Tex took a deep breath. “I’m suggesting you marry me.”

The look on Cissy’s face was priceless. Thank God he hadn’t had too much invested in the offer, or he’d be devastated. She looked as if she’d just as soon become high priestess of the snake species.

“I don’t suppose you want to sleep with me?”

“Now that you mention it—”

“I thought not,” she said. “You’re a nice guy and cute and smell good and can ride bulls just for the hell of it. But there’s marriage, and then there’s marriage, and when I do it, I really, really want it to be for real.”

His Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. What could he say? Of course he wanted to sleep with her! But he couldn’t say that. Could he?

“We could see what developed,” he said hopefully, trying to hedge.

“I know you like trashy girls, Tex,” she said, and laid her fingertips against his lips. “And I can be that. If you’ll let me.”

Tex Times Ten
Tina Leonard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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 books. 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!

THE JEFFERSON BROTHERS OF MALFUNCTION JUNCTION

Mason (37)—He valiantly keeps the ranch and the family together.

Frisco Joe (36)—Newly married, he lives in Texas wine country with his wife and daughter.

Fannin (35)—Should he pack up and head out to find their long-lost father, Maverick?

Laredo (34), twin to Tex—His one passion: to go east and do Something Big, which meant marrying the love of his life and moving to North Carolina.

Tex (34), twin to Laredo—Determined to prove he’s settled, he cross-pollinates roses, but can’t seem to get them to bloom.

Calhoun (33)—He’s been thinking of hitting the rodeo circuit.

Ranger (32), twin to Archer—He gave up on joining the military to join his wife in their RV.

Archer (32), twin to Ranger—He’ll do anything to keep his mind off his brothers’ restlessness—even write poetry to his lady pen pal in Australia.

Crockett (30), twin to Navarro—He’s an artist who loves to paint portraits—of nudes.

Navarro (30), twin to Crockett—He may join Calhoun in the bull-riding game.

Bandera (26)—He spouts poetry like Whitman—and sometimes nonsense.

Last (25)—Never least, he loves to dispense advice, especially to his brothers.

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

Epilogue

Prologue

Tex Jefferson’s brothers, Frisco Joe, Laredo and Ranger, had tried so hard to outrun a matrimonial state that they’d swerved and crashed headfirst into it.

Tex simply wasn’t going to be caught like that. Running was not a fail-safe cure. His brothers had married good women, and they were happy changing their worlds to suit their new wives.

But I, Tex thought, know that marital stability is not my thing. He could ride the orneriest bull. He could bust heads when defense was necessary and sometimes when it wasn’t. Rope, ride and range.

But he would die coming home to an Annabelle, a Katy or a Hannah every night. Good girls, every one of them. And Tex was happy for his brothers.

And Mimi Cannady, their next-door neighbor, had put a knot in his eldest brother Mason’s life then married someone else. Merry hellfire was Mimi. Tex thought he could almost handle a woman like that.

Maybe. If forced.

But why should he fall for a lady he had no intention of marrying? Mason hadn’t married Mimi, and surely that was an example to follow!

But Mason was miserable. Tex was glad to have temporarily left a house that only he and Mason were currently sharing, Tex wandered into one of the riverboat’s many bedrooms. He couldn’t see himself living on a boat the way Hannah’s friend Jellyfish did. Too confining. Too narrow. Louisiana’s Mississippi River had its charm but nothing like the great open spaces of Texas and the Union Junction ranch. He was a man of the soil, not a man of the water.

Of course, land was in Tex’s blood, as it was in the blood of his eleven brothers: Mason, Frisco Joe, Fannin, Laredo, Calhoun, Ranger, Archer, Crockett, Navarro, Bandera and Last. The men shared three houses on the Union Junction ranch. With Frisco, Laredo and Ranger married, the quarters were getting less crowded, leaving room for Helga the Housekeeper. Tex suspected Mimi had sicced Helga on them to keep Mason “safe” from other women—but since Mimi had married Brian, maybe that thought wasn’t honorable. Still, Helga had overseen the Jefferson brothers like a strict governess, making the sprawling ranch seem confining.

Startled, he realized he’d stumbled into the newly decorated honeymoon suite—Hannah’s bedroom converted for that purpose, as Ranger had mentioned. There were white roses galore and two crystal flutes on the nightstand. Fascinated, Tex ogled the place where love ended up. You met a girl, you married a girl and then you bedded down with the girl, every night for the rest of your life.

Sheesh. Not me, Tex thought.

Next to the crystal flutes was a book that bore Hannah Hotchkiss’s name. She was Hannah Jefferson now, since Ranger and she had just said their vows. Through the window, Tex could hear the sound of dance music and happy guests on deck.

He knew he was foregoing dancing for snooping. But he had thought Cissy Kisserton might make it to Hannah’s wedding, since the two of them had gotten close during their infamous road trip with Ranger. He’d hoped for a glimpse of that platinum-haired man-magnet; a glimpse was about all a man could handle. But she hadn’t attended.

Being nosy, Tex picked up Hannah’s book. A picture fell to the floor, which he scooped up guiltily.

And there was Cissy Kisserton, looking like no Cissy he’d ever seen. She wasn’t dressed in a mini-skirt and high heels. She wasn’t wreaking havoc on a man’s groin by wearing catsuit jeans.

This Cissy was dressed for church.

Whew. She was a wicked brew of sin underneath that churchy lace thing. Who was she trying to fool?

Tex wasn’t admitting it, but he’d stayed on that bull, BadAss Blue, just to impress Cissy. Sure, she’d lied about the other bull, Bloodthirsty, pulling left so that Tex’s twin, Laredo, wouldn’t be able to stay on.

But Tex sort of admired a woman with gall.

And he’d stayed on his bull just to show Cissy Kisserton what he was made of. He figured she’d be appropriately admiring and grateful after the rodeo.

She hadn’t been.

It was as if she had too many things on her mind to be bothered with him. A winning cowboy, and she hadn’t given him the time of day. He’d beat his own brother—not that it was difficult since Laredo couldn’t have stayed on a bull if he’d had crazy glue in his jeans—just to get her attention.

Tex turned his gaze back to the picture. Seven children stood around Cissy, some of them clinging to her. There was a church in the background. In fact, she was standing in a church parking lot. The baby stroller at her side held what looked like two more infants, and, he saw with a growing sort of horror, her left hand was on the stroller handle!

Tex’s jaw sagged as if he’d been punched in a bar brawl. The nine little moppets of varying ages were going to church with her.

Chapter One

If I knew everything, I’d be less of a man Maverick Jefferson to his sons when they bragged to Mimi that their father knew more than Mimi’s father, Sheriff Cannady

“Wimmin are tricky,” Tex Jefferson stated, his voice slurring. “I think they aim to trick ush poor men into matrimony and sex and giving money at church and even stealing candy from babies. Donchoo think?”

Newlyweds Hannah and Ranger Jefferson stared down at Ranger’s thirty-four-year-old brother, who was lolling in the middle of their unchristened honeymoon bed. Tex had obviously helped himself liberally to wedding champagne.

“Tex, dude, that’s all fine and good, but you’re going to have to vacate. What are you doing in here, anyway?” Ranger asked.

“Hidin’ from wimmin,” Tex told them, trying to roll onto his side to achieve an upright position and failing miserably as he listed to the left, back onto the down pillows. “Did you notice all the wimmin out there at the reception? They’re plotting,” he said to Ranger in a hushed whisper. “I could tell they were plotting something. It’s not safe!”

Ranger cleared his throat. “I don’t think it’s you they’re after, particularly. Here, let me heave your arse out of our bed. Hannah and I have a wedding night to enjoy, without you, bro.”

Together, Hannah and Ranger pulled Tex to his feet and helped him—pushed him—to the door.

Tex peered owlishly down the hall. “Are they gone?”

“Who?” Hannah asked.

“The wimmin!”

“Yes,” she said. “Now, you head on to bed.

You’ll be safe in your own room.”

“Okay. ’Night,” Tex said, lurching down the hall. He wasn’t certain if this riverboat suited him or not. It was pretty and all. He felt claustrophobic.

Or maybe he felt left out. He certainly hadn’t wanted to dance with Hannah’s stylist sisters from the Lonely Hearts salon. That way led to certain danger. And he hadn’t wanted to stand around and gab with his brothers—all they did anymore was rib him about his problems with his rose beds. Budus Interruptus! Shoot, it was only April! Who expected a rose to open in April, anyway? All right, so to morrow began the month of May, but it was his opinion that anything that took a long time was worth waiting for. When they finally bloomed, his roses were going to be so spectacular his brothers would shut up for good.

He hoped.

He’d endured a lot of ribbing about those roses, and his own “unplowed” field. Only at Malfunction Junction would a man’s lack of a sex life be such a game topic of conversation. His eleven brothers: all lures to the female gender. And he, Tex, lately eschewing female companionship. For two months now, though he wasn’t counting.

But his brothers were.

“Mind their own beeswaxes,” he said to himself, opening the door to his room. “I don’t need any wimmin. Nothing but trouble. Arrgh!” he cried, his brain late to assess what his eyes were surveying in disbelief. The entire female wedding party was assembled in his room.

Maybe it wasn’t his room. He backed up and looked at the letter on the door, but one of the girls took his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hello, Tex,” they chorused.

It was a she-wolf pack. A curse. He was going down. They were after him, and he didn’t know a man who could outrun more than a dozen determined females.

He was vastly outnumbered.

“Can I have a last meal?” he asked.

CISSY KISSERTON GLANCED over the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon, counting the number of male customers for her report to Marvella. In the past couple of weeks, Cissy had become resigned to her fate—one more year serving as Marvella’s hostess. She wished she’d known about the salon’s brothel reputation, but a girl did what she had to do, especially when she had nine mouths to feed.

With a glance around, she slipped upstairs to call her grandmother, who cared for the children her siblings and their spouses had left behind when they’d become missionaries and found themselves in a hotbed of rebel activity. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. He’d taken, and she still didn’t know if her siblings were dead or alive.

“Gran?” Cissy said when the phone was answered.

“Hey, honey,” her grandmother said.

A small smile touched Cissy’s face as the memory of oatmeal-raisin cookies and homemade soups flowed over her. The warmth of her grandmother’s home. A blooming garden outside where the sun kissed the earth, even in winter. “How are the kids?” Cissy asked.

“How are you?” Gran countered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. You sound sad.”

Cissy drew a deep breath. “Just a little homesick, is all.”

“I know. I can tell. How ’bout I send you a box of your favorite cookies?”

“Tell me how the baby is doing? And the other children? And you?” Cissy said, battling back tears.

“We’re fine and dandy. I took your last check and went out and bought the kids new crayons. And some shorts from the secondhand store for the bigger ones.

You won’t believe how much these young’uns have grown.”

“I know I wouldn’t.” Cissy sat down on the bed and picked at the comforter.

“Well, we all miss you, but you shouldn’t be spending your money on calling us so often. Sunday nights are fine. Besides, the children are all in bed now. You’ve missed speaking to them.”

Cissy shook her head. “I really just wanted to hear your voice. I’m feeling much better now.”

“Cissy,” Gran said, “there’s just no way out of that contract with Marvella, is there?”

“No.” Although for a few days last month, Cissy had hoped and prayed that she’d escaped with Han nah Hotchkiss’s help. Tonight, her friend would be come Hannah Jefferson. And Cissy couldn’t go to the wedding because she had to work. An iron-clad contract with Marvella and a desperate need for money to send to her family was enough to make certain Cissy stayed exactly where she was. “It’s good money, Gran. I’m glad you bought the kids new crayons. They couldn’t have a better teacher than you.”

And that was the truth. If there was a happy place to grow up, it was Gran’s. “I have to go now,” she said softly. “Tell the children I’ll call on Sunday.”

“You do that. And Cissy,” her grandmother said, “there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. We just haven’t seen it yet.”

“I’m sure it’s there.”

“Clearly, I’m going to have to dream up a handsome-prince-rescues-my-Cissy scenario for you. I just don’t know any handsome princes.”

“I don’t know any that provide rescue service. Good night, Gran. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hung up the phone, feeling better and worse all at once. Lost in thought, she was startled when the phone rang under her hand. “Hello?”

“Shishy?” a voice said.

Cissy frowned. “This is Cissy.”

“Thish ish Tex.”

“Tex…Jefferson?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You sound…like you’ve enjoyed the wedding.” Her heart began pounding. Why would that handsome cowboy be calling her? It was as if her dreams were coming true…but of course, the dreams she dreamed couldn’t possibly come true for her.

“I haven’t enjoyed anything!” he said urgently, though his voice was hushed.

“What is your problem?” she demanded. “You sound like you’re in a pipe.”

“I’m not in a pipe! I’m in a jam. I need you to save me!”

Her brows shot up. “Oh, gosh, thank heaven. There for a minute I thought my Prince Charming might actually be calling me.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Saving cowboys isn’t exactly my specialty. And besides, it sounds like you’re about three bottles past salvation.”

“These wimmin want me. That’s the problem!”

She laughed. “Tex, that’s a male oxymoron.”

“Oxy-what? I’m not in the mood for big chat, Cissy. I need you to come get me out of here before they find me!”

“Where are you?”

“In a broom closet on the riverboat!”

She sat on the bed, beginning to enjoy his dilemma. “Hiding from women.”

“Yes!”

“Pawn them off on your brothers. How was the wedding?”

“I dunno. I fell asleep.”

“And then you found the champagne.”

“Well, yes. And then they grabbed me. And so I found more champagne. But it’s starting to taste sharp to me. I need a good old-fashioned beer.”

“Who grabbed you?”

“The women from the other two salons.”

Oh. Her rivals. Hannah’s stylist sisters. “Most men don’t complain about women wanting them, Tex. Is there a problem you want to share?”

“No,” he said, his voice tense. “It’s what they want to do with me that’s the problem.”

“And that would be?”

“Raffle me. And my brothers. My brothers are going to kill me, because I agreed. But there was just so much pressure, Cissy!”

He was starting to sound better now that he was putting voice to his anxiety. Cissy crawled up in her bed and leaned against the headboard. “What kind of pressure?” Although she could imagine, since he was a gorgeous guy.

“I don’t know. Pressure!”

“I have to take a report to Marvella, Tex. You go sleep off your pressure, okay? I think you’ll be fine in the morning.” She should have known that the only reason he’d ever ring her phone was if he was three sheets to the wind and heading downstream fast.

“Cissy, listen to me. This is really all your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Because you told my brother that Bloodthirsty Black pulled left, when he didn’t. Laredo could have been killed!”

“He could have been killed, anyway, since he couldn’t ride a bull. How is that my fault?”

“Because you work for the wicked witch. And Hannah suggested a cowboy raffle to get you out of your contract. Only Marvella turned down the idea, and now the other salons have picked it up. And I got roped into taking part.”

“You wouldn’t want to be on this salon’s team, Tex. It’s definitely not the team of good sportswomanship.”

“I know. And what will happen if I get won? Have you ever considered that, Miss Kisserton?”

“Oh,” she said. “You’re figuring that someone in this salon might buy you.”

“Marvella,” he said, sounding squeaky. “I mean, what if?”

She laughed. “I don’t think she wants you, cow boy.”

“She might. To ride BadAss Blue for her. Or some other enslavement. Think, Cissy. I could end up dancing on her hot tub wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans! Or she might make me be a butler for an evening, her personal boy-toy.”

“The possibilities are endless,” Cissy said. “But I think you’re overrating your appeal.” Actually, he wasn’t, but Cissy wasn’t going to reward his vanity or his paranoia.

A knock on her door made her jump. “Who is it?”

“Marvella.”

“Hang on,” she whispered to Tex. “Marvella wants to talk to me. Come in,” she called.

Her nemesis walked in, dressed in a conservative navy-blue dress, her white hair piled high and iron-sprayed. “I’ve been waiting for the report.” She eyed Cissy’s clothing with approval, and then the phone Cissy was holding with disapproval.

“I’m sorry. I got an unexpected phone call. Fifty customers downstairs, including the mayor and a police captain from the town over. Drink tab is up by fifty percent. And the cowgirl-loving ship captain is back, paying court to Valentine. He likes her phone-voice so much he hasn’t yet figured out she can’t ride a horse.”

“Good.” Marvella nodded. “Who are you talking to?”

Cissy swallowed. “Tex Jefferson.”

“Excellent.” Her voice turned soft and cooing. “Please tell Tex I say hello. And that I’m so hoping he’ll ride BadAss Blue for me at this month’s Mayfest. I’m also thinking of doing a children’s petting zoo, if he can think of some animals I could rent for the event.”

Cissy’s jaw went slack. “I told you,” Tex said in her ear. “She’ll think of a way to use and abuse me!”

“I’ll tell him, Marvella,” Cissy said.

Marvella smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night.” She waited until Marvella closed the door. “Now, don’t get all wadded up,” she told Tex.

“Oh, no, I have no reason to be wadded. But this is your fault.”

She gasped. “Nothing is my fault!”

“You told Laredo that Bloodthirsty cranked left, which caused me to have to get involved, and now Marvella wants me. And if she gets the chance to win me, I’m toast.”

“You have toast between your ears. It’s simply not as bad as you paint it. So you’ll ride a bull. That’s not exactly a stretch for you.”

“But I don’t want to ride for Marvella anymore,” Tex said. “It hurts Delilah’s feelings. She doesn’t say so, but I feel uneasy. And I’ve learned to pay attention to my uneasy feelings.”

Delilah owned the salon across the street, and the two sisters stayed at each other’s throats. Marvella accused Delilah of stealing Marvella’s husband many years ago, but Cissy privately thought Marvella’s meanness had probably run her husband off. “I think Delilah understands the situation.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Tex said suddenly. “I refuse to take part in this charity event.”

“Have it your way. It’s no big loss, I’m sure. I have to go,” she told him. “Thanks for calling. I think.” Actually, she was a little miffed that he’d only called to cry on her shoulder.

She wanted him to call her because he wanted to talk to her. Really talk to her. Not just wheeze. Even though she felt like wheezing about Marvella herself.

“Okay. I just needed to hear you say that ducking out on a charity event was all right.”

“It’s fine. You have given yourself permission to be a weasel. Good night.” And she hung up the phone.

But five hours later, when Cissy was sound asleep in her bed, something sat on her feet. Something large. She let out a shriek and struggled to sit up.

“Sh,” the something large said. “It’s Tex.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded furiously, though she was greatly relieved to know it was Tex and not a patron of Marvella’s. “How did you get into my room?”

“We’ll discuss terms of entry later,” he said.

“Right now, I’ve got to talk to you.”

She switched on her side-table lamp, tucking in a startled breath when she got a look at the gorgeous man sitting on her feet. Hot enough to radiate his own heat. And yet, she didn’t dare melt for him again. “Could you get off of me?” she asked.

He didn’t move. Instead, he handed her a white box. “Wedding cake. Hannah commissioned me to courier this to you. Actually, she also told me the secret to getting into Rapunzel’s ivory tower. Of course she wasn’t expecting me to drop in on you in your sleep, but I prefer the thrill of surprise.” He handed her some wedding napkins that had Ranger’s and Hannah’s names entwined in burgundy, and a rose he’d swiped from the table decorations. “Now, this is a rose,” he said. “This I envy. But I give it to you. And I’ll stop with the brownnosing there.”

“Oh,” Cissy said, taking the box and the rose and trying to ignore the fact that she was slightly mollified. “Thank you. I mean, tell Hannah I said thank you, although not for telling you how to breach the tower,” she said, regaining the stiffness in her voice just to let him know he was not forgiven for breaking in. She allowed her gaze to run swiftly over him, drinking him in though she faked disinterest. “Now, could you get off me?”

Tex stared at her, his eyes dark in the lamplight.

Her heart began pounding. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that was lust burning in his gaze. “Here.” She thrust the cake box at him. “Please put that on my dresser over there.”

The second he got up to do it, Cissy leaped out of the bed and grabbed her robe, tossing it on and tying it tight. “I should scream for security.” She frowned as she put the rose in a silver vase that sat on her dresser.

“Do you ever plan on telling Marvella that you’re married?” Tex asked after a long perusal of her silvery satin bathrobe. “Not that it matters or anything, in the overall scenario, but I wondered if you ever planned on telling anyone the truth, besides Hannah.”

“Whose business is it?” Cissy crossed her arms.

“Well, that’s the funny thing,” Tex said, pushing back his cowboy hat as he stared down at her. “I’ve decided to make it mine, Mrs. Kisserton.”

Chapter Two

“Well, that’s the even funnier thing,” Cissy said, fixing a gaze on Tex that seemed angry and amused all at once. God, he loved a woman with attitude. “I got a phone call today from the chief of police in our small town. My husband was sort of…located.”

Tex’s heart slid south. Maybe he’d quit breathing.

Then he told himself to buck up and focus. What did he care that some loser of Cissy’s was still around? “Yeah? So where’s he been?”

She pursed her lips at him in a thoughtful expression, and he had to admit the expression made him thoughtful, too.

“He’s been in a lake, wearing specially fitted diving gear.”

Tex frowned, and Cissy sighed. “He’d been tossed in with chains. Apparently, he’d been shot first, and then the culprits weighted his body so it wouldn’t be found. And not much of it was, I guess. Nothing identifiable without multiple lab tests, anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” His arms hung at his side, feeling useless as oak trees. “Can I do something for you?”

“Like maybe call before you drop in?” Cissy asked. “I generally prefer to have advance notice from visitors.”

He scratched his neck. “Not to be heavy-handed, but you don’t seem all that broken up about being widowed.”

She stared at him. “Tex, my marriage was unusual. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us. I would be a politically appealing wife, and he’d take care of my three younger siblings and their children, and me, and Gran. But that’s not exactly how it all worked out, obviously, or I wouldn’t have signed a contract with Marvella. When I came to Lonely Hearts Station, I hadn’t seen him in two years.” Her whole demeanor said, That’s my story—I don’t care if you like it or not. “The money is good, and my family eats.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “Your marriage wasn’t real?”

She raised her brows at him. “As real as anyone else’s. Oh, you’re asking the indelicate question.”

He could feel his neck turn red, but yeah, he was all for asking indelicate questions if she’d answer them. Curiosity and burning hope lay deep in his heart. Maybe she hadn’t loved the guy. Maybe she wasn’t in true mourning, which would require him to give her breathing space, for a long time, to put her marriage and her feelings about her husband—

Whoa, Nelly. He stopped his thoughts with a hard jerk. “No,” he said, his voice hard, “I’m not asking any indelicate questions.”

“Really? Because I could have sworn you were—”

“Well, I wasn’t.” But he had been.

Once Hannah had slipped and mentioned that Cissy was married, he’d had to know why Cissy had made love with him in the barn two months ago, an experience he couldn’t get out of his head. It was so unlike him—and his brothers would be amazed if they suspected. “It’s none of my business. Why would I care?”

They stared at each other, belligerence on both their faces. Then Cissy broke eye contact and went to the box he’d brought, lifting the top so she could see inside. “So, did you slither under the door?”

He didn’t bother to answer. Lamplight from the side table backlit her, and he could make out curves under the robe and gown. Not that he hadn’t seen plenty of Cissy’s curves. Anyone who looked at her got an eyeful. Slippery and graceful under the icy satin, those curves made his throat dry out and his heart jump in his chest. A part of his body south of his heart jumped, too, staying in an arrested position, like a freeze-frame of a basketball player going to the hoop.

She stuck a finger into the icing and put it in her mouth, turning to see why he wasn’t answering her question and immediately guessed his thoughts.

He expected her to flush, but she didn’t. She just acted as if she didn’t care.

Which he found vaguely disappointing.

“Back to slithering,” she said.

“I won’t tell you how I got in, but it wasn’t difficult.” Not nearly as difficult as trying to figure out what it was exactly that he felt for Cissy. Obviously, he hadn’t expected to have the urge to toss her in bed and take her as if there was never going to be a tomorrow.

“Oh, come on. Tell me. If you do, I’ll be sure to double-block that entrance,” she said, her tone wheedling, as if she were offering him something he wanted.

She knew very well he wasn’t going to tell her. “Should I say I’m sorry about your husband?” he asked. “Pretend that I have good manners?”

Her aquamarine eyes settled on him. “Are you sorry?”

“Yeah. I get the feeling you’ve been through enough.”

With a sigh, she tucked a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. “I’m just Miss Kisserton. That’s my maiden name. I didn’t use my husband’s name after I came to work for Marvella. I didn’t want any reminders of what kind of life he was living. According to the police, it was high-dollar drugs and glamorous parties. Parties at which I was often the unsuspecting hostess. Believe me, my skin creeps when I think about my own part in what was going on.” She looked at him sadly. “I should have guessed, but I was so busy concentrating on being the perfect wife and hostess that I didn’t pay attention to what now seems obvious.”

He waited, realizing she wanted to talk.

“I feel very guilty about that,” she murmured. “I wish I’d known. I’d never have married him.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I tell myself that.” She replaced the lid and went to sit on the bed. “But it doesn’t help.”

With her guard down, Cissy looked like a young girl. Innocent, fragile and beautiful. The combination packed a powerful punch.

She looked up at him. “I learned my lesson about rescues. There’s no such thing as a handsome prince.”

“I believe you,” he agreed. “I think there’s no such thing as a handsome princess.”

She laughed at him. “Do you need rescuing?”

“Nah. Occasionally my brothers get on my nerves, but I can handle them.” He tore his gaze away from her, telling himself that it would be easy to put the strange, unexpected feelings he was experiencing back inside their long-forgotten hiding place. “And I wouldn’t like a princessy kind of girl, anyway. I like trashy girls.”

Her eyes rolled. “There are plenty on the premises. I’d be happy to find you one to talk to—”

“No, no,” he said hastily. “It’s after hours and you’re off duty as a hostess. I’d better go.”

She nodded at him. “All right.”

He tipped his hat to her.

“I’m very curious to see how you do this,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Leave. Since I have no idea how you got in.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “Okay.”

He unlocked her door, opened it and left.

She jumped off the bed and jerked the door open, pulling him back inside.

“A simple ‘please stay’ is sufficient,” Tex said.

“You can’t let anyone see you!” Cissy said. Then she paused. “Do you want to? Stay?”

“Do dogs have ears?” he demanded.

She locked the door behind him. “I noticed that you were attracted to me, but I felt that was probably your standard reaction to any female in a bathrobe.”

“Very likely,” he agreed, not missing the chance, while they were close, to smell her. Honeysuckle.

“You don’t smell like a bad girl.”

Her eyes widened. “Strange. You smell like a bad boy.”

“And how is that?”

She sniffed him as they stood against the door. “Leather. Aftershave. A beer or two. And…something I can’t quite name.”

Leaning close, she smelled his neck. Her hair feathered against his collarbone and under his chin, and his erection returned full force.

“Sex?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, sweeping her playfully into his arms.

“No,” she said, pushing against his chest until she freed herself. “I think you smell sexy. Maybe manly is the word I’m searching for.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “If not, we could take a shower together.”

She wrinkled her nose and pulled her hand away.

“I don’t think so. Something tells me water conservation with you would be detrimental to my health.”

For the moment, he forbore further wisecracking, since he was definitely experiencing resistance from her. He decided not to take it personally, considering they were two birds of a feather, and he felt like resisting her, too. “Okay, if I can’t leave the way I came in, how do you expect me to go?”

“I don’t know.” She watched him as he snagged the cake box and sat on her bed. “What are you doing?”

“Eating your un-wedding cake.” He lifted the lid and pulled out a hunting knife from his jacket pocket.

She gasped. He glanced up.

“Overkill, I know. But would you rather I use my fingers?” He cut a neat slice from the cake.

A second later, she joined him on the bed. “You might as well cut me a piece, too. It doesn’t look as if you’re leaving anytime soon.”

“Oh, I’m leaving, all right. I just need a sugar boost before I jump out your window. I’m not a superhero, you know.”

He felt her stare at him in amazement, and he decided he liked having her attention on him like that.

“Can you jump out a second-story window in your condition?” she asked.

He hesitated in the act of handing her a slice of cake. “What condition? I’m in prime physical shape.”

“Well—” She gestured toward his crotch, which was still distended from their close call by the door. When she’d drawn near to smell him, he’d definitely felt the impact.

“Oh, that,” he said nonchalantly. “Don’t you worry about that. Sugar boost’ll take care of that in a flash.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” He bit into the cake. “Eat your un-wedding cake.”

“What is un-wedding cake, anyway?”

“Well, if you learned today that you’re no longer married, I suppose that’s what this should be. We can be sad if you want to be, though,” he offered hastily.

“Oh, no. Please. I wouldn’t think of it.” She tasted her cake, too. “I’m just glad to know that he was finally found. I wouldn’t have felt right remarrying if I’d never learned what happened to him. I have no idea what the marital expiration date is on husbands who disappear. It could be a decade, for all I know.”

“Hey, this is un-wedding cake. Do not sleep with this under your pillow and try to dream of your future husband. Old wives’ tales don’t really work,” he said sternly.

“I’ll probably never get married again, anyway,” she said, finishing off her cake. “I’ve got too many kids to care for.”

“And that’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, cutting another piece for himself. “How many children do you have? Because I found a picture of you in Hannah’s room, and I think I counted nine. Nine!” He looked at her, his heart in his throat. “Those weren’t your responsibilities, were they?”

She looked at him for a long time, and he didn’t like the depth of her gaze. It told him all he needed to know, and he didn’t need the lie of a sugar boost to ease the strain in his jeans. His pants started fitting better instantly.

“They’re all mine—nephews and nieces,” she said. “There are ten of us. If one doesn’t count Gran. And then there are my missing three siblings, which, if and when they ever come back into the picture, will make fourteen.”

“You support fourteen people.”

“Well, my brother and sisters are missionaries. They’re gone a lot, and they don’t make much. Gran used to be able to work, but now that she’s older, she gets tired more easily.”

“Taking care of nine kids would tire me out.”

“Yes, but we didn’t expect my family to be gone so long. They left for a weekend to take coats and blankets to a sister church in South America.”

To his dismay, her eyes filled with the first tears he’d ever seen her cry. “Wait, wait,” he said. “Don’t do that. They’ll be back, I’m sure.”

“I’m not so certain anymore.” She got up to wash her hands and dry her eyes at the washstand sink in her room. “We haven’t heard from them in almost three years. The government won’t tell us anything. And needless to say, Gran and I do not have enough money to hire an investigator.”

And then he saw her shoulders shaking. Oh, boy. Putting the cake back into the box, he moved it back to the dresser. “Cissy,” he murmured, going to stand behind her. “You’ve got a great ass.”

“What?”

She turned to stare at him, and he prepared to dodge a slap. “It was all I could think of to make you stop crying,” he admitted. “I don’t have much experience with women’s tears.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t crying.”

Now who was fibbing? And yet, he understood covering up. “My brothers say I have an intimacy problem,” he offered.

Her eyes widened. “No man admits to something like that.”

“I didn’t say I had one. That’s what they like to accuse me of. It’s not true.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

He frowned at her. There was a real reason he was there—to deliver the cake as Hannah had requested. And then there was the real-real, albeit inadmissible, reason he was there—to see Cissy. But neither of those reasons could be what Cissy had in mind. “What?”

“Because of your intimacy problem.”

“Why would I come here for that? Just saying I had one, which I don’t.”

“Because this salon is the place men like to come to lose their intimacy problems. And a whole host of other problems.”

His jaw sagged. “You’re suggesting that I—”

“Not suggesting. Asking, cowboy. Asking.”

No. The answer was no.

And yet, he had to admit he was pulled to Cissy in a sort of strange, like-what-I-see-but-can’t-touch it way. It was a sexual paradox of sorts.

Which would play into his brothers’ theory.

“I’ve always espoused the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy of life,” he said.

“And yet you’ve asked plenty of questions about my life. My family.”

“Yeah. That’s when I thought you were my kind of girl.”

She stared at him. “And now you think I’m…?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I guess you’re a good girl. A good girl with issues, but I definitely see why Hannah likes you.”

“And so that crosses me off your short list.”

“I don’t have a list,” he replied.

“But if I were a wild woman, I’d be on it.”

“Well, that, and if you wore interesting lingerie.

I’m going to develop a fetish for interesting lingerie.”

She sighed. “Tex, I think you have an intimacy problem.”

He sighed, too, and laid back across the bed horizontally. She lay next to him, and they both stared lackadaisically at the ceiling, their legs hanging off the bed. “Not if I have a fetish.”

“You don’t, cowboy. You said you’re going to develop one. Like, maybe when you’re forty? Not that any of this matters, since I’m not your kind of girl or anything.”

“And thank heavens for that,” he said. “I do not want to end up like my brothers. Even though they’re happy,” he said expansively, “that is no reason to emulate them.”

“Back to the raffle,” she reminded him. “I think you should do it.”

“Why?”

“It would prove to your brothers that you don’t have any issues,” she pointed out. “You would also prove it to yourself, because on a subconscious level, you could be in denial.” She beamed at her attempt at psychoanalysis. “And it’s for a good cause.”

They turned their heads to look at each other. It was, Tex realized at that moment, too close for comfort. “You may not be a trashy girl,” he said, “but you didn’t slap me when I said you had a great ass.”

“That’s because I felt sorry for you,” she said softly, staring into his eyes. “I knew there had to be a reason you were trying so hard to be something you weren’t.”

He could practically feel his eyes bug from their sockets. “Now comes the enlightenment. What am I not?”

“A badass cowboy.”

“So you’re figuring I’m a pansy.”

“You’re neither. Just right down the middle. A nice guy.”

Just what he’d always wanted. “Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

She shrugged, a little icily for his taste, especially since she was lying on her back and shouldn’t have been able to get that much movement into a shrug.

“Okay. Let me ask you something. If I was a trashy girl—your favorite kind—would you have tried to hit on me by now? I mean, you’re holding back for some reason. In fact, you’re almost a hypocrite. You tease about kissing me and having sex and say I’ve got a great behind, and it’s clear you like what you see, but then you treat me like a sister.”

“I don’t have sex on the first date,” he said gruffly.

“You did,” she reminded him. “If meeting me in a barn can be called a date.”

“It can’t,” he argued. “That was a first meeting, and I’d definitely never done that before.” He moved his head back to stare at the ceiling. “There are moral imperatives involved.”

She rolled up on her elbow and looked at him quizzically. “Are you quoting someone?”

“No,” he said, not about to admit that some of his brother Bandera’s philosophical ditherings and their father’s teachings had soaked into his skull. “I’m only trying to illustrate that I’m not a loser or an intimacy-phobe. I don’t have to mate like a gorilla.”

“Now that you’ve decided that I’m not a trashy girl.”

Truly, the woman had superior insight. He couldn’t have had sex with her if he wanted to now. Really. She was no different than Annabelle, Katy or Hannah—and look where those girls had led his unsuspecting brothers! “I don’t have to prove anything to my brothers. Or myself. I’ll do the raffle because charity is a good thing.”

“I see.”

Tex’s brows rose. He heard the snarkiness in her tone. Okay, maybe disbelief was more the word. “All right,” he said. “That’s it. Even a gentleman can only take so much—and I’m not even a gentleman. So I’m way past my limit, lady.”

And then he pinned her beneath him.

Chapter Three

Cissy held her breath as the cowboy on top of her lay still. They stared into each other’s eyes as if they had never seen each other before. Cissy’s heart beat slowly, yet very hard, in her throat. “Well, cowboy,” she said, “as you said, this is it.”

“Now or never.”

“Do or die,” she said, loving the feel of Tex’s weight on her. “Here we are, again.”

And yet he remained frozen.

“I promise I don’t bite on the first real kiss,” she teased.

“I do,” Tex said, touching his lips briefly to hers.

“You taste like un-wedding cake.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s maybe the best cake I ever had,” he said, lowering his head so that he could kiss her, and taste her more deeply. She moaned, arching, wanting to be tighter against him as she ran her hands up over his back.

Before she knew what was happening, he pulled away. Her heart plummeted as he got off the bed. “What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. Everything.

“Did your escape hatch fly open?” she demanded, sitting up on the bed to glare at him.

Tex didn’t like the sound of that. “Meaning?”

“No man leaps away from a woman like his pants are on fire, when a moment before he was sucking at her lips like a drowning man sucks air. Maybe your intimacy issue returned full force.”

He bit the inside of his jaw. His pants were definitely on fire, but he shifted so she couldn’t notice. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Oh, please. You think that if you kiss me and like it too much—maybe even make love to me again—you’ll end up at the altar like your brothers. You don’t want to fall in love. Which is perfect as far as I’m concerned, because I’m the last girl who wants to see a wedding ring.”

There went that unattractive prescient side of her. “I could kiss you all day and not fall in love,” he lied, his pride in full force. “Heck, I could kiss twenty girls and not fall in love! Marriage is not a good way for men to live. All that devotion and fidelity stuff is hard on a guy.”

“Guess you won’t have any trouble with that raffle, after all,” Cissy said.

He didn’t like the gleeful smile on her face. “Sounds like the most fun I’ll have all year.”

“I’ll have to come watch.”

That hadn’t entered his thoughts, and he wasn’t certain he was entirely comfortable with Cissy watching women bid on him. “Uh—”

“I could be a mole bidder and drive up your price,” she offered.

Did he hear revenge in her tone? “A mole bidder?”

“You know, every time someone bids, I outbid them, so that they have to bid again. Of course, I have no intention of buying you.”

Trying to ignore her obvious disinterest in him—where was the jealousy, for heaven’s sake?—Tex puffed out his chest. “How much do you figure I’m worth?”

“Ten, twenty bucks?”

His brows shot to his hairline. “Oh, come on. Be real. I’ve still got all my teeth!”

“Well, that does count for something,” she said reluctantly. “How’s your continence?”

“My what?”

“You know. Your…you know.” She gestured to his jeans.

“Oh, my continence!” he exclaimed. “I can go all night.”

“You don’t say.” Her gaze swept his jeans and then lingered a moment more. “And you’ve got a full head of hair,” she said. “I think you’ll fetch about fifty bucks. I’d bid on you,” she said with a sigh, “but I’m financially embarrassed these days, and Lord only knows I wouldn’t know what to do with you if I won you. I suppose I could put you to work in the rose garden out back. I know how much roses appeal to you, those secretive buds of romance.”

Though he knew she was tweaking him, it was getting on his nerves. He’d just kissed her. Darn it, she should be acting more…more, well, appreciative. And interested. After all, he didn’t go around kissing just any girl. In fact, he hadn’t kissed anybody in a long time. Nobody since her.

Maybe that was his problem. He was out of practice. He was taking it all too seriously. “I need a trashy girl to purchase me,” he said.

“Oh, yes, the only type for you.”

“Well, there’re reasons for that.”

She frowned at him. “Thanks for bringing me the cake, Tex. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to sleep now. I’ve got to work tomorrow.”

He nodded, noting the distance in her tone. “All right, Cissy. I’ll tell Hannah you’re doing fine.”

“You do that,” she said absently, turning away.

And darn it, she didn’t even seem to notice when he raised the window. Glancing at her, he realized her thoughts were somewhere else. She’d pulled some pictures from a drawer in her nightstand, but he couldn’t see what they were. Caught between bravado and bragging, he decided there was no other way to get her attention back on him.

He jumped.

Then he waited for her to look out to make certain he was in good health, his head crooked around so that he could see her expression.

She closed the window. The lace drapes fell together.

“Damn,” he said to himself, limping toward his truck. “Even superheroes get a little applause for exiting out of windows!”

But Cissy hadn’t seemed to care, much like she hadn’t seemed impressed when he’d ridden that bull to victory, twice. Only this time, he’d kissed her for real. And pulled away fast. He hadn’t been prepared for how much he wanted to have her. The feel of her beneath him all slick and compliant in that silk had made his brain pulsate with fire! He’d had to stop himself from…

He frowned. She hadn’t seemed as rocked as he had.

So then he dove out a window. “Damn,” he said again.

She was supposed to notice.

CISSY FORCED HERSELF not to fly to the window and peer out to see if Tex was okay. That lunatic! But what could a woman expect from a man well versed in the daredevil sport of bullriding?

“You are so not father material,” she muttered, swiftly flipping off the bedside lamp and going to the window to surreptitiously peek through the lace drapes. He was limping, the creep! “That’s what you get for being so desperate to avoid my kiss,” she told his retreating form. “Now you’re only worth forty bucks.”

And he wasn’t husband material, for sure—not that she was looking to mine the fields of bachelors. But Tex had proved that she’d never be able to count on him. The man broke into her bedroom and then leaped out her window.

“I can’t trust you,” she said as he drove off. “And if I need anyone in my life right now, it’s someone I can trust.”

She had a family to raise. “I can just see him teaching my kids to have a wild hair like his,” she murmured, picking up the picture once again. Her eyes clouded over as she looked at the faces of the tiny people who depended on her. Counted on her.

“I need stability in my life,” she told herself as she crawled into bed. “Stability. And someone who doesn’t call wedding cake un-wedding cake and then cut it with a hunting knife!”

Getting up, she grabbed the box off the dresser and slipped the cake under her pillow. “I’ll just ignore Mr. Superstitious’s dire warning,” she said. “It’s not like I’d dream of future husbands, anyway.”

More like she’d have nightmares. Of Tex.

“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” Mason demanded as Tex limped into the ranch’s main house. It was just the two of them living there now, and that fact alone was starting to string Tex’s nerves tight. Mason was not a pleasant roommate.

“I just turned my ankle a bit,” Tex said. “It’s nothing.”

Bandera and Navarro came in behind him, eyeing Tex as he fell into the recliner and struggled to get his boot off.

“Need help?” Bandera asked.

“Not really,” Tex said, gritting out the words. His ankle hurt more than he thought it would.

“Hang on,” Navarro said. Gently, he took hold of the boot and did his best to pull it off without hurting Tex.

“Arrgh!” Tex moaned in spite of himself.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bandera asked. “Ranger called here a while ago and said to keep an eye out for you. Said you were three sheets to the wind last night. And then you disappeared.”

“Yeah.” Tex settled into the recliner, trying not to grimace at his swollen ankle. “Hannah wanted me to check on Cissy under the guise of taking her some wedding cake. So I took a shower, sobered up and hit the road.”

“Ooh,” his three brothers said.

“What?” Tex said, sitting up. “What does ‘ooh’ mean?”

“Cissy did that to you,” Bandera said.

“Not exactly.” But Tex didn’t feel like sharing more of the story than that.

The phone rang, and Mason swept it up. “Hello?” He listened for a few moments, then said, “Yes. The superhero made it home fine. Thanks for calling.” Hanging up the phone, Mason put on a fake nonchalant expression. “That was Miss Cissy Kisserton,” he said, torturing Tex just a little. “She says you took a flying leap out of her bedroom window.”

“Ooh,” his other two brothers said.

Tex closed his eyes.

“Fear of intimacy,” Navarro pronounced.

“And Ranger’s Curse of the Broken Body Parts has gotten to Tex,” Bandera stated. “Just look at him all laid up like that.”

“What bullcorn,” Mason said. “What a pile of hockey pucks.”

“It’s all over but the crying,” Bandera said.

“Yeah, Tex crying,” Navarro agreed. “We’re going to have to listen to the wedding bell blues until the blood goes on the marriage certificate.”

“All right. Enough,” Tex said crossly. “I’m afraid you have all overstated the importance of a slightly tweaked ankle.”

“Looks purple to me,” Mason observed, “for a slight tweak. Think I’ll ring the doc and ask him what to do for a broken ankle.”

“Broken!” Tex leaned up to stare at his appendage. “It’s not broken.”

“You jumped out a woman’s second-story window,” Bandera said in disbelief, shaking his head. “The shame of it!”

Navarro blinked. “I’ve never heard of a Jefferson male breaking his own ankle to escape a woman.”

Tex ground his teeth. “If any of you knew half as much as you think you do—”

“All we know is what we see,” Navarro said. “And it’s humiliating!”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Bandera agreed. “Dude, your roses never move past the bud stage. You are way too out of touch with yourself and the universe to be able to release the—”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Tex waved a hand majestically in the air. “You obviously have not heard the good news.”

His brothers stood by silently.

“We’re going to participate in a bachelor raffle for Miss Honeycutt. Delilah. At the Mayfest.”

Navarro and Bandera stared at him, then started to howl with laughter. “No, we’re not,” they said, leaving the room snickering.

Mason shook his head and left, as well.

“Chickens,” Tex said, staring at his swelling ankle. Mason returned to put a bag of ice on it and then left the house.

Tex rolled his eyes. “Fear of intimacy,” he grumbled. “Budus Interruptus. Curse of the Broken Body Parts. What a bunch of superstitious weirdos!”

They were really starting to bother him.

And Cissy bothered him even more. “They’re wrong,” he told his ankle. “And she’s wrong. I know exactly what I’m doing. Eventually, they’ll all have to admit that I’m not the one with hang-ups.”

He would unlock the Sacred Mysteries of the Rosebuds—and prove he wasn’t scared of intimacy all in one fell swoop.

The raffle would be his salvation. In two weeks, he’d spend time on a date with a woman. Perfect timing for roses to bloom in glorious, take-that color.

TWO WEEKS LATER, Tex’s “tweaked” ankle was healed, and he was on a makeshift stage at the rodeo arena. There were six men to follow him, but he didn’t know them, and at this moment, he didn’t care to introduce himself. He felt silly. Mimi had gussied him up; his twin, Laredo, had sent him well wishes from North Carolina; Frisco Joe had sent him roses—butthead!—and Ranger had called long distance to ask him if he could stand the stress of being owned by a woman. His still-unmarried brothers had teased him unmercifully about becoming a stud and asked him if he was going to start dancing in clubs and letting women stuff money in his G-string.

But he’d endured it all in pursuit of his goal.

Cissy Kisserton seated herself in the stands, making his every hair stand at attention, it seemed. What was it about that woman that electrified him?

She waved at him, and he jerked his head at her in a “hello” motion. Then she lifted a bidding paddle—prettily painted fans just for this occasion—and waved it merrily at him.

He groaned. Surely she didn’t intend to carry out her threat of being a mole bidder. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to feel liberated and free of his brothers’ teasing. And he was proving to Malfunction Junction and everyone else that he wasn’t an intimacy-phobe.

And there sat Cissy, looking like cool ice cream in a diamond-glazed dish.

What if she won him?

He would look sillier than he did right now. Everybody knew that Cissy was the cause of his ankle sprain, which was all it had turned out to be. His brothers would guffaw and ask what he was going to break while she collected her winnings—him.

Before the auctioneer could get rolling, Tex very pointedly shook his head at Cissy.

She nodded in return, her head bobbing with determination and a big grin on her face.

He shook his head more fiercely. And gave her the no-no-no finger.

In response, she waved her fan madly.

“Well, would you look at that anxious lady in the stands?” the auctioneer called over the microphone. “She’s just determined to start the bidding! What say we open at fifty dollars for this handsome cowboy? Look him over, girls. You’ll not see such chaps as these too often!”

Since he wasn’t wearing chaps, Tex figured the auctioneer was referring to some portion of his anatomy. Taking a deep breath, he watched as the fans one by one moved to the quick-fire droning of the auctioneer’s voice.

Up, up, up went his price.

Cissy’s fan flicked with confidence.

Tex’s breath hung in his chest. Surely she wasn’t really trying to win him! She had no money; she’d said so herself.

The bid reached four hundred dollars, and his brothers were slack-jawed in the stands. Tex’s face burned with humiliation.

“Give us a pose, cowboy!” a female called from the stands.

A pose? “Oh, come on,” Tex muttered, failing to see why he should. But the audience applauded, and he decided to give them what they wanted.

He popped his arm muscles, which thanks to the short-sleeve-T-shirt Mimi had suggested, worked nicely to show off his biceps.

The ladies applauded. See? he told Cissy mentally. They notice me. Women like me, even if you don’t.

He bent slightly at the knee and leaned forward, curling his arm so that he displayed his shoulder and forearm muscles.

The women clapped harder. “More!” someone yelled.

Emboldened, he turned around, showed the audience his backside, held his arms out to the side, and tightly flexed every muscle in his body.

The response was thunderous. With a sheepish grin, he turned back around, done with his antics.

Cissy’s fan gestured wildly.

And then it seemed the arena got quiet. Buzzing hummed in Tex’s ears as the auctioneer pointed to a few more fan-holding women. Tex thought maybe the lovely, dress-wearing Cissy had put her fan into her lap.

He had to admit, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him if she won him. The woman was right sexy for a good girl. If good girls were his thing, which they weren’t.

He liked his women saucy. Minx-y. A little on the bad-girl side.

Sort of the Cissy he thought he knew from their barn encounter, before he’d found out she was newly widowed and had a mess of kids and went to church and took care of her elderly grandma.

A man couldn’t poach on a gal like that, even if she did work for Marvella.

“Sold!” the auctioneer cried. “For five hundred dollars to that lady right over there!”

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