Cowboy to the Rescue

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re not looking for a husband?”

Taking hold of her hand, Lex passed his thumb softly, sensuously, over the back of it.

A nervous lump thickened Christina’s throat. They were walking on treacherous ground. “That’s right. Setting out to deliberately find a spouse is – well – ”

“Unromantic?”

“Yes. Love doesn’t happen by design.”

“And you think love is an important ingredient for marriage?”

“It’s the essential ingredient.”

She watched his lips spread into a wide, seductive smile as she suddenly found his hands on her shoulders and his head lowering to hers. She mentally shouted a self-warning to turn her head, to step back and away from him. Yet her body refused to obey. Instead, she felt her chin lift, her lips part, and then the totally male taste of him shattered her senses.

Stella Bagwell began writing romance novels more than twenty years ago. Now, more than sixty books later, she likens her job to childbirth. The pain is great, but the rewards are too sweet to measure.

Stella married her high school sweetheart thirty-seven years ago and now the two live on the Texas coast, where the climate is tropical and the lifestyle blessedly slow. When Stella isn’t spinning out tales of love, she’s usually working outdoors on their little ranch, 6 Pines, helping her husband care for a herd of very spoiled horses.

They have a son, Jason, who is a high school maths teacher and athletic coach.

To my late parents, who are still guiding my footsteps. I miss you both.

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Preview

Copyright

“Who the hell is that?”

Lex Saddler’s drawled question was directed to no one in particular in the dusty cattle pen, but it was spoken loud enough for his cousin Matt to hear.

The other man followed Lex’s gaze across the ranch yard to see Geraldine Saddler, the matriarch of the Sandbur ranch, approaching the corral fence. The surprise wasn’t Lex’s mother, an attractive woman in her mid-sixties with silver, bobbed hair, but the person by her side. The tall, young woman with long red hair, dressed in a short black skirt and delicate high heels, was definitely a stranger.

“I don’t know,” Matt murmured, “but if she gets any closer, she’s going to get coated with dust.”

Behind the two men, several cowboys were roping calves and stretching them out for the branding iron. The indignant little bulls and heifers were bawling in loud protest as the stench of burning hair and black dust filled the hot, muggy air.

Squatting near one of the downed calves, a cowboy called out, “Hey, Matt, better come look at this one. Looks like he has a loose horn.”

Grinning at Lex, Matt inclined his head toward the rapidly approaching women. “You go meet the company. I’ve got more important things to do.”

“Yeah, right,” Lex muttered dryly, not bothering to slap at the dust on his denim shirt or brown leather chaps as he walked over to the fence.

“Lex, climb out of there, please,” Geraldine called to him. “I want you to meet someone.”

As he mounted the fence, then dropped to the other side, he could feel the redhead eyeing him closely. Normally, the idea that a woman was giving him a second glance would have pleased him. He made no pretensions about his love for the opposite sex. Women made his world go around, and he soaked up any attention they wanted to throw his way. But something about this particular female was making him feel just a tad self-conscious. Instead of batting her eyes with appreciation, she was giving him a cool stare. Wouldn’t his tough cousin have a laugh about that? he thought wryly.

Shoving a black cowboy hat to the back of his head, he sauntered over to the two women. His mother began to make introductions, but Lex was too interested in their guest to pick up more than a word here and there.

Thick auburn hair clouded around her shoulders in glistening waves. Her pale skin, with its faint dotting of freckles, reminded him of cream sprinkled with nutmeg, and her blue eyes, of a late-summer storm cloud. Beneath a faintly tip-tilted nose, her lips were plush and pink, the moist sheen on them implying she’d just touched them with the tip of her tongue.

“Lex? Did you hear me? This is Ms. Logan. Christina Logan. The private investigator that has agreed to take our case.”

His mother’s words cut into his meandering thoughts, adding even more shock to his addled senses. This was the P.I.? And his mother might call it our case, but he viewed it as hers. Even though he’d agreed to help, this was totally his mother’s doing.

“Uh—yes.” He jerked off his leather glove and quickly offered his hand to the beauty standing in front of him. “My pleasure, Ms. Logan.”