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Wanted!
Vicki Lewis Thompson


He’s everything she’s ever wanted… Photographer Dominique Jeffries has come to Wyoming to find herself – her creative self, her sexual self. After escaping the engagement from hell, she’s looking to live a little. And seducing a shirtless, hot and rugged cowhand looks like just the place to start… Nick Chance isn’t exactly a cowboy but he’ll be whatever the lady wants!Only he soon realises that there’s something about Dominique that calls to him, something about her that completes him. There’s only one problem. Dominique wants a fling, not another relationship. How easily will she be persuaded to take a Chance – again and again and again?












Mills & Boon is thrilled to welcome Vicki Lewis Thompson back to Blaze.

Look what people are saying about this talented author’s latest works …

“Vicki Lewis Thompson gives readers a sexy, funny tale.”

—Romance Reviews Today on Better Naughty than Nice

“Hang on for the ride of your life … I could not put this book down!”

—Night Owl Reviews on Blonde with a Wand

“If you thought Over Hexed was phenomenal, wait until you read Wild & Hexy! … a rip-roaring good time.”

—Romance Junkies

“The same trademark blend of comedy and heart that won Thompson’s Nerd series a loyal following.”

—Publishers Weekly on Over Hexed

“Thompson mixes magic, small-town quirkiness, and passionate sex for a winsome effect.”

—Booklist on Over Hexed




About the Author


New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON has been writing books for a few (cough, cough) years now, and she has a Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award from Romance Writers of America to prove it. Turns out that after all these years and all these books, the process is as exciting and challenging as ever. In other words, the 101st book is no easier to write than the first! And she wouldn’t have it any other way. This is a great job and somebody has to do it. She feels lucky that she’s been allowed to share her fantasy world with readers everywhere.


Dear Reader,

Welcome to the SONS OF CHANCE series, where the men are hot and the women are happy! Travel with me down a winding dirt road to the Last Chance Ranch, dedicated to the proposition that we all need a last chance to find whatever we deserve, especially love (and great sex). AS you sit on the wide front porch of the Last Chance and gaze at the magnificent Grand Teton in the early morning light, you’ll notice a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy climbing into a dusty ranch truck. That would be Nick Chance, the middle son. He doesn’t know it yet, but his world is about to be turned upside down. And a brown-eyed beauty from back east will try to help him put it together again.

Don’t you adore a man in boots, snug jeans and a Stetson pulled low over his eyes? Trust me, you’ll have a really good time at the Last Chance Ranch. It’s great to be back in cowboy and Blaze® country again!

Happy trails,

Vicki


WANTED!

VICkI LEWIS THOMPSON


























www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Daniela Cardy, talented research assistant, photographer, writer, and most important, friend.




Prologue


May 1, 1937

CHANCE MEN ARE LUCKY when it counts. Sitting at a smoky card table in the back room of a bar in Jackson, Wyoming, Archibald Chance muttered his father’s favorite saying as he tossed his last dollar into the pot. His buddy Seth had thrown in the deed to a worthless ranch called the Double Zero, because that was the only thing of value he had left.

At the end of the game, Archie possessed that rundown piece of property plus enough to buy gas to get there. Seth was busted and would have to live on the pittance his sister Eleanor made as a seamstress until he found work or drank himself to death.

Archie couldn’t let that happen to his friend. Besides, there was the matter of Eleanor. Archie had been sweet on her for months and he had a hunch she liked him a lot, too. He couldn’t abandon her, either.

He threw an arm around Seth’s drooping shoulders. “You and Eleanor come to the ranch and work for me. I can’t pay you, but you’ll have a roof over your head. We’ll make a go of that place.”

Seth looked doubtful. “It’ll be a leaky roof. The Double Zero’s in terrible shape. Nobody’s lived there for years.”

“We’ll fix it up. Come on, Seth. You’re out of work and my carpentry isn’t in demand these days. We might as well take a stab at ranching.”

“Ranching?” Seth laughed. “We got no cows.”

“Don’t worry about the details. The way I look at it, this is our last chance. Hey, that’s perfect! My name’s Chance, so we’ll rename it the Last Chance Ranch. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy, but what the hell? I’ll go, but I can’t speak for Eleanor.”

“She’ll go.” Archie decided his father’s favorite saying might be true, after all.

“How can you be so sure?”

“’Cause I’m asking her to marry me.”

Seth looked doubtful. “It’ll be a leaky roof. The Double Zero’s in terrible shape. Nobody’s lived there for years.”

“We’ll fix it up. Come on, Seth. You’re out of work and my carpentry isn’t in demand these days. We might as well take a stab at ranching.”

“Ranching?” Seth laughed. “We got no cows.”

“Don’t worry about the details. The way I look at it, this is our last chance. Hey, that’s perfect! My name’s Chance, so we’ll rename it the Last Chance Ranch. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy, but what the hell? I’ll go, but I can’t speak for Eleanor.”

“She’ll go.” Archie decided his father’s favorite saying might be true, after all.

“How can you be so sure?”

“’Cause I’m asking her to marry me.”

Seth looked doubtful. “It’ll be a leaky roof. The Double Zero’s in terrible shape. Nobody’s lived there for years.”

“We’ll fix it up. Come on, Seth. You’re out of work and my carpentry isn’t in demand these days. We might as well take a stab at ranching.”

“Ranching?” Seth laughed. “We got no cows.”

“Don’t worry about the details. The way I look at it, this is our last chance. Hey, that’s perfect! My name’s Chance, so we’ll rename it the Last Chance Ranch. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy, but what the hell? I’ll go, but I can’t speak for Eleanor.”

“She’ll go.” Archie decided his father’s favorite saying might be true, after all.

“How can you be so sure?”

“’Cause I’m asking her to marry me.”




1


Present Day

NICK CHANCE WAS PISSED. There was no logical reason to fence this rocky section of the Last Chance Ranch. It would make a lousy pasture and was too far from the barn to work as a corral.

But big brother Jack had decreed that it should be fenced “just in case” they’d need it someday. There went Nick’s day off. Jack had discovered that Nick had no vet duties today, either at home or at any of the other ranches in the valley, so he’d handed Nick a posthole digger.

Nick had been tempted to suggest where Jack might shove his posthole digger, but going off on Jack wouldn’t solve anything. The guy was harder on himself than he was on anyone else. The rollover that had killed their dad last fall wasn’t Jack’s fault, but nobody could tell him different.

So Nicholas Chance, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, was driving one of the battered ranch trucks instead of his primo medical rig, and he was digging postholes that didn’t need digging. What the hell. He’d work on his tan. Climbing out of the truck, he took off his shirt and tossed it into the cab. Then he grabbed his worn leather gloves from the dashboard.

Before he lowered the tailgate and got serious about the project, he parked his butt on the fender and took a moment to appreciate the view of the Tetons. A raven gave him a flyby and what Nick interpreted as a caw of approval.

He couldn’t stay mad in country like this. His gaze roamed over the soft gray-green of sage livened up with spring flowers, including two of his mom’s favorites—pink wild geraniums and sunflowers. Rain had fallen the night before, swelling the creek that he could hear gurgling, although it was hidden by evergreens.

He caught a whiff of loamy earth and wet pine needles. The June sun was warm, but not warm enough to melt the snow still clinging to the jagged peaks. Nick never tired of looking at them.

A favorite memory surfaced, as it often did when he gazed at the mountains. Jack, leaning against the corral, had informed ten-year-old Nick and nine-year-old Gabe that the mountains were named by a French guy and Tetons was the French word for tits. Nick and Gabe had fallen over laughing, but Jack, a worldly fourteen, had predicted that someday they’d find the subject of tits fascinating instead of screamingly funny.

Nick smiled. As usual, Jack had been right, although Nick considered himself more of a leg man than a breast man. Gabe, on the other hand, liked his women generously endowed. Jack generally did, too, although since last fall he seemed to have lost all interest in anything frivolous, which apparently included dating.

Nick had plenty of interest in dating and didn’t consider it the least bit frivolous. But he had no current girlfriend, and Jack’s slave driver mentality didn’t leave much time for developing a new relationship.

Nick sighed and levered himself away from the truck. Jack’s mom had taken off when Jack was a toddler, so losing their dad had hit him extra hard. Nick and Gabe still had their mom. So did Jack, but despite all the love Sarah Chance had given him, he’d never forgotten he was her stepson.

The guy had issues, and Nick understood that, but things would have to change soon or Nick would be forced to take him on, even if Jack was officially in charge according to the terms of their dad’s will. Jack might be top banana, but Nick, Gabe and their mother, Sarah, each owned a fourth interest in the ranch, which meant they had some leverage.

At least they’d all agreed not to sell the place despite the outrageous price the ranch would bring. With very little private land left near the Jackson region, the Last Chance was worth a fortune. But it was not for sale.

That had to be some comfort to the hands, who loved living and working on a privately owned spread. These days the Last Chance raised horses instead of cattle, but it was still a working ranch and that was a triumph in today’s economy. Making ends meet could sometimes be a challenge.

Jack seemed to take that challenge a little too seriously, though. His idea of a workday had expanded until everyone was putting in twelve to fifteen hours. The hands were ready to mutiny and their foreman had dropped broad hints about quitting.

Gabe was the lucky one, Nick mused as he let down the tailgate and grabbed the posthole digger. Gabe’s cutting-horse events gave him an excuse to leave for most of the summer. He was the best competitor of all of them, and by riding in those events he promoted the Last Chance horses and theoretically brought in buyers. He also didn’t have to put up with Jack.

Pulling one of Jack’s surveyor’s stakes out of the ground, Nick tossed it in the back of the truck and jammed the posthole digger into the dirt.

By his tenth hole he’d dug up enough rocks to last him the rest of his life, and stacked them in a pile about three feet tall, his personal monument to stupidity. He was sweaty and bored. Like all the Chance men, he was perfectly capable of manual labor. But he’d spent years in school to become a large animal vet partly because he preferred a mental challenge to a physical one.

Planting the posthole digger in the ground, he took off his gloves and tucked them in his back pocket. Then he pulled a blue bandanna out of the other pocket, removed his straw cowboy hat and mopped his face. After replacing the bandanna and settling the sweat-stained hat on his head, he started counting the remaining surveyor’s stakes to see how many holes he had left before he could be released from bondage.

That’s when he saw her. She stood facing him, about twenty yards away on the dirt road he’d come in on. She slowly lowered her big-ass camera complete with telephoto lens, but he suspected she’d already taken at least one shot of him, if not more. He decided if she had the balls to take a picture of a perfect stranger without asking, he could give her the once-over without feeling like a male chauvinist pig.

She was on the tall side, at least five-eight. She’d dressed in fancy brown boots, a long tan skirt and a pale yellow, sleeveless blouse. Both the blouse and the skirt buttoned up the front. Apparently he was more sexually deprived than he’d realized because his first thought was easy access.

Technically her short, curly hair was brown, but that didn’t really describe it. In the sun it seemed to be made up of a dozen shades ranging from milk chocolate to bronze. She was too far away for him to see the color of her eyes, but close enough for him to tell she was pretty, with high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose and full lips. Large gold hoops dangled from her earlobes.

She’d slung a brown leather backpack over one shoulder, and he expected her to put the camera and telephoto in it now that she’d been caught photographing the locals as if they were some form of exotic wildlife. But she surprised him. Curving her lips, she raised the camera again.

He couldn’t resist. With a grin, he tightened his abs and flexed his biceps.

ALL HER LIFE Dominique Jeffries had been criticized for being too impulsive. But after a two-year stint as Herman’s girlfriend, she’d learned to rein herself in. Now that she was no longer Herman’s girlfriend, having been traded in for his boss’s daughter, she wondered if she’d forgotten how to be impulsive.

At least she’d come this far. After being humiliated by her ex, she’d desperately needed to get away. She’d chosen the place she’d dreamed about all her life—the Wild West.

And yes, she’d considered the fact that she might find a wild cowboy here, too, someone who would soothe her damaged ego. Her trip to Wyoming was a test to see if the old Dominique was still in there, and whether she dared let her out to play.

This authentic cowboy would be a perfect way to discover if she still had what it took to be spontaneous. But not too spontaneous. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the portrait photography business she’d built in Indianapolis. Much as she hated to admit it, Herman had helped her become financially stable for the first time in her life, and having money in the bank felt good.

But she had another sort of good feeling in mind today, one that came from flirting with a hunky guy. Her newfound cowboy was already making her laugh with his muscle flexing routine. “Nice pose,” she called out. “Care to show me the flip side?”

He turned, displaying buns to die for and back muscles like she hadn’t seen in … well, in two years. Herman wasn’t much for working out. She took a couple of shots, but she was here for more than the photography. A camera functioned as an excellent icebreaker.

Talk about overkill. Her shirtless cowboy was taking care of melting any ice that might be in the vicinity. When she looked at him, she was surprised there was still snow on the mountains.

She couldn’t believe she’d happened upon such a great specimen of rugged Western male on her first day. This guy was the anti-Herman. And that was really what she’d come here to find. After being a good girl for two years, which had gotten her … well … dumped, she longed to be a little bit wicked.

“Got what you needed?” he asked over his shoulder.

Not quite, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. “Sure. Thanks.”

He turned around. “I should be thanking you. You gave me a break from digging postholes.”

“Glad to be of service.” She unscrewed her lens from the camera and stowed everything carefully in her backpack before walking forward. “I’m here on vacation.”

“No, really?”

She laughed. “I know. Hard to believe. I’m sure I look very Jackson Hole to you.”

“Depends.” His gaze lingered as he surveyed her outfit. “We get Hollywood types up here.”

Being mistaken for a Hollywood type gave her a needed boost. Being ogled did, too. When she’d thought herself in love with Herman, she’d considered him frugal. Now she saw him as stingy, both with his money and his compliments.

This cowboy didn’t seem like the stingy type. She loved the way he talked, slowly and deliberately, which she guessed came from living in the wide-open spaces. His eyes, she discovered on closer inspection, were green.

“I’m not from Hollywood,” she said. “I’m from … actually, never mind where I’m from. It doesn’t matter. I’m on vacation from that place. No need to mention it.”

“Where’re you staying?”

She considered that a promising question, as if he might like to know how accessible she’d be while she was in the area. “Here.”

“Ah. Overflow from the Bunk and Grub, I’ll bet.”

“That’s right. Somebody ended up staying an extra week so Pam sent me down here.”

“Happens all the time. I hope you’re not too disappointed to find yourself on a ranch instead of a cozy B and B.”

“Not at all. It’s magnificent.” And so are you. It was okay for him to ogle her, but she felt uncool ogling him. Yet she couldn’t help it. His bare chest was a sight to behold—dusted with reddish-brown hair, muscled, and gleaming with sweat.

He nudged his hat back with his thumb. “Bet they put you in Roni’s room.”

“I’m not sure. Is she a NASCAR fan? There’s lots of NASCAR stuff in there.”

“She’s a mechanic for one of the teams, only comes home for holidays.”

Dominique hoped Roni wasn’t his girlfriend. She hoped nobody was his girlfriend. “I’m glad her room is available.” Are you? She peeked at his left hand, but lack of a ring meant little these days.

“First time in Wyoming?”

“Yes. I wanted to see something different.”

“You mean like mountains and moose?” His green eyes sparkled with laughter.

“I suppose you think it’s funny that I wanted to take your picture.” She was close enough to catch his musky scent. She used to love sweaty sex. Herman had been an efficient lover, a competent lover, but he preferred air-conditioned bedrooms, so there hadn’t been much sweat involved.

“Actually, I’m flattered. It’s not often some good-looking woman points a camera at me for no good reason.”

“I had a reason.” She hadn’t meant that to sound quite so husky and seductive. She cleared her throat. “What I meant was—”

“No, no, don’t backtrack on me. I liked the implication of the first answer.”

“Which was?”

“That you think I’m hot.”

“Maybe.” She found his swagger incredibly sexy.

His smile revealed even white teeth. “For the record, I think you’re hot, too.”

Now that was good to hear. With such white teeth, he must not chew tobacco. She’d thought about that as she’d fantasized a close encounter with a cowboy. A chaw of tobacco didn’t figure into her fantasy. Eeuuww.

He stepped toward her, the first move he’d made in her direction. “So what are we going to do about our mutual hotness?”

Her breath caught. She’d started this interchange, but he’d just taken charge and issued a challenge. He probably expected her to turn tail and run.

She hadn’t come all the way to Wyoming to run away at the first sign of adventure. She was bound and determined to rediscover her impulsive side. Her heart pounding, she stood her ground. “I’m not sure. Any suggestions?”

He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans so that his hands framed his crotch. “I can think of a way to handle it.”

She could tell he still expected her to back down. Well, he was in for a surprise. Trying not to hyperventilate, she gazed into his green eyes. “So can I.”

He stared at her. “You’re not playing games, are you?”

“No.” She swallowed and tried to breathe normally. “Are you?”

“I was a minute ago, but … damn, lady. Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Adrenaline poured through her system. “Look, the last month has been hell. My steady boyfriend dumped me when his boss’s daughter proposed. I scheduled this vacation to get away, to be in a completely different environment, and I …” The adrenaline began to fade, leaving her shaky. “The thing is, we don’t have cowboys in Indianapolis.”

He studied her in silence.

Her words seemed to hang between them in an embarrassing display of misplaced chutzpah. She began to squirm. “Forget I said any of that. I’ll be going now.” She turned.

“Don’t leave.” He reached for her hand.

She felt his touch all the way to her toes. No, cancel that. She felt his touch all the way to her womb. Hands so callused and strong could heal her. But only if he truly wanted this.

She turned back to him. “If you’re feeling sorry for me, then—”

“No, I’m feeling sorry for the stupid bastard who put career advancement ahead of being with you.”

Hearing that from a sexy cowboy was worth her plane ticket and lodging. “Thanks.”

“Come on.” He drew her toward the truck.

She resisted. “I don’t need you to drive me back to the ranch house. I’ll walk.”

His grip tightened and his gaze locked with hers. “I wasn’t planning to take you back.”




2


NICK WAS A FIXER. Pop psychology said that was his role as the middle kid in a family of three boys, and maybe there was something to the theory. He’d been drawn to veterinary school partly because he saw it as an alternative to hard physical labor, but mainly because he loved healing injured creatures.

He’d been the boy who brought home the strays, the birds with broken wings, even a porcupine once, which had not been appreciated by his family. But that was what the Last Chance Ranch was all about, giving people and animals a second chance at life. His grandpa Archie would want it that way.

He wasn’t sure what his grandpa would have said about this woman, but Nick saw her as injured, at least psychologically. Some jerk had done a number on her and left her to bleed. Nick wanted to help.

He was honest enough to admit that wasn’t his only motivation. Helping her would be a lot more fun than bandaging a horse’s leg or delivering a breech-birth calf. Thank God he had an emergency condom tucked in the glove compartment.

Jack wouldn’t be happy that Nick hadn’t dug all the required postholes, but in days gone by Jack would have quickly abandoned the postholes for a chance like this. Just because Nick’s big brother wasn’t interested in the opposite sex these days didn’t mean Nick couldn’t indulge. Besides, this was an act of mercy.

And sweet mercy, she had incredible legs. He had to remind himself of his noble intentions as he helped her into the truck and she was forced to undo the bottom buttons of her skirt in order to make the climb. Thinking about those spectacular legs made his own journey to the driver’s side more difficult. The zipper of his fly pressed uncomfortably against his ever-expanding interest in the hot woman sitting in the passenger seat.

“If we’re not going back, where are we going?”

“I know a place.” He’d grown up on the Last Chance, after all, and that meant he’d been a teenager here. Teenagers always knew a place.

“Pam said there’s a sacred Native American site on the ranch. She talked about a huge rock that glitters in the sun. Are you going there?”

“No.” Hanging his hat on the gun rack behind his head, he put the truck in gear and continued down the road until he found the dirt track that veered off to the left into the trees. “That site is all about finding solutions to problems.” He glanced over at her. “Not to brag, but I have a solution for yours.”

Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. “I’ve interrupted your work. Will you get in trouble?”

“Maybe.” He had to concentrate on his steering because the rutted road wasn’t maintained, but the image of her flushed cheeks made him want to kiss her there … and everywhere else that turned pink when she was aroused. “I have a feeling you’ll be worth it.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?” The prospect of holding a naked woman in his arms was wrecking his driving skills. He’d hit a couple of deep ruts he ordinarily would have missed.

“I want to believe you. I’d feel horrible getting involved with someone else’s sweetheart.”

He bet she would after what that a-hole boyfriend had put her through. “Trust me, there’s no one in my life right now. I don’t cheat.”

“I’m not asking because I expect anything to come of this.”

He laughed, which helped release some of his tension. “You should expect something to come of this. Or someone to come of this. That’s why I’m driving back into the trees, so we can have a little privacy. You could get loud.”

“You think so, do you?”

“I’ve known it to happen.” This was the most exciting damn thing that he’d ever done. He was shaking with anticipation. He didn’t even know her name, and he liked it that way. He’d never had stranger sex.

Realistically, he’d probably find out who she was later on today. She was staying in the main house, so they’d be introduced at some point, maybe even at lunch. That could be fun, too, when she learned he was one of the owners. She wouldn’t expect a Chance to be out digging postholes. Jack’s insane work ethic was turning out okay for once.

Nick didn’t kid himself that today would be the start of something big. She’d already told him she was a tourist who’d come to Wyoming to get over her crappy boyfriend back home. Once he’d helped her with that, she’d return to Indianapolis and continue with her life. In the meantime, his long dry spell was about to be over. Hot damn.

He reached the small clearing where he used to bring his dates back in high school, before he’d become sophisticated enough to rent a room. It was a great spot, drenched with hot memories. The sound of the creek was louder here, although it still wasn’t visible.

Birdsong echoed through the trees, and wild roses bloomed, their dark pink petals startling against the lush ferns sprouting beneath the branches. Pine needles crunched under the truck’s tires, enveloping them in a woodsy fragrance. The ground would still be damp after the rain, but all the ranch trucks carried a folded tarp in the back for emergencies. This qualified.

Cutting the engine, he turned to her. “Here we are.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He looked into brown eyes that reminded him of a doe poised for flight. After six years of veterinary work and a lifetime of caring for frightened animals, he guessed that she was rethinking her decision to allow herself this moment.

“You’re beautiful.” He reached for her, cupping the back of her head. Her glossy hair slid between his fingers as he leaned closer.

Her spicy scent was temptingly unfamiliar. He noticed a tiny mole near the corner of her mouth and the tangerine color of her lipstick.

She took a breath. “Don’t you want to know my name?”

He caught a whiff of peppermint. “Does it matter?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.” He was about to kiss a nameless woman he’d met twenty minutes ago. What a rush.

DOMINIQUE FIGURED SHE HAD about two seconds to call a halt. Once he kissed her, there would be no stopping. The air in the truck’s cab was thick with lust.

Then her two seconds were up. His mouth found hers, and the storm hit. She’d never kissed a man she didn’t know. If it was always this exciting, she’d have to do it more often.

Although technically he started the action, Dominique quickly became an equal partner, giving as good as she got. His kisses were supple, talented and sexy as hell. With a grateful sigh, she surrendered to his probing tongue and the heady feeling of passion fueled by mystery.

Gasping, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love your mouth.”

“I love your tongue.”

With a moan, he resumed the assault with ravenous kisses, but they were no more ravenous than hers. He kept his mouth on hers as he began unbuttoning her blouse. She didn’t know how they would manage to have sex in the cab of his truck, but she’d let him worry about that. She reached for the waistband of his jeans.

He drew back, breathing hard. “This is nuts. We need to get out. We also need …” He popped open the glove box in the console and grabbed a small foil packet. “Wait right there. I’ll come around and get you.”

Before she could reply, he’d bolted from the truck. Dear God, she hadn’t even thought about condoms. Not once. Maybe everyone was right, and left to her own devices, she’d head into a ditch.

But she’d lucked out again and found a guy who was more practical than she was. That was a very good thing, because she’d never been this aroused in her life. She was so hot she was panting. Her panties were drenched and her nipples ached. She wanted her clothes gone.

She heard him rummaging around in the back of the truck and then something soft hit the pine needles on her side of the vehicle.

Instead of sitting here stewing in her own juices, she could do something to move things along. In moments she’d pulled off both boots and tossed them on the floor of the cab. She’d finished unbuttoning her blouse when he opened the door.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Judging from the fit of his jeans, he most certainly was. His boots, she noticed, were on the ground next to a tarp. She swallowed. “Me, too.”

His hot gaze moved over her. “Your boyfriend is an idiot.” Tossing the condom packet to the canvas tarp, he circled her waist with his hands and lifted her down.

Her bare feet touched canvas, and then she was lost in the sensation of his palms sliding up her bare back, followed by him unfastening her bra. He undressed her with the practiced ease of a man who knew what he was about, and in seconds she stood before him wearing only her ivory lace panties. A breeze caressed her skin, but his smoldering gaze reheated every inch the breeze touched.

Cupping her breasts, he stroked his thumbs over her taut nipples. “To think I’d considered this a wasted day.”

She clutched the solid warmth of his shoulders and closed her eyes, the better to savor the sensation of those calloused thumbs ramping up the tension.

His breath feathered her lips. “You are so delicious. Thank you for this unexpected gift.” Then he settled in for another toe-curling kiss. She’d always thought “toecurling” was only a quaint expression, but this cowboy literally made her toes lift off the canvas.

Impatient, she reached for his zipper.

“Mmm.” His groan of approval vibrated against her mouth.

She shoved the jeans down over his hips, and as they dropped, he stepped out of them without breaking their kiss. She shivered in anticipation. And gratitude. Fate had sent her a cowboy with all the right moves.

When he hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of her panties and sent them sliding to the ground, she borrowed his strategy and stepped out of them. She’d wondered if she’d have the nerve to carry through, but here she was, naked in the forest with a ruggedly handsome man. And that man was kissing her in some very interesting places. Dominique Jeffries was back, baby!

Ah, she’d forgotten how much she loved foreplay. This cowboy seemed to love it, too. He moved slowly from her mouth to the sensitive spot behind her ear before making his way along the curve of her neck and across her shoulder. After kissing his way down the inside of her arm all the way to her wrist, he repeated the process on the other side.

Her collarbone got its share of attention, and the indentation at the base of her throat. By the time his moist caress reached the swell of her breast, she was a ball of fiery need, flushed and craving … everything.

And he gave it. After paying homage to her breasts, he moved slowly to her navel. When he circled it with his tongue, she felt an orgasmic tug that made her tremble.

On his knees now, he caressed her thighs. With his warm breath on her curls, he wrapped a supporting arm around her hips as he slid his other hand up, seeking. Finding.

She gasped as he pushed two fingers deep inside at the same moment his tongue made contact with her flash point. One stroke, one flick of his tongue, and she erupted. Crying out, she clutched his head, both to keep her balance and to hold him there … right there.

Then she lost her battle with gravity as he urged her down to the tarp. Vaguely she was aware of the rough canvas against her back and the cushion of pine needles underneath that perfumed the air she dragged into her lungs in great gulps. Somewhere nearby a creek splashed over smooth stones. But her main focus was this man, divesting himself of his last bit of clothing.

Dazed as she was by her recent climax, she still possessed enough brain cells to appreciate the wonder of her cowboy’s package. If this was an example of Wyoming manhood, the state had much to be proud of.

As he moved over her and braced a hand on either side of her shoulders, he smiled. Then with one smooth thrust, he shoved home. “Welcome to Wyoming.”

“My goodness.” She reveled in the sensation of being filled to the brim, almost to overflowing.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “More than okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

She gazed up at him, anticipation sending tremors through her. If this connection felt so amazing, what would happen when he began to move? Every nerve ending in her body was on alert, waiting.

He drew slowly back, and the sweet friction intensified the climactic hum building inside her. Forward again, and she started losing her mind. Three strokes later she came, filling the clearing with her hoarse scream of joy.

But still he didn’t stop. Instead he increased the rhythm and shifted his angle. “Again,” he murmured. “Once more.”

She was nothing if not obliging. That new angle was finding all sorts of places where she hadn’t known she had places. And she was dripping with sweat, glorious sweat.

“Good?” He was breathing heavily, but seemed in complete control.

“Oh, yes.” She, on the other hand, had absolutely no control. He was driving this bus and she was merely a very ecstatic passenger.

As she tumbled into her third orgasm, he groaned and moved in tight. The steady pulse of his climax kept time with the waves of completion rolling through her. It was, without a doubt, the best sex of her life.

Sated and relaxed, she wondered dreamily if she should catch the first plane out of Jackson. This experience had surpassed her wildest hopes and dreams. Her vacation could only go downhill from here.




3


NICK HAD EXPECTED GOOD. Good would have done nicely to bind up her psychological wounds and scratch his temporary itch. Good would have made her fairly easy to forget when she left Wyoming. But just his luck, she’d turned out to be great.

Worse yet, he’d told her so as they laughingly searched for their clothes, both of them staggering a little from the effects of incredible sex.

“You were great, too.” She smiled as she reached behind her back to fasten her bra.

He’d always adored watching a woman do that, and this woman was especially graceful at it. He had the urge to unhook her bra so she’d have to refasten it. But if he unhooked it, he’d want to touch her, and that would lead to more of what they’d recently shared. He wasn’t sure where she stood on that issue.

“I can’t tell you how this has improved my outlook,” she said.

That statement had a ring of finality, of completion, as if one session had fixed her right up and she had no inclination for another round. Bummer. “How long are you here for?” he heard himself ask while pulling on his boots.

Damn, he’d probably tipped his hand with that dumb question. And an unnecessary question at that. He could find out when he returned to the house. Ordinarily his mom welcomed the Bunk and Grub overflow guests, but she was staying in town while Grandma Judy recovered from a hip replacement. Jack must have handled getting this woman settled, and would have all the details.

“Five nights,” she said. “It was all the time I could spare from work.”

“Which is?” He shouldn’t have asked that, either. He was behaving like some lovesick fool desperate for information about the object of his affections. That was so wrong. They’d had terrific sex. Period. Sex wasn’t everything. But.he’d never had any better than this.

She buttoned her blouse. “I guess there’s no harm in saying. I own a photography studio. And before you get all impressed, let me assure you it’s strictly a meat-and-potatoes operation. I specialize in family portraits, graduation photos and weddings. The basics.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” But unless he was reading her wrong, she thought there was something wrong with that. Her description of her studio invited him to dismiss it as pedestrian. “My mom treasures her wedding pictures,” he said. “Especially since my dad passed last fall.”

His mystery woman had leaned against the truck’s front fender so she could pull on her boots. She paused in midmotion. “I’m so sorry. Was it sudden?”

“Yeah.” And he wished to hell he hadn’t brought up the subject. Way to put a damper on the proceedings. “Rollover.”

“How tragic. How long were they married?”

“Almost thirty years. They got married after I was born. I guess it makes sense, considering the times. All that free love and flower power. But then my mom got pregnant again, and that must have tipped the scales toward matrimony.” Sheesh. Maybe next he’d trot out the history of the Last Chance Ranch and regale her with that. He needed to shut up and take her back to. the road? Or the ranch house? Dilemma. He hadn’t thought past the sex, but he’d better start thinking tout de suite.

A gentleman would take her back to the ranch house. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman, despite having just had sex with a woman out in the woods, a woman whose name he didn’t know. But that had been gentlemanly, hadn’t it? She’d needed something from him, and judging from her response, he’d provided it.

Turns out it was also what he’d needed, and would probably need again soon. That was the thing about good sex. It reminded you that sex was a lot of fun and should be enjoyed more often.

In fact, maybe there was a second condom … no, that was pushing it. This area was secluded, but not so secluded that someone might not show up. Like Jack, for instance, checking on his posthole digging. That thought prompted Nick to grab the tarp, fold it quickly and toss it in the back of the truck.

“You look worried all of a sudden.” She fingercombed her short hair, which was still damp with sweat. “If it has to do with me tattling on you, then relax. That would be extremely ungrateful of me, to spill the beans and possibly get you fired.”

“I appreciate that.” He glanced down so she wouldn’t see his smile. No matter what his transgressions, Jack was stuck with him. Although Jonathan Chance Sr. had specified in his will that Jonathan Chance Jr., aka Jack, was in charge, their dad had also dictated that his other two sons have jobs for as long as the Last Chance continued in operation.

Besides, Jack needed him. Nick was a damned good vet, and the horses bred at the Last Chance were valuable and required a vet on the premises. The Last Chance herd didn’t take up all of Nick’s time, so he had other clients in the Jackson Hole area, but his primary duty was to the LC horses. Even without the terms of the will to guide Jack’s decisions, he wouldn’t trust those animals to anyone else.

That wasn’t to say Jack would let this little incident go if he found out. There was a time when he would have laughed about it, but he seemed to have misplaced his sense of humor. Nick would love to fix that problem, too, but so far all his attempts to get Jack to lighten up had failed. If his brother found out what had happened here, it could get awkward.

As if all this thinking about Jack had pulled him in Nick’s direction, he heard the sound of hoofbeats. A few seconds later, Jack rode into the clearing on Bandit, a handsome black-and-white paint who’d been named for the masklike markings around his eyes. The ranch’s topearning stud, Bandit looked as if he could have belonged to a Shoshone chief.

Jack had some Native American in him on his mother’s side, which explained his dark hair and eyes. Today he wore his don’t-mess-with-me black Stetson, although it was covered with dust, as were Jack’s jeans, his leather chaps and his long-sleeved shirt. He’d probably just finished a training session with one of the horses and was looking for something else to wrangle. His gaze swept over the scene, and his jaw tightened.

Nick did his best not to look guilty as hell. “Hey, there, Jack. What brings you out here?”

“Curiosity.” His tone was even but his eyes narrowed as he focused on Nick. “I figured you’d be done with the postholes by lunchtime and it’s nearly noon.” Turning in the saddle, he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat. “Nice to see you again, Miss Jeffries.”

Just like that, some of the mystery disappeared. Nick knew the last name of his previously anonymous lover. Soon enough he’d learn her first name, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. What if it didn’t fit his image? A woman who had stood naked and eager in the middle of a pine-scented clearing with the sun dappling her smooth skin deserved a really great first name.

He noted that Jack was behaving with polite formality by using her last name. No doubt Miss Manners would approve. Nick wondered what Miss Manners would say about using no name at all, particularly during the activity Nick and Miss Jeffries had engaged in. Nick didn’t think there was a rule of etiquette to cover that situation.

The woman now partially identified beamed at Jack. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Chance. You’ll have to blame me for the postholes not getting finished this morning. I was looking for Wyoming wildlife and your ranch hand was kind enough to escort me into the woods, where I’d have a better chance of finding it.”

Nick almost choked as he swallowed a laugh. Damned if she hadn’t told the truth. He was really starting to like this woman.

“I see.” Jack folded his hands over the saddle horn and studied the scene. “In my experience, wildlife tends to come out at dawn and dusk.”

Nick shrugged. “Usually, but it was worth a shot to accommodate a ranch guest.”

“And it’s a lovely spot,” added Miss Jeffries.

“Yes ma’am, it is.” Jack gave Nick another dirty look. When Nick and Gabe were in high school, they’d each claimed a make-out spot on the ranch. Jack had been their accomplice back then, supplying condoms from his personal stash and handing out sexual advice from his lofty, nonvirginal perch.

Nick wished the old Jack had shown up in the clearing instead of this new version. The old Jack would have smiled knowingly and headed back to the ranch house.

The new Jack glared at Nick with obvious disapproval. “I’d like those postholes dug today. The posts and wire should arrive this afternoon.”

Nick met his gaze. “It’ll get done.”

“I surely do hope so. We’ve needed a fence out here for a long time.”

Nick was willing to argue the point, but not at the moment.

Jack glanced up through the trees at the sun. The guy never wore a watch, never needed to. “It’s late. Mary Lou’s probably dishing up. You two better head back or you’ll miss lunch.”

“We’ll do that.”

“See you there.” Jack touched the brim of his hat again. “Ma’am.” Then he wheeled his horse around and cantered down the narrow road.

Nick wished she wasn’t standing there watching Jack go with such apparent fascination. Jack might be bossy and abrupt these days, but women were still drawn to him. They always had been. For all Nick knew, Miss Jeffries might wish she’d thrown her loop at Jack Chance instead of some nameless cowboy wielding a posthole digger.

She turned to Nick. “What do you call that color horse?”

“Bandit’s a paint. That’s what we breed on this ranch.” So maybe she’d been admiring the horse instead of the man.

“Show horses?”

“Can be. But we train and sell them as cutting horses, which means they—”

“I know what that is. I saw City Slickers.” She ruffled her hair with her fingers again. “I think Mr. Chance had a pretty good idea what we’ve been up to.”

“Probably.”

“The way you talked back to him, I’m amazed you still have a job. Or maybe he didn’t want to fire you in front of me. I’m perfectly willing to cover for you, but an employee needs to watch his attitude.”

“Guess so.”

“Yours was kind of belligerent, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Nick decided the game was over. “He can’t fire me. I’m his brother.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re one of the Chance boys?”

“‘Fraid I am.”

“But.you were out here slaving away as if…”

“I know. It’s a problem these days. Apparently Jack grieves by working around the clock, which is fine, except he insists the rest of us do the same. I’d rather not have a showdown with him, which wouldn’t help morale, either.”

She groaned. “And I’ve only made things worse between you during a tough time for your family. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’m a big boy and I make my own decisions. I don’t for a second regret what we just shared. In fact, I was thinking that since you’ll be here for five nights, we might—”

“Oh, no.” She stepped back, out of range of his touch.

“What do you mean, no ? Didn’t you enjoy yourself? Scratch that. I know for a fact you enjoyed yourself. You couldn’t fake that kind of reaction.”

“But I thought you were one of the hired hands. Sure, I knew I might see you again while I’m here, but we’d pretend nothing happened so you wouldn’t get fired for dallying with a guest.”

He was picking up the drift of her comments, and he didn’t like the implication. “So you bagged your cowboy, and now you’re done?”

Her brow furrowed. “I told you I didn’t expect anything to come of this.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it has to end with one brief moment in the woods! Hell, we’ll be sleeping under the same roof!”

“Even more reason not to take this any further, especially with your brother monitoring everything that happens on the ranch. I don’t want to be the cause of more friction between you two.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” Nick was wondering if he could manufacture a necessary business trip for his dear brother, who was becoming an obstacle to all things happy.

“Let’s just leave it alone. What we had today was perfect. I don’t want to spoil it by turning it into some … some complicated maneuver.”

Nick blew out a breath. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. It could be very simple. I become your date for the time you’re here and I inform my overbearing brother that it’s none of his business what goes on between us.”

“I don’t think—”

“Look, I understand that you’ll return to your life in Indianapolis in five days, and I’m cool with that.”

“I’m not so sure I’d be. I don’t trust myself not to get in over my head. I can’t take that risk.”

Nick gazed at her. “But you were willing to have outdoor sex with an anonymous cowboy.”

“Yes. But now I intend to rein myself in.”

“That’s too bad. Plus, what else are you going to do while you’re here? The skiing is lousy in June and I’m way more fun than a horseback ride or an all-day hike.”

Her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but wouldn’t quite let herself.

“Think about it, Miss Jeffries. In the meantime, let’s hightail it to the ranch house before all the food’s gone. I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Me, too, Mr. Chance.” With a little grin, she walked toward the truck.

He had to clench his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her and kissing her until she melted against him the way she had earlier. He thought he’d done a damn good job of satisfying her, but maybe he hadn’t pleased her all that much if she could turn her back on more of the same.

“The name’s Nick,” he called after her as she climbed into the cab.

“I like that,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m Dominique.”

Dominique. Great name for a very sexy lady. And he would get her into bed again or his name wasn’t Nick Chance.




4


DOMINIQUE SPENT THE short ride back to the ranch house getting her bearings. When she’d first glimpsed a rugged cowboy working in a pasture, she’d thought Fate had sent her down that dirt road specifically to discover him. Everything had played out in fantasylike detail, until she’d learned the identity of her mystery lover.

An anonymous hired hand fit her image of wild and crazy behavior. She wouldn’t say anything about the encounter and neither would he, for fear of getting canned. Very neat and tidy. Over and done with.

Had it gone that way, she could have rounded out the vacation by photographing the landscape, and flown home with a renewed sense of who she was. Her next guy wouldn’t be as boring as Herman, or as disloyal.

But Fate hadn’t been as kind as she’d thought. It had thrown a Chance man in her path, one who had the freedom to continue what they’d started, despite his brother’s obvious disapproval. She dared not risk it. If the prospect of sex with him could make her forget about condoms, then he obviously appealed to a side of her she needed to control.

Besides, why mess with a good thing? She had her perfect memory to take home with her, and there was every possibility a second go-round wouldn’t measure up. After two years with Herman, she had little confidence in her ability to improvise. What if they tried sex in a normal bed and Nick found her boring? She couldn’t bear the thought.

In the midst of her inner debate, Nick reached over and took her hand. She had to admit that felt very good. She didn’t know him at all, and yet she believed he was a nice guy. For sure he was an amazing lover, so amazing that he intimidated her more than a little.

“Look, you might have the wrong impression of me,” she said. “Until today, I’d never had sex with someone I just met.”

“Neither had I.”

“Really? You seemed so … so cool about it.”

He laughed. “Then I put on a good show. That was the wildest thing I’ve ever done in terms of sex. I kept wondering if you were part of a dream.”

“I wondered the same about you. I actually pinched myself before I started taking your picture.”

He squeezed her hand and released it so he could downshift. “Out of curiosity, what are your plans for those photos?”

“I suppose that depends on whether you’ll grant me a release.”

“Be happy to.”

“Then I could …” She was brought up short by the knowledge that this was the first picture she’d taken in ages where the subject wasn’t a relative or a paying client. Her portfolio contained family portraits, wedding photos and high school yearbook shots. All her work prior to Herman’s reign was tucked into the back of a closet, except for a few she’d framed and hung in her apartment.

“I know.” He grinned. “You’ll frame it and put it on your bedroom wall so you’ll have something to remember me by.”

His chutzpah made her laugh. “You have quite the high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“If I do, it’s your fault.” He recaptured her hand. “You’re the one who said you had to pinch yourself when you caught sight of me without my shirt.”

She hadn’t been teased much in two years with Herman, and she’d forgotten how fun it could be. “Maybe I was slightly mesmerized.”

“Only slightly?”

“Okay, fully mesmerized. Which means other women might have the same reaction. I could make money off that shot. Maybe a gallery would be interested.”

“Do you do that much? Display your photography in galleries?”

“Not anymore. I was going broke selling my work as fine art and borrowing money from my folks to keep afloat. My ex-boyfriend was right about one thing—weddings and portraits are a steadier income once you build up a reputation.”

“Makes sense.”

“Oh, it’s very sensible.” Herman’s lectures on the subject still echoed in her head. Her parents had been thrilled when he’d steered her in the direction of financial stability. Everybody had said Herman was so good for her, a practical guy to offset her tendency to ignore the mundane details of life.

His practical nature wasn’t quite so attractive to her friends and family now that he’d applied it to his romantic life. But still they’d expressed fear that she’d go off the deep end without someone to counter her impulsive, artistic urges.

“Well, here we are.” The truck’s tires crunched on gravel as he pulled into the circular drive in front of a massive two-story log house. The center section was a good thirty feet wide, and the wings on either side were angled forward so that the house seemed to reach out in a welcoming gesture. A porch ran the length of the house, and rustic wooden rockers beckoned a visitor to sit and contemplate a view of meadows, wildflowers and snow-capped mountains.

Dominique had liked the white clapboard quaintness of the Bunk and Grub, the B and B where she’d originally thought she’d be staying. It sat on the outskirts of the little town of Shoshone, and she’d planned to explore the small village while she was here.

But she wasn’t sorry Pam had moved her on down the road. Besides the obvious perk she’d just enjoyed in the woods, she’d be staying in this majestic ranch house. Pam had told her the ranch had been in the family for a long time. What a treat to grow up here.

“Was the house always this big?” she asked.

“Nope. The old house was trashed, so Grandpa Archie built a two-story box with a sleeping loft upstairs. Then he added the right wing after my dad was born, and my dad added the left one after Jack was born. My mom was the one who insisted on the porches and a new kitchen and dining room.”

“So the house has grown with the family. That’s nice. I’ve never lived in a house built by the original owners.”

Nick turned off the engine. “I can’t think of doing it any other way. I’ll probably build my own house when the time comes.”

From the way he said it, she knew that time would be the day he decided to marry. She pictured the lucky woman and felt a pang of envy. Which was dumb, considering how little she knew about the guy. For sure he had a fabulous body and knew how to use it. But he could also have a thousand irritating habits that would drive a girl insane if she had to put up with him 24/7.

“So, before we go in, I have a suggestion.” He glanced over at her. “How about me taking you into Shoshone for dinner tonight? They’ll feed you here, of course, but I could show you the nightlife, such as it is.”

She was sorely tempted. He looked mighty fine wearing his straw cowboy hat, faded jeans and a Western shirt with the sleeves rolled back. She knew the wonders hidden beneath that ensemble, and thinking about him naked made her mouth water.

But she’d had her impulsive moment, and she could tell this was a guy who would foster more of those. She still needed to exercise restraint even if Herman wasn’t around, to keep from doing something foolish or jeopardizing the business she’d worked so hard to build.

“There’s a funky bar called the Spirits and Spurs, and during the summer they have live music. The dance floor’s small but adequate.”

She could picture it—a cute little bar, some frothy glasses of beer and a tiny dance floor where they’d engage in that age-old foreplay ritual called dancing. She was a lousy dancer, but with a beer or two, she could fake it.

Regret tightened her chest as she gave him the only answer that made sense under the circumstances. “Nick, it wouldn’t be fair for me to accept.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to have sex with you again.”

His eyes became very green. “You’re blushing, Dominique. I think you want to have sex with me again.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is the point. You want to and I want to. We’re consenting adults who happen to be occupying the same place on the planet for the next five nights. I don’t see the problem.”

She did. Herman was a jerk, but he’d also stabilized her life. Maybe this man had been sent as a test to see if she’d revert to the person she had been, the one who dropped everything, including her financial obligations, when the next new experience appeared on the horizon.

She had to stay strong and focused. The trip had been excellent so far and she didn’t need to go overboard in a way that would mess it up. Therefore she’d sleep alone tonight.

Facing Nick, she met his tempting gaze and said what had to be said. “I’m sorry. Thank you for a wonderful morning, but that has to be the end of it.”

He threw up both hands in defeat. “I don’t get it, but I’ve never begged a woman in my life and I’m not about to start now. Hold on a minute and I’ll help you out.”

“Not necessary.” Dominique opened the door, which squeaked on its hinges. “But thanks.”

He gave her an impatient glance. “I hope you’re willing to walk into the dining room with me. Or would that compromise your principles?”

“Not at all.” She climbed down from the truck and settled her backpack strap more firmly on her shoulder.

By the time she walked around to the other side, Nick was greeting two medium-size, mixed-breed dogs that had bounded over from the vicinity of the barn off to the right of the house. One was all black with longish curly hair and floppy ears. The short-haired one was tan-and-white, with a snub nose and pointed ears.

The dogs regarded her with curiosity, but Nick had a hand on each of their collars so they stayed by his side, glancing up at him with doggy smiles and wagging tails. Obviously they adored him.

“And who might these characters be?” Dominique asked.

“The tan one is Butch and the black one Sundance. Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, very much.” Herman had talked her out of adopting one, saying she couldn’t afford the drain on both her time and financial resources.

“Go on over and say hello, boys.” Nick released his hold and the dogs approached her with tails wagging. She crouched down and petted both at once. They sniffed her face and her hair, and Sundance gave her a little lick on the nose.

She had the ridiculous urge to gather the dogs in a hug. When she got home, she’d head for the nearest animal shelter and adopt herself one. “They’re great,” she said. “Where did they come from?”

“I found them wandering on the road about three years ago. Our golden retriever had died a couple of months before that, and a ranch needs a dog. Or two dogs. Besides, if I hadn’t picked them up, they wouldn’t have survived. My dad insisted on naming them after his favorite movie.”

She heard the slight hitch in Nick’s voice. Obviously he missed his dad a lot. “They’re great names.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

She’d just had sweaty sex in the woods and didn’t feel quite ready to face public scrutiny. She gave the dogs a last scratch behind the ears and stood. “I need to stop by my room and freshen up before we eat.”

His gaze traveled over her. “You look great to me.”

She could say the same about him, but both of them bore the evidence of rolling naked on a canvas tarp in the woods. “Thanks, but if you want to go in together, I’ll meet you back downstairs in five minutes.” She ran up the porch steps and into the ranch house.

True to her word, she came out of her second-floor room five minutes later and found him waiting at the bottom of the curved staircase. His damp hair was combed and he’d put on a clean shirt.

As she reached the bottom step, a woman with flyaway gray hair barreled toward them from the hallway to their left.

“There you are!” The woman wore a red cowboy shirt with white piping, and jeans with enough stretch to accommodate her rounded figure. “Jack said you would be here for lunch, but I let everybody else go ahead because the food was getting cold.”

“Forgive us, Mary Lou.” Nick caught her around the waist. “But I’d rather have your cold food than anyone else’s hot meal.” He kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Nicholas. Are you going to introduce me to our guest?”

“You bet.” Nick swept a hand in Dominique’s direction. “May I present Dominique Jeffries of Indianapolis. She’s a famous photographer.”

Dominique rushed to correct that misinformation. “No, I’m—”

“Dominique, this is Mary Lou Simms, the best cook in Wyoming.”

Mary Lou smiled up at him. “Apparently I’m not that good or you wouldn’t be late for lunch.”

“It’s my fault,” Dominique said. “I got carried away by the photographic opportunities.”

Nick pursed his lips and gazed up at the wagon wheel chandelier that graced the main room of the house.

“I love good pictures,” Mary Lou said. “What have you taken so far?”

“Um, I took some pictures of Nick.”

“Aha!” Mary Lou studied the man standing beside her. “Good choice. I assume you’re into people instead of landscapes. I’m an Ansel Adams fan myself, but Annie Liebovitz has done some fine work. Her portrait of John Lennon and Yoko Ono is outstanding.”

“I’m not in that class, Ms. Simms.”

Mary Lou chuckled. “It’s Miss Simms, and I’m proud of it. Never could see the point in marrying a man, although I’ve had my share of lovers. Couldn’t have kids—lousy plumbing—so why tie myself down to a husband?”

“Sounds right to me.” When Dominique had researched her trip to Wyoming she’d learned that it was the first state to give women the vote, and if Mary Lou was typical of the female population, Dominique could see why.

“Enough discussion,” Mary Lou said. “My beef stew and corn bread aren’t getting any better while we stand around yakking. I’ll go make sure there’s something left, but I’ll ask you not to dawdle getting to the dining room.” She bustled back down the hallway.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Dominique called out after her.

Nick lowered his voice as the two of them followed in Mary Lou’s wake. “Now that’s the kind of response I was looking for.”

“Let me put it this way. Mary Lou’s beef stew and corn bread is a whole lot safer option than spending an evening on the dance floor with you.”

NICK’S MOTHER HAD designed the large dining room twenty years ago when the kitchen’s plank table became too small to hold the family and all the ranch hands for the midday meal. Breakfast and dinner were served to the hands in the bunkhouse, while the family ate in a smaller, more intimate dining room, but Last Chance tradition dictated that everyone get together for lunch. Grandpa Archie had declared it was the best way to find out how the day was going for everyone.

The dining room was located at the far end of the left wing and had windows on three sides. Nick didn’t often really look at it, but today, because of Dominique, he tried to see it as she would. He had to believe she’d like the arrangement.

Instead of one long trestle table, Sarah Chance had chosen four round wooden tables, each of which sat eight people. The ranch averaged a dozen employees, so the room was seldom filled, but it could be when horse buyers were in town.

Today about half the seats were empty. Nick chose a different table from the one Dominique picked, but positioned himself where he could watch her. If he’d been concerned about whether she’d feel comfortable walking into a roomful of men, he shouldn’t have worried. She acted as if she sat down with ranch hands every day of the week.

Then he realized she’d have to be good at talking to strangers, both men and women. She took portraits for a living. Part of the photographer’s skill lay in getting the subject to relax.

Nick wondered if she’d be inspired to take pictures of any of the other cowboys in the room. He didn’t want her to do that, which was ungenerous on his part. She had the right to take as many pictures of cowboys as she wanted, and create a one-woman show with those photos in her bedroom back in Indianapolis if she liked.

He needed to accept her decision to have nothing more to do with him. But he couldn’t help thinking that if Jack hadn’t interrupted them, she might not be as jumpy about getting together. Nick could have eased her into the situation rather than have Jack be the black cloud raining on their parade.

Speaking of Jack, Nick didn’t see him in the dining room. But Emmett Sterling, the fifty-something ranch foreman, happened to be sitting at the same table as Nick. Nick unfolded his cloth napkin, a dining room staple Mary Lou insisted on, and glanced at him. “Where’s Jack?”

Emmett, whose salt-and-pepper hair, craggy features and solid build marked him as a man to be reckoned with, put down his spoon and picked up his coffee mug. “Ate fast and left. Said something about checking on Calamity Jane.”

That was damned irritating news. “I checked her this morning. I give her at least another two or three days.” He didn’t appreciate Jack’s behavior.

By announcing that he was going to see about the pregnant mare, Jack was implying Nick wasn’t doing his job. Calamity Jane was Nick’s responsibility and he was on top of it. She wasn’t due for another week and had shown no signs of giving birth in the next twenty-four hours.

“Jack was just looking for an excuse to head for the barn,” Emmett said. “He doesn’t like hanging around during lunch.”

“He used to.” Nick glanced up to thank Mary Lou for putting a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“Are we talking about Jack?” Mary Lou plopped another basket of corn bread muffins on the table. “That boy isn’t eating right and he acts like somebody shoved pinto beans up his nose.”

“Or shoved them somewhere else,” Emmett said with an evil grin. “Believe me, I’ve had the urge a time or two. What are we going to do about him, Nick?”

Nick glanced around at the expectant faces of the men at the table. “Damned if I know. Get him laid?” His response got the reaction he’d hoped for. Everybody had a good laugh, and most likely forgot their grievances against Jack, at least temporarily.

Emmett picked up a muffin and broke it in half. “Good luck with that. I think Jack’s taken himself permanently off the market.”

Nick thought so, too. His brother had been in town playing bedroom games with his girlfriend the day their father died. Although he had agreed to help their dad pick up a filly from a neighboring ranch, he’d begged off, claiming that a storm was coming and they should wait until the end of the week.

Their stubborn dad, who hadn’t much liked Jack’s girlfriend in the first place, had driven off to fetch the filly by himself. The storm had hit, making the roads slick.

Ironically, the filly, a brown-and-white paint named Bertha Mae, had survived the crash. Nick had doctored her minor wounds but nobody had ridden her since the accident.

Emmett leaned toward Nick. “Who’s that good-looking woman you’re keeping tabs on?”

And here Nick had thought he’d been subtle about it. “Her name’s Dominique Jeffries. She’s a photographer from Indianapolis. The Bunk and Grub ran out of room.”

Emmett stroked his graying mustache. “Have you ever noticed that whenever the Bunk and Grub is overbooked, we always get the good-looking women over here? I can’t remember ever getting a guy, or a couple, or a family with kids.”

Nick had to agree that was true. “Maybe it’s just easier to relocate a single person, and if you think about it, Pam doesn’t get many single guys at the Bunk and Grub. I’ll bet she has mostly couples and single women. If I were her, I’d move the singles to an alternate location before I’d move a couple, although I suppose that’s some sort of discrimination.”

“Your explanation is perfectly logical,” Emmett said. “But my gut’s telling me that Pam’s trying to fix up those ladies with a cowpoke. Or fix up the cowboys with a tourist. I guess it could be either. Or both.”

“I think it’s pure coincidence.” Nick took another bite of stew.

“Think what you want.” Emmett helped himself to more cornbread. “Oh, and by the way, that Jeffries woman is spending as much time checking you out as you’ve spent checking her out. I think you need to ask her to dinner.”

Nick had known Emmett all his life, so there was no point in trying to maintain his manly rep with the guy. “I did ask her,” he said. “She turned me down.”

“And now she’s looking at you as if you’re the last piece of chocolate in the box. If I were you, I’d ask her again.”

Nick shook his head. “I made my offer. The next move is strictly up to her.” Swallowing another mouthful of stew, he decided to abandon the field. Let her come and find him if she’d changed her mind.

In the meantime, he would head down to the barn and have a word with Jack. The guy was getting on his last nerve.




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