id="u17261f63-38b3-596b-8519-011084ce3ce7">
He reached out and gently traced his fingertip over the slant of her cheekbone. Her skin was as smooth as cream and he had no doubt it would taste just as rich.
His throat tightened as the urge to kiss her, make love to her began to tie his muscles into knots. “No. That’s not what I want to do, Bella. But then you already know what you’re doing to me. I imagine that makes you feel pretty damn good, doesn’t it? Knowing you can make a big man like me weak in the knees.”
Her eyes narrowed and then her head shook back and forth. “Why would you think such a thing? I have no desire to wield power over you. Or anyone else for that matter. That’s one of the reasons I like being a lawyer. Because I believe everyone should be on equal ground.”
“Well, in my case—”
“In your case, Noah, you’re thinking too much. Worrying too much. Why can’t you simply let yourself feel?”
“Because I’m feeling things that aren’t good for me.”
* * *
Men of the West:
Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy …
Her Rugged Rancher
Stella Bagwell
Having written over eighty titles for Mills & Boon, USA TODAY bestselling author STELLA BAGWELL writes about families, the West, strong, silent men of honor and the women who love them. She appreciates her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband on their south Texas ranch. In between she works on her next tale of love. Contact her at [email protected].
To my editor, Gail Chasan, for letting me be me. With much love and thanks!
Contents
Of all the damned luck!
Noah Crawford muttered the words under his breath as he rounded a curve of the narrow dirt road and spotted a slender young woman with long dark hair walking in the same direction he was traveling. A saddled bay mare followed close on her heels.
He jammed on the brakes and dust billowed as the truck and trailer came to a jarring halt. Up ahead, the woman quickly took herself and the horse off to the side, then with a hand shading her eyes, turned to see who’d made the untimely stop behind her.
Bella Sundell.
Her name shivered through him like an unwanted blast of cold wind. Hell’s bells, what was she doing out riding in the middle of the afternoon? Why wasn’t she in Carson City, practicing law with her brother?
He’d worked on this Nevada ranch for seven years and during that time he’d never seen this woman on horseback. Nor had he spoken more than two dozen words to her. In fact, he often went out of his way to steer clear of her.
Too bad there wasn’t some way to dodge her now, he thought, as he snatched up his gloves and climbed out of the truck. But she was his boss’s sister. Besides, he wouldn’t ignore anyone who needed help.
Striding across the hard packed dirt, he called out to her, “What’s wrong?”
“Thanks for stopping, Noah.” She pointed to the horse’s front right foot. “She slipped on a rock and jerked a shoe loose when we were riding in the canyon. I thought I’d better lead her the rest of the way home. I didn’t want to take the chance of damaging her hoof.”
Trying to look anywhere other than her lovely, smiling face, he sidled up to the mare, then bent over to examine her foot.
“Riding in the canyon,” he remarked. “That’s a little risky for a woman alone, don’t you think?”
Silence followed his question, but that hardly surprised Noah. She didn’t have to answer to him. He was just the ranch foreman of the J Bar S, hardly her keeper.
Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a Leatherman tool and quickly went to work jerking out the remaining nails of the loose shoe.
