Maggie's Dad

Maggie's Dad
Diana Palmer

Dear Reader,

I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Harlequin Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Harlequin Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job, and my private life, so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Harlequin, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

DIANA PALMER

The prolific author of more than a hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.

Maggie’s Dad

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Prologue

Rain was peppering down on the roof of the small house where Antonia Hayes’s parents lived. It was a cold rain, and Antonia thought absently that she was very glad it was summer, because by early autumn that soft rain would turn to sleet or snow. Bighorn, a small town in northwestern Wyoming, was not an easy town to leave once it was covered in ice. It was rural and despite having three thousand inhabitants, it was too small to offer the transportation choices of a larger town. There wasn’t even an airport; only a bus station. The railroad ran through it, too, but the trains were spaced too far apart to do Antonia much good.

She was about to begin her sophomore year in college, at the University of Arizona in Tucson, and snow was fairly rare in that area in winter, except up in the mountains. The desert floor had light dustings, but not enough to inconvenience anyone. Besides, Antonia—having just finished her first year there—had been much too busy trying to pass her core courses and heal a broken heart to notice the weather. She did notice the summer heat now, though, she mused, and thanked God for air-conditioning.

The clock sounded and Antonia turned, her short, blond hair perky and her gray eyes full of sadness at having to leave. But fall semester started in less than a week, and she had to get back into her dorm room and set up some sort of schedule. The only comforting thing about going back was that George Rutherford’s stepdaughter, Barrie Bell, was her dorm roommate, and they got along very well indeed.

“It’s been lovely having you home for a whole week,” her mother, Jessica, said warmly. “I do wish you could have stayed the whole summer….”

Her voice trailed off. She knew, as did Antonia and Ben, her husband, why Antonia couldn’t stay in Bighorn very long. It was a source of great sadness to all of them, but they didn’t discuss it. It still hurt too much, and the gossip hadn’t quite died down even now, almost a year after the fact. George Rutherford’s abrupt move to France a few months after Antonia’s departure had quelled the remaining gossip.

Despite what had happened, George had remained a good, true friend to Antonia and her family. Her college education was his gift to her. She would pay him back every penny, but right now the money was a godsend. Her parents were well regarded in the community, but lacked the resources to swing her tuition. George had been determined to help, and his kindness had cost them both so much.

But George’s son, Dawson, and his stepdaughter, Barrie, had rallied around Antonia, defending her against the talk.

It was comforting to know that the two people closest to George didn’t believe he was Antonia’s sugar daddy. And of course, it helped that Dawson and Powell Long were rivals for a strip of land that separated their respective Bighorn ranch holdings. George had lived on his Bighorn ranch until the scandal. Then he went back to the family home he shared with Dawson in Sheridan, hoping to stem the gossip. It hadn’t happened. So he’d moved to France, leaving more bitterness between Dawson and Powell Long. There was no love lost there.

But even with George out of the country, and despite the support of friends and family, Sally Long had done so much damage to Antonia’s reputation that she was sure she would never be able to come home again.

Her mind came back to the remark her mother had just made. “I took classes this summer,” she murmured absently. “I’m really sorry, but I thought I’d better, and some of my new friends went, too. It was nice, although I do miss being home. I miss both of you.”

Jessica hugged her warmly. “And we miss you.”

“That damn fool Sally Long,” Ben muttered as he also hugged his daughter. “Spreading lies so that she could take Powell away from you. And that damn fool Powell Long, believing them, marrying her, and that baby born just seven months later…!”

Antonia’s face went pale, but she smiled gamely. “Now, Dad,” she said gently. “It’s all over,” she added with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “they’re married and they have a daughter now. I hope he’s happy.”

“Happy! After the way he treated you?”

Antonia closed her eyes. The memories were still painful. Powell had been the center of her life. She’d never imagined she could feel a love so sweeping, so powerful. He’d never said he loved her, but she’d been so sure that he did. Looking back now, though, she knew that he’d never really loved her. He wanted her, of course, but he had always drawn back. We’ll wait for marriage, he’d said.

And waiting had been a good thing, considering how it had all turned out.

At the time, Antonia had wanted him desperately, but she’d put him off. Even now, over a year later, she could still see his black eyes and dark hair and thin, wide mouth. That image lived in her heart despite the fact that he’d canceled their wedding the day before it was to take place. People who hadn’t been notified in time were sitting in the church, waiting. She shuddered faintly, remembering her humiliation.

Ben was still muttering about Sally.

“That’s enough, Ben.” Jessica laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s water under the bridge,” she said firmly. Her voice was so tranquil that it was hard for Antonia to believe that the scandal had caused her mother to have heart problems. She’d done very well, and Antonia had done everything possible to avoid the subject so that her mother wouldn’t be upset.

“I wouldn’t say Powell was happy,” Ben continued, unabashed. “He’s never home, and we never see him out with Sally in public. In fact, we never see Sally much at all. If she’s happy, she doesn’t let it show.” He studied his daughter’s pale, rigid face. “She called here one day before Easter and asked for your address. Did she write to you?”

“She wrote me.”

“Well?” he prompted, curious.