PROMISES PREVAIL.

SARAH MCCARTY.

Dedication.

For Kimberly, who can laugh in the face of adversity and persevere despite the odds. May life reward you with your fondest dream come true.

And from the real Danny and the incredible Jebediah: Thank you Carol and Dorothy of the Bartow County Humane Society for recognizing the greatness of these phenomenal dogs despite their physical conditions.

Illness can be cured, wounds can be healed, but only a family could fill the void in their devastated hearts. You made that possible. Rescue thanks you and so do their forever homes..

Trademarks Acknowledgement.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarksmentioned in this work of fiction:.

Stetson: John B. Stetson, Company.

Chapter One.

Clint couldn't believe he was doing this again.

Another Sat.u.r.day, another woman. Another pointless excursion to the Sweet Thyme Bakery in search of a connection that wasn't going to happen. He'd long since given up that it ever would, so now his search for a wife was purely a matter of lining up traits and searching for a woman who fit them. The same way he selected a brood mare for his breeding program.

He glanced down at the young woman at his side.

She smiled up at him, all hope and innocence. So pure she made him feel ancient. Rebecca Salisbury was his latest hopeful. She possessed all the qualities a good wife should have-good breeding, good training, and good wide hips for easy childbirth. He knew he wouldn't have with her the pa.s.sionate love his cousin Cougar had with his wife, but she'd be stable and a good mother.

Most importantly, she wouldn't clutter up his calm with a lot of emotion. He cupped Rebecca's elbow in his palm and helped her up the wooden steps to the walkway.

Peace, he'd discovered, was a hard won commodity.

The smells from the bakery wrapped around himlike a fragrant hug, soothing his senses.

Rebecca paused and waited for him to open the door. Her smile was shy as he reached over her shoulder.

His response was an automatic stretch of his lips, but his attention was ahead of them, checking out the small, crowded shop and its occupants-most especially the owner.

She was just stepping out from behind the counter, her gait more awkward than usual. He ushered Rebecca in ahead of him, watching Jenna Hennesey as he did, noting the lines of strain on her face, frowning as she pulled up with a gasp, pausing, her focus turning inward. No doubt controlling the pain that all this running around was provoking in her damaged leg.

d.a.m.n it! He'd told her to hire some help.

He knew the minute she saw him. It wasn't obvious as she kept her head down and rarely met anyone's eyes, but the slight start in her body, and the blush that surged over her cheeks were dead giveaways.

"I'll be right with you," she called across the small room. Her voice, with its husky timbre, tickled his senses like a lure. He didn't like the way she could slip under his calm, yet at the same time some perverse part of him relished these little moments of connection. As if Jenna could ever be for him.

His "Take your time" coincided with Rebecca's"Thank you".

He watched as Jenna brought the tray of coffee and dessert to the older couple at the table in the far corner.

Their greeting was warm. Hers was quiet and una.s.suming like the woman herself. Jenna Hennesey was sweet, shy and the biggest temptation he'd ever fought off in his life.

Jenna laughed at something the older couple, the Jacobsons, said. Her dimples flashed, sparking that wild core of l.u.s.t inside of him that he tried to keep contained.

The Jacobsons laughed back. They'd come to help their daughter through her lying-in and had stayed. That was happening more and more frequently, proving the theory of the town fathers that Cheyenne just might become civilized after all.

"Word must be out that Jenna can cook." Rebecca stepped back into him as a little boy rushed past her on his way to the counter. For one second, her rear pressed against his groin. It would have been nice if his body gave a s.h.i.t. She blushed and stepped away. He merely nodded in response to her "Excuse me". She was beautiful and perfect, but she left him cold.

The boy reached the counter and proceeded to hop from one foot to the other as he waited for Jenna to notice him. Little Fred was the spitting image of his pa, and at six looked as though he'd have his father's size andbuild. And his lack of patience.

"That's Cyrus' boy, isn't it?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes. Once a week Gertie sends him in for cinnamon buns." Speculation was rampant as to what Cyrus did for the woman to get that boon. Gertie could pinch a penny until it screamed.

As soon as Jenna noticed the boy, she dropped everything and walked away from her customers, a smile on her full, soft lips, her dimples coming to life. Clint's c.o.c.k came to life right along with them. The woman had a killer smile.

She smoothed the boy's hair, the gesture so soft and gentle that it made Clint ache. He wanted that softness for himself, and the knowledge that there wasn't much stopping him from taking it ate at his decency. Jenna was alone in the world. Fair game. And she owed him. All he had to do was say the word, and she'd be his. There was nothing stopping him but his own d.a.m.ned conscience.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h, it was a pain having a conscience.

"It'd be nice if she could make a go of the place,"

Rebecca murmured, watching them. "My momma said she had a hard time of it after her husband died."

She'd had a harder time of it when he was alive, but Clint didn't mention that. That was Jenna's secret. A tinge of guilt hit his conscience when he caught the admiring glance Rebecca shot him. It said more clearly than wordsthat she considered him husband material. He mentally shook his head. Some women just had no sense.

He glanced at Jenna. She had sense, along with the incredible strength that allowed her to endure and rebuild when others would have just given up. Problem was, she was too often done in by her big heart. He frowned as she wrapped some cookies in a napkin and slipped them to Fred. There was no way that Gertie had sent more than the cost of the rolls with the kid. Now Jenna was going to be out the cost of the cookies and the cost of the napkin. All because she was a soft touch. So d.a.m.ned soft that he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep his hands off of her. He might be a son of a b.i.t.c.h, but he hoped to h.e.l.l he wasn't that far gone.* * * * *

Jenna put the tray on the counter, quelled the unease that always nibbled at her calm when she was around McKinnely, put on her most welcoming smile, and turned to face the couple standing just inside the door.

They were a beautiful study in contrasts. Big Clint McKinnely with his dark skin and darker eyes, and that generous, purely masculine mouth was standing beside the tall, elegant mayor's daughter with her fair skin, smattering of freckles, and easy smile. Of the two, Rebecca was the least intimidating so Jenna focused on her.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting but if you'll follow me, your table is ready."

Rebecca smiled and placed her hand on Clint's arm.

"Thank you."

Clint didn't say anything, just followed in her wake.

Jenna knew he was annoyed that she hadn't addressed him directly, but she couldn't. The man made her a bundle of nerves, always watching her. If he were a gentler kind of man, she might have hoped for his interest, but Clint was so aggressively masculine that she wondered why lawbreakers even bothered to resist whenhe went after them. She had only to look at him to know that he would always have his way. In everything.

She blamed him entirely when she stumbled.

Anyone would be nervous to be watched so intently.

Still, she would have been fine if her weight hadn't fallen on her bad leg, and it hadn't chosen that moment to collapse. Behind her she heard someone gasp as she lurched into an empty table. For one second she caught herself on the edge, but then it skipped out from under her. One minute, she was falling and the next she was being yanked against the hard surface of a well-muscled chest. She breathed deeply as the scents of man, smoke and pine swept over her. Clint had saved her. Again.

His hand slid down her back, and she mentally moaned. Why had she chosen today of all days to not wear her best corset? At least with that corset some of her...ampleness would have been contained. His big hands spanned her waist and he set her away from him.

Heat surged to her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"No harm done." Though he'd pushed her a foot away, he didn't release her. His hands on her waist burned like fire as he steadied her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just stumbled."

"Maybe you should sit down for a minute?" Rebecca suggested as Clint stepped back, holding out a chair, frowning with concern.Jenna mentally sighed. She was so tired of being pitied. "Really, I'm fine."

The glance Clint cast from under his hat brim said he had doubts. She ignored it. "If you'll take your seats, I'll be right with you. Would you like tea or coffee?"

Rebecca's request for tea was no more a surprise than Clint's request for black coffee. She glanced across the restaurant and pressed her skirt against the knot below the scar on her leg. The coffeepot was a long way away.

She gritted her teeth and headed for it, doing her best to smooth her gait. She made it back to the table without incident. Before she could set the tray down, Clint had it out of her hands and on the table.

"You need to rest."

"I'm fine."

"You are not making me happy."

A kernel of dread took root in her stomach. "I'm sorry."

She ducked her head and waited. He wasn't her husband, but he was a man and she was a woman alone.

He could pretty much demand whatever he wanted and she would have to obey. She could feel Rebecca's stare as well as Clint's. Bile rose in her throat as she waited for Clint's decision.

"Could we see the menu?" Rebecca asked.Jenna wanted to move more than anything, but the years of training froze her in place until Clint released her with a sigh. "Fetch the menus, Jenna."

Clint's black gaze followed her as she moved away.

She shivered. He was such an intense man. There was no telling what he was thinking. He frowned as she neared the table, and his gaze dropped. As much as she'd like to believe that it was her rose-colored skirt cut to de- emphasize her generous hips that caught his eye, she knew differently.

She was limping. There wasn't anything she could do about that. All this extra business waiting on what used to be only occasional tables was heck on her leg. She forced a more normal stride. It was vain and pointless, but she didn't want to look weak in front of him. She struggled to keep from gasping as pain knifed up her thigh.

"Here are today's choices, Mr. McKinnely." From the way Clint's eyes narrowed, she knew he hadn't missed the breathless quality of her voice after that last step. If he knew how much pain she was in, he'd be furious.

Ever since he'd saved her life, he'd been protective. If he didn't completely ignore her otherwise, she'd think he was staking a claim. But until this last week, he'd never approached her or spoken to her personally. For which she was eternally grateful."Mr. McKinnely, Jenna?" Clint asked, taking the paper menus from her hand.

Dropping her gaze at Clint's disapproving tone was as much instinct as it was upbringing. Clint had a way of speaking that demanded compliance. She barely stopped herself from apologizing. But she did. She wasn't with her father, her husband, or their church anymore. She was an independent woman.

From beneath her lashes, she saw Rebecca shoot Clint a quick look as he read the short menu, caught a glimpse of conclusion as she looked between them, and then saw her frown of disapproval.

Jenna winced. Rebecca wasn't the first woman to a.s.sume Clint had a relationship with her. He had given her the money for her bakery and he was a frequent customer, though if they thought she was his mistress, she didn't know what they thought about him doing his courting here.

She wet her dry lips. She didn't meet Rebecca's eyes as the flush rushed over her cheeks. She struggled through her embarra.s.sment for a business-like tone. "I'm out of chicken soup, but I have a nice beef barley all ready to go."

"That'll be fine." Clint looked around. "Business looks good."

"It is."He leaned back in his chair. "Enough to have that leg giving you trouble?"

Heat crept into her cheeks anew. She wished he wouldn't always notice her weaknesses. "No more than usual."

"You were limping."

"I always limp."

His frown deepened. "Not that much."

She shrugged. "It can't be helped."

His black eyes cut to hers, unreadable as always, as he said in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice, "You could get off it. Put it up. Wrap a warm towel around it."

She fought down the instinctive urge to leap to do as he wanted. "I will when I close up shop."

His gaze flicked over her face, no doubt taking in every sign of the tiredness and strain she tried to hide.

"That's not for four hours."

It was a reasonable observation in a reasonable tone of voice, but the underlying censure p.r.i.c.ked her nerves.

"Clint," Rebecca interjected gently. "I'm sure Mrs.

Hennesey knows when she needs to rest."

Jenna's "Thank you" coincided with Clint's "Maybe".

Rebecca shook her head, a reprimand that Jenna couldn't ever imagine giving a man. "You're embarra.s.sing Mrs. Hennesey."His gaze never left Jenna. "Maybe."

No maybe about it. He was. Jenna felt inferior enough in front of perfect Rebecca without him making a fuss about something that couldn't be helped.

"I can't afford to close early."

Rebecca shot Jenna a sympathetic glance. "Honestly Clint, no woman likes to have it pointed out that she's crippled."

Jenna clutched her pencil in her hand. She knew how her limp made her look to others, but she wasn't a cripple.