“Come with me, Anna,” he beckoned.
“There’s no cowboy named K.C. There’s no Countess. There’s only Kent Coleman Landover, and he most definitely isn’t in love with a cleaning lady. You don’t remember now, but one day, you will.”
He grasped her arms. “There is a lot I don’t remember. I don’t remember how I made all this money or why I built a big white box of a house or why I spent my days behind a desk in a room where the windows don’t open. They tell me I did all of that, and at this point, I’ve got to believe them, because I don’t remember anything…except for one thing.”
He reached for a stray strand of her hair, lifting it gently. “I remember you, Anna. You and me.”
Dear Reader,
Spring is coming with all its wonderful scents and colors, and here at Mills & Boon American Romance we’ve got a wonderful bouquet of romances to please your every whim!
Few women can refuse a good bargain, but what about a sexy rancher who needs a little help around the house? Wait till you hear the deal Megan Ford offers Rick Astin in Judy Christenberry’s The Great Texas Wedding Bargain, the continuation of her beloved miniseries TOTS FOR TEXANS!
Spring is a time for new life, and no one blossoms more beautifully than a woman who’s WITH CHILD…. In That’s Our Baby!, the first book in this heartwarming new series, Pamela Browning travels to glorious Alaska to tell the story of an expectant mother and the secret father of her child.
Then we have two eligible bachelors whose fancies turn not lightly, but rather unexpectedly, to thoughts of love. Don’t miss The Cowboy and the Countess, Darlene Scalera’s tender story about a millionaire who has no time for love until a bump on the head brings his childhood sweetheart back into his life. And in Rita Herron’s His-and-Hers Twins, single dad Zeke Blalock is showered with wife candidates when his little girls advertise for a mother…but only one special woman will do!
So this March, don’t forget to stop and smell the roses—and enjoy all four of our wonderful Mills & Boon American Romance titles!
Happy reading!
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
The Cowboy and the Countess
Darlene Scalera
To my children, J.J. and Ariana. You are my heart.
Acknowledgment:
Special thanks to Gail Fiorini-Jenner, teacher, writer and cattle rancher, for her generosity and patience with a tenderfoot.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DARLENE SCALERA is a native New Yorker who graduated magna cum laude from Syracuse University with a degree in public communications. She worked in a variety of fields, including telecommunications and public relations, before devoting herself full-time to romance fiction writing. She was instrumental in forming the Saratoga, New York, chapter of Romance Writers of America and is a frequent speaker on romance writing at local schools, libraries, writing groups and women’s organizations. She currently lives happily ever after in upstate New York with her husband, Jim, and their two children, J.J. and Ariana. You can write to Darlene at P.O. Box 217, Niverville, NY 12130.
Books by Darlene Scalera
MILLS & BOON AMERICAN ROMANCE
762—A MAN FOR MEGAN
807—MAN IN A MILLION
819—THE COWBOY AND THE COUNTESS
Contents
Chapter One
“If he’s a cowboy, then I’m a kielbasa,” the man declared.
“Kielbasa.” The word felt full, fun on K.C.’s tongue, and he smiled. To the man at the foot of his bed, he asked, “You’re a foreigner, then?”
The man looked down the length of the bed. He was squat and fierce. His cheeks were red as if burned by a fast razor, and he spoke in spasms broken by greedy gulps of air. But when K.C. looked him in the eyes, he felt the familiarity of an old friend. He liked this man.
The man attempted a smile. The effort only diminished some of the slack in his razor-scraped cheeks. “I’m not a foreigner, and you’re not a cowboy. Your name is Kent—”
“Landover.”
“You know your name?” Now the man smiled, his neck bulging above his shirt collar. A red dot rose on the expanded flesh, a lone pimple beheaded. Another victim of the wounding razor.
“Yessir, I know my own name.”
The man glanced at the white-coated trio behind him. He looked back at K.C., his eyes rich velvet triumph.
“But everyone calls me K.C.”
The man’s eyes dulled.
“Now I understand your confusion about the cowboyin’. Tethered to this bed, trussed up in this get-up—” K.C. plucked at the faded front of the gown “—I hardly look like a man who can brand several hundred calves in a day and birth a few more in the night, if need be. But believe me, in here—” he flattened a palm across his chest “—there beats the heart of one of the last true wranglers.”
The man looked at him, his expression glazed. He muttered several profanities. “Listen to me, you’re no cowboy. You’re the founder, the CEO of Landover Technology. Generation X’s golden boy. The digital era’s David. The youngest head honcho of a company ever to earn a Fortune 500 ranking. Cowboy?” The man’s fleshy cheeks jiggled as he spoke. “Cowboy?”
One of the white-coated trio stepped forward and touched the fat-faced man’s elbow.
The man turned. “You know he’s Kent Landover.” His voice ballooned; his body