A Cowboy To Come Home To

“No, you idiot! I’ve been trying to have a baby!”

The words rippled through the air and she immediately pressed a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it. Especially not like that. Coop’s face went white and he looked like he needed to sit down to digest what she’d just said.

“You’ve been…With who?”

He turned his face toward her. Heat rose to her cheeks in embarrassment. For years she’d ignored the fact that once upon a time she’d have done anything to have his hands and lips on her like they’d been only moments ago. Now that they had been…it took her back to those days of desperately trying to get his attention. To make him see her as more than just a friend. And now he thought she was involved with someone. At any other time it would be comical. In light of the situation, it was just plain awkward.

“It’s none of your business.”

He looked up at her from beneath his sooty lashes and said ominously, “From the way you were kissing me a moment ago, I’d say it is very much my business.”

Donna Alward

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mum and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for Mills & Boon^>® Cherish^>™.

In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the West. Donna’s debut romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded the Bookseller’s Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.

With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!

Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.donnaalward.com or her page at www.myspace.com/dalward.

To my girlie girls, who have grown into an awesome pair of brainstorming partners. I’d still be stuck at the words “Chapter One” if it weren’t for you!

COOPER FORD WAS six foot two of faded denim and plaid cotton, accessorized by an insufferable ego.

The smile slid off of Melissa Stone’s face as Coop pulled the door to the flower shop closed behind him, the little brass bell dinging annoyingly as he reached up and took off his hat. Oh, wasn’t he all charm and politeness. Melissa’s replacement smile was plastic and somewhat forced. Just what she needed at five o’clock on a Friday afternoon. To be face-to-face with the one man left in Cadence Creek who she wished would simply dry up and blow away.

“Afternoon, Melissa.”

She gritted her teeth at the sound of his deep voice, somehow musical even when saying the most mundane things. “Cooper.”

She refused to call him Coop like everyone else in town. Like she had years ago when they’d all hung out together, having a few beers around a campfire after a Sunday-night softball game. When he’d been the sort of guy she’d been proud to call friend. Now he was Cooper. If she thought he’d let her get away with it, she’d call him Mr. Ford. He deserved it.

But that would be a little too obvious. A very stiff “Cooper” sent the same message with a touch more subtlety—even if he did remain Coop in her head. The old days were gone. They weren’t friends any longer. To her recollection, this was the first time he’d ever deigned to darken the flower shop door.

He smiled at her. “Nice day out there. Cool, but sunny.”

Oh, this was positively painful. The weather? Seriously? She blinked, trying to ignore Coop’s big frame, which fit perfectly into his dusty jeans and the worn denim jacket that looked as if he’d had it for at least a decade. The edges of the collar and cuffs were white and slightly frayed. The jacket gaped open, revealing an old plaid shirt with a streak of dirt smeared across his chest.

One positive thing she could say about Coop: he wasn’t lazy. From the look of him he was straight off the ranch. From the smell of him, too—the pungent but not unpleasant scent of horses clung to his clothing.

“Forecast says frost maybe tonight.” She resisted the urge to tap her nails on the counter. The weather, she realized, was a safe topic. “What can I do for you, Cooper?”

He bumped his hat on the side of his leg. “I need some flowers.”

His gaze dropped to the green apron she wore when she was in her shop. The words Foothills Floral Design were embroidered on the left breast. Pockets lined the bottom, where she could keep her scissors and pocket knife and anything else she needed as she worked around the store.