Archer Jefferson was all cowboy

More cowboy than she’d come mentally prepared to corral.

Okay, a man that droolworthy must not lack for female friends. So why had he been e-mailing her for two years? She wrinkled her nose, pushed her thick glasses back and studied him further.

Tight jeans, dirty boots. Long black hair under a black felt hat. Deep voice. Piercing eyes, she noted as he swung around, catching her staring at him. She jumped, he laughed and then he tipped his hat to her as he swung up onto an Appaloosa in a manner the stuntwoman in her appreciated.

Just how difficult would it be to entice that cowboy into her bed? Archer had put thoughts in her mind about his virility, with his Texas-sized bragging about his manliness and the babies popping out all over their ranch.

Seeing him, however, made her think that perhaps he hadn’t been bragging as much as stating fact.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime, Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her stories. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance!

Archer’s Angels
Tina Leonard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE JEFFERSON BROTHERS OF MALFUNCTION JUNCTION

Mason (38), Maverick and Mercy’s eldest son—He can’t run away from his own heartache or The Family Problem.

Frisco Joe (37)—Fell hard for Annabelle Turnberry and has sweet Emmie to show for it. They live in Texas wine country.

Fannin (36)—Life can’t be better than cozying up with Kelly Stone and his darling twins in Ireland.

Laredo (35), twin to Tex—Loves Katy Goodnight, North Carolina and being the only brother with a reputation for winning his woman without staying on a bull.

Tex (35), twin to Laredo—Grower of roses and other plants, Tex fell for Cissy Kisserton and decided her water-bound way of life was best.

Calhoun (34)—Doesn’t want the family mantle passing to him.

Ranger (33), twin to Archer—Fell for Hannah Hotchkiss and will never leave the open road without her.

Archer (33), twin to Ranger—Talking with a faraway woman in Australia by e-mail is better than having a real woman to bother him.

Crockett (31), twin to Navarro—Paints portraits of nudes, but never wants to see a woman fully clothed in a wedding gown saying, “I do” to him.

Navarro (31), twin to Crockett—Fell for Nina Cakes when he was supposed to be watching her sister, Valentine, who is carrying Last’s child.

Bandera (27)—Spouts poetry and has moved from Whitman to Frost—anything to keep his mind off the ranch’s troubles.

Last (26)—The only brother who finds himself expecting a baby with no hope of marrying the mother. Will he ever find the happy ending he always wanted?

To Nicki and Jason Flockton, for kindly sharing their love and their excitement over their children with me and our friends, the Gal Pals. Your joy was inspiring.

Much love to my children, Lisa and Dean. Don’t leave me too soon—I’m enjoying you too much.

And heartfelt gratitude to my editors, Paula Eykelhof and Stacy Boyd, whose belief in this series has meant so much to me.

Contents

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Love at first sight? Yes. Love over time? Yes. But there are no shortcuts to the heart.

—Maverick to his sons one night, after their mother had passed, when they wondered how a man ever knew he’d found the one woman for him

From: TexasArcher

To: AussieClove

Howdy, AussieClove. What’s shaking Down Under? I just got home from riding a bull at the rodeo in Lonely Hearts Station. After the events me and some of my bros decided to drink some of the wildest concoction on the planet. We ended up baying at the moon beside Barmaid’s Creek, with some crazy gals for company. You should have seen me ride that bull—if he hadn’t come back around to the left, I would have been the first brother in my family to stay on that cursed piece of cowhide, Blood-thirsty Black.

From: AussieClove

To: TexasArcher

G’day, TexasArcher. Nothing shaking here except maybe my head. My older sister, Lucy, is devastated tonight. She and her husband have learned they can probably never have children. So I threw myself into work, hoping to stay positive.

The stunt tonight involved a boat, some fire, a shark and two guys wearing what I would call thongs. I think guys should never wear swim clothes that are smaller than their…well, you know. What do cowboys wear under those Wrangler jeans?

From: TexasArcher

To: AussieClove

Man alive, AussieClove. Sorry to hear about your sister—that’s too bad. Around our ranch, we’re having a population explosion. We’ve got babies popping out all over the place. I’m never having kids. In fact, I’m never getting married. Too complicated.

One time, I was stuck in a truck with my twin brother, Ranger, and his now-wife, Hannah, and they griped at each other for days. I finally escaped, but Ranger wasn’t so lucky. He rolled down an arroyo and demanded that a medicine man marry him and Hannah because he was convinced he had to get married to live. My twin’s weird. By the way, I wear briefs and sometimes nothing. What do Aussie girls wear under their clothes? (I can tell you right now, floss-size drawers would never hold everything of mine.)

From: AussieClove

To: TexasArcher

I’m sure.

Chapter One

Clove Penmire’s heart pounded as she got off the bus in Lonely Hearts Station, Texas, suitcase in hand. For all her fascination with cowboys and the lure of the dusty state she’d read so much about, she had to admit small-town Texas was nothing like her homeland of Australia.

A horse broke free from the barn across the street, walking itself nonchalantly between the two sides of the old-time town. A cowboy sprinted out of the barn and ran up the street after his horse, laughing as he caught up to it.

Clove smiled. From the back she couldn’t tell if the man was handsome, but he was dressed in Wrangler jeans and a hat, and, as far as she could tell, the cowboy was the real thing.

That’s what she had traveled to Texas for: the real thing.

That sentiment would have sounded shallow, even to Clove, just a month ago. But having learned that her sister, Lucy, could not have a child, Clove’s thought processes had taken a new course, one that included fantasies of tossing her brother-in-law into the Australian ocean.

All over the world there were people who couldn’t conceive when they wished. They adopted, or pursued other means of happiness. She hadn’t been overly worried, until Lucy confessed that she thought her husband might leave her for a woman who could bear children.

Lucy had laughed a little sadly and said that perhaps she was only imagining things. Clove had murmured something reassuring, but inside, fear struck her. Lucy loved her physician husband. He’d always seemed to adore her. Men didn’t leave women because they couldn’t bear children, did they? Robert was a wonderful man; Clove had been surprised, and distressed, at the turn of events.

So she’d taken drastic measures. She’d come to America for Archer Jefferson.

The cowboy hauled his horse around, leading it back toward the barn. Clove could hear him lightly remonstrating his wayward beast, but the horse didn’t seem too concerned.

The cowboy caught her interested gaze, holding it for a second before he looked back at his horse. The man was extremely handsome. Breathtakingly so. Not the cowboy for her, considering her mission, and the fact that she was what people politely referred to as…the girl with the good personality.

The girl everybody loved like a sister.

The girl men liked to be friends with.

And the worst, the Nerdy Penmire.

She sighed. If Lucy had gotten all the beauty, their mother always said with a gentle smile, then Clove had gotten all the bravery. Which was likely how she’d ended up as a stuntwoman.

A stuntwoman with thick glasses.

Had she the face of other Australian exports like Nicole Kidman, for example, she might have been in front of the camera. But instead, she was a stunt double. Lucy said Clove had the life other people dreamed of.

Maybe.

Clove watched the cowboy brush his horse’s back with his hand and fan a fly away from its spot-marked face. He was still talking to the animal; she could hear low murmuring that sounded very sexy to her ears, especially since she’d never heard a man murmur in a husky voice to her.

“Archer Jefferson!” someone yelled from inside the barn. “Get that cotton-pickin’, apple-stealin’, dog-faced Appaloosa in here!”

“Insult the man but not the sexy beast!” he yelled back.

Clove gasped. Archer Jefferson! The man she’d traveled several time zones to see! Her TexasArcher of two years’ worth of e-mail correspondence!

He was all cowboy, she realized, more cowboy than she’d come mentally prepared to corral. “Whoa,” she murmured to herself.

Okay, a man that droolworthy must not lack for female friends. So why had he been writing her for two years? She wrinkled her nose, pushed her thick glasses back and studied him further. Tight jeans, dirty boots. Long, black, unkempt hair under the black felt hat—he’d never mentioned long hair in their correspondence. Deep voice. Piercing eyes, she noted as he swung around, catching her still staring at him. She jumped, he laughed, and then tipped his hat to her as he swung up onto the “dog-faced” Appaloosa, riding it into the barn in a manner the stuntwoman in her appreciated.

Just how difficult would it be to entice that cowboy into her bed? Archer had put the thoughts in her mind about his virility, with his Texas-size bragging about his manliness and the babies popping out all over their Union Junction ranch—affectionately known as Malfunction Junction.

Seeing him, however, made her think that perhaps he hadn’t been bragging as much as stating fact. Her heart beat faster. He had said he wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

But a baby, just one baby…one stolen seed from a family tree that bore many…from a man she trusted more than a stranger from a sperm bank.

Maybe she wasn’t brave.

“Howdy!”

She jumped as Archer strode across the street to where she stood.

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“No,” she said, her gaze taking in every inch of him with nervous admiration. “Yes.”

He grinned. “My name’s Archer Jefferson.”

She wished he wouldn’t smile at her that way. Her heart simply melted, despite the cold chill of February. He made her dream of a blazing fireplace, soft blankets and naked him holding naked her tight.

“Can I help you?” he asked. “If you’re looking for a job, the cafeteria is that way. If you’re looking for a hair-do,” he said, eyeing her braided hair momentarily, “I’d choose that salon over there. The Lonely Hearts Salon. Owner’s a friend of mine. Salon owner across the street, of the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, isn’t.”

She felt him studying her glasses, the cursed thick things that gave her clear vision when she was doing stunts. Contacts made her eyes itch and burn.

Lucy said Clove hid behind her glasses. Clove blinked, thinking that right now a curtain was the only thing she’d feel truly hidden behind.

“You sure are a quiet little thing,” Archer said. “Don’t be scared. We’re all real friendly here.”

Scared! She was a daredevil!

But if she told him that, in her lilting Aussie accent, he would know who she was right off. And he would think she was nuts for coming all the way to Texas without telling him. He would know it was no accident that she was standing outside the rodeo he had told her he was participating in.

“I’m not scared,” she said, trying to disguise her accent. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Ah, she speaks,” Archer said. “I’ve got to run, but if you need anything, just grab someone off the street to help you. This is a friendly town, if you bypass the Cut-n-Gurls.”

“I’ll do that.”

He tipped his hat, and with a flash of long-legged denim glory, he disappeared into the arena building.

Her breath slowly left the cage it was bound in.

No doubt his genes were as sexy as his jeans. He was far hotter than the thong-wearing models she’d last worked with.

Now she just had to get those jeans off of him.

He hadn’t seemed particularly inclined to strip down to the “briefs or nothing” of which he’d boasted. Not even a flash of male attraction had lit his eye. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured, suddenly doubtful about her mission.

He was terribly manly. And she had very little experience with men. Lucy had always been the one who warmed to hearth and home.

Clove took a deep breath. For Lucy’s sake, she had to be brave.

She went into the walkway where Archer had disappeared. He was leaning against a rail, looking at his Appaloosa. Seeing her, he grinned. “Glad you came in. I was just thinking you might need a hotel.”

Her throat gulped of its own accord. “Ah,” she said, “I was wondering…”

“Yes?” he said, smiling down at her.

He was so tall. “Would you care to go to dinner with me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The friendly smile slipped from his face. His gaze touched her glasses. Then a forced veneer of friendliness came back to his expression. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

She blinked, knowing her face was bright red.

“Okay. Thanks, anyway.”

Backing away, she saw sympathy in his gaze.

She turned and tried to walk away with as much dignity as possible. He was not remotely interested. How humiliating!

This was not going to be easy. In fact, it likely was impossible.

On the other hand, she was a stuntwoman known for her never-fail nerves. And she hadn’t paid for a roundtrip airline ticket to wind up going back home without a Texas-bred souvenir.

For Lucy’s sake, she would bring out the daredevil residing inside her and let it loose all over that cowboy.

ARCHER JEFFERSON watched the little fraidy-cat walk away with some regret. My goodness, she was a shy one! Traveling by herself required some bravery, though.

If he had a rule—and usually he didn’t—it was that most women were to be avoided. He’d learned from watching his brothers fall that women came in exciting, colorful packages; some fun to open, some not. But a shy woman didn’t hold much threat to his well-being. And that one, with her oversize specs and timid little voice couldn’t put fear into a flea.

Scratching his head, he thought about her dinner invitation. Much as he might have enjoyed showing a newcomer the town, he had to get his horse ready for the show. Honky-Tonk was a tricky Appaloosa. She thought she knew things she didn’t, and they’d had more than one disagreement between them about who was boss.

“You’re just a bit sassy,” he said to Tonk. “You think you’re entitled to your own opinions. But we both know better, don’t we?”

She pinned an ear back and gave him a sidelong stare.

“Females and opinions go together like butter and bread,” he continued.

And it often seemed as if his Appaloosa had her fair share of womanly arts, conniving and one-upping being some of them. He knew quite well that females had a spectrum of tricks up their dainty sleeves. He’d watched seven brothers before him fall prey to the wedding-ring chase.

The last brother who’d fallen was Calhoun. He’d settled at the ranch, the first married brother to do so. Calhoun had brought his wife’s family—two children, Minnie and Kenny, and a grandfather, Barley—with him.

And Calhoun’s success had generated some brotherly angst around the ranch. Calhoun had the kids, the father-in-law, the occasional roadshow participation as a rodeo clown—for which his wife, Olivia, adored him—but Calhoun had also became a hit with his paintings. Though he’d started out painting nudes, he had switched to family portraits and had a waiting list of people who wanted him to commit their children to canvas.

He was that good.

Unfortunately, Crockett, the family’s first and best artist, had taken umbrage at this. Crockett felt Calhoun had one-upped him in the creative department. Archer frowned as he worked his way through the mud in Tonk’s hoof. Usually, the brothers were happy for each other. But ever since the youngest brother, Last, had brought a new baby to the ranch, along with the baby’s unmarried mother, Valentine, no one had been happy.

Or maybe the trouble had started when Mason left. Oldest brother, and patriarch of the Jefferson clan, he’d taken his wandering feet onto the road. He’d said he wanted to find out what had happened to their father, Maverick. But the brothers knew that was a lie; Mason had been nearly knocked to his knees when Mimi Cannady, their next-door neighbor, married another man and had a baby.

But that had been more than a year ago. Mimi and Brian were divorced now, a friendly divorce. And Mason had returned and was now very fond of one-year-old, Nanette.

Archer sighed. Maybe all the craziness around Malfunction Junction was just the result of twelve brothers growing up together with no female touch to soften them.

Last was never going to settle down with Valentine, though he seemed to be receiving better marks for his daddy skills.

Mason was never going to get his head straight about Mimi. All the brothers except Mason knew Mimi was putting her ranch up for sale in order to move into town.

Bandera never shut up about poetry. He wrote it, he sang it, he reviewed it and recited it, and if he didn’t shut his face, Archer was going to smother him in his sleep.

Crockett needed to just shut his yap and paint. There was room for two artists in the family tree.

“I’m the only brother who keeps my pipe shut,” Archer told Tonk. “My insanity is on the down-low. I write a woman who is far away and who will never bother me. As far as I can see, I add no turbulence to this family ship. Why can’t the rest of my brothers be more suave? Debonair?”

It sounded as if Tonk groaned. He gave her a tap on the fanny. “Hey,” he said, “no comments from you. Or maybe I won’t defend you the next time my brothers call you dog-faced.” He frowned, looking at the pretty colors of his spotted equine. She was beautiful! What was it about her that they didn’t get? So Tonk was a little unusual. Archer liked unusual things.

She reached out with her back hoof, not really kicking at him but giving him a little goose. He stepped back, eyeing her warily. “Tonk,” he said, his tone warning.

She flipped her mane at him.

“Excuse me,” he heard.

Archer glanced up to see the little plain newcomer looking at him. “Yes?”

“I was just offered employment at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon.”

“You were?” Straightening, he stared at her.

Marvella, the owner of the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, was always on the lookout for fresh stylists, and Marvella’s stylists were known far and wide to be babes—and if they weren’t babes, then they were possessed of supernatural talents. If you were a man, the Cut-n-Gurls could always help you out.

“Yes.” She nodded. “But I knew you said they weren’t your friends.”

“They’re not, that’s true. What is it that you do?” he asked, staring at her speculatively. Maybe there was more to her than he’d first thought. Marvella had a pretty good eye for these things.

“I—I’m not doing anything right now,” she said. “I’m on vacation.”

“So, what did you tell her?” Archer felt worry assail him. Employment with Marvella included hassles, so many she’d soon dream of giving back her wages.

“I told her, no, thank you. You said to avoid her.”

“I think it would be best. Not that I’m always right.”

She nodded. “Even your horse knows that.”

Archer frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “She doesn’t like you.”

He was outraged. “She likes me fine!”

She shook her head. “No, see how she distances herself from you? She thinks you’re bossy. Trying to enforce yourself upon her.”

His jaw dropped. “She’s a horse. I’m supposed to enforce myself upon her.”

“She doesn’t like it. She’s trying to tell you that you’re annoying.”

Well, that was it. He didn’t have to listen to some half-baked claptrap like that. Tonk and he had a special relationship.

“How long have you had her?”

“Tonk and I have been together six months,” Archer said defensively. “And Tonk thinks I’m—”

“Bossy.” She reached a hand over the stall, and Tonk slid her nose under the woman’s fingers. “I understand, girl. Men can be very trying.”

“Are you trying to do that horse-talking thing?” Archer asked. “I don’t use horse psychology. I mean, I talk to Tonk, but I’m really just amusing myself. I don’t believe we’re actually communicating—”

Her eyebrows raised. She stared at him, her gaze challenging. Disbelieving?

Something about that attitude caught Archer’s attention. He looked at her more closely, finally seeing behind the specs.

“Those are beautiful eyes you’re hiding.”

Chapter Two

“Thank you,” Clove said, “I think.”

He looked at her. “No, really. You have lovely eyes. Very unique color.”

She was torn between feeling flattered, giving in to worry, or pulling out her tricks. He was, after all, the key player in her plan.

“What’s your name, stranger?” he asked.

“Clover,” she said, thinking quickly, not yet ready to reveal her identity.

“Clover? Is that a real name or are you making one up just to keep your distance?”

“It’s a real name.” Just not hers.

He frowned. “You don’t look like a Clover.”

“I’d ask you what I do look like, but I don’t want to know.” She leaned over into the stall. “Oh, Tonk has blue hooves,” she said. “I think blue hooves on a horse are so pretty.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Know a little something about horses, do you?”

“A little. My family owns a farm.” Clove glanced up at him. “We raise horses.”

“Oh? Where’s the farm? The Jeffersons know just about everyone in the business.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know us,” Clove said. “Our farm is not doing as well as one might hope.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He turned his attention back to Tonk, who was still nuzzling at Clove’s fingers.

“Oh, Archer!” Feminine voices floated into the stall.

Clove turned to see four beautiful girls walk by with flirtatious glances for Archer. She turned back around in time to see Archer’s chest puff out about four inches.

“Hey, ladies,” he called. “Nice winter weather, huh?”

They giggled. “We’ve got some hot cocoa when you feel like warming up,” one girl said.

Another nodded. “And some of our special potion tastes good on a freezing night. Madame Mystery’s—”

“Yes, yes,” Archer said hurriedly. He waved them on. “You girls behave. Get inside before you all catch colds.”

Laughing, they waved mittened fingers at him and moved on after casting him one last alluring glance.

Clove blinked. “They practically undressed you en masse.”

He laughed. “Yeah. They’re good at that.”

And he had no shame! Clove quickly reviewed her position. Maybe mano a mano she could get his attention, but groupie corralling put the odds against her. Not to mention that those women were gorgeous.

“They mean no harm,” he said easily, “as long as they get no closer than about ten feet.”

“How do you know?”

He winked at her. “Women are not hard to figure out.”

She held back a gasp at his cockiness. “You haven’t figured out your horse.”

“And that’s why I love only her.” He gave Tonk an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and she tried to nail him with a hoof. Swiftly jumping forward, he dodged the hoof, but Tonk’s head snaked around, her teeth barely missing his shoulder.

“I guess you’d call that a love peck,” Clove said.

“Aw, Tonk wouldn’t really bite me. She just knows I like a little sauce to my women.”

“Women?”

He grinned, pushing his hat back with a finger.

He was annoying, and much sexier than he’d come across in his e-mails. She needed a shower to freshen up after her travels, and time to regroup. “I think I’ll be going now,” she said, retreating from his confident smile.

“Thanks for the dinner offer,” he said, “But Tonk and I have work to do.”

Now that she’d seen him turn down the quartet of country lovelies, her feelings weren’t quite so hurt, so she was able to flip him a shrug. “About that hotel you were going to recommend?”

“There’s no hotel in Lonely Hearts Station, but both beauty salons welcome travelers. Head over to the Lonely Hearts Salon. The owner, Delilah, has rooms for rent. You’ll be safe over there.” His gaze settled on Clove for a moment, then he put the horse’s hoof down and came over to the rail, leaning on it to stare down at her. “Do not take a room at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon. Even though you will see a big sign out front proclaiming that theirs are the cheapest, cleanest, most comfortable rooms in town.”

She backed away from his intensity. “You are quite forceful, sir.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta be around here.” He turned back to his horse. “Otherwise we’d all be love candy for women and ending up at the gooey altar of marriage.”

Whew! He was simply brewing in misery when it came to women, Clove realized. In their e-mails, he’d always made everything sound so wonderful, so carefree, so…fairy tale. But in person, the story was quite different.

“Good luck,” she said, backing away, “with your rodeo. Or whatever it is that you’re after.”

He waved a hand absently.

Clove waved a hand back, mimicking him, but he never noticed. She went out onto the pavement, crossing her arms against the chill.

It was true what Archer said. There was a large sign out in front of the Never Lonely salon. In fact, the whole building was lit up with white lights, like icing on a gingerbread house. Laughter floated from inside, and a piano gaily played ragtime.

She glanced across the street at the Lonely Hearts Salon. A lamp glowed in the window, and it was mostly dark and very quiet, as if no one ever stayed there.

She turned back to the Never Lonely salon. Four really pretty, lively women who knew how to get Archer’s attention lived inside. And hadn’t those flirty girls said something about hot cocoa?

Clove shivered. She wasn’t used to this kind of cold.

The cocoa—and the chance to get some advice on how to seduce her man—won out. She headed toward the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon.

ARCHER WAITED until he heard Clover walking away, then he turned to stealthily watch her leave. Nice fanny, for a girl with a plain face and wacky glasses. She was packing her jeans just fine. He liked her voice, too, he had to admit. It was very sweet, with a slight accent.

“You embarrassed me, Tonk,” he said. “Could you at least go easy on me in front of girls? You make me look like I’m the hoss and you’re the rider.”

Tonk ignored him.

“Hey!” Bandera came and leaned his elbows over the rail. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry. Hey, what’s up with Dog-face? Someone feed her a sour apple?”

“Shut up.” Archer put away the hoof pick and other tack. “There was a girl here a second ago—”

“Oh, is that your problem?”

“And she went to find a room, I think.”

“Ah.” Bandera nodded knowingly. “And you want the key.”

“No! She’s not…my type.” He glanced at his brother. “I told her to go over to Delilah’s.”

“Yeah?” Bandera laughed. “If she was that girl in glasses I just saw, then she’s just like your horse.”

Archer straightened. “Meaning?”

“Meaning she doesn’t mind very well. She went straight to Marvella’s.”

“What? I specifically told her—”

Bandera grinned. “Archer, if you had a Dear Abby column, you’d go broke. No one listens to you.”

Archer ignored him. “That crazy girl has no idea what she’s getting herself into!”

“Well, don’t get too worried about it.”

Archer settled his hat on his head. “Someone has to look out for the misfits in life. And if there ever was a misfit, Clover is her.”

“Whoa. Color me impressed.”

Archer slapped his brother upside the head. “Come on. We’ve got to catch her before she gets too far into the dragon’s den!”

CLOVE COULD NOT IMAGINE why Archer had steered her away from surely the nicest girls on the planet. Taking pity on her plight—poor, tired traveler!—they’d treated her to a wonderful array of services.

They’d coaxed her glasses from her, leaving her nearly blind. They’d teased and washed her hair. Perfumed her. Stuck some heels on her feet. Given her a knockout dress to wear, the type of thing one saw on elegant ladies.

She’d been a bit embarrassed, but they’d waved aside her worries. It was all part of the service, Marvella said. Besides, Clove was renting a room, and that more than covered the expense. And gave her girls some practice with a lady’s hair, since they mostly had male clients.

“Can I have my glasses for just one sec?”

Marvella handed them to her. Clove put them on so she could peer in the mirror. “Oh, my,” she said. “I had no idea I could look like this.”

“It was all there,” Marvella said. “Hidden charms. The best kind, I always say. I had another girl, once upon a time. You remind me of her. By the time I got done with her, she was a golden charm. She left me,” Marvella said bitterly. “Ah well, that’s in the past.”

“What was her name?” Clove asked, out of politeness more than curiosity. It was clear Marvella wanted to draw out the girl chat a bit more.

“Cissy. Cissy…Kisserton. Now Jefferson.”

“Jefferson?”

Marvella nodded. “Those damn Jeffersons get all my girls. They’ve got Valentine right now, and not one of them has any intention of marrying her.”

Clove sucked in her breath. “What do you mean, they’ve got her?”

“One of the brothers impregnated her, another took her to their ranch, and they’ve kept her there. After she gave birth they put her to work in a bakery.”

Clove’s eyes were huge. “That sounds terrible.”

“It is. If you ever meet a Jefferson man, my best advice to you is run.”

Clove blinked. That was the same thing Archer had said about the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls! “I’m still confused about the plural,” she said.

“Oh, you’d find quick enough that the Jeffersons do everything as a gang, a fixture upon our good and tidy landscape that can’t be overlooked, an eyesore, if you will. They approach you in a group. If one of them is alone, soon enough they’ll have backup. Before you know it, you’re theirs.”

Clove could hardly take this in. She thought about Archer’s hot, lean physique and felt her breath catch in her chest. “It sounds…”

“Scary, I know.”

Clove had been working the adjective “romantic” over in her mind. Hot. Sexy. Fantastic…

Marvella clucked with sympathy. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I have my dealings with the Jeffersons as necessary, but one thing is certain—they will never, ever take one of my girls from me again. And right now, you’re one of my girls.”

“Thank you.” Now was the wrong time to mention that she’d actually come to town to shanghai some Jefferson genes.

“How can I ever thank you for all you’ve done for me?” she quietly asked Marvella.

“You sit here,” Marvella said, “right up front, my precious, and just smile for the customers who come in the door. Just an hour,” she said, “will be repayment enough.”

“YOU COULD NOT HAVE possibly seen Clover go into Marvella’s,” Archer told Bandera. “I have seven-eight brother syndrome, which means I’m so far down on the family tree that I have to be observant or I get run over by my own beloved brothers. And I distinctly saw Clover turn left as she left the pens.”

“She may have,” Bandera said agreeably. “You may have seven-eight brother syndrome, but I have eleventh-brother syndrome, which means I was so close to becoming Last that I make certain everything is proven fact before I talk about it. And I saw a lady who looked a little hesitant, with big ugly glasses, go into Marvella’s.”

Archer’s boots moved faster as he headed to the door of the salon. “You’re crazy. She said she would listen to me. Good evening, miss,” he said, tipping his hat to the gorgeous woman seated on a bar stool just inside the doorway.

She stared at him, not inclined to say much, he guessed. Glancing around for Clover, he turned back to the bar-stool babe. “Did you happen to see a woman come in here, one who was lost, wearing glasses as thick as the tires on a truck?”

She looked perplexed, then she shook her head. He glanced over her big hair and her superbly applied makeup. The wooden bar stool only served to enhance her hourglass shape, keeping the focus on her curves as she sat straight for balance.

“You see,” he told Bandera, “Clover would stick out in here like a barn owl amongst peacocks. Let’s go check with Delilah.” He tipped his hat to the babelicious door greeter and headed out.

“Man alive, she was hot as a smokin’ pistol!” Bandera exclaimed. “Have you noticed that Marvella’s girls just keep getting hotter and hotter? Whooee! I feel like someone just lit a firecracker in my jeans!”

“She was all right,” Archer said. “Actually, she reminded me of Cissy. And you know, I love our sister-in-law, but remember, I was stuck in a truck once upon a time with her and Hannah, and I’m telling you, girls who look like that are misfired pistols in the wrong hands.”

“My hands would be just right,” Bandera said. “Oh, how quickly I would volunteer to be her bar stool the next time she needed a place to park that fanny!”

“Dunce,” Archer told him. “Get a grip. We’ve got a tourist to rescue.” They went across the street to Delilah’s, quietly tapping on the door because of the hour. The Jeffersons had their own keys for the back door, where they could go up the stairs and commandeer a special set of rooms Delilah kept just for them. But right now, Archer was hoping for intel on his lost farm girl.

“Why are you so worried about her, anyway?” Bandera demanded. “Let’s go back over to Marvella’s and spark a fire with the damsels.”

“No hunting for trouble tonight,” Archer stated. “If we bring home any more bad news related to Marvella, Mason’ll probably run us out of town for good. He still can’t believe Last got one of her girls pregnant while Mason was gone.”

They peered through the curtained window of the front door. Only a quaint lamp burned on the table. “Guess she and Jerry called it an early night,” Archer said. “Darn.”

“That means your little friend isn’t here. Delilah would be bustling around in the kitchen, making her welcome.”

“That’s true.” Now Archer was extremely worried.

“Could I be mistaken?” Bandera asked. “Perhaps I didn’t see her go into Marvella’s, and in fact, she has left town.”

Archer wheeled to look at him. “Are you mistaken?”

“If I say I am, can we go hit on Miss February over at Marvella’s?”

“No!” Archer was good and put out with his brother. “How can you think of women at a time like this! There is a poor girl somewhere in this town who has no place to go, and all you can think about is your…you know.” He wished it didn’t bother him so much that Clover might have left town. Certainly he had not been very friendly. “Just so long as she didn’t go to Marvella’s, I really don’t care where she went. That’s all I’m doing, trying to keep an innocent traveler from getting fleeced.”

“That’s right.” Bandera nodded. “That’s all that’s on your mind. And I’m not thinking about that beauty on the bar stool at all!”

CLOVE COULDN’T BELIEVE that Archer had left without recognizing her. It was so exciting! She felt like a different girl.

She was completely new.

The thought made her bite her lip. Clove felt her puffed-up big hair and her mascaraed lashes. The look really wasn’t her, though it was fun. But in a while, her eyes would start to itch from the makeup, and anyway, her scalp felt tight from all the hair spray lacquered onto her head.

She was glad he didn’t know she’d run counter to his suggestion and come to Marvella’s.

One hour had passed, the allotted time Marvella had asked her to sit out front. Longing for a shower, Clove went upstairs to her new room, closing the door. The feminine side of her wished Archer had noticed the big change in her—and the practical side remembered that he’d noticed her less as Cinderella than he had when she’d been Plain Jane.

It was time to let the inner stuntwoman in her throw caution to the wind.

Surely it couldn’t be that hard to attract a man.

“Yoo-hoo!” a voice called.

“Come in!”

One of the stylists walked into her room, leaving a small bottle on the table. “Marvella wants you to have some of her delicious home brew as a welcome gift.”

“That’s so kind. She’s already done too much.”

The stylist smiled. “She must like you.”

Clove looked at the bottle. “Hey, a cowboy came in here tonight. His name was Archer Jefferson. Do you know him?”

“Know him?” The woman laughed. “We know all the Malfunction Junction boys. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“If you’re thinking he’s cute, so does every woman in this place. But don’t spend too much time thinking about him. That one is impossible. All he cares about is his horse, ugly dog that she is.”

Clove frowned. Tonk was beautiful in her own way.

“But if you just can’t live without him, you’ll probably find him at Delilah’s. I’d head up the back stairs if I were you, because Delilah won’t welcome you if she knows you’re staying here. Tap on the door, say ‘room service,’ and see if he’s hungry.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Clove murmured.

“Trust me, it’s not. Good luck, though.” She laughed again and left the room.

Clove stared at the closed door, then at the bottle on the nightstand. The stylist’s words ran through her brain, a mockery of her intentions.

One thing was for certain, she wasn’t going to use alcohol to lure a man into her bed. And right now, she was going to shower all this hair spray and makeup off her body. She felt like a doll.

And then, if a shower hadn’t washed all the thoughts of Archer out of her mind, surely it wouldn’t hurt to go across the street and take a look at the back door the stylist had mentioned.

Not that she would go in, of course. But curiosity had her, and she wouldn’t be a stuntwoman if she wasn’t up for a dare.

Chapter Three

Archer couldn’t sleep, though Bandera was sawing logs like a frontiersman. “I just need to walk it off,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve got nerves before the big show, and I’m worrying about Clover so I don’t worry about Tonk.”

Neither of the females on his mind obeyed worth a flip, not that he would admit that to Bandera. One thing he did know about Clover—if she was the sort of girl who understood that a man knew best, she’d be under Delilah’s roof right now.

Where he could keep an eye on her.

So he took a few laps up and down the main street of Lonely Hearts Station, his gaze darting, ever-watchful, for the traveler who knew about blue hooves. Tonk sure had seemed to like Clover, which was strange, because Tonk didn’t like anyone, a fact his brothers were quick to point out, and which Archer was quicker to deny.

He was certain Tonk held affection for him somewhere in her equine heart. She just didn’t know how to show it. He’d been told by plenty of women that he didn’t know how to show affection to a woman, either, so that made he and Tonk a perfect pair.

Archer was so busy ruminating on the canny females in his life that he nearly got too close to the one peering in the back window of the Lonely Hearts Salon. It was Clover!

She was spying, the little peeping Tomasina.

Or maybe she didn’t know how to get in. Perhaps she’d decided to take his advice.

He watched her carefully turn the doorknob and open the door. She appeared to think about something for a second, then closed the door. She opened the door, and closed it again.

Spying. Which meant, he knew with certain chauvinism, that she wanted to spy on him.

He grinned, knowing exactly what to do with her now. Sneaking up on her, he reached out and grabbed her around the waist. “Gotcha!” he roared.

She screamed, kicking back with her feet—just like Tonk, dammit—giving him a crotch-kick that left him clutching for air. She pounced, knocking him back onto the ground. Like a helpless puppy he lay there, focusing on the stars in the black-velour sky above, wondering if he was ever going to be able to draw breath again.

“Archer!” she cried. “I didn’t know it was you!”

Groaning, he rolled onto his side.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Here, lie on your back so you can get your breath.”

“Uh-huh,” he said on a strangled moan. “Don’t move an injured man.”

“I didn’t hurt your back,” she said reasonably. “Or your neck. You’ll be all right in a minute. You just need to relax. Relax, Archer.”

“Lucky for me I didn’t want kids,” Archer said, “because you just kicked in any chance I ever had of dispatching ’em.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes at her tone. Maybe he shouldn’t speak so in front of a lady, but she needed to quit trying to roll him over. He wanted to curl up and think about tomorrow—surely the pain would be gone by then. “You just made me the first Jefferson male who won’t need birth control.”

“Oh, no. Archer, don’t even joke about that! You sit right up, catch your breath and…maybe we should take your jeans off. Would that help? I read somewhere that jeans cut down on a man’s, uh, sperm motility, due to the warmth and constricting nature of the fabric.”

She was crazy, he’d admit that. “Thank you, I’m fine. Though I didn’t want to end my child-giving days quite that way, I’ll admit one swift kick was probably as good as paying some doctor quack to do it.”

“You want to have as many children as you possibly can!”

“Don’t think I will now that my factory’s gone crooked. Help me to my feet.”

“I will not. You lie there while I go for help.”

“No!” That was the last thing he wanted—everyone in Lonely Hearts and Union Junction knowing that a woman had disarmed him. “Hey, where’d you go tonight?”

“Shh,” she told him. “Don’t talk. Just think happy thoughts. Happy, healing, healthy thoughts. Big, Jefferson-male-testosterone thoughts.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my testosterone,” he grumbled, “just the delivery system. Move, okay? You’re treating me like an invalid.”

“I do think you should see a doctor. I kicked you with all my might. I thought you were some kind of crazed freak when you grabbed me.”

“You were spying,” he said, “I had a right to throw a little excitement into the mix.”

“Well, you certainly did that.”

Archer painfully gained his feet. “You have a very unusual accent that I can’t place. And sometime, when there aren’t birds singing in my head, you’ll have to tell me how you learned to toss a big man like that. But right now, I’m moving toward my warm bed.”

“I would say I’m sorry, but you really shouldn’t have startled me.”

“To think I worried about you, too,” Archer said, not about to admit he’d been out looking for her. “Did you want something specific when you were peering in the window, or has maiming me satisfied you temporarily?” He sighed dramatically. “I need a whiskey.”

“Marvella gave me some of her special concoction,” Clover offered.

Archer suddenly towered above her. “Marvella!”

She nodded.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go over there?”

Clover bristled right before his eyes, just like Tonk before she threw a low-down, scurvy hoof. “You can’t order me around, Archer Jefferson. I do as I please. I can take care of myself.”

“So I see,” he said grumpily. “Now, you go over to Marvella’s, get your things and come right over here with me. This side of the street is where girls like you belong.”

“Girls like me?” She put her hands on her hips. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Innocent. Travel-weary. Unused to the ways of the world. You came here without a room or any reservations of any kind. Clearly, you didn’t have a plan. That’s how nice girls end up on the wrong side of the street. Listen, I know what I’m talking about. Marvella preys on girls who have no plan.”

She stared at him. “She said the Jeffersons preyed on girls without plans. In fact, she said you Jeffersons had impregnated one recently.”

“We impregnated? No, believe me, that’s not exactly what happened.”

“But it’s close to true?”

He took a second look at Clover. She sounded so hopeful, as if she wanted to believe he was some kind of big bad wolf. Maybe he was, but not for this girl. She was not the type of girl he’d jump on in the woods as she traveled to grandma’s. He liked his women spicy. If he had a dream woman, she’d be just the opposite of this lady. “You’re very safe with me,” he assured her.

He thought she looked doubtful, or maybe puzzled, so he realized this point needed to be outlined in teacher-red ink. “Do I look like the kind of man who feasts on innocent girls who can’t see very well?”

Just then Bandera opened the door, peering out at them. “What’s happening, friends?”

“Nothing. What are you doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Keep waking up, thinking about that lady on the bar stool. Think I’ll go try to round her up.”

Archer thought Clover gasped, but when he glanced at her, she was looking at her feet. Maybe a bug had crawled across her shoe. He figured her for the kind of girl who spooked easily. “Good luck,” he said to Bandera.

“Whatever,” Bandera answered. “I’m off.”

His brother loped away. Archer met Clover’s gaze. “So, do I look like the kind of man who preys on perfectly nice girls with strange accents? I’m trying to help you, traveler.”

Clover didn’t reply for a moment. Then she sighed. “Hope you feel better soon. I’m going to bed.”

He watched as she walked away. What had that been about?

“Hey,” he said, catching up to her in the middle of the street. Turning her to where he could see her in the bright lights from Marvella’s, he said, “Don’t go off mad. You kicked me, remember?”

“Yes. But harder than I meant to. Clearly I put you out of commission.”

“Well, for a moment or two, but…” He looked at her, trying to see her eyes behind the thick lenses. “I mean, you didn’t damage me for life.”

She shook her head. “It’s probably like a party balloon. Once popped, the air is gone.”

He straightened. “Sister, there is nothing wrong with my party balloon! I am the life of the party when I want to be. That’s when I want to be, and I just don’t want to be. With…you know…you.”

She looked at him. “Why not?”

He wasn’t sure he heard her right. “Are you propositioning me?”

“I might be.” She put her hands on her hips and a mulish expression on her face. “Scared?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s just that you don’t strike me as the kind of girl for casual charades.”

“Well, maybe I am.” She turned toward Marvella’s. “You’re not allowed to come in here unless you’re a client,” she said. “Good night, Archer.”

There was definitely air in his party balloon, Archer realized. He liked her straightforward approach. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let’s talk about this some more.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ve discovered you’re full of nothing but hot air, and I want a man who can have fun and then go home after the party is over.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line? I want a woman who goes home after the party?”

“If you had known your lines,” Clover said, “you’d be getting a party favor right now. Good night.”

She closed the door in his face.

His jaw dropped.

That crazy girl! She’d kicked him. She’d made his wounded soldier rise to the battlefield with all that talk about sex—sex with her—and then she’d shut the door on him.

The only door in town he shouldn’t touch.

“DAMN,” BANDERA SAID a couple seconds later, walking out the door to find his brother still standing there, hands on hips.

“Damn is right,” Archer agreed. “What did Clover do once she went inside?”

Bandera laughed. “She went upstairs. You don’t have the hots for her, do you?”

“No. I just hate to see a nice girl like her staying in a place like this.”

Bandera shrugged. “She seems pretty confident.”

“She does not! She needs direction.”

“Dude, are you ever ignorant.” Bandera stared up at the windows. “Never tell a woman she needs direction. You’ll get a swift kick.”

“I know.” Archer sighed. “I already did, and strangely, I found it compelling.”

“I can’t worry about your love life.”

“It has nothing to do with love. Merely concern for a stranger in town.”

“That’s what I’m concerned about, too.”

“Your bar-stool lady not interested?”

“Not available,” Bandera said. “She’s not cutting hair or taking customers, according to the receptionist.”

“Interesting. And too bad, as well.”

“Yeah. Not too many women take a man’s breath away like that one.”

“Yeah.” But Archer was still worrying about Clover. “That crazy Clover girl doesn’t belong here. She should be at Delilah’s.”

“You may have figured her wrong,” Bandera said. “She might be the kind of lady who can take care of herself.”

“Yeah. I guess. Okay, I should git then.”

Clover’s exit to Marvella’s still didn’t seem right.

“Well, come on, then,” Bandera said impatiently. “We don’t need to hold down the porch all night.”

“I know.” Archer frowned.

“Look, if she puts the sizzle on your griddle, then go inside and talk to her. But if you’re just being misguided and friendly, forget about it and let’s get some shut-eye. She’s fine.”

“I think she wanted to sleep with me,” Archer said.

Bandera laughed. “That shy, quiet girl? Nah. Besides, she’s not your type.”

“I changed my mind. I don’t have a type,” Archer said. “I have many types, as long as they don’t come looking for a ring.”

“You misread her,” Bandera said. “Remember how we used to say that there were girls for fun, and girls for nun? That one would give you none, bro.”

“I don’t want anything from her,” Archer said, turning to walk toward the Lonely Hearts Salon. “She has an attitude reminiscent of Tonk.”

“And we call Tonk dog-faced. Think it over, bro.”

“Clover’s not unattractive,” Archer said. He realized what Bandera had said. “And neither is Tonk!”

His brother laughed. “I pick the girl on the bar stool,” he said. “I like a lady who’s easy on the eyes.”

“Looks aren’t everything,” Archer said stubbornly.

“But they are the first ticket to my heart, followed by my stomach being fed, my muscles being admired, my laundry being done, and my sex—”

“That’s enough,” Archer interrupted, getting crosser by the moment. “Glandular responses will remain undiscussed.”

A window opened above them. “Archer!”

“What?” He wondered what his glasses-wearing newcomer wanted now.

“Where’s the best place in town for drinks and dancing?”

Archer blinked. “Two-Bits.”

“Thanks.” She shut the window.

Bandera slapped him heartily on the back. “And you were worried about her being lonely. Sad. Homesick. A tragic heroine in a black governess dress right out of Jane Eyre.”

Archer turned toward Delilah’s. “I can’t picture Clover dancing.” He didn’t want to, either.

“It’s the quiet ones who’ll surprise you.”

Archer shook his head. “I reckon.”

“Night’s still young,” Bandera said. “If the wild girls are going dancing, maybe we should provide some partners.”

“Now, that idea has some merit,” Archer said cheerfully. He’d be willing to bet Clover’s idea of dancing was standing by a plastic banana tree, watching everybody else shake a leg.

Finding out that she was an unwatered wallflower would make him feel a whole lot better.

Chapter Four

Clove realized there was a problem with The Plan after spending the early part of the evening getting to know Archer better. Though his e-mail conversations had been Texas tall tale, in person he was Texas short story, she thought, annoyed. All bark, definitely no bite. Not even a nibble.

Apparently, the hook was not properly baited. Bandera had really gone for her as the bar-stool babe. If Archer had, he’d tried to conceal it.

He concealed a lot, this cowboy she’d come to romance. Somewhat rude at times, and definitely in need of a manners injection. Not as kind and poetic as he’d been in cyberspace.

She felt a bit betrayed. He was not going to ravish her; in fact, she doubted he’d ravish any woman. He was more a chauvinistic protector. How dare he tell her she couldn’t stay at Marvella’s! Breathing deeply to get past the memory of his pigheadedness, Clove told herself to remember the bundles of babies his family had produced. Twelve brothers, for starters, and miscellaneous progeny.

“I just want one,” she said longingly. “One.”

John Wayne had had his good side, mixed in with his arrogance, she remembered. Still, Archer seemed to be more arrogant than cowboy gentleman.

“Well, at least my heart won’t be in jeopardy where he’s concerned,” she told herself. A good stuntwoman always saw to her safety first, and after getting to know Archer better, she knew her heart was totally, completely safe.

“Maybe safer than I want it to be.” She gazed in the mirror. When she’d yelled down to ask him about a place to go dancing, she had hoped he would offer to escort her.

He hadn’t—and she had to admit that this cowboy was going to be tough to catch. The most bothersome part was that Archer wasn’t remotely attracted to her.

Picking up a curling iron, she absently pressed a curl into her hair. It bounced when she released it—and The Plan took on a modification. She began to do her hair the way Marvella’s girls had styled it earlier, Texas big and poufy. Tousled. Sexy. She applied the makeup the way they’d had it earlier, and then she shimmied into a tube-top dress she found in the closet. High heels completed her outfit.

“The revenge of the nerdy girl,” she told herself, laying her glasses on the cosmetics tray. “Revenge is supposed to be so sweet.”

The girls knocked on her door. “Ready?” they called. “Going out with us, Clover?”

“I’m ready!” Fluffing her hair one last time, she saw the woman Bandera had admired gazing back at her. “I’m definitely going to Marvella’s school to learn Hot-Babe Style 101. Then I’m going to get my cowboy,” she said with satisfaction to her reflection. “Archer Jefferson, you’re not going to know what hit you!”

“THERE SHE IS!” Bandera said as they walked inside Two-Bits bar. “The bar-stool babe!”

Archer peered through the smoky atmosphere and clinging partners. In the light from a neon beer sign, he saw her moving, laughing and snapping her fingers. Dressed in a dress practically painted on her lush body, she danced in a circle with a group of men and Marvella’s stylists. “They’re having fun,” Archer observed.

“They sure are, and I’m on my way to do the same.” Bandera took off to include himself in the circle, perilously close to the woman he fancied.

She was hot, Archer conceded. He liked a full-figured lady, and especially one with such nice skin. The breasts were nothing to ignore as they lightly jiggled under the tight material. Idly, he wondered if she was wearing a bra. Strapless dresses just begged to be tugged right off a woman, in his opinion. She had nice legs, and to be honest, he was a madman for high heels.

Checking the door, he wondered when Clover would arrive. He intended to keep an eye on her, because heaven only knew she could get in trouble in a place like this.

“You should dance with me,” Bandera’s beauty said.

He stared at her, then glanced at his brother. Bandera was surrounded by three Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, and the evening looked to be going strong from his perspective. Bandera wasn’t even glancing their way.

“I’m waiting on someone,” he said.

She looked so disappointed, almost crushed. His bravado, which Clover and Tonk seemed to have teamed up to kick to smithereens, rose a bit.

“Now, don’t take it too hard,” he said. “You’re beautiful, no question. I would dance with you anywhere, anytime.”

“But?” she prompted.

“But I’m waiting on this crazy little girl to show up. She’s new to town and real unsophisticated. You know what I mean? The kind who’d get lost on a sunny day.”

Her eyebrows rose. She had clear, pretty blue eyes, and the just-teased tangle of her silvery-blond hair was appealing. Made a man’s fingers want to wander there.

He glanced toward the door again. “She probably got lost on her way here,” he said. “I should have offered to escort her.”

“That would have been chivalrous,” she agreed, “but you didn’t, and so now you and I are stuck waiting for a mystery person to show up.” She pulled him by the hand, though he didn’t fight too hard. Once on the dance floor, he’d shift her over to Bandera, and go back to watching out for Clover. He shot a quick glance toward the potted banana tree strung with white lights, to make certain she wasn’t hiding over there.

Cool skin slid into his arms, and he was jerked into the present predicament. “Gosh,” he said. “You feel good.”

“So do you, cowboy.” She smiled at him, happy that she’d managed to disguise her accent completely.

They moved well together, Archer acknowledged. Bandera was glowering at him, but Archer shrugged. It had been ages since he’d held a soft woman, and this one was firm and ripe, and her lips were glossy—

“Once upon a time I dreamed of a cowboy like you,” she said. “He was strong and powerful, and he knew how to romance a woman.”

“I know how to romance a woman,” Archer said. He could feel his arms warming from the heat her body was beginning to give off. Glowing embers turning to a sexual fire he hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe ever. Frowning, he stared down at her, wondering if she knew she was working over his testosterone.

“You could show me,” she suggested. “I like romance.”

She was definitely coming on to him.

He glanced toward the door, watching for Clover.

The woman in his arms pressed lightly into his body, a full-length hint of the wonders available.

Taking a deep breath, Archer decided that opportunity only dropped sporadically into a man’s life, and when it did, it needed to be seized by the throat.

“Think my brother had his eye on you,” he said gruffly, his energy now captured by the fantasy of tugging the dress off of her.

“He may have,” she said lightly, “but he doesn’t know me like you do.”

“Really?”

She looked at him with guileless eyes. Then she lowered her head onto his chest, in a gesture he would have to call gentle surrender. “Really,” he heard her murmur.

That was it. Female-led seduction, his favorite pastime.

He dragged her off by the hand.

CLOVE HELD HER BREATH as Archer led her to his truck. She got in when he held the door open for her, and then she stared out the passenger-side window, hoping he wouldn’t look beneath the hair and curls to find plain ol’ Clove. Unsophisticated, he’d called her. Thought he had to watch out for her, a touch of pity in his voice.

His hand snaked around her wrist, surprising her as he pulled her across the bench seat toward him. Then he kissed her hot and fast and hard, and in that moment, Clove knew she’d underestimated her man.

He was everything he’d bragged about in his e-mails.

He just wasn’t showing it to “Clover.”

The way she was now brought out the beast in him. She had rattled the cage.

Pulling back to look at her, Archer said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“You went quiet on me.”

It was too quiet in his truck. In the bar, it had been loud and they hadn’t talked enough for him to recognize her. He’d also been scoping the door, not paying attention to her until she’d fairly propositioned him.

Switching the radio on to turn his mind from chivalry, she kissed him, reminding him of why they were in the truck.

“All right, then,” he said a moment later. “I take it that means yes. I’m in the mood for a swim. Hope you are, too.”

In February? Not likely, but if it meant getting him down to his boxers, then she would swim with polar bears in the Arctic.

He put his hand around hers, driving with his other hand. Clove closed her eyes, thinking about Lucy.

Just one baby.

A few minutes later, Archer parked the truck at a creek wooded with trees. He shone the headlights of the truck into the darkness for a few moments, then switched them to low. Putting the radio on a sexy jazz station, he said, “Now let’s dance properly.”

She went out the driver’s side behind him, sliding into his arms.

“God, I never realized a woman could feel this good,” he said. “You’re like satin.”

They danced together wordlessly after that, until the station went to commercial. Then he took Clove by the hand, leading her toward the water. “I was teasing about swimming,” he said.

“I’m brave,” she said softly. “I can handle it if you can.”

“Skinny-dipping in February? No, my plan is to keep you warm.”

She thought he would find a grassy spot for them to lie, but instead he walked with her, their fingers interlaced.

“This is one of my favorite places on earth. My brothers and I used to come here to swim after rodeos.”

He ran a hand across her bare shoulders. Clove shivered at the caress, her breath held nervously.

“You’re cold,” he said. “Come back to the truck.”

She wasn’t cold, but she followed him, anyway, enjoying his concern for her. He let down the gate of the truck bed, spreading a blanket for them. Turning off the truck lights, he crawled into the bed, pulling her up to join him. Then he covered them with another blanket and rested her head on his chest.

“You’re prepared for everything,” she whispered.

“No, I’m not. If I was, I’d have a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice chest,” he said. “See those stars?”

“Mmm,” she said, loving the feel of his chest and hearing his heart beat fast.

“One of those stars has your name on it,” he said. “What is the name of that star?”

“It’s a secret,” she whispered into his ear, straddling him to kiss his face.

“I like secrets,” he said, pushing his hands underneath her dress to run his hands over her bare bottom. “You have on no underwear,” he said with surprise. “You little daredevil!”

THERE WERE SECRETS and then there were secrets, Clove thought, quietly getting down out of the truck three hours later. She knew the town wasn’t far, and she wanted to be long gone before her cowboy awakened.

It had been a night she’d never forget. They’d made the truck rock like mad, and she’d learned that giving up one’s virginity was easy when the pleasure was that intense. They’d made love over and over again, hungry for each other. When he’d asked about birth control and offered a condom, she’d said she was fine.

At the final second, she’d confessed her virginity, hoping he wouldn’t hop out of the truck.

He hadn’t. He’d been quite tender and considerate of her.

She hurried, knowing Archer could wake up any minute and realize she’d left. It was a good thing she knew the real Archer, the grouchy one, or she would definitely have lost her heart to him tonight. What a tender lover! So romantic, yet so masterful. She got chill bumps thinking about it.

Thirty minutes later, she quietly let herself into her bedroom, closing the door. She took a shower, glad to be rid of the curls and the makeup. Snuggling into her covers, she smiled, thinking about Archer.

It was good to be herself again.

Only, tonight he’d changed her, made her feel beautiful. Given her appreciation of her woman’s body.

She would never forget him.

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