Phillip Beaumont stood and looked over the top of the limo, all blond hair and gleaming smile.
His gaze settled on her. As their eyes met across the drive, Jo felt ⦠disoriented. Looking at Phillip Beaumont was one thing, but apparently being looked at by Phillip Beaumont?
Something else entirely.
Heat flushed her face as the corner of his mouth curved up into a smile. She couldnât pull away from his gaze. He looked like he was glad to see herâwhich she knew wasnât possible. He had no idea who she was and couldnât have been expecting her. Besides, compared to his traveling companions, no one in their right mind would even notice her.
But that look.
Happy and hungry and relieved. Like heâd come all this way just to see her, and now that she was here, the world would be right again.
No one had looked at her like that. Ever.
* * *
Tempted by a Cowboy is part of The Beaumont Heirs trilogy: One Colorado family, limitless scandal!
Award-winning author SARAH M. ANDERSON may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out West on the Great Plains. With a lifelong love of horses and two history teachers for parents, she had plenty of encouragement to learn everything she could about the tribes of the Great Plains.
When she started writing, it wasnât long before her characters found themselves out in South Dakota among the Lakota Sioux. She loves to put people from two different worlds into new situations and to see how their backgrounds and cultures take them someplace they never thought theyâd go.
Sarahâs book A Man of Privilege won the RT Book Reviews 2012 Reviewersâ Choice Best Book Awards Series: Mills & Boon Desire.
When not helping out at her sonâs school or walking her rescue dogs, Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians, all of which is surprisingly well-tolerated by her wonderful husband. Readers can find out more about Sarahâs love of cowboys and Indians at www.sarahmanderson.com.
One
Jo got out of the truck and stretched. Man, itâd been a long drive from Kentucky to Denver.
But sheâd made it to Beaumont Farms.
Getting this job was a major accomplishmentâa vote of confidence that came with the weight of the Beaumont family name behind it.
This wouldnât be just a huge paycheckâthe kind that could cover a down payment on a ranch of her own. This was proof that she was a respected horse trainer and her nontraditional methods worked.
A bowlegged man came out of the barn, slapping a pair of gloves against his leg as he walked. Maybe fifty, he had the lined face of a man whoâd spent most of his years outside.
He was not Phillip Beaumont, the handsome face of the Beaumont Brewery and the man who owned this farm. Even though she shouldnât be, Jo was disappointed.
It was for the best. A man as sinfully good-looking as Phillip would be...tempting. And she absolutely could not afford to be tempted. Professional horse trainers did not fawn over the people paying their billsâespecially when those people were known for their partying ways. Jo did not party, not anymore. She was here to do a job and that was that.
âMr. Telwep?â
âSure am,â the man said, nodding politely. âYou the horse whisperer?â
âTrainer,â Jo snapped, unable to help herself. She detested being labeled a âwhisperer.â Damn that book that had made that a thing. âI donât whisper. I train.â
Richardâs bushy eyebrows shot up at her tone. She winced. So much for that first impression. But she was so used to having to defend her reputation that the reaction was automatic. She put on a friendly smile and tried again. âIâm Jo Spears.â
Thankfully, the older man didnât seem too fazed by her lack of social graces. âMiz Spears, call me Richard,â he said, coming over to give her a firm handshake.
âJo,â she replied. She liked men like Richard. Theyâd spent their lives caring for animals. As long as he and his hired hands treated her like a professional, then this would work. âWhat do you have for me?â
âItâs aâwell, better to show you.â
âNot a Percheron?â The Beaumont Brewery was world-famous for the teams of Percherons that had pulled their wagons in all their commercials forâwell, for forever. A stuffed Beaumont Percheron had held a place of honor in the middle of her bed when sheâd been growing up.
âNot this time. Even rarer.â
Rarer? Not that Percheron horses were rare, but they werenât terribly common in the United States. The massive draft horses had fallen out of fashion now that people werenât using them to pull plows anymore.
âOne moment.â She couldnât leave Betty in the truck. Not if she didnât want her front seat destroyed, anyway.