Page 1 of One in a Million

CHAPTERONE

Summer had arrived early. It was barely the end of May, but the season already promised to be a scorcher. The Texas plains sizzled under a blazing sky. Heat waves shimmered above the scrubby yellow landscape. A rattlesnake, coiled in the shadow of a mesquite, stirred, then slithered into the deeper cool of an empty badger hole.

Mirages swam like water over the narrow asphalt road that branched off Highway 277 and led to the Culhane Ranch and Stables. But Lila Culhane knew better than to be fooled by these, or by mirages of a different sort, like the illusion of a solid marriage.

Lila had paid the investigator she’d hired and tucked the damning evidence into her purse. The only remaining question was when and how to use it. Did she want to keep Frank? Did she want to punish him? Or maybe both?

The AC was blasting air from the vents of Lila’s white Porsche 911 Carrera, but the silk blouse she wore still clung like glue to her skin. When she reached up to brush back a lock of tastefully streaked blond hair, she could smell her own sweat. She stank like an oil rig worker.

At thirty-eight, she was no longer the teen queen who’d won the Miss Idaho pageant nor the Vegas showgirl who’d lured a rich Texas rancher away from his middle-aged wife. But she still looked good. She’d kept her figure and taken care of her skin. She’d given him everything he wanted in bed; and for the past eleven years of their marriage, she’d been one hundred percent faithful to the bastard.

She’d even shared his passion for horses—at first, as a way to catch his attention, then later as a genuine enthusiast. Either way, she’d given Frank no cause to be sneaking around.

Lila’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Frank deserved the worst punishment she could give him. But first she had to take care of her own needs.

Too bad about that prenup she’d been forced to sign. Without it, she could hire a lawyer and take him to the cleaners, just as his first wife had done. But no such luck. If she were to divorce Frank, she’d probably end up living in a two-room flat and driving a ten-year-old Chevy.

In the distance, through the blur of heat waves, she could see the stately white house and the vast horse complex—the covered arena, the stable with its fifty-four stalls and attached treatment facility, the breeding shed, the round pen for breaking horses, and the well-watered paddocks where spring colts frolicked under the watchful eyes of their dams. The distant pastures were dotted with black Angus cattle, an important cash source that enabled Frank to focus on his real passion, working with the champion quarter horses he bred, raised, and showed in reining and cutting competitions.

Even before they were married, Lila had understood that the horses were Frank’s first love. For eleven years she’d settled for second place in his heart, learning to understand the sport and cheering him on at every reining event. But now everything had changed.

Lila ran a hand over the back of her neck. Her palm came away slicked with moisture.Damnation, but she hated this infernal heat—almost as much as she hated Frank.

What she craved now was a dip in the pool behind the house, followed by an ice-cold mojito under the shade of the pergola. But that wasn’t likely to happen. Not as long as Frank’s daughter, Jasmine, was staying in the house awaiting a call from her phantom Hollywood agent.

Jasmine had made the pool and patio her own little kingdom. She might tolerate a visit from her father or her brother, Darrin. But when Lila was around, Jasmine radiated pure, seething hostility. The great house was her castle. As Frank Culhane’s daughter, she was its princess; and her stepmother was the wicked queen.

Lila sighed as she swung the car off the road and up the long driveway, bordered with drooping magnolias. Frank and his daughter had always been close. If Jasmine knew about Frank’s affair, she was probably cheering him on.

* * *

Back in her upstairs bedroom, Lila gazed out the window that overlooked the pool. Visible from below the roof of the pergola, she could see a pair of suntanned legs and manicured feet adorned with electric blue toenails. The princess had staked out her territory. And a swim wasn’t worth the price of dealing with her sidelong glares and verbal jabs.

Lila still craved the mojito. But she would drink it in her private office, after a shower. Seated at her desk, she would rake over Frank’s betrayal, until she’d worked up enough rage to do what had to be done.

* * *

The covered arena stood thirty yards back from the rear of the house, with the attached stable beyond. Jasmine had angled the lounge chair to give her the best view of the cowboys doing chores and riding her father’s blooded performance quarter horses. Here on the ranch, with nowhere to go and not much to do, it was the best live entertainment to be had.

Not that she was complaining. Most of the cowboys were either kids or old hands, but some of the men were handsome enough to stir her interest. Jasmine took pleasure in devouring them with her eyes—and if they caught her watching, what was the harm? They enjoyed the game as much as she did.

In the past, she might have done more than watch. At thirty, she was wiser and more discreet than in her younger years. Still, now and then, a man would show up who was hot enough to dampen her panties—like that tall, dark-headed trainer who’d hired on since the last time she was here.

Jasmine had done her homework. Roper McKenna was the firstborn son of the scab-knuckled family who’d bought the small ranch fifteen miles from the Culhane property. In the two years since their move from a Colorado cow town, the McKennas had remained outsiders, ignored by their wealthy Texas neighbors. They drove old cars and trucks, bought their clothes at Walmart, and were never invited to barbecues or joined for neighborly chats.

The McKennas were all right. They just weren’t what you’d call quality folk. It was almost as if they were invisible—except for the one thing that set them apart.

The four younger McKenna siblings—three brothers and a sister—had taken the national PRCA rodeo scene by storm, winning every event from barrel racing to bull riding. They’d even appeared on the cover ofSports Illustrated.

According to an article Jasmine had Googled, Roper’s bronc riding career had ended years ago with a spectacular wreck at the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas. Sidelined for months, he’d taken a job at a stable, exercising high-strung show horses. That was when he’d discovered a natural gift—a way of fostering trust between horse and rider that produced winners in the arena and brought in prize money for wealthy owners like Frank Culhane.

Jasmine shifted in her chair, shading her eyes to get a better view of the cowboy who’d caught her fancy. She knew that Roper was good at his job—otherwise her daddy wouldn’t have hired him to train his precious horses. But truth be told, Jasmine wouldn’t have cared if Roper couldn’t swing his leg over a horse’s rump. The man was so hot that she could feel the sizzle all the way across the yard.

* * *

This afternoon, Roper was riding Frank’s retired champion American quarter horse, One in a Million. Over the years, the big bay roan had competed in showing and cutting events for prize winnings of over a million dollars. But his real value to the ranch lay in his prowess as a stud. Since his retirement from the show arena, the winnings of his colts and fillies and their offspring had totaled more than four million dollars. A straw of his frozen semen sold for more than a thousand, his IVF embryos with eggs from a champion mare went for several times that. His fee for a live breeding was listed in the EquiStat Stallion Registry at $10,000, although live breeding was rarely performed here at the ranch. If Roper had his way, the dangerous practice would cease entirely.

At the age of thirteen, One in a Million could still perform the strenuous spins, patterns, and sliding stops that had made him a champion. But the demands of the arena were judged too risky for his aging body. He was given a special diet and exercised every day to keep him healthy and fit for the breeding shed.

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