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Cowgirls Don't Cry(3)

By:Silver James


                “Easy, darlin’.”

                The man’s large hands gripped her biceps and kept her upright despite the fact her knees had turned to jelly. She tilted her head to look up. Quite a ways up. She took in the chiseled jaw shadowed by dark stubble, eyes the color of amber and dark hair—thick, silky and worn just a little long so that it caressed the man’s wide forehead and kissed the collar of his crisp shirt. She swallowed. Hard.

                “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were standing there.” At least she didn’t stammer. Two points for her. But she cringed inside at how breathless her voice sounded. It was surprise. That’s all. She didn’t want or need the complication presented by this sexy man right now.

                “S’okay, hon. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

                She backed away from him and shook his hands free. “Scare me?” Her brow quirked as she lifted her chin. “I don’t scare, mister.” Now that she had a good look at him, her brows narrowed in speculation. “You look sort of familiar. Have we met before?”

                Cass managed not to blush as those wolf-like eyes traveled over her body from head to toe and back again. A smile she could only describe as appreciative spread across his full lips.

                “Honey, as beautiful as you are, I’m sure I’d remember.” He held out his hand as if to introduce himself but was interrupted when the theme song from the old television show Rawhide emanated from his pocket, startling them both.

                A look of anger flashed across his face, and he muttered something that sounded like, “Dammit, I’m busy.”

                Busy? She stepped back, putting more space between them. For an insane moment, she wondered if he was stalking her. She’d noticed a man in the bar watching her. This guy fit the general description even though the corners of the place were dark, and he’d remained in the shadows.

                He fitted a smile on his face but was interrupted again. This time his phone erupted with the sounds of a siren. People stopped, turned and stared. She stepped back farther.

                “That sounds like an emergency,” she hinted.

                * * *

                Chance fumbled in his jacket pocket and found the blasted phone. He planned to cheerfully kill whichever brother had reprogrammed his ring tones. Stabbing at the screen, he growled, “What!” He held up an index finger to indicate it would be a short conversation, hoping she’d stay.

                “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

                Chance could feel his brother’s smirk through the phone. “It’s always a bad time when you call, Cord. Tell the old man not even he can control the weather. I’m stuck in Chicago until this freaking blizzard blows over.”

                Chance barely listened, his attention focused on the blonde. Something in her expression captured his interest. Every time she blinked, her lashes appeared to leave bruises under her eyes. He peered closer and noticed the dark circles marring the delicate skin. Sadness. That’s what he saw on her face and in her eyes.

                “Chancellor! Are you even listening to me?”

                “No.” Not even the use of his full name could distract him.

                “Well, you better. He called a family meeting for tomorrow. Clay is flying in from Washington. The old man tried to send one of the planes for you, but every pilot on staff refused to fly because of the weather. Pissed him off to no end, but he couldn’t fire all of them.”