Praise for Catherine Anderson
“Catherine Anderson works her own special brand of magic…. She is truly an extraordinary storyteller.”
—Romantic Times
“Fabulous … A brilliant author … Catherine Anderson is one of the best romance writers today.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“An amazing talent.” —Elizabeth Lowell
Winner of Nine Consecutive KISS Awards for Her Heroes!
Praise for the contemporaries of Catherine Anderson
Seventh Heaven
“No one writes riveting emotion quite like Catherine Anderson. Her talent for delving into rich, emotional depths is unmatched.”—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
Baby Love
“Catherine Anderson is an author with an amazing expertise with words. Her stories are consistently magical and filled with deep emotion.”—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
Forever After
“Literary magic … heartwarming humor, beautifully handled sexual tension, and exceptionally well-developed characters add to this poignant, compelling story of wounded protagonists and their ultimate healing through the power of love.”—Library Journal
“Forever After proves that this author has as much talent for penning contemporaries as she has for writing captivating historicals.”—Romantic Times
And for her historicals
Cherish
“Ms. Anderson reaches new heights in Cherish. The magnificently drawn emotions and the arresting characterizations give readers another jewel to treasure more than once.”—Rendezvous
Simply Love
“Simply Love is so beautiful a romance that words cannot do Catherine Anderson justice…. This is not a story you’ll quickly forget or one that will gather dust on your shelf. Pick up Simply Love whenever you need to reaffirm your beliefs or just when you need to feel good.”—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“A delightful comedy of errors…. With this latest, Anderson creates a heartwarming page-turner while establishing herself as a major voice in the romance genre.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
Keegan’s Lady
“A story of stunning beauty and great power. Catherine Anderson has a gift for imbuing her characters with dignity, compassion, courage, and strength that inspire readers. The power of Keegan’s Lady and the lessons within this glorious romance will live on in your heart forever.”—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“Seldom have the themes of trust and forgiveness been so well treated…. Ace Keegan, despite his alpha-male persona, is a paragon of patience and understanding, a romantic hero in every way.”—Publishers Weekly
Annie’s Song
“Only a writer with Catherine Anderson’s sensibilities can write a novel where the extraordinary becomes ordinary and the ordinary becomes extraordinary. Annie’s Song is a remarkably beautiful love story that will leave an indelible mark on your heart. Here is a keeper if I ever read one.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“Tender and earthy, passionate and poignant … Annie’s Song will haunt you long after the last page is turned.”
—Elizabeth Lowell
Phantom
Waltz
Catherine Anderson
AN ONYX BOOK
ONYX
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,
London W8 5TZ, England
Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,
Victoria, Australia
Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2
Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182–190 Wairau Road,
Auckland 10, New Zealand
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:
Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England
First published by Onyx, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
First Printing, July 2001
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Adeline Catherine Anderson, 2001
All rights reserved
EISBN: 9781101578773
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Printed in the United States of America
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN PUTNAM INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
To Steven Axelrod, my agent, who always goes the extra mile for me and has earned my gratitude and respect, and to Ellen Edwards, my editor, who has worked so hard behind the scenes over the years to make my books the very best that they can be.
Last, but not least, to Chris Jansen, Dr. Fred Black’s nurse extraordinaire, who has been such a good friend to me. The world would be a much better place if every medical professional had as much heart as you do. Please know, Chris, that you are touching lives and making a difference. Also, by order of decree passed along to me by your brother, Jeff Fretwell, I wish you a belated, “Happy Birthday!”
Dear Readers:
Traditionally in romance, the heroes and heroines are physically perfect. That is not to say that those characters are unappealing. I have read hundreds of those books and loved them, I’ve written a few, and I hope to write and enjoy many more. However, as a novelist, I occasionally get a yen to write something different—a tribute, if you will, to those in our society who are, by birth or unfortunate mishap, left disabled. I have been so blessed as a writer to have an agent and editor, Steven Axelrod and Ellen Edwards, respectively, who have always encouraged me to break new ground. If not for them, Annie’s Song, a book about a deaf girl, might never have been written.
So it is that, once again, I bring to you, my readers, a different kind of love story, this time about a young woman confined to a wheelchair. I invite you to cast aside all your preconceived notions about what constitutes a great love story and join me in Bethany Coulter’s world, where hope for a normal life is only a memory and dreams of romance are long since forgotten … until magic comes knocking in the form of a tall, dark, rugged cowboy named Ryan Kendrick.
I would like to thank Dr. Fred Black and his nurse, Chris Jansen, for giving me information and direction in my research. I also salute the many paraplegics who have reached out to others with personal accounts of their disabilities and how paraplegia has affected their lives. I would also like to thank my wonderful husband, Sid, who has never failed to be my anchor in the storm and my bridge over troubled waters.
Catherine Anderson
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Chapter One
Forget chewing nails. Ryan Kendrick was so mad he could have chewed lug nuts. He had a broken-down tractor, and the parts needed to fix it should have been delivered to the Rocking K day before yesterday. As of this morning, they still hadn’t arrived, and Ryan’s follow-up calls had gotten him nowhere.
With one shoulder, he butted open the door of The Works, the largest ranch supply house in Crystal Falls. Harv Coulter, a rancher who’d gone bust, had started the business on a shoestring several years back, and the Kendrick brothers, along with many other ranchers in the area, had been patronizing the establishment ever since. Now the huge store was a going concern, well stocked with everything from heavy equipment to fancy western wear, the only problem being that as sales increased, the quality of service seemed to go downhill.
If Harv didn’t get his employees whipped into shape, he’d start losing accounts. Delays like this, smack-dab in the middle of spring planting time, were intolerable. Due to late snows, every farmer and rancher in the basin was already behind schedule, and each day of downtime could mean thousands of dollars in lost crop revenue.
Ryan headed for an overhead sign at the rear of the feed section that read, “PARTS AND REPAIRS,” his dusty riding boots beating out an angry tattoo on the concrete floor. When he reached a counter cluttered with parts and catalogs, he shoved aside an air filter, rested his arms on the grease-stained Formica, and settled a blistering gaze on a slender young woman who sat at a computer station near the register.
A long, luxurious mane of sable hair partly concealed her face. Her slender, neatly manicured fingers flew over the keyboard with speedy efficiency. Ryan waited for just a moment. Being ignored did little to mellow his mood. The morning was half over. He glanced at his watch and set his jaw.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Is it possible to get some help around here?”
That brought her head up. Ryan went still, his gaze riveted. She had the most beautiful eyes, large, outlined with thick, dark lashes, and so deep a blue they reminded him of the Johnny-jump-up violets that grew wild at the ranch. Normally, he scoffed at the sappy phrases men used to describe women. He’d looked into a lot of eyes and never felt in danger of drowning, or losing his heart.
“I don’t usually work the floor, but I can try to help you,” she said, her voice as sunny as her smile, which flashed an irresistible dimple in one cheek.
Ryan couldn’t stop staring. Her face was small and heart-shaped, with sculpted cheekbones, a pointy chin with just a hint of stubbornness, and a soft, sweet mouth. The tip of her delicately bridged nose was shiny and sported a smattering of freckles, which told him her flawless complexion was natural.
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.
He started to tell her, but for an instant, his mind went as empty as a wrangler’s pocket right before payday, and he couldn’t remember why the hell he was there.
He had the strangest feeling, dead center in his chest—a sense of recognition—as if he’d subconsciously been searching for her all his life. Crazy. Love at first sight was more his brother’s style. Ryan shopped for women like he did for boots, trying them on for size before he settled in for a long-term relationship, and even at that, he’d yet to find a comfortable enough fit to last him a lifetime.
“I, um …” He rubbed beside his nose, a habit when he got nervous. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. “I’m Ryan Kendrick from the Rocking K,” he offered stupidly.
The sweet curve of her lips deepened. “Hi. I’m pleased to meet you. And don’t feel bad. I have days like this, only worse. At least you know your name.”
He huffed with laughter. “You actually forget your name?”
The dimple flashed again. “What works for me is to back up. You’re Ryan Kendrick from the Rocking K, and you came in here to … ?”
He snapped his fingers. “My parts.”
“Your parts?”
He chuckled. “I want to know where the Sam Hill they are.”
Pure devilment crept into her expression. “You’ve lost your parts and think I’ve got them? Most cowboys I know guard theirs like Fort Knox.”
Ryan threw back his head and laughed. The tension that had knotted the muscles in his neck and shoulders all morning miraculously vanished.
“I hope you don’t have a hot date lined up for Saturday night,” she added. “A cowboy who’s missing his parts could find himself in a very embarrassing situation.”
He nudged up the brim of his Stetson. “Well, now, darlin’, that all depends. What are you doin’ Saturday night?”
It was her turn to laugh. The sound was rich and musical, and it warmed him clear through.
“I usually avoid cowboys who can’t keep track of their parts.”
“Go out with me, and I guarantee I’ll find mine in damned short order.”
“Maybe if you’ll give me an order number instead of a hard time, I can help locate the little buggers for you.”
Little buggers? Ryan almost corrected that misconception. But there were lines a man didn’t step over, and he had a hunch this was one of them. Maybe it was the sweetness of her smile—or that innocent look he’d glimpsed in her eyes—but something told him she wasn’t as worldly as she pretended to be.
As he fished in the pocket of his blue chambray shirt, he swept his gaze over her. She was a fragile, slightly built woman, which undoubtedly explained why those eyes seemed to be the biggest thing about her. But despite that, she was temptingly well-rounded in all the right places. Perfection in miniature.
Her brown shell top showcased a long, graceful neck, thin but well-defined shoulders, and creamy-white arms that looked surprisingly firm for someone with such a slight build. Beneath the brown knit, small, perfectly shaped breasts pleaded for a lingering look. Minding his manners, he flicked his gaze lower and bemoaned the fact that the counter concealed the rest of her. He was a leg man, and it was a woman’s foundation that always swung the vote for him.
Wishing she’d stand up so he could get a look, he handed over the slip of paper on which he’d jotted his order number. While she scanned computer files and tracked down his parts order, they carried on a lively exchange, during which he learned she was twenty-six, had no significant other in her life except a feline named Cleo, and was the baby in a family of six kids. Her five rambunctious older brothers spoiled her rotten and kept things hopping at family gatherings.
Ryan enjoyed talking with her. Even with her attention divided between him and the computer screen, she kept him on his conversational toes. It wasn’t often he ran across beauty, brains, and a great personality, all in one package.
“So … you gonna give me a name to put with the face?” he asked.
“Bethany.” Finished with the computer, she leaned back in her chair. “Well, cowboy, time to eat crow. Guess where those parts of yours are.”
“Where?”
“En route to the Rocking K. And it’s not our fault they’re late. This is the busy season. Those particular parts are in high demand right now, were on back order, and took two days longer to reach us than they should have.”
Ryan had heard that one before, but coming from her, it seemed more credible. He tipped the brim of his hat back down to shade his eyes before returning outdoors. “Hmm. Lucky for me, I didn’t raise too much sand, huh?”
“It takes more than a cantankerous cowboy to throw me. Five brothers, remember?” She propped her elbows on the chair armrests, her big blue eyes still
smiling. “Have a nice day, and good luck fixing your tractor. Too bad you’re not an employee. You could charge yourself time and a half.”
By that, Ryan guessed she knew who he was. No big surprise. Practically everyone in Crystal Falls, Oregon, had heard of the Kendrick family. He tipped his hat to her. “Thank you, Bethany. It’s been a rare pleasure.”
“Any time,” she called after him as he walked away.
He had nearly reached the door before he swung to a stop. To hell with walking out. He was thirty years old and hadn’t come across a woman who interested him this much in a long time. Bethany. She was beautiful, sweet, and funny. The only other women he knew who could take him from pissed off to laughing in three seconds flat were his mom and sister-in-law. No way was he leaving without at least getting her phone number, a date if he could manage it.
“I know this may seem forward,” he began as he returned to the counter.
Already back at work, she glanced up from the screen, her thoughtful frown giving way to another warm smile. “You’ve lost your parts again already?”
Ryan chuckled. “Not on your life. I just—” He felt heat crawling up his neck. He hadn’t felt nervous about asking a girl out since his early teens. “About Saturday night. I know we were only joking, but on a more serious note, I’d like to get to know you.” At her startled look, he added, “Hey, I’m a nice guy. Your boss, Harvey Coulter, will vouch for me.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re very nice, but—”
Ryan held up a staying hand. “How about dinner and dancing? We’ll go out, have a fine meal, get to know each other a little better. Then we’ll cut a rug. I’m hell on wheels at country western, and I know of a great band.”
Her mouth curved in a wistful smile. “You like to dance, do you?”
“I love to dance. How about you?”
She averted her gaze. Ryan wanted to kick himself for coming on too fast. So much for that legendary charm his brother teased him about. Well, it was too late now. All he could do was go for it and hope for the best.