dependable male role model. Any one of these men would understand what rejection felt like. What it was like to be angry, confused, rebellious, defiant. Maybe they could share the secret of putting those negative emotions behind them so they could get on with their lives.

What if she bought one of these men to spend a weekend with Jeffrey, be a role model for him? It was a crazy idea...but she was desperate enough to give it serious consideration as the emcee took the podium and tried to calm the excited crowd so the auction could get under way.

Her thoughtful gaze moved from one bachelor to another. She wished she had one of those brochures so she could read their bios, pick the ones who seemed most responsible. She tried to make some guesses strictly on appearance. The famous rodeo champion was rejected immediately. A footloose, daredevil cowboy was not at all what she had in mind. Jeffrey’s father was both a wanderer and a thrill-seeker, and he had certainly not been a good influence on his son.

No, she most definitely did not want a cowboy.

A couple of the other bachelors looked a bit too nonconformist for her taste, she mused as her gaze skimmed across a guy with an earring and a ponytail. What she needed was a man who looked as though he understood the importance of conforming to the rules and expectations of society.

The auctioneer finally had everyone’s attention. “So, ladies, put your hands together for our first bachelor, Dr. Robert Carter.”

Doctor? Blair straightened with interest as an absolutely gorgeous man stood and stepped toward the podium. A ripple of appreciation went through the audience, followed by wistful sighs when the man whimsically kissed Lindsay Duncan’s hand. Blair noted his fabulous looks—what woman wouldn’t?—but she was more interested in other details of his appearance. The expensive, conservative haircut. His elegantly casual clothing—a navy golf shirt and crisply pressed khakis. The auctioneer introduced him as a successful pathologist, following that up with an amazing list of professional and personal accomplishments. A weekend with this man, Blair thought, tapping her chin, could be exactly what Jeffrey needed. And she would be making a donation to the ranch, a charity that had become close to her heart during the past year.

The bidding for Dr. Robert Carter started at five hundred dollars. To the apparent delight of the woman sitting next to her, Blair bid six hundred. Within minutes, the amount had risen sharply, as had the level of noise from the giddy, keyed-up crowd. Blair dropped out of the bidding at five thousand dollars. The guy looked nice, she thought, but there was a limit to how much she was willing to pay for a weekend that might not accomplish anything, anyway.

“See?” the brunette next to Blair said with rueful amusement. “I told you there are some high rollers in the crowd today.”

“You were right,” Blair said as the bids topped eight thousand and kept climbing.

The handsome doctor sold for a staggering amount. Blair gasped in surprise—as did a number of others in the audience—when the auctioneer called the name of the winning bidder. Sugar Spinelli was seventy-five years old and had been married for half a century! What did she want with a young stud of a doctor?

Blair was still shaking her head in amazement when the next bachelor was called to the stand. Again, bidding was brisk, though Blair sat this one out. When rodeo star Shane Daniels took the stage, there was a near frenzy of bidding. She didn’t participate in that one, either.

It really had been a dumb idea, she told herself as the auction proceeded. She hadn’t expected the bidders to be so serious about this. It seemed that every winning bidder had a serious agenda motivating her, spurring on high dollars and fierce, though generally good-natured, competition. Blair’s reason for participating was a valid one, but maybe she’d been foolish to even hope she could solve Jeffrey’s problems by buying him a weekend mentor.

By the time a half-dozen bachelors had been auctioned off, Blair was losing interest, her attention caught again by the tantalizing smells drifting over from the barbecue grills. One of those smoked turkey legs sure sounded good. Maybe, now that her stomach had settled a little, she could handle one. Maybe she should buy another batch of raffle tickets for that beautiful quilt. Since it didn’t appear that she was going to be buying a bachelor, she might as well donate to the cause in another way. And she really would love to have that quilt....

“Now, ladies, our next bachelor is Mr. Scott McKay. Scott owns a—”

The latest bachelor’s credentials were drowned out by an outburst from somewhere behind her. Blair turned automatically to see what was going on. It seemed that one of the women had gotten so excited she’d fallen completely off her seat at the end of a row, landing flat on her well-cushioned bottom on the dusty ground below. She wasn’t hurt, Blair noted in relief; in fact, she and her friends were laughing almost hysterically, drawing a lot of shushes from others in the audience who were straining to hear the auctioneer. Blair watched the woman stand with the assistance of a solicitous ranch employee, dust off her too-tight jeans and climb onto her seat, where she and her big-haired friends dissolved into giggles again. Only then did Blair turn, thinking again of that turkey leg. Maybe if she...

Her wandering gaze landed on the bachelor currently on the auction block, and she felt her jaw drop. She closed it quickly, trying to clear her suddenly clouded mind. Must be lack of food, she told herself. Maybe an overload of sound and activity. It couldn’t possibly be that she had just been struck dumb by the sight of an attractive man in a beautifully tailored suit.

The bidding had already climbed to fifteen hundred dollars by the time she could think clearly. She looked at the guy again, trying to be objective. He wasn’t as movie-star gorgeous as the first bachelor, the doctor she had tried to buy earlier. But he was...intriguing. His hair was a rich, glossy brown that glinted in the sun. It was brushed neatly back from a tanned, angular face creased by sexy dimples. From where she sat, his eyes looked very blue, his teeth very white. He held his chin tucked down a bit, so that he seemed to be looking up from beneath his lashes. His brow was creased in an endearingly bemused expression, as if the rowdy attention he was getting from the audience was something he hadn’t expected when he’d signed up for this.

His dark suit fit him to perfection, displaying impressive shoulders, a solid chest and narrow hips. He wore a snowy white shirt and a boldly colored geometric tie. His western boots made her frown a bit, since they didn’t quite fit the image, but then she smiled, deciding he’d probably worn the boots as a tribute to the ranch. Regarded in that respect, it was actually a very sweet gesture.

Someone bid twenty-five hundred dollars.

He certainly looked like a conservative, respectable businessman, Blair mused. And that somewhat befuddled smile could indicate a slight shyness that Jeffrey would identify with. Whatever problems Scott McKay had faced as a boy, he’d apparently put them well behind him. Would he know what to say to a child whose hurt and anger were propelling him down the wrong path?

“Do I hear three thousand dollars?” the auctioneer sang out.

Blair drew a deep breath and lifted her hand, calling once again on the Townsend boldness she so rarely indulged.

“All right. You’re back in the bidding,” the young woman at her left said with a laugh.

Someone else bid thirty-five hundred, followed by a bid for four thousand.