Loving That Cowboy Read online

  “Hey, you okay in there?”

  Samantha’s voice jolted her back into the here and now, bringing Trisha to her feet. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and shook the tension from her arms. Lifting her chin a notch she shouldered her way through the slatted swinging doors and twirled around for Samantha’s expert opinion.

  “Much, much better,” Samantha announced as she held out a white hat.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Trisha settled it on her head and tucked strands of her dark brown hair behind her ears. Samantha adjusted the hat slightly before nodding with satisfaction.

  “Now step into those boots.”

  Trisha stared down at the silver trimmed, tooled black leather boots Samantha had found for her. They were gorgeous. She pulled on the right boot, the supple leather wrapping around her foot like her mother’s warm hug.

  “Samantha, you’re amazing,” she exclaimed as she put her left foot into the other boot. “These fit perfectly. How do I look?”

  “From where I’m standing, you look pretty damn fine.”

  Both women looked up at the sound of a deep baritone voice. That such a big a man could move so quietly amazed Trisha.

  Samantha read her witless expression in one swift glance and agreed with him, giving Trisha a chance to regain her composure.

  Mr. Heart-Attack-on-Legs gave her a smoldering grey-eyed once over and she straightened her spine. How dare he sneak up on her?

  “May I?” He reached out and adjusted the collar on her shirt, then wound a wayward strand of hair around his finger before brushing it back off her shoulder.

  He scarcely touched her, yet the heat and strength of his fingers seared her skin through the thin fabric. In a whirl of confusion she sensed tenderness in that touch, nothing like the brash casualness she’d experienced from him that morning.

  Against her better judgement, she tipped her head back so she could see him more clearly from beneath the brim of her hat and then wished she hadn’t. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his and the smart reply her mind produced got lost in transit to her lips.

  He aimed a slow, mind-blowing sexy smile directly at her. Her heart swelled and bumped painfully against her ribs. He tipped his hat and winked at her as he left the store.

  Trisha watched him go, every breath in her body trailing after him and leaving her breathless.

  Samantha, a tiny smirk of amusement twisting her lips, eyed Trisha with sly humor.

  “I think that you,” she announced, “are definitely in trouble.”

  Chapter Two

  Cameron Carter cursed under his breath for being an idiot as he strode down the mall.

  One look at his grim expression sent people scattering out of his way rather than risk being plowed under. When he reached the entrance door he pushed it open, strode across the sidewalk and halted on the curb.

  The evening air, still heavy with the heat of the day and clogged with dust and vehicle fumes, almost choked him when he took a deep breath.

  What on earth had possessed him to touch the woman? He cursed himself every which way. She could’ve screamed blue bloody murder. Instead, she’d looked at him all wide eyed and not a clue what to do. He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops on his jeans as if to anchor himself and shook his head in disbelief at his own actions.

  He took three long steps along the sidewalk. The sensation of the light fabric of her shirt and the outline of her collar bone still remained on his fingertips. That prominent collar bone bothered him. She wasn’t simply slim, she was thin. Spinning on his heel he strode back to his starting point. How dumb a conclusion was that? He didn’t know anything about her. She could be tough as nails, like some of the barrel racers he met up with on the rodeo circuit. No meat on them but fit and wiry and strong as all get out.

  That she was all woman he had no doubt. Her shirt did nothing to hide the swell of her small breasts, nor the slim waist above a flat stomach and taut hips. And as for those long denim-covered legs? Man, she could wrap them around him anytime.

  What the hell happened back there? He’d been talking to the store manager about the silver belt buckle he’d ordered and then he heard her.

  How was that even possible? The crazy buzz of people in the mall drifted through the store’s open doors. It added to the existing hum of conversation inside, yet the steady cadence of her English accent rose above it all. Clear and easy to listen to, he’d turned in her direction.

  She and another woman were checking out new duds and before he could stop himself he’d stepped up and offered his opinion.

  The hand he rubbed over his face did nothing to erase the image of her bright, emerald green eyes. Damn, but he was a sucker for any shade of green eyes. Always had been, likely always would be. But that wasn’t why he’d wanted to touch her. There was something else. Something bone-deep that drew him to her, as if his body knew something his brain didn’t. Whatever it was he couldn’t quite figure it out and probably shouldn’t even try.

  Heading out into the crowded parking lot, Cameron located his truck, unlocked it and stepped back to avoid the blast of built-up heat as he opened the door. He fitted his key into the ignition and started the engine but waited a moment for the AC to kick in and cool the cab down. If he hadn’t promised to meet his buddy for a beer, he’d have hit the highway and headed straight back to his ranch.

  His phone blasted its barking-dog ring-tone and Cameron grabbed it out of his pocket. He recognised Greg Tooley’s number in the display panel and took the call.

  “I’m just leaving the mall, bud. Stay put, I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he grimaced in frustration at the sight of three lanes of gridlock on Macleod Trail. With Stampede starting in two days, there was no possible way to avoid the traffic. It took him nearly thirty minutes to get from the mall lot and find another parking spot at the bar where he’d arranged to meet Greg.

  A hostess flashed him a bright smile as he entered the pub’s cool interior, but he’d already spotted Greg and wove his way between the tables to join him.

  “What’s up?” He dropped his truck keys on the table top and sat down.

  Greg tilted his bottle of beer and inspected the label as if he’d never seen that particular brew before. A waitress appeared and Cameron ordered one of the same.

  “I’ve done something real stupid.” Greg said.

  “Tell me something new.” Cameron remembered his own stupidity back at the store and added under his breath, “We’re both guilty of that.”

  The waitress returned with a frosty bottle, placed a small napkin on the table and set the bottle on it. Cameron nodded his thanks.

  “Damn it, this is serious.” Greg raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it ruffled and untidy. “You know the state I’m in with my place?”

  “You told me the bank wouldn’t allow you an extension.” Cameron waited patiently for whatever would come next.

  Greg nodded slowly. “Now I have to come up with a lot of bucks fast to avoid losing everything.”

  “Any idea how you’re going to do that?”

  Greg took another sip of his beer and without a word slid a creased business card across the table.

  Cameron picked it up and read, ‘Samantha Monroe Modelling Agency’. For a moment he said nothing. Then he grinned and chuckled with amusement.

  “You’re right.” He lifted his bottle and tipped it in salute to Greg. “That is stupid.”

  “This Monroe woman said I could earn a lot of money modelling.” Cameron couldn’t fail to see the misery in Greg’s clear blue eyes. “When she told me what I could expect in fees, I near fell off my chair. But there’s a snag. A big one.”

  Now curious, Cameron sat back in his chair and watched Greg through narrowed eyes while he waited for an answer.

  “And that is?” he prompted when it seemed that Greg had lost his tongue.

  Greg took a deep breath and swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple in h
is throat bobbing nervously. “My best shot gets entered in a competition for some kind of book cover deal.”

  “What kind of books?” Cameron asked cautiously.

  Greg hung his head. “Western romance novels.”

  Cameron choked back his laughter. “What does your wife think of all this?”

  “I haven’t told Donna,” Greg admitted. “She’ll kill me when she finds out.”

  “Aw, damn.” Cameron plunked his bottle down. “I get it now.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?” Greg pleaded as he leaned across the table.

  “Well, bud, as I remember it you’ve always, for whatever knuckle-headed reason, gone your own way regardless of what Donna wants. She’s got to love you one helluva lot to put up with you, you jerk.” Cameron heard the tinge of envy in his voice as he stared Greg down. “I’m guessing what’s really eating you up right now is the fact you know she deserves better.”

  Greg stared back with his jaw stubbornly clenched, but then his glance shifted. “Oh, hell.”

  “What?” Cameron straightened up, alarmed at Greg’s sudden and obvious dismay.

  “Samantha Monroe just walked in.” Greg grabbed his hat off the seat beside him, settled it firmly on his head and pulled the brim down over his eyes.

  Cameron looked up, surprised to see the girl and her friend from the store. It didn’t take two guesses for him to decide which was which. The woman asking the hostess for a booth had to be Samantha Monroe. The girl with her looked uncomfortable, as if not sure of herself in her new clothes. She hooked her dark brown hair behind her ears and adjusted her hat. The fog in his brain suddenly cleared. That air she had about her, the one he hadn’t been able to immediately identify? He saw it now as he recognized an expression of vulnerability in her green eyes. It made him want to scoop her into his arms and hold her tight. Sensations he hadn’t wanted to contemplate in a long time hit him hard and he exhaled slowly.

  “Evening, Greg,” Samantha said as she passed their table.

  “Ma’am.” Greg tipped his hat and let out a breath.

  Cameron tore his glance from the slim figure setting his whole body on red alert and surveyed her companion. “That woman’s the Samantha Monroe who hired you to model?”

  “No, that’s a shark in woman’s clothing who hired me to model,” Greg muttered under his breath. “Didn’t realize it until after I signed the dotted line on her damn contract. How the hell do I get out of this fix?”

  “Don’t know, but I guess if you want that cash you’ll just have to suck it up. You’ll figure it out,” Cameron said with a chuckle. “Who’s the girl with her? She sounds like she may be English.”

  “English?” Greg peered over his shoulder. “Jeez, that must be the gal from London who’s judging the competition entries. Hell, I’m outta here.”

  He downed the rest of his beer in one long swallow, threw a ten-dollar bill on the table and left.

  Cameron picked up the bill and idly smoothed it out while he thought about the step Greg was about to take. Even though it was to save their home, Donna would likely ring a peel over his head when she found out about it. They reminded him of his parents. Always giving and taking, they shared the good as well as the bad. He’d never experienced that kind of relationship. Never even come close to it. He’d for sure enjoyed the girls who came in and out of his life and thought he treated them well. At least none had ever complained about his love-making. Heck, when was the last time that had even happened?

  Building a home and a business that no one could take away from him took priority over everything else. Marriage, when it crossed his mind, was always at some time in the future. He glanced briefly towards the girl who’d stirred those thoughts in him but when he stood to leave, Samantha Monroe smiled at him.

  Since she’d caught his eye, he could hardly ignore her. He gave her a brief smile and she beckoned him over to their booth. When he approached he saw the predatory gleam in her dark, almond-shaped eyes and when she smiled Cameron immediately saw why Greg likened her to a shark.

  “Mr ...?” She held out her hand.

  “Carter, Ma’am. Cameron Carter,” he said as he took it and gave it a brief shake.

  “Why don’t you join us?”

  Cameron hesitated. He couldn’t deny that finding out more about the English girl might be extremely interesting, but what did Samantha Monroe want with him?

  “Oh, come on Mr. Carter.” Samantha patted the seat beside her. “I’m not going to bite and besides, I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you. What do you boys put in your pancakes to make you grow so tall?”

  Samantha he could take or leave, and would definitely like to leave, but his interest in the girl with her might be somewhat satisfied if he stayed. He ignored the question with a shrug and sat down.

  “What can I do for you Ms. Monroe?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” She patted his arm. “It’s Samantha. And I’m wondering if you might know of someone who could help my friend, Trisha, here. You see,” she moved in a little closer and whispered in his ear, “she used to ride but hasn’t been on a horse in ages.”

  Cameron pictured Trisha’s jean-clad rear slapping a saddle and a smile spread slowly across his face. “Can you ride?”

  Trisha looked at him as if she wished he were elsewhere. “I’ve ridden a camel, a donkey and an elephant.”

  Her green eyes held him in a steady stare as she evaded his question.

  “I meant can you ride a horse?”

  Her mouth tightened. Pity. It looked such a pretty mouth too.

  “So Mr. Carter,” Samantha continued, ignoring the warning glances from Trisha, “being that you’re a friend of Greg’s and might know about such things, what you could do if you had a mind to, is point her in the direction of a good dude ranch. Somewhere she can get the full wild-west experience while she’s here.”

  If he had a mind to. Cameron turned that idea over. If Trisha went anywhere with him he would have no mind at all, he was sure of it. Just the thought of being alone with her made his blood race and sent adrenaline surging as it did when he wrestled a steer.

  “There’s no need for that.” Trisha’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, or anger, he wasn’t sure. “I can get brochures or something at a tourist office.”

  “Nonsense.” Samantha ignored Trisha’s pleadings. “If you want the real deal you go to the experts. Isn’t that right, Mr. Carter?”

  Cameron couldn’t help himself. Trisha looked so darn cute, all fluffed up like a kitten having a hissy fit that words raced out of his mouth before his brain could change gear.

  “Where and when can I pick you up tomorrow morning?”

  “There really is no need,” Trisha insisted. Her frustration at being out-manoeuvred by Samantha showed in her narrowed eyes and down-turned mouth.

  Samantha offered Cameron a business card.

  “My office. Nine o’clock.” The tone in her voice warned there would be no argument.

  Cameron took the card and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Call him dumb, but tomorrow already looked pretty peachy. He grinned. “Who do I ask for?”

  From the mulish look on her face, he knew he would not get the satisfaction of that piece of information from the girl sitting opposite him.

  “Trisha Watts,” Samantha answered sweetly.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Watts.” Cameron held out his hand and she reluctantly shook it. He sucked in a deep breath as their fingers locked, the warmth of her skin melding with his. “Tomorrow at nine it is.”

  Stars already dotted the darkening blanket of the night sky as he left the restaurant. He took off his hat and slapped it against his leg as he walked to his truck. What was he thinking?

  He needed all his concentration for the next ten days of intense competition at the Stampede. Now he had offered his services to a true dude. Cute as all get out and spiky as a porcupine but still a dude. Not only that, a dude that set his pulses racing and made his hea
rt thump like an old hay baling machine.

  What the hell had he let himself in for?

  Chapter Three

  Music blasted from loudspeakers and vibrated through the floor, thumping in Cameron’s ears. How anyone could work in this racket amazed him, yet people carrying clipboards, lamps, cameras rushed from one place to another as if they knew exactly what they had to do and where they had to do it.

  Nine o’clock sharp Samantha had insisted, yet at twenty minutes after the hour she and Trisha had still not arrived. Crushing disappointment pressed him into the sagging couch where he’d been invited to wait by a pint-sized assistant who introduced herself as Dee.

  He spotted her wagging her finger at a technician. The tech appeared less than impressed as he pushed his headphones off his head and hung them around his neck. Tired of waiting, Cameron heaved himself off the couch. He made his way towards them through a mess of cables snaking their way across the floor.

  “Tommy, you’re not paid to think, you’re paid to do. Just trust me on this one, okay?” The girl whirled around when Cameron tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I’ll wait outside,” he said. “I’m in a no-parking zone and don’t want a ticket.”

  Whatever her reply, he didn’t hear it as he left the studio and hurried down the stairs. Exiting the building into the alley behind it, he stood for a moment waiting for his head to clear, stunned by the heaviness in the pit of his stomach.

  In spite of his reservations he’d wanted Trisha to be there. He’d wanted to see her again but fought the suspicion that she’d only agreed to go horseback riding to keep Samantha Monroe happy. With a sigh of resignation he grabbed the door handle of the truck. If something had happened to her, would she contact him and reschedule?

  “Mr. Carter.”

  Relief flooded through him at the sound of Trisha’s voice. He turned towards her, not caring if the grin on his face was goofy or not, but darn it, she made him feel good.

  “Is the wild-west still open for business?” The pretty blush that colored her cheeks warred with the cool expression in her eyes. The tilt of her head emphasised her question but her apprehension showed in the way she caught her lower lip between her teeth.