Only Hers Read online

  “Francis Ray creates characters and stories that we all love to read about.”

  —Eric Jerome Dickey

  Praise for Francis Ray’s novels

  ONE NIGHT WITH YOU

  “Master craftswoman that she is, Francis Ray is gifted at creating heart-warming love scenes that never leave you hanging.”

  —Romance in Color

  “Ruth Grayson is a force to be reckoned with as she sets her matchmaking sights on Faith’s brother, since there is no such thing as happily single in Ruth’s world. The steam the lovers create is a pleasure to behold. Ray never disappoints!”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  NOBODY BUT YOU

  “A story that tugs at the heartstrings.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Not only does Francis Ray rock in this book but you also see a whole different side of racing that will keep you on the edge of your seat.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “A wonderful read.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Fast and fun and full of emotional thrills and sexy chills. Everything a racing romance should be!”

  —Roxanne St. Claire

  UNTIL THERE WAS YOU

  “Ms. Ray has given us a great novel again. Did we expect anything less than the best?”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

  “Crisp style, realistic dialogue, likable characters and [a] fast pace.”

  —Library Journal

  THE WAY YOU LOVE ME

  “A romance that will have readers speed-reading to the next tension-filled scene, if not the climax.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Fans of Ray’s Grayson and Falcon families will be thrilled with the first installment in the new Grayson Friends series. And this is done very well . . . told with such grace and affection that this novel is a treat to read.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

  “Francis Ray is, without a doubt, one of the Queens of Romance.”

  —A Romance Review

  ONLY YOU

  “Francis Ray’s graceful writing style and realistically complex characters give her latest contemporary romance its extraordinary emotional richness and depth.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “It’s a joy to read this always fresh and exciting saga.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

  “The powerful descriptive powers of Francis Ray allow the reader to step into the story and become an active part of the surrender . . . If you love a great love story, Only You should be on your list.”

  —Fallen Angel Reviews

  “Riveting emotion and charismatic scenes that made this book captivating . . . a beautiful story of love and romance.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “A beautiful love story as only Francis Ray can tell it.”

  —Singletitles.com

  “Readers will find a warm and wonderful contemporary romance with plenty of humor and drama. Adding a fun warmth and reality to these characters and a plot that moves quickly add all the needed incentive to read this fun book.”

  —Multicultural Romance Writers

  IRRESISTIBLE YOU

  “A pleasurable story . . . a well-developed story and continuous plot.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Like the previous titles in this series, Irresistible You is another winner . . . Witty and charming . . . Author Francis Ray has a true gift for drawing the readers in and never letting them go.”

  —Multicultural Romance Writers

  DREAMING OF YOU

  “A great read from beginning to end, it’s even excellent for an immediate re-read.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “An immensely likable heroine, a sexy man with a heart of gold, and touches of glitz and color, [this] is as unapologetically escapist as Cinderella. Lots of fun.”

  —BookPage

  YOU AND NO OTHER

  “The warmth and sincerity of the Graysons bring another book to life. . . . delightfully realistic.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Astonishing sequel . . . the best romance of the new year . . . the Graysons are sure to leave a smile on your face and a longing in your heart for their next story.”

  —ARomanceReview.com

  “There are three more [Grayson] children with great love stories in the future.”

  —Booklist

  SOMEONE TO LOVE ME

  “Another great romance novel.”

  —Booklist

  “The plot moves quickly, and the characters are interesting.”

  —Romantic Times

  “The characters give as good as they get, and their romance is very believable.”

  —All About Romance

  ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES

  BY FRANCIS RAY

  The Graysons of New Mexico Series

  Until There Was You

  You and No Other

  Dreaming of You

  Irresistible You

  Only You

  The Grayson Friends Series

  The Way You Love Me

  Nobody But You

  One Night with You

  It Had to Be You

  ~

  Someone to Love Me

  I Know Who Holds Tomorrow

  Rockin’ Around That Christmas Tree (with Donna Hill)

  Anthologies

  Rosie’s Curl and Weave

  Della’s House of Style

  Welcome to Leo’s

  Going to the Chapel

  Gettin’ Merry

  Only Hers

  FRANCIS RAY

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ONLY HERS

  Copyright © 1996 by Francis Ray.

  Cover photograph © Shirley Green

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  ISBN: 978-0-312-36511-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  ARABESQUE BOOKS edition / August 2004

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / August 2010

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To booksellers extraordinaire, Emma Rodgers and

  Ashira Tosihwe, co-owners of Black Images Book

  Bazaar in Dallas, Texas. Ladies, you’re the best.

  Thanks for everything.

  THE TAGGART FAMILY

  Chapter 1

  “This may be your last chance.”

  Shannon Johnson heard the ragged voice and bare
ly recognized it as her own. She was closer to the edge than she wanted to admit. But at least she had a chance to keep from completely going over. She owed that to a man who understood her better than her family or James Harper, the man who wanted to marry her.

  “Thanks, Wade,” she whispered, her throat tight with unshed tears. She had cried enough.

  Hands gripped at her sides, she looked out over the flower-strewn meadow, heard the rushing water of a stream edged by towering cypress two hundred feet away, then brought her gaze back to the weathered log cabin to her left.

  Arthur Ferguson, Wade’s lawyer, had told her the cabin was habitable. The old shack looked as if any strong wind would blow it down. She had heard Texas people were rugged, but she thought this was going a bit far.

  Her prominent family in St. Louis would be horrified to think she contemplated, even for a moment, the idea of actually living in such a desolate place. But then, she had horrified her parents a lot.

  Only one person in her family had always understood her and now he was gone.

  Unclenching her hands with effort, Shannon turned to get a flashlight from the glove compartment of her car. She wanted to inspect the cabin. Gripping the flashlight, she refused to think it was too late to salvage her life and her career.

  But she hadn’t wanted to come. That, too, had been forced on her. Two Code Blues and the subsequent loss of both patients in the ICCU unit where she was head nurse had sent her to the nursing lounge in tears. A job she once defied her parents to train for, she now dreaded.

  “Go home, Shannon.”

  Shannon flinched, her eyes snapping shut as she remembered the gentle but firm words of the nursing supervisor who had found her in the lounge fighting tears and an aching emptiness. The underlying reason for the directive—her increasing inability to function effectively since the death of her maternal grandfather from cancer three months previously—had sent her to Texas.

  Shannon had seen death many times in her six years of nursing, but it had never taken someone so close to her. Although the specialists had given her grandfather only six months to live after his diagnosis, she had known doctors to be wrong and had desperately clung to that belief. She wasn’t prepared for the loss or the overwhelming sense that she, as a medical professional, had failed him.

  Care of critical patients only intensified her emotional upheaval. Yet, somehow she knew moving to a less stressful unit wouldn’t help. Her grandfather’s death had taken its toll. She had lost her professional objectivity. She took things too personally and was preoccupied with her own loss. She wasn’t helping those entrusted to her by staying. They deserved and needed the full focus of their caregiver and she could no longer give it to them.

  Losing Samuel J. Rhodes had left her floundering and unsure of herself. The worst part was not knowing if she was grieving for him or for herself. She had lost her champion, her confidant, her ally.

  Shannon looked at the rough exterior of the cabin and shook her head. “You and I both have seen better days,” she muttered.

  Without further hesitation she walked to the cabin, opened the stubborn squeaking door, then let the flashlight pierce the dim interior. It was spartan and filthy. A broken, built-in mattressless bed sat on the far side of the room.

  Ten feet away an ancient-looking potbellied black stove squatted near a wood-filled apple crate. The only other piece of furniture was an overturned, three-legged wooden chair. Spider webs gleamed in the light; a wasp flew past her. It would require a lot of hard cleaning to make the place livable.

  Weariness settled in. Another hope turned to bitter regret. No matter how foolish Wade had sounded, she had prayed that the healing power of his meadow would help her, as he had predicted. She badly needed to feel life instead of the anger and misery she couldn’t shake.

  She had planned on staying in the cabin and getting her life together again. Now she realized that was no longer possible.

  The adrenaline pushing her to make the twelve-hour drive from St. Louis had evaporated. Returning to the car, she opened the trunk and pulled out the quilt given to her by Granddaddy Rhodes. It was the first thing she had grabbed when she decided to come to Jackson Falls. The lovingly hand-stitched squares of cloth was her security blanket. It was always to her grandfather that Shannon had turned when she needed reassurance and guidance.

  As the shy, youngest child with two brothers who were as assertive and as brilliant as their parents, she had turned to her grandfather a lot. He had never let her down. Now he was gone and she was lost.

  Spreading the quilt beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree, she laid down for the first time in over thirty-six hours. A trail of blue clouds sailed past under the guidance of the gentle April wind. Hands pillowed beneath her head, she closed her eyes. Immediately, sleep claimed her.

  Matt Taggart couldn’t believe a stranger was asleep in his meadow.

  Years of checking the Circle T’s range had revealed some odd things, but nothing like the scene before him. The ranch was clearly posted, and people in the area knew he didn’t make exceptions.

  Puzzled by the woman’s daring, he let his horse’s reins trail loosely between his fingers and leaned over the saddle horn to study his uninvited guest.

  Daniel’s film crew from Denver wasn’t due for another two weeks, so it wasn’t likely she was with them. Besides, the Cadillac convertible parked by the cabin had Missouri license plates.

  A frown marched across Matt’s dark-brown face as his gaze swept from the sports car to the woman with skin the color of toffee. Her long legs were shapely and elegant in khaki shorts. Her hips nicely rounded. From the way her breasts pushed against her thin yellow T-shirt, he suspected they would more than amply fill a man’s palm.

  His hand tightened on the reins. Brazos brought his sleek head up and stepped sideways. A light touch of a booted heel settled the quarter horse. The corners of Matt’s mouth tilted in wry amusement at his quick response to the woman. Must be past time for him to head to Kerrville for some R&R.

  Dismounting, he dropped the reins to the ground. Quiet, measured strides quickly carried him to the sleeping woman. Up close, he saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes that the crescent shadow of her lush lashes couldn’t hide. He knew those signs. She must have been burning the candle at both ends. Before he quit the rodeo circuit a few years back, he had burned the ends and tried the middle once or twice.

  She appeared defenseless, almost fragile, lying there with her bare lips slightly parted, her thick mane of reddish-brown hair swirling in the afternoon breeze.

  Studying her from another angle, he tried to see if he recognized her. Her face was exquisite with its high cheekbones hinting at a Native American ancestor somewhere in the family background. Her bow-shaped mouth begged to be kissed. She had a nice nose and her chin had just enough thrust to make it interesting.

  He was certain he had never seen this woman before. She wasn’t the type a man easily forgot . . . if at all.

  Maybe she was the new waitress Moses had mentioned hiring for the Longhorn Restaurant and Bar. In the small ranch town of ten thousand, Moses Dalton owned one of the few businesses that kept growing and hiring.

  If she was staying in town that meant she was off limits to him. He had made it a strict policy to steer clear of the local women. He wasn’t the staying kind and he didn’t want any problems when he moved on. As long as he kept it on the road, he didn’t have to worry about causing bad feelings between him and his neighbors and friends or, worse yet, someone trying to push him to the altar.

  Since this woman apparently felt enough at ease to fall asleep on his property, it seemed one of his hired hands didn’t share Matt’s philosophy on local women. Only three of the full-time men were single, but in today’s society marriage didn’t necessarily mean fidelity. It hadn’t meant fidelity to Matt’s ex-wife. Piercing anger no longer came with that knowledge, just an emptiness he didn’t try to fill.

  His questioning gaze again settled on the
classic lines of the sleeping woman’s face. He wondered which one of his men thought he had gotten lucky. Experience had taught him beautiful women weren’t known for their staying power. For himself, he was too busy trying to make the ranch support itself to cater to a woman’s whims no matter how tempting the outer wrapping.

  “Hey, lady. Your date’s not coming,” Matt said. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. The tips of his fingers nudged the sole of her expensive-looking sandal. No reaction. “Lady, wake up!”

  Shannon sat bolt upright at the masculine command. Heavy-lidded eyes widened as they traveled up the long, muscular jeans-clad legs of a powerfully built man. Large hands were braced on a narrow waist. A partially unbuttoned chambray shirt allowed a tempting peek at an impossibly broad chest.

  She blinked. No man’s chest could be that wide. No man could have a voice that rumbled like distant thunder nor possess velvety black eyes that made her skin tingle. Deciding she was imagining things, Shannon closed her eyes to lie back down on her quilt-covered bed of bluebonnets and buttercups.

  “Oh no you don’t, lady.”

  Strong, callused hands circled her upper arms and set her on her feet. The black eyes were even more devastating closer, just like the man. “You’re real.”

  The tall, handsome man laughed, a husky sound that vibrated down her spine. “Too bad you won’t be able to find out how real.”

  “What?”

  His sensual mouth quirked beneath his jet-black mustache. “A private joke.”

  “Oh?” Shannon said, somehow perfectly content to let him maintain his gentle hold on her arms. He had the most beautiful eyes. All dark and piercing.

  “If you keep staring at me like that, I might forget you’re off limits,” he said, his thumb stroking her skin as his voice stroked her body.

  “Off limits?” she repeated, clearly puzzled.

  His face hardened. “Forgot the man you came to see already?”

  Her confusion increasing with each second, she frowned. “I don’t—”

  “Save it, lady, I’m not interested. I know it’s a long ways from town but Jay and Elliott are busy branding. Cleve has more sense and my other hands are married. So you wasted a trip and I don’t like trespassers on my land.”