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“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re not looking for a husband?”
Taking hold of her hand, Lex passed his thumb softly, sensuously, over the back of it.
A nervous lump thickened Christina’s throat. They were walking on treacherous ground. “That’s right. Setting out to deliberately find a spouse is – well – ”
“Unromantic?”
“Yes. Love doesn’t happen by design.”
“And you think love is an important ingredient for marriage?”
“It’s the essential ingredient.”
She watched his lips spread into a wide, seductive smile as she suddenly found his hands on her shoulders and his head lowering to hers. She mentally shouted a self-warning to turn her head, to step back and away from him. Yet her body refused to obey. Instead, she felt her chin lift, her lips part, and then the totally male taste of him shattered her senses.
Stella Bagwell began writing romance novels more than twenty years ago. Now, more than sixty books later, she likens her job to childbirth. The pain is great, but the rewards are too sweet to measure.
Stella married her high school sweetheart thirty-seven years ago and now the two live on the Texas coast, where the climate is tropical and the lifestyle blessedly slow. When Stella isn’t spinning out tales of love, she’s usually working outdoors on their little ranch, 6 Pines, helping her husband care for a herd of very spoiled horses.
They have a son, Jason, who is a high school maths teacher and athletic coach.
Cowboy to the Rescue
by
Stella Bagwell
MILLS & BOON
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To my late parents, who are still guiding my footsteps. I miss you both.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
“Who the hell is that?”
Lex Saddler’s drawled question was directed to no one in particular in the dusty cattle pen, but it was spoken loud enough for his cousin Matt to hear.
The other man followed Lex’s gaze across the ranch yard to see Geraldine Saddler, the matriarch of the Sandbur ranch, approaching the corral fence. The surprise wasn’t Lex’s mother, an attractive woman in her mid-sixties with silver, bobbed hair, but the person by her side. The tall, young woman with long red hair, dressed in a short black skirt and delicate high heels, was definitely a stranger.
“I don’t know,” Matt murmured, “but if she gets any closer, she’s going to get coated with dust.”
Behind the two men, several cowboys were roping calves and stretching them out for the branding iron. The indignant little bulls and heifers were bawling in loud protest as the stench of burning hair and black dust filled the hot, muggy air.
Squatting
