About the Book

Paperback
Zebra/Kensington
ISBN: 9781420106640

New York Times bestselling author Janet Dailey’s Christmas novels are as much a part of your annual holiday traditions as decorating your tree. SANTA IN A STETSON has a couple reuniting at Christmas in New Mexico

Though Diana Palmer left the bright lights of the big city behind for New Mexico, she misses the excitement now that Christmas is coming. But she’s about to find out the joys of season are just as big in the Land of Enchantment…and just as romantic. They do things differently, though --- the rancher at her door with a fresh pine tree slung over his shoulder arrives unannounced and she can’t help but invite him in for a cup of cocoa. Tall, sexy and single, Lije Masters is all man…and all she ever wanted for a Christmas as warm and happy as two hearts can make it.

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Author Biography

Janet Dailey is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 100 novels, with 300 million copies of her books having been sold in 19 languages in 98 countries.  She is known for her strong, decisive characters, her extraordinary ability to recreate a time and place, and her courage to confront important, controversial issues in her stories. She lives with her husband in Branson, Missouri.

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Critical Praise

“Dailey’s charming tale sparkles with romance…the perfect holiday read.”
--Romantic Times on EVE’S CHRISTMAS

“A good old-fashioned Christmas gift.”
--Publishers Weekly on HAPPY HOLIDAYS

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Excerpt

Chapter One

“I’m out of hairspray, Diana. Can I borrow yours?” Stella hovered behind her, taking care not to move her head for fear a lock or two
might slip out of place.

“Right there.” Diana pointed with the end of her eyebrow pencil to a tall aerosol can on the table before concentrating again on her reflection in her makeup mirror.

She assessed her features in a professional way, figuring it didn’t count as vanity if you got paid to make pretty faces for the camera. She absentmindedly took inventory. Large, luminous blue eyes, framed by curling eyelashes that took twenty minutes to do. Nose exactly right—not too short, not too straight, not too large. Her lips were her best feature—the top one was a cupid’s bow and the lower one was sensually full. She was fooling around a little, putting layers of gloss over pink-tinted lipstick to boost the shine.

Humming, she took in the whole picture. Oval face. Creamy, clear complexion for which she was very grateful. She just didn’t get breakouts, and most of the models she knew did. The heavy makeup was irritating to the skin. Even so, she needed base and foundation—digital cameras picked up the tiniest flaw, though pictures were always retouched to perfection on a computer later on.

From long experience, Diana added light, feathery strokes of eyebrow pencil to fill in and accent her finely arched brows. Removing the blue band that had held her pale blond hair, she began brushing it briskly away from her face.

“Ooh, just look at those silken tresses,” Stella kidded her.

“They’re a lot of work,” Diana said.

“Really? The wind doesn’t style your hair?”

Diana had to smile. Her hair had a naturally windblown look and it looked even better when it actually was tossed around by the wind.

The door of the trailer swung open and a swirl of cold air admitted in a willowy girl, who shivered as she quickly closed the door behind her.

“They’re ready for you, Stella,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.” Stella inspected her reflection to see if she needed any last-minute adjustments.

“You tell them. I’m not going out in that cold again until I have to,” the other girl retorted. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to wearing summer clothes in winter! You could die of pneumonia on some of these shoots.”

“It’s not usually this chilly in February, Vanessa,” Diana reminded her.

Vanessa shrugged indifferently, not saying anything to her but calling after Stella, who was just leaving the trailer. “Watch where you step or you’ll get manure all over your shoes!”

Diana hid a smile at that warning, but not in time for the disgruntled Vanessa to miss it. Whatever. Diana let the other model’s glowering look pass without comment.

“Wait until you get into that white outfit and have to wander around all those horses and cows with Connie shouting at you all the time not to get it dirty.” Vanessa slipped out of her brilliant, flame-hued halter dress and into a
long smock. “I don’t understand how Connie comes up with these crazy concepts. Whoever heard of clothes being photographed at a rodeo? It’s kinda ridiculous.”

“I don’t think so. The clothes mix Western traditional with Native American designs. It’s a very cool look.”

“Don’t say that word,” Vanessa muttered.

“What?”

“Cool. Chilly. Cold. Any of those are against a law I made up just now.”

“Got it.” Diana laughed as Vanessa wrapped her arms around herself. “I bet you wouldn’t like it if it was scorching out, either. San Antonio summers are hot.”

“So what else is new in Texas? I’ll just suffer,” Vanessa grumbled.

“Don’t. I’ll ask the mayor to move the date of the annual rodeo,” Diana said.

“Do you know him?” Vanessa didn’t wait for an answer to that silly question. “Hey, there is a positive side to my abject misery, though. I’ve never seen so many good-looking, rugged men in one place before, ever.”

“I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.”

“Seriously, Diana, they are, like, so sexy,” Vanessa went on. “And so not shy.” She bent over a little to look at herself in the mirror. “I don’t know when I’ve had so many whistles, winks, and invitations to come on over and—”

“And look at manly belt buckles?” Diana finished for her.

“Shut up,” Vanessa said, laughing. “No, no one said that, but, you know, those buckles are eye-catching. All that engraving and stuff. And some of them are huge.”

“Don’t get carried away,” Diana warned her lightly. “Rodeo riders don’t stick around.”

“That’s not always a bad thing.”

Diana shook her head. “Vanessa, you’re terrible.”

“Am not.” She watched Diana brush her blond hair until it glistened and crackled. “Not every guy you go out with has to be the one you marry. Cowboys look like fun.”

“I hear they are. But do you know the definition of cowboy sex?”

Vanessa groaned. “No. Tell me.”

“You get half a bottle of bourbon and ten seconds of foreplay before he knocks the ashtray all over the bed. Then it’s ‘thank yew and good naht.’” She tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at Vanessa. “And he never even takes off his jeans.”

“I don’t smoke and he’d better duck when that ashtray comes flying at him. But gee, you sound so experienced.” Vanessa laughed.

“I’m not. A friend told me that joke. A sadder but wiser friend.”

“Okay. All the more cowboys for me, I’m not complaining.”

“They’re not my type. Just point me to a nineto-five guy with a little home in the suburbs and I’ll be happy.”

“You’re so domestic,” Vanessa sighed. “How come you were born that beautiful? You’re a disgrace to the modeling profession!”

“Well, it doesn’t rule my life, if that’s what you mean.” Diana smiled. “And I bet you sit alone at night as often as I do. You have to or you wouldn’t get enough sleep to keep away those circles under your eyes and those extra inches from party food and booze.”

“Being a model does have its limitations,” Vanessa admitted reluctantly. “And so does too much attention, but maybe that’s just because we’re here in Texas where the all-American look is idolized. In New York you don’t get a second look sometimes. Every model in the world ends up there sooner or later. I’m going too. Someday.”

Diana nodded her head. “Good luck. The work is demanding wherever you are and not very glamorous once you get behind the scenes.”

Vanessa smiled ruefully. “And some people seem to think we look that perfect in real life. Hello, digital retouching. We don’t!”

“Well, people believe what they want to believe. We could be doing a runway show at Neiman Marcus or shooting nine thousand studio photos for a catalog, but it’s no day at the beach, wherever you are.”

The other woman went to the rack of clothes for the next set of shots and looked through them, pulling out an ensemble and looking it over. “Wow, this is nice. I think this is a Kathy Katchurian original.” She inspected the label. “Yes, it is. And just my size if I don’t eat for a week. There are some advantages to slaving for Connie, right?”

“Sure. But wouldn’t it be nice to not starve?

To be able to come home to a meal and your happy little family sitting down together?”

“Ding-dong. Do I hear wedding bells?” Vanessa asked absently. “When’s the big day? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I don’t have one at the moment.” Like Vanessa didn’t know that, Diana thought. “I just meant that I wouldn’t mind being a wife and mother.” She walked over to the rack, selected a white jumpsuit and took it off its hanger.

“Not me. I don’t want a baby spitting up on me and pulling my hair. And pregnancy— forget it. You can kiss your fabulous figure good-bye.”

Diana winced at the unfeeling comments, which hit a wound that had never healed,
though they weren’t meant to. But that part of her past was something she’d never talked about with anyone, mostly because there had never been anyone who’d ever been close enough for her to confide in. She’d always hid her loneliness behind a serene mask of beautiful composure and no one guessed it was there.

“Di, what you need to do is go out a little more. It’s about time you had a bigger goal than marriage and kids.”

Vanessa couldn’t help being a know-it-all, Diana figured. She only laughed. “You say that as if all I have to do is snap my fingers to get a line of men standing at my door. Do you know why I sat at home by myself on New Year’s Eve?”

“I know you’re about to tell me why, and that’s all I know.”

“Because nobody asked me out, Vanessa. Everyone assumed that I was invited somewhere fabulous. The nice guys in this world figure that a model has all kinds of men ready and willing to date her, so they don’t want to join the throng. So we end up attracting rich jerks.” She lowered her voice and pretended to be one. “Hello, my name is Mr. Gigantic Big Deal and you must be Miss Arm Candy. Nice to meet you, I think I love you, but I have to ask my lawyer if that’s okay. Hey, somebody take our picture. Right now. And post it online, please.”

“Okay, I get the point,” Vanessa said, eying her curiously. “So when did you get burnt?”

“A long time ago,” Diana answered grimly, remembering the shock she’d suffered when she’d discovered that she’d been just a beautiful possession to a man she had liked very much.

It had hurt at the time, but now she could barely remember what he looked like. She
wasn’t bitter about it, although she might have sounded that way. But thinking about him only reaffirmed her desire to marry and settle down, but not with anybody, only Mr. Right.

Hey. At the tender age of twenty-four, she told herself, you shouldn’t be wondering if and when he would ever come along. But like everything else, Diana bottled up her mixed feelings on the subject. Projecting an air of confident poise was a model’s stock in trade, anyway.

She wasn’t going to tell Vanessa about her not-great Christmas, though. No childhood home to go back to, no one to welcome her with open arms. She’d just stayed in her apartment, contemplating a little artificial tree from a discount store, with plastic ornaments that kept falling off and minilights that flickered once and went out. The thing had been about as decorative as a stack of old newspapers. It was ironic that she’d bought it at the last minute to keep herself from getting too depressed. It’d had the opposite effect and she’d been happy to toss it after the holidays were over.

“Oh, wow, you look fantastic in that!” Vanessa exclaimed as Diana zipped up the white jumpsuit and turned to inspect herself in the mirror.

It clung to her body like it loved it a lot. Narrow legs. Fitted waist. Attached halter that bared her back—all fabulous. The most striking element was an embroidered thunderbird in bold turquoise down the side, designed to look like a tribal-type tattoo. It was a powerful motif in that standout color, which accentuated the blueness of Diana’s eyes. The white material complemented the pale color of her hair.

“You don’t think it shows too much, do you?”

She pulled the plunging V front together in an attempt to hide the cleavage that the jumpsuit was meant to reveal.

“Of course it does,” Vanessa said, smiling, “but it’s supposed to.”

At that moment the trailer door opened again and an older, auburn-haired woman walked in. She was dressed in practical black underneath a heavy-looking walking jacket in a rusty color that accented the red in her hair. Glasses hung from a chain around her neck and there was a no-nonsense look on her face.

“Okay,” she said briskly, looking Diana over. “You look good to go. Here’s the jewelry that goes with that.”

Diana slipped the heavy turquoise and silver bracelet she was handed over her wrist and began putting on the matching earrings, aware of the scrutiny she was getting from Connie Deveronne. After six years of modeling, being stared at impersonally, as if she were a department store mannequin, still made Diana uncomfortable, but she never let it show.

“Are you gaining weight?” Connie demanded in an accusing voice.

“No.” Diana was unruffled, knowing the number on her scales hadn’t changed for over three years, thanks to a closely watched diet.

“Your measurements look a little different.” Her manager focused on the rounded curves that the low neckline revealed. “We’re actually trying to sell the jumpsuit and not you, if you really want to know. Are you wearing a bra?”

“Yes.” She kept her eyes averted and concentrated on securely fastening the second earring. Only Diana knew that the light pink on her cheeks wasn’t blusher from a compact.

“Take it off. It might flatten you a little if you do.” With that order given, Connie turned and walked to the door, going out without looking behind her. “Rick will be ready for you in about ten minutes.”

“She’s just nuts!” Vanessa made a face at the door. “Doesn’t she realize that you’re only going to look more sexy without a bra?” She blew out a disgusted breath. “Sheesh.”

“We can’t look more fabulous than the clothes,” Diana reminded her.

She couldn’t admit how uncomfortably naked she felt without all her underpinnings. Not to Vanessa, for sure, who would only laugh at her for being ridiculously modest and old-fashioned. Still, a few minutes later when Diana stepped out the door of the trailer, she couldn’t help thinking that all the eyes turned her way were looking at only one thing. Or two things.

She forced herself to act unconcerned, but her fluid movements were hurried as she tried to avoid being noticed.

The weather was cool. A sweater would have been great to cover her bare arms, which broke out in goose bumps. The nippy weather made the animals frisky. Horses were prancing and pulling at their bits, snorting and sending puffy clouds of frosty breath into the air. Halfway to where she was supposed to meet the photographer, Diana ran into Stella, who was on her way back to the trailer.

“How’s it going?” Diana asked as Stella paused in front of her and turned to smile at a cowboy who gave her an admiring whistle.

“Pretty good.” Stella glanced around. “Connie’s a little uptight because we’re beginning to draw a crowd, but believe me, some of the looks will keep you warm.”

“Hey, babe! Got any plans for tonight?” A cowboy pulled his horse to a stop beside them and eyed Diana boldly.

“I’m staying home with my sick mother,” she answered easily. “Better luck next time.”

The lean cowboy was not at all put off by her obviously fake excuse, but he tipped his hat and rode on. Diana watched him for a moment before turning back to Stella to see a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

“See what I mean?” Stella winked.

Diana smiled in agreement before catching sight of Connie.

“I’d better get going. Here comes the boss.” Diana nodded toward the older woman.

Connie Deveronne hustled Diana to where Rick, the photographer, waited. After only a few shots, he lowered his camera, shaking his head. Connie went over at once to see what was wrong.

“The white outfit needs a better background.” He looked around searchingly. “Something with a bolder color. More defined.”

Diana hovered to one side, shivering in the skimpy jumpsuit. Patience was the byword of a model, with endurance coming in a strong second. The sun was brilliant and steady, although it didn’t warm her. She didn’t have to
wonder why Connie had decided to do without an assistant for Rick, so he had no one to help him with jobs like handling the fill lights— Connie liked to cut corners and had told him he could make do with the strong flash on his camera.

Rick wasn’t giving up on going somewhere else, though. Diana kept her attention focused on her colleagues, ignoring the cowboys seated on a nearby fence rail. She knew she was the object of their muffled, good-natured laughter and whispered remarks. Dressed as she was, she felt really vulnerable.

“Come on, Diana,” Rick finally said. “We’re going to try the arena instead of these livestock pens.”

Dutifully she joined them, seeing the cowboys out of the corner of her eye as they
hopped down from their perch and joined the procession. If she hadn’t been so ill at ease, she would’ve thought it was funny, especially considering the wrathful mama-hen expression on Connie’s face.

It wasn’t a long walk to the rodeo arena but it wasn’t made any shorter by the chill in the air. Diana hugged her arms around her shoulders to take advantage of her body heat. The gesture brought an instant offer from one of the cowboys to take his jacket.

“Don’t you dare say yes! That grubby thing doesn’t touch that white jumpsuit, do you hear me?”

“I wasn’t going to.” But Diana gave the cowboy a smile of appreciation when Connie wasn’t looking.

Then they were all walking into the arena over red-brown dirt. There were only a few
horses and riders inside, but their entourage of cowboys quickly positioned themselves on the heavy wooden rails. Diana stood quietly as Rick and Connie discussed the situation, not paying close attention until Rick gave a low whistle.

“Look at that guy,” he said to Connie. “Straight out of a classic ad, isn’t he? I never saw a horse like the one he’s on, but they’re both freakin’ perfect. Exactly what I had in mind.”

Even as Rick started walking forward, his hand raised in the air, Diana was trying to
follow his direction. It took her only a second to see what had caught the photographer’s eye. On the far side of the arena a horse and rider were cantering through a series of figure eights. The horse was bloodred with flashy black stockings to above his knees and a black mane and tail. The rider in the saddle was the personification of male in every way, a dream of a cowboy. He sat tall and erect, matching every fluid movement of the horse as if the two of them were one. He was lean and muscular, dressed in faded blue jeans and a very broken-in denim jacket lined with sheepskin. On his head was a weathered brown Stetson, pulled low over his face.

As the cowboy caught sight of Rick waving to him, he slowed his horse to a stop and walked it in their direction. Diana watched as he sat immobile in the saddle and listened to Rick. Something in the man’s bearing made her think he would refuse to have himself and his horse used as a backdrop for fashion photographs. There was the slightest hesitation before he looked to where Diana was standing beside Connie, and then he nodded in agreement.

Rick motioned her forward and Diana quickly complied. Precious time had been spent
finding a suitable background and Rick didn’t waste any more of it making introductions between his model and his cowboy. Diana didn’t even get a chance to study the man up close as Rick hurriedly moved her into position on the right side of the horse and began giving instructions. She was intrigued by the man atop the horse, and in between shots she sneaked quick looks at him.

Rugged guy. He was clean-shaven, with deep grooves around his mouth and a hardworking type of tan. The shadows cast by the brim of his Stetson made it hard to figure out the color of his hair, but she was pretty sure it was brown. His eyes were a different matter. At first glance they’d seemed blue, the next, gray. Yet one thing about him was very clear, and that was his remoteness, as if what he was doing was beneath his dignity. For some reason, Diana wasn’t put off by that. If it came right down to it, she’d have to say he fascinated her.

“Put your left foot in the stirrup,” Rick ordered Diana, his face mostly concealed behind the bulky professional camera. “Stand in it, suspended
beside the horse.”

Diana did as she was told, finding she had to hold on to the rider’s shoulder to keep her balance. His sheepskin-lined jacket gave until it pressed against the solid muscle of his shoulder and arm. It was a strange sensation to be so near him. On the ground, she’d thought he was no taller than average, but she realized she hadn’t factored in the horse. The man was tall, easily over six foot.

“Now turn and look at him, Diana,” Rick instructed.

The man in the saddle had gray eyes. She wondered how she had ever thought they were blue. They were slate gray—no, she reconsidered quickly. They were the color of granite, and as hard and unyielding as granite. Even the contours of his face were angular and uncompromising, too rugged, actually, to be handsome. But too compelling not to be attractive.

There was an obvious virility in the sensual line of his mouth. Down, girl, Diana thought to herself.

And she liked the pride she saw in him. The slight bump in his nose gave him the look of an eagle, commanding and free. She pushed away the thought that the eagle was a predatory bird.

His study of her had been just as thorough, only less obvious. Then Diana noticed his gaze lingering on the low V of the jumpsuit’s front and immediately her cheeks flamed with color. It didn’t take an expert eye to figure out that she was braless. Diana doubted a man like him would be shocked by the discovery but it still embarrassed her. When his gaze lifted to her eyes, she saw the gleam of amusement in it.

Maybe that was just because she was blushing so hard. Maybe.

Rick was shouting more instructions to her and Diana was thankful she had to turn away. In seconds, she had her cool, poised expression back, or at least a pretty good imitation of it. But she was intensely aware of the man in the
saddle. The thought kept running through her mind that she had never been so self-conscious in the presence of a man. What was so different about this one? He was only a rodeo cowboy. Not an investment banker or a corporate lawyer, as Vanessa would be bound to point out, those being the types of men who usually interested her.

Why should it matter to her what he did for a living? She silently asked herself the question, already knowing the answer: because he clearly wasn’t husband material.

So what? asked a wicked little voice in her head.

Just as Diana was striking another pose, one of the chute gates swung shut with a loud bang. The blood bay horse that had stood with such restless restraint jumped forward and Diana let out a startled gasp as she felt herself falling backward to the turf. But the man’s reflexes were instantaneous. His right arm shot around her waist as his left hand drew on the reins to check his mount.

In a span of seconds, Diana was clutched tightly against his chest, held by the iron band of his arm. Her own arms circled his shoulders with her head buried beneath his chin. The closeness and warmth heightened his masculine scent, and she breathed it in. She could feel the flexing of his muscles as he controlled the horse and maintained his grip on her. The horse had stopped, his head tossing in agitation and his hooves beating an in-place cadence.

The danger was over, but the blood still pounded in Diana’s temples and her heartbeat had accelerated. She moved her head away from beneath the man’s chin to stare wide-eyed into his calm face. Her waist was pinioned tightly against him, making her arch her back more than a little.

Only inches separated their faces. They were bonded by the look they exchanged, a look that held a message without words. Diana felt transformed by the wonder of it. His face stayed hard and remote but something about it had changed. Whatever had been transmitted between them was still tingling through her body, she knew that much.

“Are you all right?” His quiet, deep voice seemed to come from a long way off.

She suddenly realized he was still waiting for an answer. “Yes,” she said softly.

Then they were no longer alone. Rick and Connie came rushing up to them, the older
woman’s concern divided between Diana and the white jumpsuit. Effortlessly the cowboy lowered her to the ground using one strong arm. Deprived of the warmth of his body, Diana shivered again as Connie squawked about the smudge mark on the knee of the jumpsuit. The mark was too noticeable and would show up in photographs, so she would have to change.

Rick consoled Connie with the fact that he’d gotten in plenty of shots with an action vibe, telling her that they needed to get going while they still had the strong natural light. The older woman waved Diana back to the trailer.

The man was just reining his horse to leave when Diana stepped toward him. She had to tilt her head way back to look up into his still-impassive face. The serene expression she’d put on was in no way connected to the tumult she was experiencing inside.

“Thanks for saving me.” She was amazed at how composed her voice sounded. “I’m Diana Mills, by the way. And you are—?”

“Name’s Masters. Lije Masters.”

She’d never heard a first name like that—he’d pronounced it “Lyzh”—and wondered what it was short for. Then he smiled down at her.

Wow.

It was the first time she’d ever seen a man smile with just his eyes. The line of his mouth never changed. But the corners of his eyes crinkled in a very sexy way and there was a glitter of light in the stone grayness of them.

“Thank you, Mr. Masters,” she said, feeling the warm strength of his hand as he took the one she extended to him.

“Lije will do.”

“Okay, then Lije it is,” she said. “You’re my hero.” She blushed again, not sure why she’d said that.

“Am I?” Mockery glinted in his eyes and he touched his hat and turned the horse away. “Happy to help a lady.”

Lije Masters. All the way back to the trailer the sound of it rolled silently on her tongue. It was an unusual name and she was sure there
was an interesting story behind it. And she was even more sure that his last name fit him perfectly. Sitting tall in the saddle the way he did, he looked like the master of all he surveyed, just like an eagle did in the skies.

She wanted to see Lije Masters again. Diana had never been so certain of anything in her life.

© 2009 Janet Dailey

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