Cowboy Enchantment - By Pamela Browning Page 0,9

an incredibly handsome man. His hair was a rich brown, the color of mahogany, and his eyes were a deep cerulean blue, the blue of the deep part of the ocean, the blue of the sky in the hours before dawn. Abs like a washboard, even as seen through his T-shirt. Thighs muscular and outlined perfectly by snug, faded jeans. He radiated a rugged masculinity that put her in mind of Clint Eastwood in his younger days. She drew in her breath sharply as a slow heat radiated through her in recognition of the man’s appeal. It was overwhelmingly sexual, that appeal, sexual and vibrating with a kind of slow-simmering energy beneath the surface.

His eyes held hers as he bent with a ripple of toned muscles to pick up the bridle. “You didn’t answer the second part of my question. Who are you?”

She must have inhaled some of the dust stirred up by the falling bridle, because when she tried to speak, the words caught in her throat. “Er—Erica. Erica Strong,” she stammered, feeling foolish and out of place. She, who could chair a meeting of financial wizards with aplomb, who could field three phone calls at once and take notes simultaneously on all of them, was totally unhinged by the stern gaze of this handsome cowboy. She wiped damp palms on her jeans, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But he did. His gaze moved upward, taking in the loose jeans, the wrinkled blouse, his expression intense and slightly mocking. “Oh. My new student,” he said with barely concealed distaste.

“I…well, I did sign up for lessons.” She knew how stupid she must sound, how gauche and unsophisticated.

He continued to look her over, not bothering to hide his disdain. She knew she appeared mousy and unappealing, and worst of all, he was the cowboy she had marked for her own, and his first and perhaps lasting impression of her was of an unremarkable woman who shrank into the shadows and appeared less than confident in herself.

She almost turned and ran, but something made her hold her ground. Maybe it was because she had never run from a confrontation in her career, and maybe it was because she refused to show this man, her ideal man, that he intimidated her.

“You’re on line for a private lesson tomorrow at five in the afternoon,” he said none too cheerfully.

Her head tilted upward a notch even as her heart began pounding. “Yes. I’ll see you then,” she said coolly before pivoting and walking smartly out of the stable.

She thought she felt his gaze on her inconsiderable backside as she retreated toward the Big House, but then she decided it must be her imagination.

This cowboy, this Hank who was Justine’s brother, clearly found nothing to catch his interest in either her looks or comportment. He didn’t welcome the addition of her lesson to what he considered a too-busy schedule. She was an annoyance, a responsibility, a bother. And he had made it clear that he found her downright unattractive.

Disappointment prickled behind her eyes like unshed tears; the man was not what she’d expected in a cowboy, her cowboy. The realization was almost, but not enough, to send her skedaddling back to New York without a makeover. Without her dignity. And without a man.

But that would not do. She was going to live out her fantasy at Rancho Encantado. She was going to have a fling with her cowboy if it was the last thing she did. And there was no doubt in her mind that it would be this cowboy and no other, if only because she was not in the habit of giving in to defeat.

AFTER HER RETREAT, Hank ran a hand across the back of his neck as he was prone to do in exasperating times. “Doesn’t look to me like this Erica Strong is going to be a whole lot of fun,” he said to his favorite mount, Whip, who nuzzled his chest in hopes of finding a sugar cube.

Hank produced the sugar from the pocket of his jeans and stood stroking Whip’s neck for a moment. It amused him that his new riding student had been so nervous in his presence. She’d looked as if she were about to jump out of her skin when he first spoke to her, and although she’d recovered in the end, she’d put distance between them as soon as she could. He didn’t need another riding student, and he didn’t think they were going to get along, but