Miss Maple and the Playboy

Ben stood there for a minutelooking at her. Don’t do it, he toldhimself. She wasn’t ready to haveher world rattled. She wasn’tready for a man like him. Therewas no sense complicating thingsbetween them.

But as it turned out Beth made the choice, not him. Just as he turned to go out the door he felt her hand, feather-light, on his shoulder. He turned back, and it was she who stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

It was like tasting cool, clean water after years of drinking water gone brackish. It was innocence in a world of cynicism. It was beauty in a world that had been ugly. It was a glimpse of a place he had never been.

So, the truth was not that she was not ready for a man like him. The truth was that he was not ready for a woman like her.

Who would require so much of him. Who would require him to learn his whole world all over again. Who would require him to be so much more than he had ever been before.

Cara Colter lives on an acreage in British Columbia, with her partner, Rob, and eleven horses. She has three grown children and a grandson. She is a recent recipient of the Romantic Times BOOKreviews Career Achievement Award in the ‘Love and Laughter’ category. Cara loves to hear from readers and you can contact her, or learn more about her, through her website: www.cara-colter.com

Enjoy a winter warmer from Cara Colter in December:

Snowbound Bride-to-Be

Dear Reader

As I write, it is fall in Canada—a gorgeous season of vibrant colour, cold nights and sunshine-filled days. Yesterday I rode my Appaloosa, Dakota, on a winding forest trail, the leaves crunching under his feet, the crisp, clean aroma of autumn in the air. I was so aware that this experience of total connection, of intense engagement with my senses and my surroundings, was becoming part of who I am and what I bring to the world. I was drawing this perfect experience deep within me, as a source of energy and inspiration to tap during the long coming months of winter.

Everyone has something that makes them feel all will be right in a mixed-up world. Whether it is dancing or gardening, or curling up with a wonderful book, I encourage each of you to find that place that sends you back to your daily life rejuvenated and ready to take on the challenges of everyday life. I am deeply honoured that some of you choose to do that through my stories.

With warmest wishes

Cara

BY

CARA COLTER

To Chris Bourgeois,

aka riding buddy, drifter, equine therapist

CHAPTER ONE

“IT SUCKS to be you.”

Ben Anderson opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again. He contemplated how those few words summed up his life and decided the assessment was not without accuracy. Of course, the truth of those words was closely linked to the fact he had become guardian to the boy who had spoken them, his eleven-year-old nephew, Kyle.

It was a position Ben had held for precisely ten days, the most miserable of his life, which was saying quite a bit since he had spent several years in the Marine Corps, including an eight-month tour of duty in the land of sand and blood and heartbreak.

At least over there, Ben thought, there had been guidelines and rules, a rigid set of operating standards. Becoming Kyle’s guardian was like being dropped in the middle of a foreign country with no backup, no map, and only a rudimentary command of the language.

For instance, did he tell Kyle he was sick of the expression It sucks to be you or did he let it pass?

While contemplating his options, Ben studied the envelope in front of him. It was addressed to Mr. Ben Anderson and in careful brackets Kyle’s Guardian just so that where was no wriggling out of it. The handwriting was tidy and uptight and told Ben quite a bit about the writer, though Kyle had been filling him in for the past ten days.

Miss Maple, Kyle’s new teacher at his new school was old. And mean. Not to mention supremely ugly. “Mugly,” Kyle had said, which apparently meant more than ugly.

She was also unfair, shrill-voiced and the female reincarnation of Genghis Khan.

Kyle was a surprising expert on Genghis Khan. He’d informed Ben, in a rare chatty moment, that a quarter of the world’s population had Khan blood in them. He’d said it hopefully, but Ben doubted with Kyle’s red hair and freckles that his nephew was one of them.

Ben flipped over the envelope, looking for clues. “What does Miss Maple want?” he asked Kyle, not opening the letter.

“She wants to see you,” Kyle said, and then repeated, “It sucks to be you.”

Then he marched out of his uncle’s kitchen as if the fact that his old, mean and ugly teacher wanted to see his uncle had not a single thing to do with him.

Ben thought the responsible thing to do would be to call his nephew back and discuss the whole “it sucks” thing. But fresh to the concept of being responsible for anyone other than himself, Ben wasn’t quite sure what the right thing to do was with Kyle. His nephew had the slouch and street-hardened eyes of a seasoned con, but just below that was a fragility that made Ben debate whether the Marine Corps approach was going to be helpful or damaging.