Gil Addison showed a definite talent for stripping.
If heâd undressed any slower, Bailey wouldâve ripped the shirt off. But she had asked for this. All she could do was watch in torment.
With her training, Bailey could bring most men down. But Gil ⦠Gil was the real deal. His body rippled with muscle.
âCat got your tongue?â he taunted.
Her legs shaking, she curled her arm around the bedpost. âJust admiring the view.â She touched his chest. âI want to please you.â
âYou do, in every way. I love your strength, your integrity. The way you treat my son.â
âHeâs lucky to have you.â
His finger on her lips silenced her. âI spend all my time being Cadeâs father. Tonight ⦠tonight Iâm just a man. A man who wants you.â
* * *
Beneath the Stetson is a Texas Cattlemanâs Club: The Missing Mogul novel Love and scandal meet in Royal, Texas!
JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.
Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.
One
Gil Addison didnât like Feds. Even when they came wrapped in pretty packages. Perhaps it was the trace of Comanche blood in his veins that kept an atavistic memory alive...all those years of government promises made and broken. Gil was a white man living in a white manâs world, no doubt about it. Nothing much of his Native American heritage lingered except for his black hair, brown eyes and olive skin.
But the distrust remained.
He stood inside the house, hand on an edge of the curtain, and watched as a standard-issue dark sedan made its way down the long driveway. Technically, the woman for whom he waited wasnât a Fed. She was a state investigator. But she had been trained by Feds, and that was close enough.
âWho is it, Daddy?â
His four-year-old son, Cade, endlessly curious, wrapped an arm around his fatherâs leg. Gil glanced down at the boy, smiling in spite of his unsettled emotions. âA lady who wants to talk to me. Donât worry. It wonât take long.â He had promised Cade they would go riding today.
âIs she pretty?â
Gil raised an eyebrow. âWhy would that matter?â
The child with the big, far-too-observant eyes grinned. âWell, if she is, you might want to date her and fall in love and then get married andââ
âThis again?â Gil kept his hand over the boyâs mouth in a mock insistence on changing the subject. He knelt and looked Cade in the eyes. âI have you. Thatâs all I need.â Single parenting was not for wimps. Sometimes it was the loneliest job in the world. And Gil wondered constantly if he was making irrevocable mistakes. He hugged his son before standing up again. âI think Iâve been letting you watch too much TV.â
Cade pulled the curtains even farther aside and watched as the car rolled to a stop and parked. The car door opened and the woman stepped out. âShe is pretty,â Cade said, practically bouncing with the energy that never seemed to diminish.
Inwardly, Gil agreed with Cadeâs assessment, albeit reluctantly. Bailey Collins, despite the professional pantsuit that was as dark and unexceptional as her car, made an impression on a man. Only a few inches shy of Gilâs six-one height, she carried herself with confidence. Wavy, shoulder-length brown hair glinted in the sun with red highlights. Her thick-lashed eyes were almost as dark as Gilâs.
Though she was still too far away for Gil to witness those last two attributes, he had a good memory. Today was not his first encounter with Bailey Collins.
As she mounted his front steps, he opened the door, refusing to acknowledge that his heart beat faster than normal. The first time he met her, they had faced each other across a desk at Royalâs police station. Even then heâd felt a potent mix of sexual hunger and resentment. But Bailey was on his turf now. Heâd be calling the shots. She might think her credentials gave her power, but he was not prepared to accept them at face value.
* * *
Bailey caught her toe on the edge of the top step and stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. Fortunately, she regained her balance at the last second, because in the midst of her gyrations the door flew open, and a man she recognized all too well stood framed in the doorway.