He eyed her. “Okay.”
“Aw, Mags. You don’t hafta do that,” Pete called out.
“You’ll be paying for it one way or another,” she said in return. “I’ll just be using your winnings.”
Hoots and hollers came from her friends. She grinned. She leaned against the bar and took a sip. As she lowered her mug she saw a photograph of herself on the wall, among a slew of other star photos, male and female. She moved closer to look at them. A few were autographed to a guy named Tex. Most weren’t signed at all.
A black-and-white drew her closer. It was her cowboy in full rodeo gear, his signature scrawled across one corner. The shot looked to be maybe twenty years old.
“Are you Tex?” she asked the bartender.
“Sure am.”
“These people all been through here?”
“Most. Some are just particular favorites of mine or my regulars.”
Which meant she was a particular favorite. She took another long sip, happy to be honored at the Red Rock Saloon, then started toward the pool table.
“Miss?” Tex said, gesturing with his head to come closer.
Maybe he didn’t recognize her. After all, she was platinum-blond in the picture and wearing a gold sequined dress—the Oscars ceremony from a few years back, when she was a presenter.
“I’d be honored if you’d sign your photograph before you leave,” Tex said. “And in case you’re wondering, if anyone here bothers you, I’ll send ’em on their way.”
She appreciated his concern. “I’d be happy to sign the picture for you. I’d be happier still to send you a new one from this film, in my ranch gear.”
“That’d be mighty kind of you.”
She smiled then took herself over to the pool table to let her natural competitiveness dispatch her erstwhile fiancé from her mind for a little while longer.
Pete handed her a cue stick then lifted the rack away, indicating she should make the break. She chalked the tip and took her position.
The back door creaked open. Boot steps echoed on the wood floor, strong and steady, but she ignored them, concentrating on her shot.
“Hey, champ,” Tex called out. “Been a while. What brings you out this way?”
“Just wonderin’ what the wind blew in,” the newcomer said.
“Want your usual?” Tex asked.
“You remember my usual?”
Maggie aimed, made her shot, scattered the balls. One dropped into a pocket. Oh, yeah, this felt good. Focus, shoot, play. Forget.
It was just what the get-over-him doctor ordered.
Chapter Two
Mug in hand, Tony Young walked over to a corner table where he could watch the whole room, not just the star attraction, Maggie McShane. She was so focused on the game she was playing, she hadn’t noticed him come in, hadn’t looked his way once, which he found interesting. He would’ve thought she’d be aware of everyone in a public place like this.
She was a good-looking woman, even prettier without all that movie makeup. Seemed to him she hadn’t bothered with any tonight, like maybe people wouldn’t recognize her with a clean-scrubbed face. Hell, he’d known it was her the moment he’d come into the room, without even seeing her face. The woman had a body on her that—Well, it was fine. Why she’d always been billed as the girl-next-door type made him scratch his head. She played those roles, sure, but didn’t anyone factor in her body? Images of red satin sheets came to his mind right away, not country-blue denim.
America’s Sweetheart, people always pegged her. It was kinda sad they couldn’t be more clever.
He wondered how she felt about the nickname. Was curious, too, about how big her ego was.
He watched her line up her next shot, leaning over the pool table, giving him a nice full-on view of her rear, all tight and round in her second-skin jeans. She was friendly with the guys, but not overly, and they were respectful of her, for all that she was wiping the floor with them at pool.
Tony kept an eye on the other patrons, too. He didn’t know any of them, as he wasn’t a regular anymore. What drinking he did was usually at home, with trusted friends. His hard-drinking days had ended with his rodeo career. He didn’t miss either of them much.
The music on the jukebox stopped. He was thinking about choosing some songs when the two other women in the place went over and plunked some quarters in the machine. One of them gave him the eye, smiling a little. Hell, she was young enough to be his…well, his little sister, anyway. He was forty, and she probably hadn’t been legal for long. He looked away, then something made him look back. She was focusing on Maggie McShane with her cell phone camera.
Tony let his chair drop to all fours. He shoved himself up and moved into her line of vision, then kept going forward, hitching a thumb toward Tex to take care of the woman. Tony kept walking until he came up behind Maggie, still blocking the view.
Maggie straightened slowly. He didn’t move. Although he wasn’t quite touching her, he was close enough to feel heat, so he knew she could, too.
“Move back,” she said calmly.
Her friends descended on him. He stopped them with a look, then waited for Maggie to turn around and face him, which she finally did, blushing slightly when she met his gaze.
“Unless you want a photograph of your pretty little behind spreading like wildfire around the Internet, you’ll stay right here with me until Tex deals with that amateur paparazzi over by the jukebox. She got a good bead on you when you were chuggin’ your beer, America’s Sweetheart,” he said, continuing to be her personal barricade from photo ops. “And maybe you could call off your posse, too, since I’m just tryin’ to help.”
“It’s you,” she whispered. “John Wayne.”
“No,” he said slowly, wondering about her sanity. “The name’s Tony Young.”
“Oh, I—I know. I asked…”
She’d asked? About him? When? Why?
“You own the ranch.”
“Well, technically, it owns me,” he said, then was bumped from behind by one of her friends.
“Look, cowboy, you need to give her space. Now.”
He did. Not because the guy said to, but because he could see Tex escorting the picture taker and her friend out of the bar. Two men followed, swearing the whole way, but whether it was at Tex or the women, Tony didn’t know. Maggie peeked around him, watching the scene.
Heat. She was all fire and heat. On top of that, up close she was stunning, all bright blue eyes and dark, rich hair and soft, full lips—and freckles,
