Cowboy Under Fire
When opposites attract…Forensic pathologist Patience Forbes is a whiz with the dead – it’s flesh-and-blood men who wreck her equilibrium. And cowboy Forest Stevens isn’t fooled by the beauty’s icy facade. So when she’s attacked, he appoints himself her personal bodyguard. Her very personal bodyguard…Patience is determined to investigate the mysterious bones on the Holiday Ranch – not fall into bed with her sexy protector. But Forest is too masculine, too willing to lay down his life for hers… and too set on living a different life from the one she’s built. With danger closing in, will Forest be able to keep Patience safe?
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âYou think Iâm in danger.â It was a statement, not a question.
Forest hesitated a moment and then nodded somberly. âEven though you donât remember it, you were viciously attacked. Until we know why or by whom, I donât want you alone anywhere.â
âDoes that mean Iâve just gained a bodyguard?â Patience asked.
He smiled. âYeah, and I already know you donât like it, but until somebody is in jail for attacking you or you finish up your work and leave here, you have your own personal bodyguard.â
âBut you have your own work to do here at the ranch,â she protested.
âDuring the days when youâre in the tent doing your thing, Iâll be in the corral working with the horse. When youâre safe in your room, Iâll be in mine. If you decide to go anywhere for any reason, you need to make sure Iâm with you.â
His gaze was once again somber. âThis isnât optional, Patience.â
* * *
Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting series:
Cowboys of Holiday RanchâWhere sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys ⦠and irresistible heroes!
CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. Sheâs looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Contents
She cast a tiny shadow, but was as snappy as a ticked-off Chihuahua. Forest Stevens cast a huge shadow but rarely got riled up about anything. Still, since the moment the petite Dr. Patience Forbes had arrived on the Holiday Ranch, sheâd fired him up in a way he hadnât felt before.
Not that heâd done anything about it...at least not yet. Despite the fact that sheâd been on the property for the past three weeks, he had yet to do much of anything except tip his black hat as she stalked back and forth from her room next to his to the blue tent where she worked.
He was aware of the importance of her work. As a forensic anthropologist sheâd been brought to the ranch by the discovery of a mass grave beneath an old shed that had been damaged in the spring by a tornado. The pit of bones had been unearthed when the ranch hands were tearing down the shed after the storm.
He now stood just outside the tent where she and her assistant, a middle-aged man named Dr. Devon Lewison, had been dealing with the bones of the dead in an attempt to put skeletons back together again and gather information so that identities could potentially be established or a clue to the killer might be discovered.
For the entire length of time that sheâd been on the ranch, she hadnât interacted with anyone except Devon and Chief of Police Dillon Bowie. She worked from dawn until dusk and didnât take her meals in the cowboy dining room.
Forest hoped to change some of that. For a man who was six-four and strong as an ox, a ridiculous nervousness raced through him as he drew a deep breath and stepped in front of the doorway of the tent.
She immediately whipped around, her red, shoulder-length curls dancing with her movement as her green eyes narrowed in obvious irritation. âYouâre blocking my light, cowboy.â
Moving left or right wouldnât change the fact that he completely filled up the tent entrance. âMy name isnât cowboy, itâs Forest... Forest Stevens.â He quickly swept his hat off his head, as if that polite gesture would somehow turn her deep frown into a pleasant smile. It didnât.
âOkay, Forest Stevens, whatâs the problem?â
She stood before a stainless-steel table where dried brown bones were laid out in the quasi-pattern of a human being. Forest averted his gaze from the remnants of death to her.
âNo problem,â he replied easily. âYouâre staying in the room next to mine. I just figured it was about time we spoke.â
âGood. Now weâve spoken. Goodbye.â She dismissed him by turning her slender back on him.
Forest stepped out the tent entrance and heaved a sigh of frustration. He shouldnât be dismayed by her curtness. At least he knew not to take it personally. She hadnât been friendly with anyone on the ranch. Even Dillon called her Dr. Dreadful or the dragon lady behind her back.
Dusty Crawford, the youngest cowboy working on the ranch, stood just a few feet away, and his dimples flashed as he grinned at Forest. âAh, cut off right at the knees,â he said. âAt least that brings you down to my height.â
âVery funny,â Forest replied and set his hat back on his head. âBesides, I wasnât cut off anywhere. All I wanted to do was introduce myself to her and I accomplished that.â
The two men headed for the stables. âDillon says the woman breathes fire whenever she opens her mouth.â
