One Tall, Dusty Cowboy. Stella Bagwell

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held a six-piece band. At the microphone, a woman with long black hair and a clingy red evening gown was belting out a torchy standard from the 1950s.

      Not bothering with a table, Rafe led her straight to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. At first, she kept a rigid distance away from him, but after he applied a gentle pressure against her back, she finally surrendered. And as her curves melted against him, he decided there was something very unique about Lilly Lockett. She was making him think about her instead of himself and all that needed to be done on the ranch in the coming days.

      “Now that is my kind of music,” he said as he nuzzled his cheek against the side of her blond hair. “Bluesy and soulful.”

      “I thought you cowboys were all guitars and twang.”

      “Hmm. We’re not cookie cutter, Lilly. I have three or four wranglers who love rock music. They turn the radio up so loud in the work trucks it blasts my eardrums. A few more like standards and one even goes for classical stuff. But there are country and western fans among the bunch, too. We’re an eclectic group.”

      “There goes my vision of you sitting around the campfire singing trail songs.”

      He chuckled and then went quiet as the sheer pleasure of having her in his arms took over his senses. She smelled like some sort of flower. A gardenia, he guessed, or maybe it was a rose. The only thing he knew about flowers was that a bunch of them could usually smooth an angry woman. And he’d dealt with plenty of those in his lifetime. Especially when he grew tired of one and didn’t take pains to give her a gentle send-off. Funny, but he couldn’t imagine himself getting tired of this one. She was beautiful and quick and something about her made him feel so damned protective. And that wasn’t like him. Not like him, at all.

      “Do you come here often?”

      Her question broke into his thoughts and he peered down at the shiny crown of her head. Her hair was like spun sunlight, all soft and golden. The morning he’d first spotted her on the stairs it had been confined in a bun at the back of her head. But tonight it was loose and curled ever so slightly against her shoulders, while a jagged fringe brushed her eyebrows. All evening he’d been itching to get his fingers into it and now that he had her close, he dared to roll a strand between his thumb and forefinger.

      “I rarely come here,” he answered.

      Her head tilted back in order to study his face. “Then why did you bring me?”

      “I wanted to do something nice for you,” he admitted.

      She reasoned, “You hardly know me.”

      “I’m learning more by the minute,” he told her. “For one thing, your hair doesn’t feel a bit like Roscoe’s mane.”

      “Mine’s coarser, I’m sure.”

      He chuckled. “Since you’re a nurse, you might be interested to know that Roscoe’s tail hair makes great sutures.”

      She frowned with disbelief. “You’re kidding now.”

      He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. If I’m lying, I’m dying. I can’t count the times I’ve used it to sew up a cow or calf out on the range.”

      “I would’ve guessed that the Silver Horn had a resident vet to do those sorts of things.”

      “The Horn does have a resident vet, but he can’t be over thousands of acres at once. You find a hurt animal five, ten miles away from the ranch yard, you do your best to take care of it yourself. Of course, if the injury is really serious, the animal has to be transported back to the barns.”

      She smiled up at him and Rafe felt his heart give a ridiculous little jerk. What the hell was the matter with him? he wondered. Women smiled at him all the time and he enjoyed the attention. But his heart sure didn’t go pitter-patter. At least, it hadn’t until this very minute.

      She said, “Looks like I’m learning things tonight, too.”

      The song suddenly came to an end and rather than wait for the music to begin again, Rafe said, “Let’s go out on the balcony and look at the lake.”

      “All right,” she agreed. “But I should warn you that I’ll need to be heading home soon. I have to be up early in the morning.”

      “I’d like to argue with you about that. But for once, I’ll be a nice guy. We’ll stay for only a few more minutes. I don’t want to make you tired and grumpy in the morning.”

      With his hand clamped around hers, he led her through the dancers and out onto the wide balcony that was an extension of the dance floor. As they leaned against the tall railing, the cool night air prompted Rafe to pull her shawl up on her shoulders, but it was the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin fabric that made his hands linger there.

      “Oh, the moon looks so gorgeous hanging over the water.” She let out an appreciative sigh. “It makes it look like liquid silver.”

      “I’m glad you’re enjoying the view.”

      “It’s a far cry from the emergency room,” she admitted.

      “And you’re a far cry from the branding lot.”

      That brought her head around to his and Rafe’s gaze barely had time to connect with hers before it fell to her parted lips. The pink, moist curves sent a shaft of longing right through him.

      “Now I suppose you’re going to say that I look so beautiful in the moonlight that you just have to kiss me.”

      Her jaded tone told him that she’d been disappointed by one or more men in her life. It also told him that she wasn’t a naive girl that he could easily wrap around his finger. But then, Rafe wasn’t sure he’d want to do that, even if he could. He was smart enough to know that Lilly wasn’t the type of woman a man could make love to then simply walk away. And he was the walk-away type. He didn’t want the fuss or complication of having one special woman in his life. Besides, he was already married to the ranch. He didn’t have room in his heart for a woman.

      “Actually, I was going to say the moonlight makes your hair look like silver, too.” He thrust his fingers into the soft, blond waves and dipped his face close to hers. But your idea is better. Much better.”

      “It wasn’t an idea—it was—”

      Her words stopped as his lips hovered over hers.

      “Was what?” he prompted.

      She turned her face away from his and stared out at the lake.

      “Men like you have all the cheesy lines—all the slick moves,” she said flatly. “It doesn’t impress me. It bores me.”

      “Then maybe this won’t.”

      Without giving her time to guess his intentions, he tugged her face around to his. Surprise flashed in her eyes, but it didn’t stop Rafe from lowering his mouth to hers. He had to kiss her. Had to show her exactly the sort of man she was dealing with. A man who would never be her pushover.

       Chapter Three

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