Own the Night
Welcome to the Sundance Dude Ranch in Blackfoot Falls, Montana…where the cowboys are hot, and the town sheriff is smokin’!
Ever since the Sundance became a dude ranch, Sheriff Noah Calder has been a “must-see attraction” for hordes of visiting women. But when a suspected (and suspiciously sexy) con artist rolls into town, it takes all of Noah’s control to stop himself from giving her a very thorough strip search….
Alana Richardson is no con artist—she’s a marketing executive in desperate need of a vacation! But with her luggage stolen and her identity in question, she’s under the very close surveillance of Sheriff Noah Sexypants. Now she has to prove she’s one of the good guys…but she may just have to be a little bad to convince him!
Can’t get enough cowboys?
Popular Harlequin Blaze author Debbie Rawlins takes readers on a great ride
with her new miniseries
Made in Montana
The little town of Blackfoot Falls hasn’t seen
this much action since…well, ever.
Stay up till dawn with
#701 Barefoot Blue Jean Night
(August 2012)
#713 Own the Night
(October 2012)
#725 On a Snowy Christmas Night
(December 2012)
And remember, the sexiest cowboys
are Made in Montana!
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Blackfoot Falls! In the second book of this series we revisit the cozy Montana town, the Sundance Dude Ranch, the McAllister family and sexy sheriff Noah Calder, who’s so popular with the female visitors, he’s ready to lock himself in jail just to get away from them. But once he finds mysterious Alana Richardson, Noah won’t let her out of his sight.
You’ll also meet Dax, Noah’s lovable mutt, who is based on one of my rescues. Dax is a Border Collie mix who is full of love and mischief. And just like me and my Dax, Noah can’t imagine a life without his four-legged buddy.
Many of the Blaze authors and editors have come together to support pet adoptions via the Blaze Author’s blog. Come visit blazeauthors.com/blog/blaze-authors-pet-project to see the many incredible ways we humans can band together to help our furry friends.
I’d also like to invite you to spend your Christmas holiday with the McAllisters and all the folks from Blackfoot Falls by picking up On a Snowy Christmas Night, which will be out this December!
I hope you’re having as much fun with the gorgeous cowboys of Montana as I am!
Love to you all,
Debbi Rawlins
Debbi Rawlins
Own the Night
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until a few years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college, she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.
Books by Debbi Rawlins
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
13—IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
36—EDUCATING GINA
60—HANDS ON
112—ANYTHING GOES…
143—HE’S ALL THAT*
159—GOOD TO BE BAD
183—A GLIMPSE OF FIRE
220—HOT SPOT**
250—THE HONEYMOON THAT WASN’T
312—SLOW HAND LUKE
351—IF HE ONLY KNEW…*
368—WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS†
417—ALL OR NOTHING
455—ONCE AN OUTLAW††
467—ONCE A REBEL††
491—TEXAS HEAT
509—TEXAS BLAZE
528—LONE STAR LOVER††
603—SECOND TIME LUCKY‡
609—DELICIOUS DO-OVER‡
632—EXTRA INNINGS
701—BAREFOOT BLUE JEAN NIGHT§
*Men To Do
**Do Not Disturb
†Million Dollar Secrets
††Stolen from Time
‡Spring Break
§Made in Montana
Contents
Prologue
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
Excerpt
Prologue
RACHEL MCALLISTER STARED at the Sundance Ranch website she’d created, feeling more helpless and overwhelmed than she cared to admit. Three months ago she’d taken the first reservation, her fingers crossed, prayers murmured in earnest that opening a dude ranch would help pull her family out of the hole. Now they were so swamped with business she didn’t know which end was up. It would’ve all been good except they didn’t have the room.
Sure, the ranch spread out over three thousand acres, but they raised cattle first and foremost, and she’d promised her brothers she’d keep the guests separate and under control. So much for that. The women had gone nuts over Cole, Jesse and Trace, and the other young cowboys who worked and lived at the Sundance.
Now, after the first few waves of visitors had sampled life under the clear blue Montana skies, they were writing fantastic reviews. Cole’s new girlfriend, a former guest, was a popular travel blogger and she’d talked up the Sundance on her site.
All of it was terrific for business but brutal on Rachel’s stress level. Already she’d oversold one weekend and pissed off two women. They had nobly offered to take up residence in the bunkhouse with the hands for the two overlapping days, but that would’ve pissed off everyone else on the ranch.
Rachel clicked on the latest batch of reviews, skimmed down and smiled when she repeatedly saw Noah Calder’s name. The sheriff was Cole and Jesse’s best friend and like another brother to her. He wasn’t going to be happy about his fifteen minutes of fame—especially if women started swarming his office.
Well, that would be his problem. Rachel had enough on her plate. She hoped she wouldn’t regret accepting guests until three weeks before Christmas. Initially they were going to close from the first of November until the first of May. But it was just too damn hard to turn away the business.
Naturally, she’d have to come up with other activities to offer the guests. Summer was easy, with hiking and camping trips, white-water rafting, cattle drives, fishing, rodeos. Early fall could include some of those things, at least before the first snow, but up here in Blackfoot Falls, Montana, almost two hundred miles from the Canadian border, the temperatures dropped early.
Her computer dinged with the receipt of an email, and she was surprised to find a last-minute cancellation. Well, that worked out great. She had just been about to turn someone down for a week’s stay starting tomorrow night. Quickly, she did the paperwork, and feeling magnanimous, returned the deposit, then booked the new guest. And that was it for the night. She was exhausted.
Before she turned off her computer, two more reviews caught her eye. More Noah fan club members.
Review by: Tammy from Chicago
**** 4 out of 5 stars
I spent a week at the Sundance in August. Sheer heaven. Never thought I’d like going to the Wild West but could’ve easily stayed a month. My friend dragged me. I totally owe her flowers. Beautiful scenery. The food was way too good. Best of all, the cowboys were smokin’ hot, and not just the brothers on the
website, who were even better-looking in person. Lots of cute wranglers, and if you go, get a load of the sheriff, a man who knows how to fill out a uniform. I’m saving up to go back next year. I would’ve given the place five stars if someone had hooked me up with that hunk wearing the badge.
Review by: Miranda from San Francisco
***** 5 out of 5 stars
OMG I just had the best vacation ever! I like horseback riding and hiking and I’m basically an outdoors kind of gal. All the activities the Sundance offers are super fun, and the best part—Trace, the McAllister brother with the tan Stetson in the home page photo, was totally hands-on and yes, he’s as gorgeous as he looks in the pic. But don’t overlook Sheriff Noah Calder. Make a point of visiting Blackfoot Falls, about half an hour away. There’s a quaint bar there called The Watering Hole. And did I mention the sheriff? J
Rachel grinned. Trace ate up the attention, but poor Noah. He was going to head for the hills.
1
ALANA RICHARDSON HAD PRECISELY one hour to vacate her office. She kicked off her new Christian Louboutins, swung her stockinged feet onto her desk and stared out the large glass windows at her perfect view of Madison Avenue and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The autumn sky was more gray than blue, but the trees compensated for the drabness with their orange and yellow brilliance. Normally October was her favorite month. But not this year, not with the move from Midtown to Tribeca, with which she was in total disagreement.
She was the newly appointed vice president of marketing for an ad agency that had laughed in the face of recession. Partly thanks to her, they’d increased their net worth by fifty percent and had outgrown the twenty-first-floor office that was more home to Alana than her Upper West Side apartment. Though sentiment had nothing to do with her attitude toward the move. What she objected to was being sidelined for an entire week. The whole transfer of files and furniture and computers could’ve happened in two days if her boss had been more reasonable.
She flexed her toes. Damn, her feet hurt. The four-inch heels weren’t the problem; for her those were standard. They put her at six feet and brought her eye-to-eye with, and sometimes taller than, most of her male coworkers. She liked the psychological advantage. For some of her peers it didn’t seem to matter that she was at the top of her game, or that she worked harder than anyone else. They thought she was too young, too green to have moved up the ladder so quickly.
At least no one assumed she’d slept her way into her position. She wasn’t unattractive, but she was no great beauty, either. She simply didn’t have the kind of face and body that made men stupid enough to pass out unearned promotions.
Her office door opened, no knock first, which meant it was her assistant, Pam. Alana turned from the window and eyed the blonde’s jeans. She hadn’t wasted any time in shifting out of work mode. “I thought you were coming to tell me you were staying in the city with me.”
Pam tilted her head to the side. “Let’s see…skiing in the Alps with Rudy or working fourteen-hour days with you. I’ll have to think about that for a second.” With her usual deadpan expression, she checked her watch. “You can still come with us. Our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours.”
“Pass.”
“So you’re going to stay cooped up in your apartment and work.”
“I’ve been meaning to see Wicked, and that other one….” Alana waved her hand. “That musical with what’s his name.”
Pam shook her head in resigned dismay. Young, only twenty-five, she’d been three years behind Alana at Yale. But she was sharp, ambitious and didn’t miss a trick. That’s why she’d been hired twenty minutes into her interview. She reminded Alana of herself. With the exception that Pam had the good sense to spend a week in the Alps and regenerate, while Alana planned on burying herself in ad copy.
“I want to show you something, and I need you to promise to keep an open mind.” Pam moved around the desk, shoving Alana’s feet off and taking over her keyboard.
“I’m not promising anything.” Alana rolled her chair back to give her assistant room. Though Pam seemed distracted by something under the desk.
She dragged out Alana’s wastebasket and sighed at the remains of the desktop Zen garden Pam had given her as a stress reliever. The sand had fallen to the bottom of the basket and the miniature wooden rake had snapped in two. “I see this worked well.”
“Actually, it did.” Alana smiled. “Trashing the whole thing felt remarkably soothing.”
With an eye roll, Pam went to work, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She brought up a website and stood back. “Check this out.”
Alana scooted closer, squinting at the startling expanse of blue sky above a huge log-cabin-style house. In the lower corner of the screen were three cowboys, but it was one of their horses that caught her attention. With that lean, powerful body and a shimmering gray mane, he looked like an Arabian, but she couldn’t be sure from the picture. What was this, anyway? Her gaze went to the top of the screen. The Sundance Dude Ranch.
It took a second for the words to register. She narrowed her gaze on her assistant. “A dude ranch. Me. You’re kidding.”
“Why not? You like to ride. Do it where the air is clean and men are men.”
Alana laughed. “I haven’t been riding in years.” She slid another look at the three cowboys. Not bad, if a woman liked the rugged outdoor sort….
“All the more reason to get your overworked type A ass out of the city and do something fun for a change.”
Groaning, Alana swiveled to find her shoes. “Remind me why I keep you around.”
“Because I don’t take your crap, I’m very good at what I do, and I know how to fix your computer,” she said, then pointedly added, “without erasing the entire hard drive.”
“God, I’m going to hear about that for the rest of my life.”
“Take a damn vacation, Richardson. You need it.”
“A dude ranch. Sure thing.” She winced, trying to stuff her foot back into the narrow shoe. It had to be the correct size. Her personal shopper had chosen them, but they were new. Alana had figured half a day’s wear would be enough to break them in.
“Look, I probably wouldn’t have thought of it on my own, but I have friends who went last month, and they came back raving about the place. Plus they said the guys were totally hot.”
“You have time for friends? Obviously I don’t work you hard enough.”
“Just read some of the reviews.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Pam exhaled in that long-suffering way she had perfected. “You are so myopic.”
Alana quit trying to put on the shoe and brought it up for closer inspection. Her eyes were tired from another late night reviewing ads, and the print was too blurry. “This is an eight, right?” She showed the toeless black pump to Pam.
“That’s not what I meant.” Clearly annoyed, her assistant ducked her head to glance at the size. “Yes,” she said, her expression changing to one of banked amusement. “By the way, your mother called while you were meeting with Mr. Giles.”
That was odd. Eleanor rarely called the office. Alana opened the desk drawer where she kept her cell and saw that she had several messages waiting. “And?”
“She’s lecturing at a conference in Boston this weekend. After that she’s going to the Cape for a few days. She wanted to let you know she’d be away.”
A sick feeling churned in Alana’s stomach. “You didn’t tell her about the move,” she said, not liking the knowing gleam in her assistant’s eye. “Or that the office would be closed.”
“I’m not sure.” Pam frowned, but couldn’t quite keep a straight face. “I might have mentioned it. Was that wrong?”
“I’m not afraid of her.” Not a total lie. Terrified was a better description. The woman wasn’t a monster, nothing like that. But if Alana thought she was good at manipulating people, Dr. Eleanor Richardson was the damn master. Nine out of ten times she could get her only daughter to cr
umble like a stale brownie. And if her mother knew she was free, she’d insist Alana accompany her to the Cape. “I can say no to Eleanor.”
“Of course you can.” Pam grinned as she moved around the desk toward the door. “But you know, with all the fall foliage, Cape Cod is gorgeous this time of year….”
Sighing, Alana dug out her phone. All three messages were from Eleanor. Oh, crap.
“Have fun with Mom,” Pam said on her way out with a wave over her shoulder.
“That was so beneath you,” Alana muttered, loudly enough for Pam to hear, then drummed her short, pale, manicured nails on her desk while staring at the phone as if it were the enemy.
She had to call her mother back. If she didn’t, Eleanor would inevitably show up at Alana’s apartment. The doormen all knew her. They’d probably lay out the damn red carpet without even giving Alana a heads-up that her mother was in the building.
And why not? Eleanor Richardson was beautiful and charming, a world-renowned psychiatrist who knew exactly how to get what she wanted. With her expertise perpetually in demand, she was wined and dined, courted by some of the most prestigious institutions in the world. The woman knew no humility, though Alana marveled at how well her mother hid her arrogance and sense of entitlement. Her ability was truly something. Almost enviable.
The thought made Alana shudder. She loved her mother and respected her because she really was brilliant and worked hard—her discipline was an amazing thing. But Alana didn’t want to be like her. Eleanor had no friends. Never in a hundred years could Alana imagine her having a conversation like the one she herself had just had with Pam. It was a small thing, perhaps, and there were many qualities passed on to her from her mother for which Alana was grateful.
She also appreciated the top-notch education she’d been provided, the fabulous trips abroad, the trust fund that guaranteed she’d never have to worry about her future. But the perks had come at a price. A normal childhood had been the trade-off. No sleepovers or going off to summer camp or attending Friday-night school football games like her classmates. No father to read her stories or tuck her in at night.