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, pale and scattered across her nose and cheeks.
“She’s used to having her picture taken wherever she goes,” her friend said.
“I don’t doubt that.” He didn’t take his eyes off her, and she was staring right back.
“I appreciate your running interference, Mr. Young,” she said.
“Tony.” Her head reached his chin. It was rare for a woman to match him so well in height. “Where’s your entourage?”
“I ditched them. I…needed to get out. Had something to think over.” She leaned around him again and said to her friends, “I’ve taken enough of your hard-earned dollars tonight.”
Tony noticed her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He also noticed she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. Woman like that should be sporting a rock that would blind you. “You know the two-step?” he asked her.
Her brows arched high. “Actually I just learned it for the movie. Big scene at a barn dance. Why?”
He tossed his hat onto a nearby table and held out a hand in invitation. “Let’s see if you had a good teacher.”
It took her a few seconds but she finally stepped into his arms, where she fit perfectly. Tony liked the two-step. It was one of those dances where the closer you got, the better you did together. Man leads, woman follows. Simple. Could be a sexy dance, depending, but didn’t have to be. Given the heat flowing from both of them, though, he figured it was going to knock sexy into the next territory.
He was right. The heat was combustible as he drew her a little closer every so often, until he could feel her breasts touch his chest. He heard her suck in a breath, but she didn’t try to move back. Their thighs glided against each other—
“How am I doing?” she asked, a little breathless, her gaze not leaving his.
The music stopped, leaving only the sound of their boots against the old wood-plank floor. He didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to let go of her.
“One more dance, and you’re probably good to go,” he said as another song started.
She moved herself even closer and stared at his mouth. “You’re easy to follow.”
“That’s my job. I’m easy about other things, too.”
Her lips parted. “Yeah? Like what?”
“For one, listening when a pretty lady has a problem.”
“What makes you think I have a problem?” she asked, her gaze lifting to meet his again.
“Intuition.” He had a problem, too. A physical one, especially when she angled her body differently, pressing against his pelvis, a sparkle of something he couldn’t quite define in her eyes.
“You’re making me forget everything,” she said.
“Is that good?”
“I’m not sure.”
Time passed. Fire burned. Need intensified. “What was with the John Wayne deal?” he asked, changing subjects.
She looked away, as if deciding what to say. He waited. Patience was something he had plenty of, too. Plus, he was enjoying the hell out of dancing with her, her body close to him, all curves and temptation, his body painfully aroused as they moved around the floor, the rhythm of the music powerful and enticing. He wanted to find the nearest bed, and dance skin to skin.
“When I spotted you on the set today,” she said, “I thought you looked like him. John Wayne.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“You should. He’s my all-time favorite cowboy.”
“Okay. Except I’m a cattleman. Bit of a difference. Not taking into account that he was just an actor playing a part.”
The front door burst open, and a young man with a big, fancy camera came in, snapping as he went. “Look this way, Miss McShane!”
“Maybe I should get you out of here,” Tony said, intending to take her out the back way.
Her fingers dug into his arms. “No,” she said, almost a whisper, then louder, “no.”
He tried to be her barricade again but the photographer was moving fast to get them in his frame, bypassing the men going after him.
“I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to tell me,” he said, more than a little curious at her wild-eyed look, like she was about to go over the edge.
“Kiss me,” she said, harsh and low.
“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
“Kiss me. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
“Them who?”
“Everyone. The vultures. I’m so sick of it all. So sick of always doing the right thing. Please.”
Hell, he was only a man. How could he pass up an opportunity like that?
So he kissed her, a bare brush of lips, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, having seen in her eyes it was the wrong thing to do, for the wrong reasons. But reason flew out the window when his lips touched hers. He pulled her closer, looked deeper, and kissed her the way he’d wanted to since first laying eyes on her.
He heard her friends grapple with the photographer, then the door open and close. And then everything went quiet. No music. No conversation. No pool balls.
She put her hand to her mouth. “Get me out of here. Please,” she whispered, panic in her voice. She must have finally realized her mistake.
Tony didn’t ask questions, but pushed her ahead of him, scooping up his hat on the way. When they reached the back parking lot, he urged her toward his truck.
“I have a car,” she said, pointing. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you going back to your hotel?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, do you know your way around?”
“I can stop
