The Rancher Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides Book 1)

time," he said.
    "If you don't believe in speaking with spirits, why are you here?" she asked bluntly, hoping to get rid of him quickly.
    "Everyone deserves at least one warning, and here's yours." He stood and moved around the table. "Don't be holding any more séances."
    "This is a free country, is it not?" she said, using her best French intonation.
    "Not for cheats."
    "I am no cheat"
    "Lose the French accent!"
    "I cannot! It is where I was born, where I come from," she informed him.
    "I'm sure you've been around, but I'd wager you've never seen Paris," he said calmly, his voice a slow drawl of insolence.
    " Espéce de casse-couilles! " She said in French exactly what she was thinking. The man was certainly a pain.
    "Cut the parlee-voo, lady. I don't believe a word of it."
    "You should. I'm calling you, Mr. Burnett, every despicable word I know," she practically shouted at him, enraged at his intrusion in her cozy business.
    "Call me anything you want, but I'm warning you. Shut down your séance parlor. You picked the wrong person to try to con, and you're not going to get away with it."
    "And just who is this person I supposedly tried to con?" she asked.
    "My mother, Eugenia Burnett."
    "Ah ha!" Stepping in front of him, she stood within inches of this handsome yet foreboding man. The scent of masculinity drifted to her nose, a clean smell of virile male.
    "And if your mother wishes to learn more about your brother? Is this not her choice?"
    "My mother misses my brother, and I'll not have you taking advantage of her. This is the only time I'm going to tell you. Leave my mother alone, or I'm going to shut down your parlor."
    " Monsieur! If you don't want your mother searching for your brother, then you must talk to her. Not I!" She took a step back, letting her gaze travel the length of his person. "Besides, I see no badge. You do not have the authority to threaten me, or shut me down."
    He smiled, his full lips pouty, and took a step closer to her. His hand reached out, the tip of his finger gently tracing her chin, his rough skin sliding against hers. His touch left her oddly unsettled. She tried to swallow the lump that filled her throat.
    Now was not the time for her long-denied body to suddenly take notice of a man. She needed this town, needed this job.
    She didn't need a gun-toting, overprotective mama's boy, who looked like sin in a nicely bundled package.
    "I'll shut you down in a heartbeat," he said, low enough only to reach her ears. "My little brother, Tucker, is the marshal."
    Picking up his hat, he strolled out the door, his gun slung low around his hips, his pants snug against his backside.
    Rose watched him walk through the door and wanted to scream. Though they had gotten off to a slow start, business was just beginning to increase and the thought of having to pick up and start over again left her furious.
    No damn cowboy with a connection to the local law was going to run her out of town.
    ***
    Until yesterday, Travis Burnett had thought his mother didn't believe in ghosts, was as sensible as they came. So why had Eugenia suddenly started visiting a séance parlor?
    Travis let the door slam behind him as he entered the house he'd lived in all his life. His father had built this home after he'd made a small fortune trading Texas cattle. Longhorn cattle.
    Walking down the short hall, he found his mother in his office going over the books, adding up sums of figures. He sat down in an elbow chair across from her, stretching out his long legs in front of him, his spurs jingling as he crossed his ankles.
    Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, Eugenia was steel wrapped in a soft overcoat. A gentle matron with an iron will, stubborn enough to have lived with his father for forty years. Yet since his brother's disappearance more than ten years ago and the death of his father, she'd seemed fragile, in need of protecting. The laughter that had once shone from his mother's brown eyes had overnight dimmed with sadness, and at times she seemed lost, in need of direction.
    "What are you doing home so early on a Saturday night?" she asked, not looking up from her paperwork. "Not enough excitement going on in town?"
    "I just spent the evening at a séance."
    He watched as her head jerked up from the ledger she was working on, her eyes trained on his. She raised her brows questioningly.
    "Miss Severin's parlor?"
    "Yep."
    She gazed at him, her face an innocent mask. "She's certainly a pretty little thing."
    He leaned