2
She hit another pothole.
Dammit! They came out of nowhere. As soon as she got home, she’d need to take her car in for realignment. And she’d send Marge the bill.
She topped a rise and slammed on the brakes, the car fish-tailed, spewing a thick cloud of dust behind her.
Her heart felt as if it had taken residence in her throat.
She skidded to a stop, barely missing the cow that languidly stood in the middle of the road looking unconcerned that it had almost been splattered across her windshield.
Nikki’s heart pounded inside her chest and her hands shook. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, the black and white cow looked at her with total unconcern. This was so not how she wanted to start her vacation slash investigative reporting.
“I almost wrecked because of you.” She glared at the cow. Her cold-eyed, steely glare that she’d perfected over the years. If it had been a person rather than a dumb animal, it would’ve been frozen to the spot.
The cow opened its mouth and bellowed a low, meandering, I-was-here-first moo.
She didn’t think the cow cared one little bit that it had almost become hamburger. Damned country. She’d take city life and dirty politicians any day.
“Move!” She clapped her hands.
The cow didn’t get in any hurry as it lumbered to the side of the narrow road and lowered its head. The four-legged beast chomped down on a bunch of grass, then slowly began to chew.
She shifted into park, then waved her arms. “Shoo!”
Nothing.
She honked the horn.
Nothing.
The hot sun beat down on her. A bead of sweat slid uncomfortably between her breasts. She judged the narrow road, wondering if she could maneuver around the cow without going into the ditch.
Before she decided to attempt it, another sound drew her attention. She glanced down the dirt road, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as a cloud of dust came toward her. The cloud of dust became a man on a horse.
Correction. A cowboy on a horse.
Hi-ho, Silver, the Lone Ranger, she thought sarcastically.
But the closer he got, the more her sarcasm faded. The Lone Ranger had nothing on this cowboy. Broad shoulders, black hat pulled low on his forehead…
Black hat. Bad guys wore black hats. Right? Things were looking up.
At least until he brought the horse to a grinding halt and dust swirled around her—again. She coughed and waved her hands in front of her face.
“Bessie, how the hell do you keep getting out?” he asked.
His slow, Southern drawl drizzled over her like warmed honey, and she knew from experience warmed honey drizzling over her naked body could be very good. Sticky, but oh so sexy.
Did he look as good as he sounded?
She shaded her eyes again at the same time he pushed his hat higher on his forehead with one finger. Cal Braxton’s tanned face stared down at her. His cool, deep-green eyes only made her body grow warmer with each passing second.
So this was the infamous playboy star football player. The man who had a pretty woman on his arm almost every night of the week—at least until Cynthia Cole had come into his life.
“I almost hit your cow,” she told him as she slipped off one of her high heels and rubbed the insole with her other foot. It didn’t stop the tingle of pleasure that was running up and down her legs. He could park his boots by her bed any day.
“Sorry about that. Bessie thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.”
He pulled a rolled-up rope off the saddle horn and swatted the end of it against Bessie’s rump. The cow gave him a disgruntled look before ambling down the road.
His gaze returned to her…roaming over her…seducing her. “Are you lost?”
“On vacation.”
He easily controlled the prancing horse beneath him. “Staying nearby?”
“At the Crystal Creek Dude Ranch.”
His grin was slow. So, he did have all his teeth, and they were pearly white. She ran her tongue over her dry lips.
“My brother owns it,” he said. “I’m helping him out. It looks like we might be seeing a lot of each other. Name’s Cal—Cal Braxton.”
His thumb idly stroked the rope. For a moment, she was mesmerized as she watched the hypnotic movement.
“You know, you shouldn’t drive with the top down in this heat,” he said.
She almost laughed. It wasn’t the heat from the sun that had momentarily stolen her wits. Cal was good. Ah, yes, he knew all the moves that made a woman yearn for him to caress her naked skin. And he made those moves very well.