Chapter One
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When the DJ’s speaker set crashed to the floor as the first women to arrive rushed the tables nearest the stage, Tara Toomey scrambled for a replacement and chalked the mishap up to high spirits.
When one of the volunteers carrying a tray of Jell-O shots tripped, and cherry and lime gelatin slid in glistening trails down his face and naked chest, she laughed as eager women offered to lick him clean.
However, it wasn’t until one of her staff whispered in her ear that she knew she was in for a long night. The main attraction had yet to arrive.
She crushed her dog-eared copy of the “Hook-up” program in her fist and headed toward the old-fashioned, double swinging doors, ready to stomp all the way to Redbone Ranch to drag his butt to town.
As she passed excited, tittering women her smile felt strained, and her nerves stretched taut. The “Annual Honky-tonk Hook-up” had always been a good time, but this year she wished she hadn’t been so quick to volunteer her bar again. Sure, it was good for business and many of the “blow-ins” from Houston, San Antonio, and San Angelo returned throughout the year because they enjoyed the event and Paraiso’s authentic western ambience.
But Tara wished she could return home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. The last thing she felt ready to do was watch one particular cowboy strut his stuff across the stage and land in some other woman’s clutches—even if it was just one night, completely innocent, right, and for a really good cause. The fact he might blow off the auction pissed her off almost as much as the thought of the spectacle he’d cause if he did finally make an entrance.
If anyone thought splintered speaker casings or a little spilled Jell-O were trouble, they hadn’t seen a room full of women erupt in the wake of one seriously sexy cowboy.
The thought soured her stomach. Still, she had a part to play in tonight’s festivities. Everyone seemed to think it was her job to make sure that cowboy showed up, because she was one of the few true friends he had. And after all, his picture in the auction advertisement had been the big pull.
Too many gussied-up women crowded the entrance to the bar, and the line wrapped twice around the narrow foyer. Not that anyone complained about the wait as bare-chested men wearing tight jeans, cowboy hats, and wicked smiles carried more trays laden with drinks down the long line.
Rather than wade through the cloud of perfume when all her “polite” was gone, Tara swept past the sign-in tables where volunteers busily took the women’s cash and handed out programs, shiny Mardi Gras beads, and wooden bidding paddles.
The combined scent of expensive perfumes made Tara’s nose twitch, so she pivoted on her heel and stomped toward the side entrance, reminded again about the cause of her agitation.
Perfume was like doe piss to this horned buck—irresistible bait. So, where the hell was he?
“He’s late!” a high-pitched voice squeaked behind her.
Tara didn’t even bother trying to pretend she didn’t know who “He” was, or that she didn’t know he hadn’t shown. Any woman with an ounce of estrogen in her veins would feel the tingle the moment the cowboy sauntered into the room.
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Tara muttered, pausing at the door to shoot a glance over her shoulder.
Meaghan Garrity, the event’s “man-wrangler”, trotted toward her, her anxious gaze rising over the top of the clipboard she clutched to her chest. Spots of hectic color glazed each pale cheek. Her long red hair escaped the untidy knot at the top of her head in long curling tendrils. “Didn’t you tell him he was second on the program? We can’t start until he gets here.”
“He’ll be here,” Tara bit out, and then forced a smile. No use getting Meaghan more nervous than she already was. He wouldn’t stand them all up, would he?
Even as she said it, her stomach churned. There was only one thing that would keep the cowboy from his adoring fans. An easier fish to land—one he didn’t even have to bother moving his adorable tail to find.
Tara wondered what her name was, and the image of a beauty with her head snatched bald flashed through her mind. But she pasted on a smile to reassure her friend, while inside her anger began a slow, hot boil.
Leave it to Cody Westhofen to keep three hundred intoxicated women waitin’ on his sweet ass. Does the man think his sex appeal will forgive all sins?
Tara carefully ignored the little voice inside her that screamed an emphatic, Yes! Instead, she murmured, “Think that man would miss a chance at addin’ a hundred more numbers to his little black book?” Although she began the statement as a joke, anger scraped a sharper edge to her voice toward the end.
Tara caught herself before she began a rant, afraid Meaghan, whom she’d known since kindergarten, would wonder why one slow-as-molasses cowboy could get under her skin. After all, Tara was known for her ready smile, even temper but, especially, for her cowboy-proof armor.
She shoved her crumpled program into Meaghan’s hand. “Um…I’ll check outside and see what’s keepin’ him.”
“Or who! Better check back seats!” Meaghan whispered loudly. “That man can’t take a step without trippin’ over a droolin’ woman.”
With a wry twist of her lips, Tara pushed open the glass door to step out into the parking lot.
Outside, stars twinkled above the spotlight that illuminated the gravel lot overflowing with cars, SUVs, and pickup trucks. More vehicles lined the road leading to the bar for as far as she could see. Luckily, the southerly wind that had whipped up the stink from the stockyards earlier had changed course. Although a little humid, the air was sweet and cool.
Muffled music and laughter sounded from the building behind her, but for a moment, a peaceful calm surrounded her. Tara closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath, sure this would be the last time she’d get a chance to relax tonight.
Gravel crunched behind her, and her eyes shot open. Thick, corded arms encircled her waist, a cowboy hat held in one hand. The crisp scent of spicy cologne tickled her nose. “Hey darlin’, afraid I wouldn’t show?”
Even if he hadn’t spoken first, she’d have known it was him. That telltale tingle raised goose bumps all over her body.
Tara stiffened and her eyes slid open, but she didn’t push the arms away. The snug pressure provided a moment’s reassurance however empty the promise.
She slid her hands over the tops of his and squeezed. “Cuttin’ it a little close, aren’t ya, cowboy?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “The natives are gettin’ restless.”
“Been waitin’ on you, sweetheart. Thought I’d let you get mad enough to wrestle me inside. You know how much I love to get you riled.” Cody’s arms withdrew, but before she had a chance to light into him good for being late, his hands gripped her hips and twirled her around.
And although she knew peeking up into his face would spell the end of her self-possession, her gaze rose to lock with his for a long, charged moment.
Even in the shadows, shards of pale electric blue pierced the night. Whoever didn’t think there was a God had never looked into Cody’s bluer-than-blue eyes. Their gazes had never lingered over the width of his shoulders, the masculine curve of his jaw, the strong jut of his square chin and straight nose.
With a body made for loving and hair so pale and silky it captured light like a halo around his head, a woman could be fooled into thinking he just might be an angel incarnate.
Until they saw the wicked curve of his lips—a smile so seductive, so sensually ripe, it triggered a primal response an octogenarian nun couldn’t deny.
Trapped against his naked chest, Tara dug deep for any frayed fragments of pride she still possessed and scowled. “What do you think you’re doin’? Anyone could look outside and see us.”
“What do you care?”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Tara growled. “And I don’t want to be mistaken for one of your goodtime squeezes. I’d just as soon keep it on the down low that I’ve succumbed a time or two to your charms.”
Cody’s brows drew together, deepening the shadows engulfing his eyes, making his appearance seem a tad sinister. “Ashamed of me?” he asked softly. “Or are you ashamed you want me?”
Tara shivered, whether from the cooling tension in his voice or her own tightly wound anger, she couldn’t have said.
Her last speck of self-respect kept her frowning, denying his overpowering attraction. “No, I’m not ashamed of you, and I’m woman enough not to be ashamed all my parts seem to function just fine when you’re around, but I do have a reputation to uphold. If anyone found out I’ve been sleeping with the biggest womanizer in Texas, it would be ripped to shreds.”
“Sure sounds like shame to me.”
The easy, sexy slide of his voice told her she’d amused him. Cody always said he knew when she was lying because she talked too much without saying anything at all.
She took another deep breath to calm her racing heart. “I just don’t want everyone knowin’ my business. And since there isn’t really anything for them to know—I mean, it’s not like we’re a couple, right?—I’d just as soon not ask for trouble.”
“What kinda trouble you expectin’?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Trouble follows you everywhere you go! That wasn’t you Brandon Tynan took a couple of swings at for gettin’ fresh with Lyssa? Sarah Michelson didn’t almost get arrested for indecent exposure when she cornered you in the bathroom?”
“No man’s gonna punch me out for messin’ with you. They’d probably pin a medal on my chest for havin’ the guts. And I didn’t ask Sarah to follow me inside the bathroom.”
“No, you didn’t, but she did. And she wasn’t the first to throw herself at you. Do you think I’d have a business left if half my customers, the female half, decided to boycott me?”
Cody snorted. Then his lips stretched again into a smile. “You’re not makin’ any sense at all. Tonight got you rattled, sugar?” His hands slid up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her.
Her irritation spiked like oil breaching a well-head. “Cody, we don’t have time for you to play with me. Besides, would you want any of those women you’re trolling for tonight to think you’re already taken? They don’t know you like the rest of Paraiso does. They might think you actually do have a loyal bone in your body.”
Cody’s lips tightened for a second then relaxed, slowly sliding into his trademark smirk. “Gimme a kiss for good luck?”
She let out an exasperated huff. “Do you promise you’ll get your butt inside if I do?”
“Lady, don’t you know all you have to do is ask? Your pleasure’s all mine.”
She stifled the sigh sifting between her lips. If only that were true. “Well, I’m askin’.”
“For a kiss?”
She wrinkled her nose and forced a light-hearted laugh. “You’re impossible.”
His grin stretched. “And you’re beautiful.”
His head bent towards hers, and Tara forced herself to turn her head to the side. “This isn’t part of our agreement,” she whispered.
“It’s just a goddamn kiss,” he growled.
“Anytime you want to change the rules…”
His hands tightened on her waist. “Maybe those rules should be up for renegotiation. All I want’s a kiss. Not anything I’m not gonna give a dozen women tonight.”
“You’re wastin’ time.”
“You wanna explain what kept me in the parking lot?”
Tara tightened her lips and turned her head toward him. “Be quick.”
“Stubborn woman,” he said softly as he bent toward her.
A smile tugged at her lips as he bent over her again. No way was he gonna let a woman have the last word.
All her arguments bled away as he closed in. She pushed aside her concern that anyone might see. She’d waited all night for this kiss. Not that she’d let him know it. And lordy, he didn’t disappoint. Never did.
Never mind his mouth would be kissing dozens of lips before the night ended. For this moment, he was all hers.
His firm mouth captured hers and began a sexy, circling glide that sent an electric jolt of awareness straight through her. Her pulse began a delicious throb, her nipples beaded, and moist little tugs of arousal stirred between her legs.
She gasped against his mouth, and his tongue swept inside to ravish. A low, throaty growl rumbled from his chest into her mouth, and he jerked back his head. “Damn. Do we really have to go inside now?”
“It’s that or risk having three hundred women descending upon us mid-stroke in the parking lot.”
He settled his forehead against hers. “I love when you talk dirty. You should do it more often.”
“It’s a sad fact it doesn’t take more than ‘hello’ for you to get horny. Better get inside. Meaghan’s gonna have a coronary. And you forgot your shirt.”
“No, I didn’t. Just didn’t want it disappearing like the rest of my clothes did last year.”
“Women takin’ souvenirs?” Her lips curved.
His grin stretched wide. “Will you fight them off if they manage to get my pants this year?”
Her glance fell to the blue jeans lovingly curved over the bulge at the front of his pants and the leather chaps that encased both of his thick, muscled thighs. “Why on earth would you think I’d care?”
His eyes narrowed, falling to her mouth.
She fought to keep her lips from thinning, or Cody would know she was lying. Another little “tell” she’d never known she gave away—until he’d mentioned it.
His chest expanded around a deep sigh. “You sure know how to sink a dent in a man’s ego.”
“Someone has to give it a prick every now and then, or you’d be a complete jerk.”
He arched a brow. “Why do you put up with me if I’m such a pain?”
Tara felt her face and chest warm. “I live in hope of seeing you hog-tied to one woman some day and lovin’ it.”
His snort jerked back his head. “Better plan on livin’ a long, long time, sweetheart.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You had your kiss…”
His hands dropped from her hips. “Guess Meaghan’s havin’ kittens right about now.”
“Kittens? I’m havin’ goddamn orange tabbies and alley cats!” Meaghan shouted from the side door. “Get your butt inside before they start a riot!”
Cody set his cowboy hat on his head, strolled to the door, and gave Meaghan a once-over that had the happily married lady fanning her face with her clipboard.
Tara stepped past her, tapping Meaghan’s chin to close her dropped jaw. “I found him.”
“But you lost your lipstick,” Meaghan said, her voice syrupy sweet.
“Maybe I wasn’t wearin’ any.”
“Don’t even try to deny it, girlfriend. Cody Westhofen kissed you in the parking lot!”
Deciding denials would only make her look guiltier, Tara shrugged. “He was only warmin’ up. Keep out of his path, or you might be next.”
Meaghan’s eyelids dipped closed, and she sighed. “I wouldn’t survive. One kiss and I’d forget my own name and never get through tonight.”
“Well, the last cowboy’s in the corral. Let’s get to work.”
Twenty minutes later, the last of the women had made their way to their tables, shifting chairs closer to the stage. Many abandoned their small, round tables to scoot closer still. The moderator gave the introductions, thanking the sponsors of the event. Then the auction began in earnest.
As she watched from behind the bar where she mixed pitchers of drinks, Tara fidgeted, not sure why she was in such a restless, grumpy mood. The stage was set for a rowdy good time.
Yet she couldn’t let go of the blue mood that settled around her as pernicious as the cloud of perfume hovering in the room.
While Cody had made his way through his adoring throng, Tara had a moment of perfect clarity in the midst of all the mayhem. A come-to-Jesus moment—if she’d been the religious sort, which she wasn’t.
As it was, the raucous noise coming from the crowd of rowdy women crammed inside her bar faded. The Christmas lights that had been hung around the raised dais of the stage ceased to flicker. The scents of sickly sweet Margaritas and sour beer, served by the pitcher, of perfume and hair spray, spicy cologne, and musty cattle all coalesced for one sharp, unforgiving moment.
In her early forties, Tara sat squarely at the upper end of the age scale of all the women in the room. Older than most of the young hunks up for auction.
Hell, she was older than most everyone, except Oscar Fuentes, tending bar beside her, whose loud guffaws jerked the T-shirt stretched tightly around his round belly.
For five years, she’d played host to the town’s annual “Hook-up.” Five years she’d watched young women flood the little town from all parts of South Texas for the chance at one of the county’s unattached cowboys.
For a good cause and the ultimate fantasy, women showed up dressed in their polished, unbroken boots, designer blue jeans that wouldn’t hold up to a day’s real work in a saddle, and wallets overflowing with greenbacks.
For one night, they forgot the reality of what hooking up with a dusty cowboy really meant. They bought into the image—the mythical man astride a powerful beast, who just might be as untamed between the sheets.
So, had she. And look what it had got her.
“Ladies, meet Casper Coolidge from Texas Game & Fisheries. Yeah, he’s a park ranger. Casper’s favorite movie is The Notebook, and his idea of the perfect date is a picnic on a blanket under the stars.”
Tara rolled her eyes at that bit of fiction from the moderator of the event. The Notebook? A picnic on a blanket?
A snort sounded next to her. “That man’s perfect date is a gal who can put her own worm on a hook. He’s just hopin’ to get laid.”
Tara shot Oscar an amused glare. “Be nice, now. Maybe Casper’s been hidin’ his sensitive side all this time.”
“All for a good cause. Yeah,” he said, the curl of his lips just visible under the thick brush of his handlebar moustache, “I heard you the first time.”
As Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing began to play on the loudspeakers, Casper entered from the left, rolling his hips as he made his way up the steps of the stage. Casper didn’t have an ounce of rhythm in his bony, long-limbed frame, but that didn’t curb this crowd’s enthusiasm one iota. Whistles, catcalls, and the heavy stomp of booted heels accompanied each bump and grind he attempted as he rotated his skinny hips.
“Boy’s gonna hurt himself.”
Tara shook her head. “Only thing’s gonna take a poundin’ is some woman’s bank account, and most of ’em are too fired up to care whether or not he can dance a lick.”
Which was true. With the raising of half a dozen ping-pong paddles, the bidding started briskly at a hundred dollars.
Tara sighed and wiped the counter with her bar towel, reminding herself that she’d agreed to host this all in the name of new playground equipment and a good time.
“Oh hell, now what’s that knucklehead doin’?”
Tara’s gaze whipped back to the stage to watch as Casper slowly stripped off his chambray shirt to reveal a chest so milky white the stage lighting made him appear as pale as his namesake.
“Boy’s gonna blind us all.” Oscar’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “How does a man who works all day in the sun manage to look like that?”
Casper twirled his shirt in the air and released it into the crowd.
Smiling, Tara leaned a hip against the counter. “Why don’t you relax, mijo? The women came to see a little cowboy beefcake. Casper’s just makin’ sure the rest of the guys have to up the ante, too.”
“You put him up to that?”
Tara placed her hands on her hips and arched one eyebrow. “Now, I’m not gonna say yea or nay.”
“Dammit, Tara,” Oscar said, his voice grinding in disgust. “If it’s not bad enough we get overrun every weekend by desk-jockeys in cowboy gear, now you’ve got our own boys makin’ asses out of themselves.”
“All for a good cause,” she repeated, slinging her arm around his well-padded shoulders. “And don’t think our boys aren’t enjoyin’ every minute of the attention.”
“We have four hundred dollars from the lady in red,” the auctioneer said. “Do we have four-fifty?”
Oscar’s mouth dropped open. “Four hundred for Casper? Don’t they know that boy’s so bashful he’s never been out with a girl who wasn’t his sister?”
Tara didn’t even try to hold back her laughter. It rolled out of her, turning a few heads. “Say it a little louder and watch what happens,” she murmured.
Tara enjoyed the banter but kept only part of her attention on what new chestnut Oscar would drop. Laughter right about now was a welcome relief. Her body was tense, her stomach knotting. A plan began to form in her mind, gathering strength like circling clouds on a hot summer’s day.
What she planned to do tonight was either the dumbest thing she’d ever done or the most inspired.
“Sold! To number two-thirteen.”
Tara tossed her towel on the bar and lifted the bar-ledge to step through it.
“Now, where do you think you’re goin’?” Oscar asked, suspicion darkening his black eyes.
With a defiant tilt of her chin, she said, “To get my paddle.”
“Wait a second. You plannin’ on buyin’ yerself a date?”
“Cody’s comin’ up next. Someone has to keep him from startin’ a riot.”
“Cody?” Oscar’s snort ruffled the bristles lying like a caterpillar atop his lip. “I think that boy could manage this crowd all by himself. Just let ’em take numbers.”
Tara didn’t bother acknowledging his statement. It was a well-known fact in these parts that Cody had a way with women. Young and old. One look from his sleepy blue eyes made wet puddles of them all.
But handsome is as handsome does, and Cody Westhofen was nothing more than a man-whore when it came to women. With a crook of one long, calloused finger, he could have almost any unattached woman he wanted, and he’d made it all too clear he’d never be satisfied with just one.
Damn, if she hadn’t fallen like all the rest. Since the day he’d brushed up next to her and settled his startling blue gaze on her, she’d been his willing doormat—his go-to girl when he was between lovers.
Maybe he thought her safe because she’d been down that track a time or two. Surely, she’d have no expectations that he’d stick around long enough to leave behind a toothbrush, let alone his heart.
So, over the months of their arrangement, he’d become complacent, taking for granted the fact she’d always leave the door open when he came to call.
Only she hadn’t been exactly truthful with him about their open-ended relationship when she’d smiled as he swept other girls into his arms and led them toward the dance floor and eventually his bed. Her expression might have said she didn’t care but, inside, she’d harbored a hurt and disappointment that no amount of stern self-admonishment could relieve.
She’d gone and fallen in love with the bastard.
Tonight, she’d get him out of her system once and for all. Give him a time he’d never forget. Burn the experience into her soul, because she knew no matter who might replace him in her bed, she’d never get over him.
So, even if she did have to lay down some serious cash—it was all for a damn good cause.