Mercy doctoring the Bravo Ridge livestock was a safe and sane way to start putting the feud behind them.
Safe. Sane.
What Luke wanted when he looked at her was not safe. And not sane. Not in the least.
He wanted to touch her. To stroke a hand down her shiny black hair, to press his palm against her soft cheek. To taste that ripe, red mouth of hers. And moreâ¦
A whole lot more.
What was the matter with him to even consider messing with Javier Cabreraâs daughter?
He wasnât considering it, he told himself firmly.
Uh-uh. No way.
He took a step closer to her.
Available in June 2010
from Mills & Boon>® Special Momentsâ¢
The Tycoonâs Perfect Match by Christine Wenger & Their Second-Chance Child by Karen Sandler
A Marriage-Minded Man by Karen Templeton & From Friend to Father by Tracy Wolff
An Imperfect Match by Kimberly Van Meter & Next Comes Love by Helen Brenna
A Bravoâs Honour by Christine Rimmer
Lone Star Daddy by Stella Bagwell
Claiming the Rancherâs Heart by Cindy Kirk
To Save a Family by Anna DeStefano
âLuke! Wake up, man! We got trouble!â
Luke Bravo shot to a sitting position from a sound sleep. He raked his fingers back through his hair and squinted at the bedside clockâ2:10 a.m.
And someone was pounding on his sitting-room door. âLuke! Wake up!â Luke thought he recognized the voice: Paco, one of the stable hands. He sounded seriously freaked.
Stark naked, Luke jumped from the bed. Grabbing his hat off the back of a chair as he flew by, he raced through the sitting area. Lollie, the spotted hound heâd raised from a pup, had beaten him to the door. She paced in front of it, whining and sniffing the crack between the door and the floor.
âBack, girl. Sit,â he commanded. With a final worried whine, the dog moved out of the way. Luke yanked the door wide. âPaco. What the hell?â
About then, the housekeeper, Zita, came flying around the corner from the servantsâ rooms, muttering in Spanish, clutching the sides of a flimsy red robe. She let out a shocked little squeak when she got a load of Luke standing there in the altogether.
He put his hat over his privates. âItâs all right, Zita.â He aimed a narrow-eyed glare at Paco. âIs there a fire?â
Paco slapped a hand over his mouth to quell a snort of laughter at the housekeeperâs embarrassment, and mutely shook his head.
âNo fire?â Luke asked again, just to be sure. When the stable handâs head went back and forth a second time, Luke told Zita gently, âIâm on this. Donât worry. Go on back to bed.â
Face noticeably flaming, even in the dim light provided by the hallway wall sconces, Zita whirled and ran back the way she had come. A choking laugh escaped the stable hand.
Luke leveled a scowl on him. âIf not a fire, then what?â
Pacoâs grin vanished. His smooth dark face grew somber. âItâs Candyman. He cut his ear on something. Thereâs blood everywhere. Heâs gone loco. We canât settle him down.â
Though stallions were rarely even-tempered, Candyman, Bravo Ridgeâs prize stud, was a true gentleman. A black-footed gray from foundation Quarter Horse lines, he produced top-quality horses for show, ranch work and everyday riding. As a rule, you could count on him to be easygoing and calm.
If he was out of control, he must be hurt bad.
âOn my way.â He shoved the door shut, put on his hat and grabbed for his clothes. Once he had his Wranglers and boots on, he told Lollie again to stay, as he slipped out the door. He took off, racing down the back stairs and out one of the service entrances into the hot August night. Halfway across the back gardens, he caught up with Paco.
By the time they reached the dirt driveway that circled the main house and grounds, Luke could hear Candymanâs screams. He ran faster, Paco close on his heels, across the driveway and around the stables to the prize stallionâs paddock.
As they approached the paddock fence, Luke saw that someone had got a rope on himâbut hadnât been able to hold it. The rope trailed loose along the stallionâs neck. Candyman bucked and snorted. Gray mane flying, he shook his proud head, stomping the ground, sending clods of dirt and grass everywhere. Blood, black by the light of the nearly-full moon, ran down his powerful neck. His eyes shone wide and wildâone filmed with blood from that raggedy, sliced-up ear.