Raffling Ryan

While he was hot, sweaty, dirty and felt pretty much like he’d been hired out to be on a chain gang, not raffled as someone’s dream date. Definitely not appreciated.

And, unfortunately, not very well equipped to look good while he was mucking around doing chores the rest of the male world could probably complete with one hand tied behind their backs.

He had a huge pull in the front of his brand-new designer shirt, a cartoon bandage on his elbow, smears of dirt all over his khaki slacks and it seemed that he’d somehow gotten something green stuck in his hair that Janna hadn’t bothered to tell him about.

He could cheerfully strangle the woman.

What really bothered him, and what he really wished he wouldn’t be considering, or worrying about, was what a really rotten impression he must be making on Janna Monroe.

Not that he liked her…

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Sally Hawkes, just because.

the New York Times bestselling author of more than two dozen books, divides her creative time between writing contemporary romance and Regency novels. Married and the mother of four, Kasey’s writing has garnered the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Medallion Award and the Romantic Times Magazine’s Best Regency Trophy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Almira Chandler rode along the Appalachian trails to the sound of birdsong, the wind rippling through the tall trees, and the sound of her own heavy breathing. Three miles, uphill, and then she could coast awhile, as the bike traveled downhill.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, came the sound of voices raised in near whoops. Outlaws about to attack? The end of the world? Somebody knocking on the door to announce that the long-suffering Chandler housekeeper, Mrs. Ballantine, had won some million-dollar sweepstakes?

Almira had little time to reflect, as the door to her ground-floor exercise room flew open, banging hard against the doorstop as Maddy Chandler O’Malley burst into the room, flapping her arms as if about to take flight.

Almira kept pedaling, kept her eyes on the moving screen in front of her that showed she had less than half a mile to go before she could coast. It was, after all, only Maddy. Maddy got excited when one of her roses bloomed. She went into ecstasies when her soufflés didn’t fall—which they never did.

Whatever it was that Maddy had to tell her, it could wait until Almira was on the downhill side of the mountain.

Maddy skidded to a halt in front of her grandmother, waved her hands to get the woman’s attention. When that failed, she did the unthinkable. She turned off the exercise video.

“That’s it, kiddo, you’re out of the will,” Almira gasped breathlessly, her pumping legs slowing down without the incentive in front of her. Incentive like a carrot in front of a donkey, she’d always said, but it worked for her. At seventy, she needed whatever worked for her.

“This can’t wait, Allie,” Maddy told her. “Jessica’s back from the doctor. Remember? She and Matt went today for that sonogram, ultrasound—whatever. You’ll never guess. You’ll never, never ever guess!”

Allie let go of the handlebars and checked her pulse. Calming wonderfully, right on schedule. This bike-riding stuff just might help her heart, along with her calves. Although it was her calves that concerned her, had gotten her on the bike in the first place. Not that Almira Chandler was vain.

Well, maybe just a little. There had been those cosmetic surgeries, hadn’t there? But she had long ago convinced herself that if she was to keep up with her three grandchildren, she couldn’t give in to age and go sit in a corner somewhere, watching soap operas.

“I’d never guess, huh?” Allie said now, stepping off the bicycle and accepting the white terry towel Maddy tossed in her direction. “Let’s see. Twins?”

“Allie! Why are you always doing that?”

It had been a logical assumption, not that Allie wanted to point that out to her youngest granddaughter. She had two guesses otherwise: boy or girl. But Maddy had said she’d never guess. That ruled out any fifty-fifty shots. Besides, Almira was too busy being stunned, from the hot-pink terry band around her forehead, straight down to her designer sneakers. “Twins? Jessica really is carrying twins?”

That was what Maddy had wanted to see—her grandmother flustered. It didn’t happen often, and Maddy wished she’d thought to pick up a camera and bring it into the exercise room with her. “Twins, Allie,” she repeated. “Jess had to drive back here from the doctor’s, because Matt seems to be in shock. Joe’s with them in the other room, fanning poor Matt with the sports section of the morning paper. Oh, and neither one will tell us the sex, although they already know. That’s mean.”

“And Jessica?” Allie asked carefully. She knew this pregnancy hadn’t been planned—had even preceded the late-July marriage ceremony by about two months. Now, in only mid-September, Jessica had been reluctantly wearing maternity clothing, moaning about her weight gain, and swearing she’d be as big as a house before she finally delivered.