That Kind Of Girl

“At least, it hasn’t for me. But that’s okay. You know, when I think about it, not one thing has changed since that night in your pickup, and yet everything has changed. I’m a different person now, even though I’m still the smart girl who helps everybody with their algebra homework. I just get paid for it now. My life hasn’t changed that much on the surface. I’m still in Aloma, still in the same house, still a—”

Becca broke off with a sharp intake of breath. She clamped her mouth shut and looked at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushing. Colt thought for a second she was choking, but she’d just gone very, very still.

And in that moment the sentence completed itself in his head. He gaped at her.

“Becca, don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

Dear Reader,

The year is almost over, but the excitement continues here at Intimate Moments. Reader favorite Ruth Langan launches a new miniseries, THE LASSITER LAW, with By Honor Bound. Law enforcement is the Lassiter family legacy—and love is their future. Be there to see it all happen.

Our FIRSTBORN SONS continuity is almost at an end. This month’s installment is Born in Secret, by Kylie Brant. Next month Alexandra Sellers finishes up this six-book series, which leads right into ROMANCING THE CROWN, our new twelve-book Intimate Moments continuity continuing the saga of the Montebellan royal family. THE PROTECTORS, by Beverly Barton, is one of our most popular ongoing miniseries, so don’t miss this seasonal offering, Jack’s Christmas Mission. Judith Duncan takes you back to the WIDE OPEN SPACES of Alberta, Canada, for The Renegade and the Heiress, a romantic wilderness adventure you won’t soon forget. Finish up the month with Once Forbidden… by Carla Cassidy, the latest in her miniseries THE DELANEY HEIRS, and That Kind of Girl, the second novel by exciting new talent Kim McKade.

And in case you’d like a sneak preview of next month, our Christmas gifts to you include the above-mentioned conclusion to FIRSTBORN SONS, Born Royal, as well as Brand-New Heartache, award-winning Maggie Shayne’s latest of THE OKLAHOMA ALL-GIRL BRANDS. See you then!

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

That Kind of Girl

Kim McKade

MILLS & BOON

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KIM MCKADE

came out of the womb knowing she was going to be a writer. She was also convinced she would someday be a gourmet chef (at last count she’s destroyed two blenders, three mixers and innumerable pots and pans), dreamed of singing like Wynonna (but has the vocal talent of Alfalfa) and at one time aspired to be a dancer (but was born with the legs of a coffee table). She has persevered in her dream to write, however, and today spends happy hours concocting stories in the Texas home she shares with her husband and her daughter, who is inarguably the world’s cutest kid.

For my biggest fans and staunchest supporters, Kelly and Kathy.

For Darryl.

Everything good in my life started with you.

And with special thanks to Brenda Ash, for getting me started down this road.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

He had a body that belonged on one of those beefcake calendars. Clothed now in faded jeans and a white undershirt that had seen better days, he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and everything in between…well, everything in between was just where it should be.

He hunkered down over the broken board on the front porch—the board she’d almost fallen through one day when she’d come to look in on his father. His black hair had been raked back with his fingers, ruffled across his forehead in an unruly wave. He pounded on the board, loud enough to drown out the sound of her arrival. No photographer could have set up a better shot to showcase masculinity at work than Colt Bonner hefting a hammer.

Becca had fantasized—a million years ago when she was young and held out hope that fantasies came true—that Colt was Heathcliffe and she was Catherine, and he would sweep her across the dry west Texas plains as if they were the moors of Scotland.

Fat chance.

Back then, she’d been about as desirable as a box of rocks. And the only sweeping being done was with the handy O’Cedar.

But she had changed. She chanted those words like a mantra as she drove down the road to the Bonner house, and even as she climbed from the car and closed the door softly behind her. From her long red hair pulled back in a shower of curls, to the crisp teal-green suit she wore, she’d changed her style. True, she wasn’t a siren in red leather, but at least she’d made an improvement on the shapeless, drab dresses Mama had always insisted she wear.

She’d changed on the inside, too. She’d worked hard over the past few years cultivating a sense of self-esteem, a sense of herself. Wasn’t she proving that right now? If she wasn’t confident in herself, would she ever be able to come here? After all, Colt was the one to whom she’d offered her virginity, a dozen years ago.

Colt was the one who had turned her down.

The reminder had her nerves jittering. This was a bad idea. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen her yet. She could tiptoe away and he’d never be the wiser.

“You okay?”

Becca gulped and opened her eyes. Colt studied her frankly over his shoulder.

“Fine,” she said brightly. Too brightly. She forced some moderation into her smile and stepped toward the porch. “I’m Becca Danvers. We went to school together.” So much for making him guess who she was.

Colt snorted. Actually snorted. “I know who you are, Becca. I haven’t been kicked in the head that many times.”

“Of course not,” she stammered. “I just thought that since I—well, people say I’ve changed a lot. I didn’t know if you would recognize me.”

“Haven’t changed a bit to me,” he said, turning back to the porch.

Her smile fell. “Oh. Well, good. Good.”

Wonderful. She was really impressing him with her cool sophistication now. He’d noticed her for all of three seconds. She reminded herself why she was here. The man had just lost his father—well, not just; Doff Bonner had passed on two months ago—and Colt had come back to a town he’d avoided for over a dozen years. It was bound to be a hard time for him.

“I stopped by to see if you needed anything. I heard you got back in town last night—” Actually, she’d seen his pickup pull up, but she wasn’t going to let him think she sat around staring at his house.

“I see the Aloma gossip mill is still in business.” He didn’t bother to look up. “Everybody’s already worried what that degenerate Bonner is up to now.”

She pursed her lips and moved closer to the porch. She should have known Colt would be angry. She hadn’t seen him in over twelve years, but she remembered enough to know that anger was his first line of defense. She wasn’t put off by it any more now than she had been when she was ten.

She stepped onto the porch and leaned against the rail, crossing her ankles. “Yes, the entire town was peeking through their curtains when you drove past the city limits sign. We held a town meeting this morning to decide how we’re going to run you out. Someone suggested calling in the National Guard. But me? I prefer a good old-fashioned stoning any day.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him.

Colt sat back on his haunches, his forearms across his knees, and gave her a rueful half-smile. Her heart did a slow flip.

“Okay, your point is made. I guess you could say I’m not exactly glad to be back in Aloma County.”

“I can’t say I blame you, considering everything that happened before you left.” She folded her arms across her middle, careful to make sure the Santa Fe Sand she wore on her perfectly manicured fingertips—which were probably still a little wet, anyway—didn’t smudge against the teal of her power suit. She was doing a pretty good job, she thought, pretending the sight of him didn’t make her breath come short and her heart pound. “And considering what’s brought you back. I’m sorry about Doff, Colt.”

Colt’s eyes narrowed, and he waved away that consideration with his hand. “Don’t be. He brought it on himself.”

She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. There was no love lost between Colt and his father; everyone knew that. She’d grown up a hundred yards from Doff Bonner’s violent temper. She knew what the man was capable of, including turning his own son against him. As Colt said, he brought it on himself.

Colt stood and walked across the porch, his boots clopping softly on the wooden boards. She watched him until she realized with a jolt that he was moving toward her, his eyes dark with intent.

Her mouth went dry. The memory of the last night she’d seen Colt came to her in excruciatingly vivid staccato flashes. Kissing him, holding on to him for dear life. The feel of him beneath her as she sat on his lap; feeling closer to him in that moment than she’d ever felt to anyone, before or since.

Her ridiculous offer of a dozen years ago hung foremost in her mind, and she realized with mortification that he was probably remembering it, too, more clearly than she.

His eyes were steady on hers, brooding. He meant to kiss her again. She could see it in the way he honed in on her. She regained enough presence of mind to close her mouth.

He moved toward her with a tangible sense of purpose, his jaw set with determination. His gaze held hers with an intensity that had her heart stuttering. He stopped inches from her. She could smell the scent of hard work. In a delicious panic, her eyelids fluttered closed.

He was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. “’Scuse me, Becca. You’re leaning on my shirt.”

She opened her eyes a fraction, to see him watching her with barely disguised amusement. She willed the porch to open up and swallow her whole. When it didn’t, she sighed and moved aside.

Once again, she’d made a colossal fool of herself in front of Colt Bonner.

He picked up the shirt from the porch rail and slipped his arms into it, leaving the buttons undone. Then he moved to the opposite rail and leaned against it, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “So, what do you think I need?”

She blinked rapidly a few times. “What?” Her voice quavered.

He ducked his head, but she saw his grin, anyway. Oh, well. If she couldn’t be cool and sophisticated, she could console herself with the knowledge that she was amusing.

“You said you came by to see if I needed anything. What did you have in mind?”

Since her vivid imagination had deserted her, she told him the truth. “Dinner,” she said. “I didn’t know if the electricity was turned on yet, and I didn’t think you would want to eat at the Dairy Queen your first night back in town.”

“Electricity got turned on this morning.”

“Oh. Okay.” She walked slowly around the porch, deciding that she couldn’t have made a bigger failure of this visit if she’d tried. She’d wanted to comfort him over the loss of his father, which he obviously didn’t need. She’d wanted to show him that she wasn’t that same mousy, shy wallflower, and instead she’d proved conclusively that she was a nut. He didn’t even want her dinner.

“Okay, then. I need to be going. I have papers to grade and—”

She heard his shout of warning at the same time the porch decided to finally open up and swallow her. Not whole, though. Just her left shin.

Jagged wood bit into her leg as she pitched forward, and she slammed her hand against the wall to regain her balance. Cold air under the porch brushed against her skin, and her foot thudded against solid ground.

Colt leapt across the porch and grabbed her before she fell on her face. His hands under her elbows, he brought her against him.

Becca pulled frantically on her leg. It was stuck.

“Stop, Becca!” Colt said sharply. “You keep pulling like that and you’re going to make it worse.”

She stopped. Colt leaned over the splintered wood, one hand cupping her leg behind her knee. Becca bit her lip and looked down at his dark head bent over her leg. Physical pain began to seep past her hurt pride.

Colt cursed, then tilted his head to offer her a curt apology. “This place is a disaster. I should just pay to have the place bulldozed and sell the land. It’s going to take a month or more to get it livable again.” He muttered something under his breath and sat back on his heels. “Don’t move. I’m going to have to get the hammer and pry some of this loose before you can pull your leg out.”

She stood there, lopsided, while he picked up the hammer and fit the claw end into the hole beside her leg. “I hope this doesn’t hurt,” he said as he gave it a mighty tug. The muscles of his shoulders flexed as he worked the wood free. The entire board popped up with a screeching groan.

It did hurt, a little. She asked through gritted teeth, “You’re going to remodel the house?”

He shrugged and put his hand on her calf, helping her out of the hole. “I’m going to try— How does it feel? It looks pretty scraped up.”

The Silky Sheer Precious Ivory panty hose she’d bought early that morning before school were ruined, of course. A big ugly hole opened around the scrape, and three different runs inched from the hole toward her skirt. She managed to nod, as he ran his fingers down the abrasion.

“It’s fine, really.” She drew her leg away from his fingers. “You’re not staying, are you?”

“I’m going to get the house livable again, and sell it as quick as I can. Right now, it ought to be condemned.” He cursed and shook his head.

“Damn old drunk, I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck in this dump.” He knelt in front of her and looked up, grim faced. “Do you want to see a doctor?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Of course not. It’s just a little red.” It stung mightily, and her shinbone ached. She resisted the urge to bend over and blow on it. “A little soap and water, and it will be fine.”

Colt stood and took her hand, leading her away from the hole. “Lazy, worthless drunk. I can’t believe he let the place go like this.” He scowled at the piles of junk in the yard, the tangles of weeds and dried grass, the gray weathered wood that had once been painted white.

Because it felt a little too overwhelming, Becca withdrew her hand from his. If he noticed at all, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Becca took off her bone-colored flat and shook out dirt. “He had a few other things on his mind the past few years. Like maintaining a constant state of inebriation.”

“So, nothing’s changed. You’re the one who left those Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlets for him, aren’t you.”

Becca nodded.

Colt shook his head. “Still the champion of lost causes, Becca? You know he was using them as coasters for his beer, don’t you?”

“I know. And I don’t think anyone is a lost cause.”

“He is,” Colt said grimly. “He is now.”

Becca rolled her lips together and locked her hands behind her back. Despite his attitude, she knew Colt was upset over his father’s passing. Or maybe that was just her, needing to see the best in him. “We tried to get hold of you when he died, Colt. We knew you were in Wyoming, because I—we saw you on television. The bull rides were televised. But by the time we got word to you, you were gone.”

She didn’t want to talk about that day, and knew Colt wouldn’t, either. That morning she’d found Doff passed on in his armchair, and that evening she watched Colt take the hardest toss she’d ever seen, off the back of the bull and into the wall. The bull had charged after him and dug a horn into Colt’s back. She’d thought she was witnessing the death of the entire Bonner family, then.

But the announcer said, as they carried Colt out of the ring on a stretcher, that he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. And though she was sorry for the circumstances, her heart had leapt at the knowledge that Colt was finally coming home.

Except, he hadn’t come home. She, Toby Haskell and Luke Tanner, Colt’s best friends, had buried Doff Bonner. Two months passed, and this was the first any of them had seen of Colt.

“I got your message,” Colt said shortly. “I was tied up at the time. Couldn’t get away.”

Becca nodded. “Have you been to the cemetery yet? We picked out a marker, I hope you approve of it. We didn’t know what—”

“I’m sure it’s fine. How’s your leg?”

She smoothed her skirt and looked down at the ugly red scrape and gaping hole in her hosiery. Lovely. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” If she left right now, she might be able to get away without adding another insult to her injury. Why, she asked herself, did she still have this ridiculous crush on Colt Bonner? He wasn’t that good-looking.

Liar, she answered herself.

“I’ve got to go,” she said firmly. “If you need anything, just give me a call.” She limped down the steps.

“Becca—”

She turned her head, and he was there, close. Before she could react, he kissed her.

It was warm and soft and firm, invasive and overwhelming and delicious, all at once. And over before she knew how to react. He drew his head back, his eyes unreadable. If she hadn’t just felt his lips against hers, she would almost believe it hadn’t happened.

She touched a finger to her lips. “Why did you do that?” The question came with the thought, and she immediately wished she hadn’t voiced it.

He was silent for a long time, his face closed. “Because I’m a damn fool, I suppose.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just said, “Oh.”

Not her most brilliant response, but then, the past ten minutes had been one big blow to her ego, so why worry about it now? She moved to the bottom step of the porch and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “Yes, well—”

“Look, Becca.” He put his hand high on the porch rail, and his undershirt rode up slightly. Becca caught herself staring at the sight of his flat stomach peeking from underneath. You’d think I’d been brought up on a planet without men, she thought. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she dragged her eyes back to his.

“I appreciate your coming over here. But I really don’t have time to be…well, I’m just going to get this dump livable again and get the hell out of Aloma County. I don’t really want to be around anyone right now.”

She heard the hum of a motor, and looked up to see dirt billow as the sheriff of Aloma County drove down the dirt road.

“It looks like you’re not going to get your wish. There’s Toby Haskell. Sorry, Colt. You have people who care about you here, whether you want them to or not.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’ll go so you two can catch up.”

Colt’s eyes focused on the sheriff’s Jeep pulling up in front of the house. He took a deep breath as if to brace himself, and nodded, not looking at her. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Becca drove down the road seconds later, watching in her rearview mirror as the men pounded on each other in welcome. Despite the obviously jovial meeting, she couldn’t help but wonder what would make a man need to brace himself for a reunion with an old friend.

“Hoss!” Toby grabbed Colt’s hand and pulled him into a bear hug, thumping him on the back. “It’s about time you got your scrawny carcass back to Aloma.”

Colt pulled away with a wince and patted Toby on the stomach. “Can’t call you scrawny, can we? Matter of fact, you’re getting downright plump. So you’re the sheriff now, huh? How’d a clown like you manage that one?”

“My stunning good looks and charming personality,” Toby answered with a shrug and a grin. “Becca told me you got in last night.”

“I figured I couldn’t be in town for fifteen minutes before some busybody alerted the law.”

“Becca’s not a busybody. Hell, I wish there were more people like her in this county. She just got into the habit of looking out for the place, that’s all. She kept an eye on your dad, before…before—”

“Before he died,” Colt said flatly.

“Yeah,” Toby said quietly with a nod. “She brought him groceries, made sure his electricity didn’t get cut off, made sure he didn’t burn the house down.”

“Or drink himself to death,” Colt muttered. “Doff needed someone to look after him. He sure didn’t do it for himself— How about something to drink? It’s hot out here.”

The men crossed the cracked linoleum floor into the kitchen. Colt looked around. “I forgot, all Doff had on hand was coffee. And Wild Turkey.” He held up the coffeepot and cocked an eyebrow.

Toby nodded and picked up a cup from the counter. He eyed it, then turned on the faucet and rinsed the inside. “Times like these, I’m glad I’m not a bachelor anymore.” He held the cup out, and Colt poured. “That was Becca who was just leaving, right? She’s changed a lot, huh? She’s gorgeous now.”

“She was always pretty.”

“How could you tell? She always wore those thick glasses, always had her head ducked down so you couldn’t even see her face. But the past few years…she’s changed a lot. Come out of her shell, I guess.” He shook his head. “If I weren’t such a happily married man…”

“Bull,” Colt scoffed. “You never had eyes for anyone except Corinne, since we were seven years old. I heard you two finally got married. Congratulations.”

Toby grinned. “Thanks. Took us ten years, but we finally did it. How about you? I know you’re still riding the bulls, but did you ever find anyone who would settle for you, anyway?”

Colt ducked his head and decided to change the subject. “Nah,” he said simply. “What about Luke? He still hanging around?”

“Hell, he’s my deputy now.”

“You’re kidding.” Colt laughed. “You and Luke Tanner in charge of the law and order around here? I guess he’s probably settled down, too.”

“Nah, he’s still hounddogging all the ladies. Teases me about getting old and fat, too. Man, it’s good to see you, Hoss.”

Colt took a step back and frowned. “You’re not going to hug me again, are you?”

“I’m not that glad to see you. I’m real proud of you, man. One more win and you take Doff’s record. The whole town’s kept up with your career, you know, watching the bull riding competitions on television. But it’s not the same as having you here. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.” He nodded vaguely at the filthy, broken-down house around them.

“Yeah” was all Colt said. “I got the message. I just, uh, I just couldn’t really turn loose of my schedule right then. You want some more coffee?”

“Hell, no, not this sludge. So,” Toby said, slapping his hands together and rubbing his palms, “how long are you staying?”