âYou might have given me a chance to open your door for you.â
Dusty rolled her eyes. âYou have to be kidding. Does anyone do that anymore?â
âI do when I pick up a woman,â Ty said, sounding indignant. âItâs polite.â
âI can open my own door.â
âThat isnât the point. Look, think of dating as a game with certain rituals involved. There are steps to go through in the relationship. Roles each sex plays.â
Dusty groaned. âWhy does it have to be so complicated? Why canât we just cut to the chase?â
Ty shook his head. âSorry, but it doesnât work that way. Anticipation adds to the excitement. Itâs all part of the mating ritual. You just need to get into your role.â
Dusty scoffed. âThis role youâre talking about. Tell me it doesnât mean I have to act helpless, because Iâm never going to be one of those women.â
âLucky for you, there are men who actually like strong, independent women. But no man may be ready for you.â
Was Ty ready for her?
This one is for Kayley Mendenhall. A ray of sunshine
for everyone who has had the honor of knowing her. Best wishes for a bright, fun and romantic future!
A former award-winning journalist, B.J. Daniels had thirty-six short stories published before her first romantic suspense, Odd Man Out, came out in 1995. Her book Premeditated Marriage won Romantic Times Best Intrigue award for 2002 and she received a Career Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense. B.J. lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, three springer spaniels, Zoey, Scout and Spot, and a temperamental tomcat named Jeff. She is a member of Kiss of Death, the Bozeman Writerâs Group and Romance Writers of America. When she isnât writing, she snow-boards in the winters and camps, water-skis and plays tennis in the summers. To contact her, write: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771 or look for her online at www.bjdaniels.com.
Dusty McCallâThe youngest of the wild McCalls was ready for love. Only, she was looking for it in all the wrong places.
Ty ColtraneâThe horse rancher knew something was wrong at the rodeo. He just didnât realize how wrong until he realized Dusty McCall was involved.
Boone RasmussenâHe had big plans for his future and a chip on his shoulder.
Letty ArnoldâThe news of her adoption had hit her hard. Now all she wanted was to find her birth mother. But she got more than she asked for.
Hal BransonâThe private investigator had never believed in fateâuntil he met Letty Arnold.
Monte EdgewoodâThe roughstock producer thought he had everything until he got a chance to have a famous rodeo bull.
Sierra EdgewoodâShe had an old husband and a wandering eye and was built for trouble.
Lamar NicholsâThe cowboy was supposed to be the brawn and not the brains of the operation, but even he could see what was going on.
Waylon DobbsâThe amicable rodeo veterinarian didnât believe in buying trouble. Unless there was something in it for him.
Devilâs TornadoâHeâd gone from a mediocre rodeo bull to a star overnight. But sometimes stars fall.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
The moment the pickup rolled to a stop, Clayton T. Brooks knew he should have put this off until morning. The night was darker than the inside of an outhouse, he was half-drunk and he couldnât see two feet in front of him.
Hell, maybe he was more than half-drunk since he was still seriously considering climbing the nearby fence and getting into a pasture with a bull that had almost killed its rider at a rodeo just a few days ago in Billings, Montana.
To make matters worse, Clayton knew he was too old for this sort of thing, not to mention physically shot from years of trying to ride the meanest, toughest bulls in the rodeo circuit.
But heâd never had the good sense to quitâuntil a bull messed him up so bad he was forced to. Just like now. He couldnât quit because heâd come this far and, damn, he needed to find out if he was losing his mind. Quietly he opened his pickup door and stepped out.
Heâd coasted down the last hill with his headlights out, stopping far enough from Monte Edgewoodâs ranch house that he figured his truck wouldnât be heard when he left. There was no sign of life at the Edgewood Roughstock Company ranch at this hour of the night, but he wasnât taking any chances as he shut the pickup door as quietly as possible and headed for the pasture.
If he was right, he didnât want to get caught out here. The whole thing had been nagging him for days. Finally tonight, heâd left the bar when it closed, climbed into his pickup and headed out of Antelope Flats. It wasnât far to the ranch but heâd had to make a stop to get a six-pack of beer for the road.
Tonight he was going to prove himself wrongâor rightâhe thought as he awkwardly climbed the fence and eased down the other side. His eyes hadnât quite adjusted to the dark. Wisps of clouds drifted low across the black canvas stretched on the horizon. A few stars twinkled millions of miles away, and a slim silver crescent moon peeked in and out.