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  Eagle’s Refuge

  Regina Carlysle

  Book three in the Texas Passions series.

  When Callista Hill settles in tiny Morgan’s Creek, she vows to make a better life for herself. She never figured lust and screaming-hot orgasms were part of the equation. One look at the local bar owner and she’s flooded with the need to have him in her bed. He burns her to ash with every erotic touch, bringing her sex-starved body achingly to life.

  The instant dark, moody Mac Moreno claps eyes on Callie, he knows he wants her. Her lush curves turn him inside out and have his libido racing from zero to sixty in three seconds flat. Burning up the sheets with this sassy, sweet lady brings him back to life. But when her stalking ex hunts her down, will Callie run?

  Not if Mac can help it.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Eagle’s Refuge

  ISBN 9781419928925

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Eagle’s Refuge Copyright © 2010 Regina Carlysle

  Edited by Helen Woodall

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  Electronic book publication June 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Eagle’s Refuge

  Regina Carlysle

  Dedication

  For my partners in crime, Desiree Holt and Cindy Spencer Pape. As always, it is my supreme pleasure to be in your company. This book is also dedicated to those tender but tough cowboy heroes who make our hearts go pitty pat.

  Chapter One

  Mac Moreno leaned back against the corral fence and looked out over land that now belonged, in part, to him. A year ago, he would never have imagined such a thing but with Joe Morgan’s death, the White Eagle Ranch had been split into thirds, leaving his half sister Leah, half brother Dash and himself with a legacy that was pretty overwhelming to a guy who’d scratched out a living alone for most of his life.

  Heavy noonday sunshine beat down on him. Mac swept the battered straw cowboy hat from his head and mopped his sweaty brow with a bandana he kept tucked in his back pocket.

  Damn hot today.

  A savage shriek ripped through the air. Mac squinted at the violently blue Texas sky and watched a lone eagle glide through that vivid palette to land on the roof of the barn where it pierced him with an unblinking gaze. Eagle and man shared a moment of utter communion. No doubt the bird of prey wondered what the hell a nobody like himself was doing out here laying claim to this land, this ranch.

  Mac had asked himself the same question a million times over the past few months. Sending his gaze over the immediate area, taking in the stately ranch house in the distance, the corrals, the barn, he wondered about the fickleness of fate. His mother Elena had been the housekeeper for Joe Morgan thirty-odd years ago and on one hot Texas night, she’d slept with the boss and wound up pregnant. That event had ended her employment at White Eagle Ranch and she’d moved on to clean the houses of wealthy folks in the town of Morgan’s Creek, scratching out a living as a single mother until the day she’d died.

  Mac’s jaw tightened.

  As he shifted his gaze to the side of the barn, memories assaulted him, bitter and ultimately humiliating. He’d been sixteen, a gangly kid who knew full well the rich, powerful Joe Morgan was the father who’d never claimed him, never wanted him.

  “What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

  Mac swallowed hard. His hands were shaking but he didn’t want his father to see so he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans and tried like hell to look cool. “Looking for work, sir.”

  Joe scowled at him. He was a big man with a shock of white hair and as intimidating as hell. This was the man who didn’t want him, didn’t speak to him on the streets of Morgan’s Creek, the town that bore his name. The big man looked down and then up, taking him in, sizing him up, and Mac knew Joe Morgan didn’t like what he saw. Nope. He didn’t measure up but had he thought he would? He’d been fooling himself.

  “Aren’t you Elena Moreno’s kid?”

  “Yessir.”

  Silence fell. Mac sucked in a breath and held it. What the hell had he been thinking? Had he imagined his dad would call him son and hug him like he meant it?

  Suddenly Mac felt stupid and dumb and more on the outside than ever before.

  Why would the all-powerful Joe Morgan ever in a million years acknowledge a poor Mexican kid from the wrong side of the tracks? To most of the town, Mac was nothing but trash. He had no hope of college and could lay claim to no kind of future. Hell, his mom had saved for years just to buy him a class ring so he could remember his high school days. Dumb thing but it made Elena proud to do it. She’d saved every dime so he could have a couple of new pairs of jeans at the start of every school year. She’d worked her fingers to the bone, scrubbing toilets and polishing floors, to give him the bare necessities of life. Joe Morgan had never contributed. Not once.

  In the distance, a horse galloped across a pasture. Pretty Leah, his half sister, the legitimate child of Joe Morgan, was out riding her beautiful mare, her ponytail whipping out behind her like a shiny flag. Resentment welled up deep inside him. His heart tightened and frustration dug steely spurs into his belly. She had everything. He had nothing. The fact that she didn’t know he was her brother wasn’t the issue. Mac was so jealous he wanted to just die.

  He was the unacknowledged bastard kid of a rich dude who apparently hated his guts.

  Mac focused on the older man and wanted to kick his own ass. His being here was stupid, ridiculous.

  Joe shifted his stance and gave him a fierce look. “Think you’ve got what it takes to be a cowboy, kid?”

  The spit dried in Mac’s mouth. “Yessir.”

  “Well, I don’t think so,” he drawled. “Got plenty of hands and they don’t need to be babysitting you. Now you get on out of here, kid. You don’t belong here.”

  Mac watched him walk away without a backward glance, standing there, his eyes burning like hellfire from tears. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could to the old beat-up truck he’d borrowed from a friend. Slamming the door of the truck, he rubbed his stinging eyes before driving away.

  “Damn, brother. Way too early for such deep thinking,” Dash said with a smile as he walked up and leaned alongside Mac at the corral fence.

  “Ain’t it the truth?” Mac replaced his hat on his head and eyed his half brother. He really liked the big former cop. He was a good man who, like himself, had gotten the surprise of his life upon learning he was a one-third owner of a ranch. “These days I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”

  “Little wonder considering you close up
Hell’s Bells around two in the morning, grab a couple of hours sleep and then head straight out here to the ranch. Are those bags I see under your eyes? Hell, man. Get some sleep already.”

  After cowboying across Texas in his youth, he’d managed to save enough money to buy the town’s only honky-tonk. When his mom died, her small life insurance policy had been added to those savings, allowing him to make a healthy down payment on the club and fix it up to boot. He spent every night running the bar and the biggest part of every morning at the ranch. Doling out time between the two places was going to kill him if he didn’t watch it.

  He grinned at his brother. “Ah well, I’m not bitching. I’ll get the schedule thing figured out. I suspect I’ll head out of here after lunch and grab a nap before happy hour starts. It’ll be okay.”

  Over by the house, the kitchen door slammed and both men looked up to see Leah Morgan Duffy heading across the yard, her boots kicking up dust with every step. She was a hell of a pretty woman. He’d watched her grow up over the years. Of course, she hadn’t a clue then that she had one brother much less two. Her rich, dark brown hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail emphasizing the beauty of her face, even more prominent since her marriage not long ago. There was nothing prettier, to Mac’s way of thinking, than a woman in love. Yeah, he was a damn sap. No doubt about it.

  “Hey, guys,” she hollered out as she headed their way. Suddenly she stopped and glared. “Why the hell don’t you go to bed, big brother? You look awful.”

  “Ah, we all can’t be as purty as you, darlin’,” he teased.

  “I’m serious, Mac. Talk to him, Dash. Tell him he needs to get some sleep.” She looked at both men then focused that laser-sharp gaze on Mac. “If you would just listen to reason, you’d move into your beautiful new home and you could take better care of yourself. Heck, you could take your meals here at the ranch with Shane and me. It would be great.”

  Mac thought of the house not far from here that he’d built due to Leah’s nagging. She’d wanted her brothers to feel a part of the land and a part of the family. He’d been convinced to build but reluctance to move gnawed at him. Joe Morgan’s words from all those years ago haunted him, reminding him of the day he’d been made to feel like nothing, worthless, and not deserving of love. Every time he stepped on this land, he relived those feelings and he hated it.

  He drew in a deep breath in time to see the eagle who’d sat perched on the barn take to the skies again. Returning his gaze to the sister he was coming to love, he tapped her nose and smiled. “I’ll think about it, honey. But for now, don’t push. Okay?”

  * * * * *

  “Hey, Callie, where do you want this basket of hydrangeas?”

  Callista Hill absently looked up at her employee, a pretty twenty-something named Ashley. “Over there on the round table by the window, hon. Those colors will really pop, I’m thinking.”

  “Good idea. Everyone driving down Main can see them.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Once again, she turned her attention to arranging the armload of beautifully etched picture frames on a bureau that sat along one wall. Trying not to think about how badly her bones ached and her back hurt, she valiantly trudged ahead. When she’d purchased Morgan’s Creek’s only floral shop a month ago, she hadn’t realized how much work she’d be getting herself into. But it was good work, honest work, and yes, it served her purposes to move to a town in the middle of central Texas. No one knew her here and she could get lost in this rural setting. At least she hoped so. There was something to be said for that. So far, the few townsfolk she’d met had been friendly and welcoming.

  They also didn’t pry. A huge plus.

  Running was becoming a bad habit for her and she planned to stay put this time. So a month ago, she’d stumbled across a classified ad about this place and decided to put her floral background to good use. It was her dream really and wasn’t it about time she started living it? No more running. No more calling the police and hearing them say they couldn’t help. She was done. If her ex wanted a face-off, then he could just come and get her. She would make a stand.

  Sighing deeply, she straightened to examine her handiwork, satisfied with the presentation, then looked around The Gilded Lily. Pleasure filled her to nearly bursting when she took in the lovely flower-filled vases, and the collection of art and bric-a-brac that added to the ambience. And the place smelled like heaven. Nothing was better, in her estimation, than the fragrance of a flower shop. She’d wanted classy and elegant and believed she had achieved the perfect look for her place.

  Watching Ashley fuss and putter, Callie smiled. “Hey, chickie, let’s take a break. What do you think?”

  The younger woman straightened and tugged at the hem of her pink tee shirt. “Sounds good.”

  A few minutes later, they sat together, sipping soft drinks and munching on chips. It was mid afternoon on the third day of their grand opening week and Callie was exhausted. She’d already been hired to do the floral design for a wedding and then an elderly resident had passed away so she and her lone employee had been swamped making floral sprays and baskets to send to the funeral home and the church. It was the nature of the business and so far, it had been good.

  “I meant to thank you for pointing out that cute little rental on Peach Street,” she said.

  Ashley unhooked the clip from her long brown hair, then retwisted the mass and reapplied the clip. “Happy to do it. It’s a great house. Perfect for a single woman. Are you settled in?”

  “Pretty much. Still have some boxes to unpack and a friend in Oklahoma City is sending out a few other little things that I had in storage. Should arrive in a few days.”

  “I’m so happy she got your old house sold for you.”

  “Me too, considering the bad market. I have to say starting over in a new place is pretty challenging but I lucked out when you walked in the door looking for work. You have been a godsend,” she said, smiling. “As a stranger around here, it’s great that you can introduce me to folks when they come in the door.”

  Ashley stood and picked up the empty soft drink cans and tossed them into the trash. “It helps that I’ve lived my entire life here. That reminds me, why don’t you head out to Hell’s Bells with me tonight? I’m meeting friends for drinks and I’d love it if you would come.”

  “Hell’s Bells?”

  Ashley laughed. “Yeah, it’s the local honky-tonk.”

  “Cute name.”

  “Yeah, I think so. The club has a big neon red sign over the entrance and the L’s in Hell’s Bells are boots that move like they are dancing.”

  Callie laughed. “Sounds like a fun place. I might have to go soon.”

  “It’s clean and has the best dance floor within fifty miles. Hey, who knows? You might meet a hot cowboy. We have a few of those around here.”

  Rolling her eyes, Callie stood and wadded up the potato chip bags. “Believe me, honey, the last thing I need is a man. I could use some company though. Maybe I’ll take you up on the offer but not tonight. I’m beat and I still have a few hours before we close up.”

  Suddenly a loud buzz sounded near the back door and both women went still. “That must be the floral delivery truck from San Antonio.” She’d been expecting a shipment of fresh flowers for two days now.

  “I’ll open up for them and have them stack the boxes in the workroom out back,” Ashley said as she headed off.

  With a nod, Callie made her way back to the front of the shop in time to see a big shiny black truck pull up in front of the store. Propped against the counter, she watched as cowboy sin stepped from the cab, all six feet four inches of him. Callie’s mouth went dry. Dang. They sure grew ’em long, tall and gorgeous in this neck of the woods. Normally she wasn’t the sort of woman to turn stupid at the sight of manly eye candy. She’d stopped being a total fool a few years ago when she realized her handsome-as-sin husband hid the heart of a maniac.

  No thanks. She wasn’t about to fall int
o that trap again.

  But still she watched, unable to stop herself.

  She went still as the harsh afternoon sunlight caught his nearly shoulder length black hair. His Mexican heritage was evidence in the tones of his skin. A dark blue tee shirt molded to a chest that was, in a word, yummilicious and the faded jeans he wore hugged his hips to perfection. A silly, sex-starved woman might want to trail her fingertips over the hard mounds of his chest to test the resilience of his flesh.

  Oh wait!

  She was a sex-starved woman!

  Whoa, Nelly!

  Callie cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look anywhere but at him as he approached the door of The Gilded Lily. Behaving like a giddy teenager wasn’t her idea of class so, with effort, she reined in those little hormones that were tap dancing down her spine and doing cartwheels in her belly.

  Uh-uh. Ignoring the hormones here.

  Besides, his face probably wouldn’t match up to all that male bodily perfection. Wasn’t remotely possible.

  Then he stepped in the door, filled up her space with his size and presence and removed the battered straw cowboy hat from his head. He nodded her way.

  “Howdy, ma’am.”

  Holy guacamole!

  His face was strikingly handsome, from the dark, heavily lashed eyes to his proud nose and slashing, sharp cheekbones. The stranger’s slight smile came from beautifully sculpted, infinitely kissable lips.

  Sexual attraction reared its head and shouted Olé.

  “Hey,” she managed. “Welcome.”

  He sent his gaze around the flower-filled room before focusing like a laser on her. “Nice place you have here. Congrats on your new business.”

  “Thanks.”

  Though he clutched his hat in one big bronze hand, he reached down and lifted a brightly decorated pot of violets and frowned, giving them a sniff. When he replaced them on the table, he looked up with a shockingly white smile. “Drove by here several times and saw the grand opening sign out front. Kept meaning to stop in.”