Stirring Attraction (17 page)

“There are worse things than dying out there,” he added, trying to focus on the here and now, not the past he couldn't change.

“Yes.”

He kept his gaze locked on her face as he stepped back and placed his hand on the door again. He was ready and willing to slam it closed. She could tempt and tease him, but he refused to take his eyes off her face. Hell, he knew better than to play chicken with her breasts. Right now, with the way he wanted her, he'd lose that game.

First, he needed some time to process. He wanted space to think about the fact that things hadn't worked out for her in Portland. He needed her to leave before he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, and offered comfort. Before he begged to know every damn detail about what had happened.

No, he needed her gone. Because he'd learned one big life lesson from his time with the marines: he wasn't a hero. He couldn't let old habits take over, pushing him to save her. He wanted Josie's hands on him, her lips pressed against him . . . not her problems dumped at his feet. And if Josie was back in the town that had insisted on labeling her wild, holding her solely accountable for losing her panties in a hay wagon ride, then something had gone horribly wrong in Portland.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I can't—­”

“I need a job, Noah.” She wasn't begging, merely stating a fact. But desperation and determination clung to her words. Never a good combination.

Noah sighed. “Do you have any waitressing or bartending experience?”

“Not exactly.” She forced a smile as she uncrossed her arms and riffled through the worn black leather shoulder bag. She withdrew a manila folder and handed it to him. “But I brought my resume.”

Propping the door open with his foot, he took the folder and opened it. He read over the resume and tried to figure out how a series of babysitting gigs related to serving the twenty-­one-­and-­older crowd.

“You took a year off between working for these two families.” He glanced up. “To focus on school?”

“No.” Her smile faded. “I can serve drinks, Noah. I'm smart and I'm good with ­people. Especially strangers. And now that you've taken the “country” out of Big Buck's, I'm guessing the locals don't camp out at the bar anymore.”

“Some still do.” And they gave him hell for telling his dad to remove the mechanical bull. Five years and the ­people born and bred in this town still missed the machine that had put the “country” in Big Buck's Country Bar. Some dropped by to visit the damn thing in his dad's barn. But he'd bet no one had ridden it like Josie in the last five years.

He closed the folder and held it out to her. “Why are you so desperate to serve drinks?”

“I owe a lot of money.”

Another fact. But this one led to a bucket of questions. “Your father won't help you?”

She shook her head. “This is my responsibility. He's giving me a place to stay until I get back on my feet.”

The don't-­mess-­with-­me veneer he wore like body armor cracked. If someone had hurt Josie . . . No, she wasn't his responsibility. Whatever trouble she'd found—­credit card debt, bad loans—­it wasn't his mess to clean up. He'd spent most of his life playing superhero, first on the football field, later for his family, and then for his fellow marines. But his last deployment—­and the fallout—­had made it pretty damn clear that he wasn't cut out for the role.

He couldn't help Josie Fairmore. Not this time. And he sure as hell couldn't give her a job that would keep her underfoot. He couldn't pay her to work for him and want her at the same time. It wasn't right. Maybe he was a failed hero. But he still knew right from wrong.

“Look, I need experienced waitresses and bartenders.” He stepped away, ready to head back to the peace and quiet of his empty bar.

“So you haven't filled the positions?” she asked.

“I—­”

“Please think about it.” She removed her foot, offering him the space to slam the door. “If you can't help me, I'll have to take Daphne up on her offer to serve topless drinks at The Lost Kitten. And I'd rather keep my shirt on while I work. But one way or another, I'm going to pay back what I owe.”

She turned and headed for the red Mini. He stared at her back and pictured her bending over tables. One look at her bare chest and the guys at The Lost Kitten would forget what they planned to order. He hated that mental image, but jealousy didn't dominate his senses right now.

He'd witnessed a woman sacrifice her pride and her dignity for her job. He'd fought like hell for her and he'd failed her. He couldn't change the past. What happened to Caroline was out of his hands now. Even if he wanted to help, he couldn't. She'd disappeared. If and when Caroline resurfaced, she'd be the one charged with a crime. Unauthorized absence. And his testimony? The things he'd witnessed? It wouldn't matter.

But Josie was standing in his freaking parking lot.

“I'll give you one shot,” he called. She stopped and turned to face him. Her full lips formed a smile and her eyes shone with triumph.

“A trial shift,” he added. “If you can keep up with a Thursday-­night crowd, I'll consider giving you a job.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Come back around four. And don't get too excited. Your babysitting experience won't help with a room full of college kids counting down the days until spring break.”

He closed the door and turned to face the dark interior of his father's bar. Giving her a shot didn't make him a hero. But it would give him a chance to figure out why she needed the money.

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About the Author

After several years on the other side of the publishing industry,
SARA JANE STONE
bid goodbye to her sales career to pursue her dream—­writing romance novels. Sara Jane currently resides in New York, with her very supportive real-­life hero, two lively young children, and a lazy Burmese cat. Visit her online at
www.sarajanestone.com
or find her on Facebook at Sara Jane Stone.

Join Sara Jane's newsletter to receive new release information, news about contests, giveaways, and more! To subscribe, visit www.sarajanestone.com and look for her newsletter entry form.

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Also by Sara Jane Stone

SECOND SHOT

Serving Trouble

Running Wild
(novella)

Coming Soon

Mixing Temptation

INDEPENDENCE FALLS

Wild With You

Hero By Night

Caught in the Act

Full Exposure

Search and Seduce

Command Control

Command Performance

 

An Excerpt from

CHANGE OF HEART

By T.J. Kline

Bad luck has plagued Leah McCarran most of her life, until the tide turns and she lands her new dream job as a therapist at Heart Fire Ranch. But when her car breaks down and she finds herself stranded, the playboy who shows up to her rescue makes Leah wonder if her luck just went from bad to worse.

 

L
eah McCarran couldn't believe her luck as she popped the hood of her classic GTO and glanced behind her, down the deserted stretch of highway in the Northern California foothills. Steam poured from her radiator, and there wasn't a single car in sight.

She blew back a strand of her caramel-colored hair as the curl fell into her eye and caught on her mascaraed eyelashes. Even those felt like they were melting into solid clumps on her eyes. It was sweltering for mid-May, and, of course, her car decided to take a dump on the side of the highway today. She fanned herself with one hand as she looked down at the overheated engine. It probably wouldn't have been nearly this big a deal if her cell phone hadn't just taken a crap, too. To top off her miserable day, she'd spilled her iced coffee all over the damn thing getting out of the car and likely destroyed it once and for all.

This wasn't the way she'd hoped to start her new job or her new life at Heart Fire Ranch.

Walking back to the driver's side of the car, Leah had no clue what to do now. Luckily, her boss wasn't expecting her until this evening, and she'd had the foresight, knowing her penchant for bad luck, to leave early. But until some Good Samaritan decided to drive by
and
stop for her, she was S.O.L. She kicked the tire as she walked by. As if trying to deny her even that small measure of satisfaction, the sole of her worn combat boot caught in the tread, nearly making her fall over.

“Son of a—”

Leah caught herself against the side of the car, willing the tears of frustration to subside, back into the vault where they belonged. That was one thing she'd learned as a child: tears meant weakness.

And showing weakness was asking for more pain.

She bent over into the car, looking for something to mop up the sticky mess the coffee was making on the restored leather interior of her car. She reached for the denim shirt she'd been wearing over her tank top before she'd left Chowchilla this morning, before the air had turned from chilled to hell-on-earth-hot.

“Shit,” she muttered. Trying to sop up coffee with denim was like trying to mop a floor with a broom: it did absolutely no good.

“Hot damn! That is the most incredible thing I've seen all day.”

The crunch of tires pulling off the asphalt of the highway was a welcome sound, but the awe she heard in the husky voice was enough to send a chill down her spine. Leah threw the shirt down onto the coffee-soaked floorboard. Standing up, she spun on the heel of her boot, her fists clenching at her sides as she tried to control the instinct to punch a man in the mouth.

“Excuse me? Do you really have so little class?”

“Oh, shit! No, that's not . . .” She watched as the man unfolded himself from a late model Challenger and shut the door, jogging across the empty two-lane highway to her side. “I'm sorry, I meant the car.”

Leah crossed her arms under her breasts and arched a single, disbelieving brow. “Sure, you did.”

A blush flooded his dark caramel skin. “I swear I meant the car. Not that you're not . . . I mean . . . crap.” He cursed again. “Let me try this again. Do you need some help?”

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Change of Heart
now!

 

An Excerpt from

MONTANA HEARTS: TRUE COUNTRY HERO

By Darlene Panzera

For Jace Aldridge, the chase is half the fun. The famous rodeo rider has spent most of life chasing down steers and championship rodeo belts, but after an accident in the arena, his career is put on temporary hold. When he's offered a chance to stay at Collins Country Cabins, Jace jumps at the opportunity to spend more time with the beautiful but wary Delaney Collins.

 

T
he cowboy winked at her. Delaney Collins lowered her camera lens and glanced around twice to make sure, but no one else behind the roping chute was looking his direction. Heat flooded her cheeks as he followed up the wink with a grin, and a multitude of wary warnings sounded off in her heart. The last thing she'd wanted was to catch the rodeo circuit star's interest. She pretended to adjust the settings, then raised the camera to her eye once again, determined to fulfill her duty and take the required photos of the handsome dark-haired devil.

Except he wouldn't stand still. He climbed off his buckskin horse, handed the reins to a nearby gatekeeper, gave a young kid in the stands a high five, and then walked straight toward her.

Delaney tightened her hold on the camera, wishing she could stay hidden behind the lens, and considered several different ways to slip away unnoticed. But she knew she couldn't avoid him forever. Not when it was her job to shadow the guy and capture the highlights from his steer-wrestling runs. Maybe he only wanted to check in to make sure she was getting the right shots?

Most cowboys like Jace Aldridge had large egos to match their championship-sized belt buckles, one reason she usually avoided these events and preferred capturing images of plants and animals. But when the lead photographer for
True Montana Magazine
called in sick before the event and they needed a fill-in, Delaney had been both honored and excited to accept the position. Perhaps after the magazine viewed her work, they'd hire her for more photo ops. Then she wouldn't have to rely solely on the profits from her share of her family's guest ranch to support herself.

She swallowed hard as the stocky, dark-haired figure, whose image continuously graced the cover of every western periodical, smiled, his eyes on her—yes, definitely her—as he drew near.

He stretched out his hand. “Jace Aldridge.”

She stared at his chapped knuckles. Beside her, Sammy Jo gave her arm a discreet nudge, urging her to accept his handshake. After all, it would be impolite to refuse. Even if, in addition to riding rodeo, he was a hunter, an adversary of the animals she and her wildlife rescue group regularly sought to save.

Lifting her gaze to meet his, she replied, “Delaney Collins.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jace said, his rich, baritone voice smooth and . . . dangerously distracting. His hand gave hers a warm squeeze, and although he glanced toward Sammy Jo to include her in his greeting, it was clear who held his real interest. “Are you with the press?”

Delaney glanced down at the Canon EOS 7D with its high-definition 20.2 megapixel zoom lens hanging down from the strap around her neck. “Yes. I'm taking photos for
True Montana
.”

The edges of his mouth curved into another smile. “I haven't seen you around before.”

“I—I'm not around much, but Sammy Jo here,” she said, motioning toward her friend to divert his attention, “used to race barrels. You must know her. Sammy Jo Macpherson?”

Jace gave her friend a brief nod. “I believe we've met.”

“Del's a great photographer,” Sammy Jo said, bouncing the attention back to her.

Jace grinned. “I bet.”

“It's the lens,” Delaney said, averting her gaze, and Sammy Jo shot her a disgruntled look as if to say,
Smarten up, this guy's in to you. Don't blow it!

Except she had no desire to get involved in a relationship right now. And definitely not one
with a hunter
. She needed to focus on her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Meghan, and help her family's guest ranch bring in enough money to support them.

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Montana Hearts: True Country Hero
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