Zane squeezed her hand, and leaning toward her, drew her into his arms.
He hadn’t planned to kiss her. But at that moment, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Her lips parted, her breath warm and sweet. He felt a quiver run through her, his pulse kicking up as his mouth dropped to hers.
Dakota gently pushed him away. “Sorry, but your reputation precedes you.”
He heard the slight tremble in her voice. She pulled free of his arms and he leaned back, telling himself he shouldn’t have kissed her. Especially given why they were together. Didn’t he have enough women problems right now?
“You’re going to believe rumors about me?” he joked as he tried to cover up how even that quick kiss had affected him.
She smiled but there was hurt in her gaze.
His gaze caressed her face for a moment before meeting her eyes. “But that kiss? I was just fulfilling a promise I made you before you moved to New Mexico. Remember?”
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author BJ DANIELS wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. That first book, Odd Man Out, received a four-and-a-half-star review from RT Book Reviews and went on to be nominated for Best Intrigue that year. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book.
Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.
To contact her, write to BJ Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA or e-mail her at [email protected]. Check out her website at www.bjdaniels.com.
Wrangled
USA Today Bestselling Author BJ Daniels
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This book is dedicated to Julie Miller and Delores Fossen, two fellow Intrigue writers I greatly admire. I was with them in Los Angeles at the Romantic Times convention relaxing when I came up with the ending of this book. Thank you both for your friendship. I’m looking forward to our January Ice Lake anthology together.
Chapter One
The knock at the door surprised Zane Chisholm. He’d just spent the warm summer day in the saddle rounding up cattle. All he wanted to do was kick off his boots and hit the hay early. The last thing he wanted was company.
But whoever was knocking didn’t sound as if they were planning to go away anytime soon. Living at the end of a dirt road, he didn’t get uninvited company—other than one of his five brothers. So that narrows it down, he thought as he went to the window and peered out through the curtains.
The car parked outside was a compact, lime-green with Montana State University plates. Definitely not one of his brothers, he thought with a grin. Chisholm men wouldn’t be caught dead driving such a “girlie” car. Especially a lime-green one.
Even more odd was the young, willowy blonde pounding on his door. She must be lost and needing directions. Or she was selling something.
His curiosity piqued, he went to answer her persistent knock. As the door swung open, he saw that her eyes were blue and set wide in a classically gorgeous face. She wore a slinky red dress that fell over her body like water. The woman was a stunner.
She smiled warmly. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He waited, wondering what she wanted, and enjoying the view in the meantime.
Her smile slipped a little as she took in his worn jeans, his even more worn cowboy boots and the dirty Western shirt with a torn sleeve and a missing button.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” he said when he saw her apparent disappointment in his attire.
“Oh?” She looked confused now. “Did I get the night wrong? You’re Zane Chisholm and this is Friday, right?”
“Right.” He frowned. “Did we have a date or something?” He knew he’d never seen this woman before. No red-blooded American male would forget a woman like this.
She reached into her sparkly shoulder bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Your last email,” she said, handing it to him.
He took the paper, unfolded it and saw his email address. It appeared he had been corresponding with this woman for the past two days.
“If you forgot—”
“No,” he said quickly. “Please, come in and let’s see if we can sort this out.”
She stepped in but looked tentative, as if not so sure about him.
“Why don’t you start with how we met,” he said as he offered her a seat.
She sat on the edge of the couch. “The Evans rural internet dating service.”
“Arlene’s matchmaking business?” he asked in surprise. Arlene Evans, who was now Arlene Monroe, had started the business a few years ago to bring rural couples together.
“We’ve been visiting by email until you …”
“Asked you out,” he finished for her.
“Are you saying someone else has been using your email?”
“It sure looks that way, since I never signed up with Arlene’s matchmaking service. But,” he added quickly when he saw how upset she was, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Arlene is behind this. It wouldn’t be the first time she took it upon herself to
