Last's Temptation
Last grinned. “But don’t you feel the magic?”
He was strong-muscled and tall, and the dip in the ocean had left his skin gleaming.
Her nephew and niece looked up at her.
“Do you?” Curtis asked.
“Aunt Poppy?” Amelia said.
Goose pimples rose on Poppy’s arms.
“I’m always up for an adventure,” Last added with a devilish grin. “And that’s what I’m offering you.”
Poppy looked into his chocolate-brown eyes. “I don’t even know you.”
“But it’s clear you’re in a bind,” Last said, “and I’ve always been partial to coming to the rescue.”
“Children, it’s time to go. The sun is setting, and that means a bit of a chill this time of year. Goodbye, Mr. Jefferson. And good luck to you on your adventures.”
She escaped, her heart pounding. Oh, she had felt the magic.
THE JEFFERSON BROTHERS OF MALFUNCTION JUNCTION
Mason (38), Maverick and Mercy’s eldest son—He can’t run away from his own heartache or The Family Problem.
Frisco Joe (37)—Fell hard for Annabelle Turnberry and has sweet Emmie to show for it. They live in Texas wine country.
Fannin (36)—Life can’t get better than cozying up with Kelly Stone and his darling twins in a ring house in Ireland.
Laredo (35), twin to Tex—Loves Katy Goodnight, North Carolina and being the only brother to do Something Big.
Tex (35), twin to Laredo—Grower of roses and other plants, Tex fell for Cissy Kisserton and decided her waterbound way of life was best.
Calhoun (34)—Loved to paint nude women, and finally found Olivia Spinlove, the one woman who could hold his heart.
Ranger (33), twin to Archer—Fell for Hannah Hotchkiss and will never leave for the open road without her.
Archer (33), twin to Ranger—E-mail and an Aussie stuntwoman named Clove Penmire were this cowboy’s undoing.
Crockett (31), twin to Navarro—He was the first artist in the family! And his new wife, Valentine Cakes, and her daughter, Annette, have taught him the true meaning of creativity.
Navarro (31), twin to Crockett—Fell for Nina Cakes when he was supposed to be watching her sister, Valentine.
Bandera (27)—With Holly Henshaw in a hot air balloon he doesn’t need poetry to keep his mind off his troubles.
Last (26)—The only brother who finds himself a new father with no hope of marrying the mother. Will he ever find the happy ending he always wanted?
Tina Leonard
Last’s Temptation
Books by Tina Leonard
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
748—COWBOY COOTCHIE-COO
758—DADDY’S LITTLE DARLINGS
771—THE MOST ELIGIBLE…DADDY
796—A MATCH MADE IN TEXAS
811—COWBOY BE MINE
829—SURPRISE! SURPRISE!
846—SPECIAL ORDER GROOM
873—HIS ARRANGED MARRIAGE
905—QUADRUPLETS ON THE DOORSTEP
977—FRISCO JOE’S FIANCÉE*
981—LAREDO’S SASSY SWEETHEART*
986—RANGER’S WILD WOMAN*
989—TEX TIMES TEN*
1018—FANNIN’S FLAME*
1037—NAVARRO OR NOT*
1045—CATCHING CALHOUN*
1053—ARCHER’S ANGELS*
1069—BELONGING TO BANDERA*
1083—CROCKETT'S SEDUCTION*
Heather Tipton and Lorie Hart, for always being there. Joanne Reeson, you are a doll. Georgia Haynes, thank you for everything. Latesha Ballard, for making me smile. Fatin, your voice always cheers me. To all the Scandalous Ladies and Gal Pals, you are the best and truest friends.
Kimmie Eickholz, you are my best friend—I love my sissy and her angels.
Isabel Sites, you’re an awesome granny even if you are a feisty heroine.
Lisa and Dean, thank you for the Boy Scouts, lacrosse, drama, weird music and hair obsessions. I will always remember writing this book during your gall bladder removal, Dean. You were twelve, and having you at home for those three stolen weeks was an adventure that made the Jefferson boys stronger.
Many thanks to Stacy Boyd, whose memory is better than mine, and all the able editors and other people at Harlequin who have had a hand in making this series so much fun.
And to all the readers who have written to talk about it—it’s been a dream come true.
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
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Dear sons,
You’re growing up to be good men, and your mother would be proud. I know I am. Remember the things I’ve taught you. I hope you can forgive me, but if I stay any longer on the ranch where I see and hear your mother every day, I’m going to die of a broken heart. Always remember that I love you.
—Maverick Jefferson
Last Jefferson had been to hell and back.
He was not afraid of physical pain. Emotional pain he preferred to avoid, as did all his brothers. They claimed they were running from commitment, but the simple fact was that the men from the Malfunction Junction ranch were die-hard emotional-pain-avoidance junkies. No pain, all gain.
Last lived the motto as uncompromisingly as his eleven brothers. Being the youngest of twelve, he had watched. Learned. Now he possessed the soul of an escape artist. He loved his daughter, Annette. He loved his brothers and treasured his memories of growing up. And he had a soft spot for the mother of his daughter.
But, he thought, as he looked down at the California ground way, way below him, sometimes the only way to forget the past was to take a big flying leap into the future.
He held his breath the way he did before he rode a bull out of the chute. But this time instead of a bull carrying him hell-bent-for-leather into an arena, he ran until there was no ground left below his feet and nothing but a hang-glider canopy above him to keep him from leaving God’s green earth altogether.
Chapter One
If it wasn’t for the very shapely woman standing at the bottom of the California cliff, Last Jefferson might not have miscued his hang-glider landing, ending up in three feet of ocean instead of on the beach as he’d planned.
Last appreciated the female form, as did all of his brothers. Hers, he thought as she walked toward him, was worth the ocean water bath.
Until he saw the little boy and girl beside her.
Had he realized from his airborne position that the beautiful lady had two young children with her, he might have stayed dry. Unfortunately he’d been mainly focused on her sinuous shape and on the lovely cleavage gleaming above her bikini top.
The water was warmish, at least. He pulled off his helmet, grimacing.
“Are you all right?” the little boy asked. “You made a big splash when you hit the water.”
“A big splash,” his sister confirmed. “I bet the sea lions on their rocks heard it.”
Last dragged himself out of the water, checking his canopy to make certain it was still in good shape. “You two remind me of my niece and nephew back home. And they’re nothing but trouble,” he said wryly. “You two run on back to your mom. I’m fine.” And I don’t need any more wisenheimer children in my life.
Nor did he need a woman. He’d had enough trouble with t
he female gender. He should have saved himself the crash landing. He was on a mind-clearing sabbatical here in California, and he’d learned the hard way that one-night stands were not mind-clearing exercises.
His toddler daughter was proof of that.
The shapely brunette finally caught up with her children. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
His mouth watered as he got a closer look at her face. “Yes. Thank you.” Okay, God must have let one of his angels drop from the sky, because this woman was stunning.
Maybe she was a model. Wasn’t California full of models and actresses?
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Only by staying away,” he said bluntly, although he appreciated her sun-browned waist above a long black sarong. Beneath the crepe fabric he could see very shapely legs. Orange-painted toenails peeped from her leather thongs. “I’m a loner.”
“We’re loners, too,” the young boy said. “My mom’s a magician.”
Great. Just what he needed—someone who excelled in disappearing acts.
The Jefferson clan already possessed more disappearing acts than they needed, from their missing father Maverick to their eldest brother Mason, who had a habit of running off when he didn’t want to deal with his feelings for a certain lady. Right now Last was focused on his own disappearing act, while his brother Crockett tried to make a family with his new wife, Valentine—who just happened to be Last’s former one-night stand and the mother of Last’s daughter, Annette. Privacy had seemed like the proper thing for Last to give the new family, and he’d chosen not to hang around like a disgruntled shadow.
No matter how pretty this young mother was, he wouldn’t hang around here, either. “Goodbye,” he said, hauling his hang-glider down the beach.
“Hey,” the boy said, running after him. “My mom can pull a quarter from your ear.”
“Look,” Last said, not wanting to be mean, “I’ll pull a ten-dollar bill from yours if you scram.”
“Really?” The boy beamed while his sister looked on with doubt.
“Sure.” Last took a ten from the elastic-covered hidden pocket of his long swim trunks, folded it, then handed it to the boy.
“Hey! That wasn’t my ear!”
“But it is a ten. Now scram.”
“I beg your pardon!” The gorgeous-vixen mother with dark hair and snapping blue eyes snatched the money from her son and handed it back to Last.
It had been in poor taste. Last opened his mouth to apologize, except the woman whirled around, dragging her kids, one in each hand, away before he could speak.
Hellfire. He shouldn’t care, should he? He’d wanted them to bug off, and that’s what they were doing. But he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“Jeez,” he said under his breath, situating his canopy carefully on the sand. He ran after the brunette, noting that her rear view was as eye-pleasing as her front view.
Which meant spoon-style lovemaking would be a very pleasant option.
Whoa, he said to his unruly thoughts. With determination, he took his eyes off the swaying black sarong. “Excuse me.”
She didn’t turn around.
He jogged in front of her, holding up his palms in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said.
“A sorry excuse for a gentleman,” she snapped, passing him.
Gentleman? No one had ever accused him of being that. Gamely, he hustled past her. “My name’s Last Jefferson. From Texas.”
She marched past him.
The boy turned huge eyes toward him as the family walked away. “That’s a weird name,” he told Last. “Sort of like my mother’s stage name.”
Last trotted after the child, figuring he was the more receptive target for an apology. “What’s your mother’s stage name?”
“Poppy Peabody.”
“Poppy Peabody?” That was a stage name.
“The hottest female magician performing today,” the little girl said proudly. “Get your popcorn, take your seats, fellas—”
Poppy grimaced, tugging the children up the beach faster.
The “hot” part they had right. Last kept jogging alongside the boy, recognizing that the stubborn set of Poppy’s shoulders meant he wasn’t getting anywhere with her. “So what’s your name?” he asked the boy.
“Curtis. My sister’s name is Amelia.”
“Nice names.”
“Thanks. Is Last your stage name?”
“No.” Last wished Poppy would slow down. Her legs were nearly as long as his and obviously far more used to sand power-walking. “It’s all mine. Does your mother have a real name?”
“She’s not really my mother,” Curtis said in a confidential tone. “She’s our aunt.”
Aunt. Hmm. Last ignored the pleasure the knowledge gave him. “Name?”
Finally Poppy stopped. “Esmerelda Hastings,” she said curtly. “I prefer Aunt Poppy to Aunt Esmerelda, and Poppy in general.”
He blinked. “I can see where you might, although Esme is kind of cool, you have to admit. Not as dramatic, I guess.”
“Poppy and Last,” Amelia murmured, frowning. “That won’t do. You’re not The One.”
“Amelia!” Poppy said. “I apologize,” she told Last, her blush quite appealing. “They are homeschooled and quite precocious.”
“I was homeschooled, for the most part,” Last said. “We did go to public school for a few years, but more as a social exercise.” Now that he had her attention, he refused to let it go. “Can we start over?” he asked with a smile.
“I suppose,” she said reluctantly. “Although I try to discourage the children from talking to strangers. And certainly taking money from them is inappropriate.”
“You speak just like Mary Poppins,” Last said. “Very proper. Are you British?”
“Mary Poppins flew by parasol,” Amelia interrupted. “And Mr. Last flew by hang-glider, though not very well,” she finished thoughtfully. “It’s something in common.”
“I thought Mr. Jefferson did quite fine, except on the landing,” Curtis said. “They probably have lots in common.”
“Whew,” Last said, “these two are certainly trying to set you up. I’m sorry I’m not available, if for no other reason than to see what they’re up to.”
Poppy smiled sadly. “My sister passed away a year ago, and it is the children’s opinion that if they can marry me off, they will have a whole family. Like most children, having a whole family is their greatest wish.”
“No father?” Last asked quietly, watching as the children were sidetracked by a bird flying overhead.
Poppy shook her head. “No one knows where he is.”
“I know that routine,” he said with a sigh.
“Sorry?” Poppy said.
Last hadn’t seen his own father in years, though Mason kept up a diligent search. But Last wasn’t ready to go into that, not here and not with a woman as pretty as Poppy/Esmerelda. “Hey, let’s have lunch,” he said instead. “I want to hear more about this magician’s life you lead. Wasn’t it ‘the hottest female magician performing today’?”
Poppy blushed. “The children hear that every night from the announcer. Pay no attention to it.”
“How can I not?” He grinned at the kids as they turned their gazes back to him. “It’s true—at least the hot part. Now, magic, I don’t believe in.”
The children gasped. Poppy looked horrified.
“How do you think Mary Poppins flew?” Amelia demanded.
“Ropes and pulleys?” Last asked.
They all stared. Must be British, Last thought.
“Don’t you believe in firefly magic and baby turtles that run to the sea without ever knowing what the sea is?” Curtis demanded.
“Instinct,” Last said. “It’s all instinct, a very good thing to have.” Right now his was telling him that if he was smart, he’d be doing the cowboy-bachelor crawl away from this bunch.
Poppy drew herself up tall, which stretched her torso and raised her
bikini top a bit, his practiced masculine eye noted. She had wonderfully taut skin, golden and plump with vitality.
“Magic is everything,” Poppy said. “It moves the world. It heightens your senses. It’s at the heart of your most fabulous moments.”
“Nope. Those happen when I’m drinking a cold beer, and there’s nothing magic about that except how fast I can make it disappear.” He grinned, pleased by his own humor.
“Mr. Jefferson!” Poppy said.
“Oops. Another lapse. I am sorry.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Neither I nor my eleven brothers are known for being role models.”
Poppy sniffed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Were you ever a child, Mr. Jefferson?”
“Most of my adult life,” he said cheerfully. “Although having a young daughter has certainly matured me.”
“I doubt the veracity of that,” Poppy said, “but I’ll have to take your word for it. If you’ll excuse us, we must decline your offer of luncheon. We have studies before tonight’s show.”
With the thought that he might not see Poppy again, he was suddenly in the mood to take in a show. What could it hurt? “Where will you be performing?”
“Goodbye,” she told him, walking away.
“Damn,” he said. “I’m not as smooth as I used to be.”
From the way she’d said it, he knew better than to follow her. But for some reason he followed her anyway.
POPPY WALKED AWAY FROM the handsome stranger wishing her charges were just a bit less in shopping-for-a-father mode. It wasn’t going to work. She had no desire for a permanent man, due to her lifestyle, and the children had no idea that marriage wasn’t always filled with glittery magic.
It was hard work, and right now her efforts needed to be focused on the children. Amelia was ten, Curtis eight, and there would be many changes in their lives in the teen years. She had to think only of them, and a man would make things in her once-free life even more complicated. Five months ago, she’d been a happily traveling gypsy with no greater care than daily performances. She liked the bohemian lifestyle. But she’d had to settle down a bit since she’d inherited the children. That kind of focus was hard enough without the further distraction of a man.