CHAPTER ONE
Taylor Griffin snapped a few candids of Will and Lily Wainwright as they danced together for the first time as husband and wife. Taylor had briefly dated Will in high school, but they’d lost touch until she’d been contracted to photograph his wedding. They’d had a summer fling ten years ago, when they were fifteen. Will had spent the summer in Lonesome Valley with his grandmother. He’d been a little too wild for his parents’ liking, and they thought a change of scenery might settle him down. After his summer in Colorado, he went home to Montana at the beginning of the school year, and distance quickly cooled their red-hot romance.
She turned her lens toward one of his brothers. All six of the Wainwright brothers’ names began with a W. This one stood out as the darkest-haired of the bunch. He had smoking blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose and a mouth she’d sure had kissed a lot of ladies. His western-cut tuxedo framed broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs. She let her lens linger on him a moment longer, then turned it to the next person.
She snapped a few shots, then turned her gaze back toward the handsome stranger standing at the edge of the dance floor. Was he single? Unlikely, with looks like his. He must’ve felt her stare because he turned his head her direction, their gazes catching and holding.
With a small smile, he stood, picked up a glass of champagne and headed her direction. As a former model, Taylor was used to male attention, but this cowboy sent her stomach spinning like a roulette table. She touched her dry lips with her tongue.
He reached her and held out the bubbly. “I don’t think we’ve met. Waylon Wainwright.”
She took the champagne and sipped. “Taylor Griffin.”
“Hello, Taylor.” His gaze held her riveted.
“Hi.” Was that her voice? All low and seductive? She shot a glance at his ring finger. Bare. Her heart thudded a little faster.
“Would you like to dance, Taylor?”
She held up her camera. “I’m working.”
“I don’t think my brother will mind if you miss taking pictures of just one dance,” he said.
She waffled. “Just one.”
“Just one.” He agreed with a grin that send her pulse into overdrive.
“You’re going to get me into trouble.” She slipped into his arms.
“If I have my way,” he replied with a slow sexy smile that sent a rush of goosebumps across her skin. Why was this guy turning her on so much? Maybe because she hadn’t been out in a while. Or, possibly, because he was new territory. When you grew up in a small town, everyone knew your secrets. Or thought they did, anyway.
They glided around the floor as if they’d danced together many times. He smelled like sunshine, if it had a scent. Bright and clean and airy.
“Are you a full-time photographer?” he asked near her ear.
“Yes,” she told him.
“You could be in front of the camera, not behind it,” he remarked.
She stiffened. Just another man who judged her on her looks. “I was a successful model. I gave it up.”
He pulled back and looked into her face. “Why?”
The simple question threw her. Most people tried to tell her she was foolish for leaving fame and fortune behind only to come back to her tiny Colorado hometown to open a studio. “I didn’t like it.”
“Then it wasn’t for you.”
His simple statement warmed her. “I didn’t think so.”
The music washed over them for a few moments while they moved in unison. Waylon was a good dancer, light on his feet.
“What is it that you do?” Taylor asked.
“Cowboy,” he said.
“So, cattle? Or horses? I know you’re from Montana,” she told him.
“Both, but my end is cattle.” He paused. “How do you know I’m from Montana?”
She took a deep breath. “I dated Will in high school.”
“My brother Will?”
“Yes.”
He eyed her closely. “You still into him?”
“Heavens no!” She glanced toward the newlyweds, who were also dancing, apparently oblivious to the world around them. “I love Lily. She’s a sweet lady. I like Will, but there’s nothing but memories between us.”
“Then I don’t see a problem getting better acquainted. Do you?”
A million reasons to say yes flitted through her mind, but she shook her head. “I guess not.”
The song ended and he continued to hold her in his arms. “Would you like to get out of here? I’m taking off in the morning.”
She held up her camera. “I can’t.”
He pointed. “The bride and groom are leaving. What else is there to take pictures of?”
Spinning around, she sprinted for the door. She had to beat the couple outside to get shots of them entering their limo. She got to a good location just in time to aim her camera as Will and Lily exited the church under a shower of rice and climbed into their limousine.
She took a few more pictures as they drove away, then the crowd, focusing on the bride and groom’s parents. Finally, she covered her lens with a cap and sighed. Done. She had tons of images to go through, edit and put on a USB drive for the happy couple.
Her wrap was downstairs, in a cloakroom. Tired, but satisfied by her night’s work, she headed that direction.
Coming out of the bathroom was the handsome cowboy she’d danced with. He smiled when he saw her. “Done?”
“Yes.”
“So you can get a drink with me now?”
She shouldn’t. He said he was leaving in the morning. But, maybe attraction, or just curiosity, prompted her to agree. “I guess I could.”
His grin made her nerves jump. “Great. You ready?”
“I am.”
“Do you need to get anything?”
“My shawl’s in the coatroom. I’ll grab it.” She turned away. “Be right back.” She grabbed it, then hurried back to the cowboy waiting for her. “Ready.”
He held out his hand for her equipment. “I can carry these.”
She let him take her camera bag, albeit a bit reluctantly. Her entire life was in that case. “Don’t drop it.”
“It’s safe.” He tucked it close to his body and patted the bag.
“Thank you.” She slipped on her wrap. “There aren’t a lot of places to get a drink in Lonesome Valley this time of night.”
“Small town problems. I know them well,” he said.
“Do you?”
“I do.”
She turned to lead the way upstairs, to the lot where her car was parked. “I don’t imagine there are too many bars on a cattle ranch.”
“Not too many.” He chuckled.
They reached her car and she unlocked it. Even in a small town, cautious habits she’d learned in New York followed her home. Normally, she’d never invite a man she’d barely met to her home, but she knew this man’s grandmother and brother, so she felt safe enough. Before she opened the door, she spoke. “I have coffee at home.”
“I’ll follow you.” He pointed to a big pickup on the edge of the parking lot.
“It’s not far.” She opened her car door and climbed inside.
~*~
What was she doing?
Taylor wondered if she was making a tremendous mistake by not only inviting a stranger to her home, but one who would not be around tomorrow. She gave a mental shrug. It was just a cup of coffee.
At her small cottage, on a side street, she parked, locked her car and waited until Waylon exited his truck. She gestured with her keys toward her home. “This is it.”
His gaze took in the weeping willows, well-maintained yard and row of lilac bushes that separated her house from the neighbors. “Nice place.”
“It was my great-aunt’s. She sold it to me when she got too old to take care of it.” She led the way up the stone walk, to her front door and inserted the key. “What is your home like?”
“A log cabin not far from the big house,” he said.
“Big house?”
“The homestead where I grew up with my brothers.”
She stepped inside and turned on the lights. She’d left the house decorated much as her aunt had, in an old-fashioned theme the turn-of-the-century home called for. Lace curtains covered the bay windows overlooking her front yard and street. A rose-colored Victorian sofa and a buffet with curved legs filled the small room.
“Very nice,” Waylon said, looking around. He stood several inches over her five-eleven, and he filled the room with his height and broad shoulders. Her breath caught. This man was dangerous.
Abruptly, she turned toward her kitchen. “Make yourself at home while I get a drink. Coffee with Kahlua, or would you prefer something stronger?”
“Coffee with liqueur is fine.” He settled on her rose settee and she smothered a giggle at the image of the big man dwarfing her sofa.
“Something funny?” He arched a brow.
“Just that my sofa isn’t made for rugged men,” she said.
He lifted a brow. “You think I’m rugged?”
“A bit,” she said dryly. To avoid any more of the conversation, she darted into her kitchen and fumbled with her coffeemaker. While it perked, she took a moment to regroup. She’d dated enough that an attractive man shouldn’t be sending her pulse off the map and her good sense along with it.
She poured them both a cup of coffee, added a liberal amount of liqueur into them and carried them into her parlor. The phrase made her lips curl up. In another time, she would be a lady, Waylon the cowboy courting her. Courting. She almost snorted.
Although she liked old-fashioned furnishings, she was modern in every way. She liked this man, wanted to get to know him better. In the olden days, a woman wouldn’t have ever invited a man, much less a stranger, into her home. To do so would cost a lady her reputation.
Handing him the cup, she sat on the other end of the sofa, although there wasn’t much room between them. “The Kahlua okay?”
He tasted. “Just right.”
“So, tell me, Waylon, do you have a girlfriend at home? A wife?” She angled her long body his direction.
He sipped the coffee, then set down the cup and frowned. “I do not. I dated the same girl since high school, but she recently left town to pursue other things.”
“So, you’re on the rebound?” It was Taylor’s turn to frown.
“Not at all. Logan and I will always be friends, but I’m not pining for her like a newly weaned calf crying for its mama.” He sounded sincere, or maybe she just wanted to believe him. “You?”
“Me, what?”
“Seeing someone?”
Her last relationship had been causal and he was not someone she thought much about now. “No.”
“Tell me, Taylor, what made you give up the life of a model to pick up a camera instead?” Instead of the usual derision she got when that question was asked, he sounded genuinely interested.
“I’ve always been into taking pictures. When I was in New York, I gravitated behind the camera, and I realized I was happier there.” She waited for his reaction. Would he laugh? Mock her?
“I admire that,” he told her.
Taylor’s heart filled. So many people, including her own family, didn’t understand she got no fulfillment out of standing in a skimpy swimsuit in front of a camera. But to see an image through a lens, bring it to life, that made her happy. “I enjoy it. Do you like your job?”
“Love it,” he said. “A cowboy’s all I ever wanted to be. Ridin’, ropin’. Nothing like it.”
“I’d like to take pictures of that,” she said wistfully. “Although portraiture is more my specialty.”
“The ranch has had several well-known western photographers shoot there.” He mentioned a couple, but she didn’t recognize their names.
“Did you pose?”
He laughed, the sound washing over her. “Me? Nope.”
“Why not? You’re certainly attractive enough to be in front of the camera.” Funny, she’d just uttered the same phrase that had been repeated to her so many times.
“Because it’s not my thing,” he said. “My twin loves the limelight. Me, not so much.”
She understood. “I get it.” Something else he’d said struck her. “You have a twin? I didn’t see anyone who looked like you at the wedding.”
“We’re fraternal. He’s blond, we don’t look alike.” He recounted it as if he’d done it a million times before.
“I see.” She wracked her brain, but couldn’t recall anyone who fit his description. Maybe because she’d been so focused on Will and Lily. Or this guy. He’d captured her imagination and she wasn’t sure why. But, she was willing to find out.